Chapter 269: This World Has Escaped Its Fated Punishment for Too Long!
Renegade Knight World - Drol
This was a knight world that had betrayed the Imperium since the time of the Great Heresy. With Horus's defeat, and as the loyalist factions, spearheaded by the most intact Ultramarines Legion, began to carry out their purge across the galaxy, this knightly house had chosen to flee back to their homeworld.
They had razed the prosperous cities, had drained the mineral wealth from the planet's crust, and had built fortresses in the jagged mountains and steep highlands. And in the long years that followed, they had constantly reinforced this planet, in the hopes of escaping the Imperium's punishment.
And Drol's moon, Omega III, had been gifted to an unknown sect of the Dark Mechanicum. They had formed an alliance with House Mandrakor, and for ten thousand years, had constantly supplied the knightly house, their fates bound together under the threat of the Imperium.
However, fortunately, the Imperium's punishment had never come. As if the dense asteroid field that enveloped the planet had truly done its job, this world seemed to have been forgotten by the Imperium. It was not until the Great Rift opened in the future, splitting the galaxy in two, and the Nachmund Gauntlet was revealed, that this planet was finally exposed to the Imperium's sight.
In the current time period, only the Dawnbreakers knew the importance of this world. But what was to come, would come.
BOOM!
A heavy iron door began to slowly close, pushed by an ancient sorcery. The powers of the warp traveled along the grooves in the walls and the floor, forming a closed energy loop, to completely seal off the nightmarish world outside.
The roars of the guard-captain could not be heard, nor the wails of the dying, nor the screams and roars of the Corpse-Emperor's dogs. All sounds were swallowed the moment the great door closed, leaving only the dull sound of engaging metal to echo in the long corridor.
Although everyone knew this was only a temporary respite, the survivors couldn't help but loosen their clenched fists. Some even fell to their knees in exhaustion, their trembling breaths condensing into a white mist in their cold helmets.
A house-serf's voice was unusually clear in the silence: "My Lord Viscount, the passage has been sealed. The Corpse-Emperor's dogs should not be able to break through for a short time."
The spell-casting Viscount slowly turned and looked at his loyal servant. Compared to the battered personal guard, there were not many signs of battle on his body. The lasrifle hanging from a strap on his arm was also showing a full charge.
"Mm," his pale face was like a phantom in the blue light of the runes.
A few wisps of blue fire suddenly shot out from the cracks in the floor. Some of the accompanying thralls and house-serfs fell like broken puppets, their souls turning into screaming, transparent humanoids, which were swallowed by the twisted reliefs on the door in a silent shriek. Even the faint echoes disappeared.
The Viscount then looked out the window and said, "Follow me."
At this moment, this fortress-city of House Mandrakor was already a sea of fire. Knight-mechs stumbled through the collapsing spires, their adamantium shells sparking against the unfamiliar models of Imperial Knight weapons. Each fall made the earth tremble.
In the sky above, asteroid fragments, disturbed by the orbital bombardment, fell through the atmosphere with molten tails. And closer, the fortress area, having lost its void shield protection, had turned into a pool of molten iron. Crimson metal juice flowed along the grooves of the streets, swallowing the fleeing figures in a wave of heat.
The attack from the Imperium had been going on for over a month. It was clear that it would not be long before this world was conquered by the Imperium.
The Viscount's slender fingers tightened on the gold-trimmed collar of her magnificent robes, pulling them a little tighter to cover the misshapen tentacles that were peeking out from under her sleeves. She walked quickly at the head of the fleeing group, her eyes filled with confusion.
A month ago, she had been fighting with a rival noble over some trivial matter. And now, she was facing the grimmest of situations. A fleet, so large it would have been considered massive even by the standards of the Great Crusade, had suddenly appeared in Drol's orbit. When the fleets that blotted out the sun had cast their shadow of death, ninety percent of this world's defensive forces had already been drawn away. The once-impregnable fortress-clusters were useless against the Astartes' breakthrough and the dense orbital bombardment. The remaining defenders could not even organize a decent resistance.
A thousand questions burned in her mind. Long ago, when the High King, in response to some summons, had chosen to accept the Dark Mechanicum's invitation, her premonitions had given her a sense of foreboding. And sure enough, after the High King and his court had left with the Dark Mechanicum's fleet, the Imperium's fleet had arrived. Why?
The Viscount lowered her brow and quickened her pace.
CRASH!
A huge tremor came. The roof beams, supported by heavy pillars, collapsed in an instant, burying a large area. It was a Knight. A Knight, its exterior intact, had fallen at the edge of the fortress. The cockpit, however, had a huge gash, and a viscous, writhing, dark red tissue was hanging from the edge.
This made the Viscount's brow twitch again. She quickly raised a psychic shield to prevent her fragile body from being crushed by the falling rocks.
A dull thud came from ahead. A thrall, who was being herded, had fallen, his third limb hanging limply. He was seriously injured.
"Take him," the Viscount gestured with her eyes, and her personal guard hoisted up the thrall and began to run with the group. Ignoring the thrall's wails, they injected a drug to stop the circulation in his lower limbs and then dragged him forward. These were desperate times. Every sacrifice was precious.
She had to go to the High Throne, to use the ancestral holy relic there to perform a ritual and open a portal to escape. The High King and the High Queen had both been summoned away. She needed to pass this information to the elders of the house.
Aside from sorcery, she had also placed a large number of trusted guards on the perimeter. She also had a considerable stock of mechs. It was for this reason that she had been able to hold out until now. The thought of the Knight-mechs that had fallen in the flames of war made the Viscount's expression turn to one of annoyance. She had only just obtained them after clearing out a few rival branches while the High King was away, and now they were all destroyed!
It was all too much of a coincidence. Fortunately, she was cautious enough and had made preparations long ago. A self-satisfied expression appeared on the Viscount's face. Just as she had been able to stand out in the past noble struggles, she had never been short of plans.
A plan for victory, a plan for escape, a plan for battle. Even now, the daemon engines and Chaos constructs that were holding back those Space Wolves outside were her pre-planned masterpieces. This interlocking plan was enough for her to react to any change.
Now, escape! As long as she was alive, there was still hope!
BOOM!
A sharp screech of twisted metal came from the depths of the fortress. A defensive work of several tons was torn apart like paper. The roar of a bolter and the screams of the routed mortal soldiers were mixed together, the sound of their footsteps chaotically echoing off the corridor walls.
"This world has escaped its fated punishment for too long!"
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