šYes, Everyone ā We Did It!š
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Chapter 24: Forming the Silent Sisterhood and the Night Watch
"Your commentary makes me sound like some manner of tyrant," the Emperor observed through their psychic link, a note of dry amusement coloring His mental voice.
"Only because the weak are unworthy of such dramatic fear," the Raven replied with characteristic irreverence. "Terror is a privilege reserved for the truly mighty."
The Emperor fell silent at this backhanded compliment, while below them, Veronica and her companions stared at the killing field with expressions of absolute awe. Their worldview had been fundamentally altered by witnessing twenty Custodians obliterate an army that had terrorized their people for generations.
"Great lord of the Imperium," Veronica said, her earlier skepticism replaced by profound respect. "Forgive our previous discourtesy. We pledge ourselves to your service without reservation."
She gestured toward the scattered remains of Baron Whyte's forces.
"This world shall become your domain, and we shall obey whatever commands you see fit to issue. The resistance cells across every continent will hear of this day and understand that our salvation has finally arrived."
The Emperor inclined His head graciously. "I accept your oath of fealty. The root of this world's suffering has been identified, and Imperial forces shall descend to purge every enemy of humanity from its surface."
The Bucephalus thrummed with purposeful activity as the First Legion prepared for planetary assault. Cavernous hangar bays echoed with the rhythmic march of Astartes companies boarding their Stormbirds, while Mechanicum adepts performed final blessing-rites over war machines that had been blessed by the Emperor's own hand.
Thunderhawk gunships lined the launch rails like predatory birds, their weapon systems gleaming under the harsh illumination of the deployment bays. Tech-priests moved between them with ritual censers, anointing each craft with sacred oils while intoning canticles of destruction.
"All resistance will be eliminated within three standard hours," declared Captain Astorlan of the First Legion, his words resonating through the vox-channels that connected every officer in the expeditionary force.
The First Legion held a unique position within the nascent Space Marine Legions. More than thirty percent of their number had received the prototype gene-seed implantsāmaking them among the most physically enhanced warriors in the Emperor's arsenal, second only to the Custodian Guard themselves.
Yet despite their capabilities, they had seen limited action during the Solar System's unification. Most resistance had crumbled at the mere sight of the Imperial fleet, while those foolish enough to oppose the Emperor directly had been swiftly crushed by overwhelming force.
The Legion's only major engagement had been the recapture of Luna, where they had relieved the decimated Thunder Warriors in the final assault against the gene-cults' strongholds.
This would be their first true planetary conquestāan opportunity to demonstrate their worth to the Emperor and the chroniclers of the Remembrancer corps who would record their deeds for posterity.
As the assault order was transmitted, thousands of engines ignited simultaneously. The hangar bays filled with superheated plasma exhaust as strike craft launched in perfectly coordinated waves, their contrails forming geometric patterns against the darkness of space.
The planetary assault commenced across every continent simultaneously. Stormbirds descended through the perpetual cloud cover like golden meteors, disgorging Astartes companies into Blood Descendant strongholds that had stood unchallenged for millennia.
The enemy possessed certain advantagesāenhanced physical capabilities, mastery of blood sorcery, and intimate knowledge of their terrain. Senior Blood Descendants could channel enough Warp energy to destroy armored vehicles or collapse building foundations.
Against the Emperor's gene-wrought warriors, such powers proved pitifully inadequate.
The slaughter was absolute and methodical. In settlements across the planet, human populations who had endured centuries of oppression watched in amazement as their tormentors were systematically exterminated by angels of death descending from the heavens.
The Emperor had chosen His personal target with characteristic precision. The Blood Ancestor's palace complex dominated the planetary capitalāa sprawling edifice of black stone and crimson glass that pulsed with malevolent energy.
Intelligence reports indicated that the fortress housed not only the creature's personal guard but also the ritual chambers where he maintained his pact with the Warp entities that sustained his power.
The Custodians advanced through the outer defenses with mechanical efficiency, their guardian spears carving through elite Blood Descendant guards like light through shadow.
These were not the crude cultists that infested the outer settlements, but centuries-old vampiric aristocrats whose mastery of dark sorcery had been honed through countless battles.
It made no difference.
The palace's innermost sanctum was protected by a barrier of crystallized blood that shimmered with unnatural energies. Imperial heavy weapons had failed to penetrate its surface, their shots absorbed harmlessly into the crimson matrix.
"The Blood Ancestor's stronghold is warded by ancient pacts," the resistance tech-adept explained, his augmetic voice carrying notes of professional admiration. "Only the null-field generated by a Blank could disrupt such protections."
"Unnecessary," the Emperor replied simply.
He drew the sword at His sideāa blade forged in the earliest days of Terra's unification, quenched in the blood of techno-barbarian kings and blessed with psychic resonances that made reality itself bend to His will.
A single stroke severed the barrier completely, its constituent energies dissipating like morning mist before the sun.
"Throne of Terra," the tech-adept whispered, his vocal modulators struggling to process such an impossibility. "Even without military support, this lord could face the Blood Ancestor in single combat and emerge victorious."
The palace guards within represented the absolute elite of the Blood Descendant hierarchy. They wore armor forged from crystallized gore and wielded weapons that wept crimson tears, their martial prowess enhanced by centuries of vampiric existence.
The presence of Lucina and the other Blanks disrupted their sorcerous abilities, while the Custodians' superior training and equipment made the outcome inevitable. Within minutes, the corridors ran red with ichor from the fallen defenders.
The throne chamber defied rational description.
Living walls pulsed with arterial rhythms, while overhead, the corpses of sacrificial victims hung from iron chains, their flesh carved with the eight-pointed star of Chaos Undivided. Braziers filled with green fire cast dancing shadows that seemed to move independently of their flames.
At the chamber's heart lay a pool of blood so vast it resembled a crimson lake. The surface churned continuously, forming faces that screamed soundlessly before dissolving back into the roiling mass.
Beside this obscene font stood the Blood Ancestor himself.
He was a figure from humanity's darkest nightmaresātall and aristocratic, dressed in the formal attire of Old Terra's nobility, yet possessed of features that marked him as something far removed from baseline humanity. Ivory fangs protruded from beneath pale lips, while his eyes held the cold intelligence of a predator that had fed upon human suffering for centuries.
"So," he said, his voice carrying the cultured tones of ancient nobility, "you have finally arrived."
"Today marks your execution," Veronica snarled, her hands clenched into fists. Too many of her brothers and sisters had died fighting this creature's spawn.
The Blood Ancestor's expression shifted to one of amused condescension. "Death? What manner of delusion grants you such confidence? I am blessed by powers beyond your comprehensionāchosen by entities that have existed since before your species crawled from the primordial mud."
He raised his arms in ritual supplication, his voice taking on the cadences of formal invocation.
"Descend, O Lord of the Crimson Tide! Master of the Sanguine Will! Grant your devoted servant the power to crush these insects who dare defile your sacred domain!"
The temperature plummeted as a presence of vast malevolence pressed against the boundaries of reality. Shadows writhed with independent life, while the green flames guttered as though struggling against some cosmic wind.
A voice like grinding bone and spilled blood echoed through the chamber.
"Pathetic mortals... why do you disturb my contemplations?"
The Blood Ancestor's confidence reached its zenith as he gestured toward the Emperor and His companions.
"Great Lord of Blood, your faithful servant begs you to unleash your wrath upon these blasphemers who would dare challenge your authority!"
The daemonic presence began to respond with obvious relish.
"Insignificant insects, how dare you presume toā"
The voice stopped abruptly, as though the entity had suddenly perceived something that filled it with existential terror.
"ANATHEMA!" it shrieked with such force that several braziers exploded. "THE CURSED GOLDEN ONE! FLEE! FLEE BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE!"
The presence vanished so rapidly that the sudden absence created a brief vacuum, causing everyone's ears to pop.
The Blood Ancestor stared at the empty air where his patron had been, his expression cycling through confusion, disbelief, and dawning horror.
"This... this was not part of the arrangement," he muttered.
"Predictable," the Raven observed with obvious amusement. "Did this fool truly believe that allying with Warp-spawn would grant him power over the Master of Mankind? Even daemons possess enough survival instinct to recognize their betters."
Realizing that his primary advantage had abandoned him, the Blood Ancestor attempted to maintain his dignity even as his situation became untenable.
"If I were to suggest that the previous display was merely... theatrical entertainment... would you consider showing mercy?"
The Emperor's expression remained carved from granite as the Custodians moved to surround their target.
"I can see that clemency is not an option," the vampire continued with resigned grace.
His form exploded into a cloud of shadow and wingsāhundreds of blood-red bats that scattered in all directions, seeking to escape through gaps in the palace's architecture.
"Ancient escape techniques will not preserve you," the vampire's voice echoed from the swarm. "As long as this world endures, our conflict shallā"
The Emperor raised His hand, and psychic fire erupted throughout the chamber.
The flames were not mere combustion but pure anathemaāgolden light that burned away corruption at the molecular level. Every bat was caught in the conflagration, their death-screams harmonizing into a single note of absolute agony.
Within seconds, nothing remained but scattered ash.
"Hmph, Such dramatic final words," the Raven commented dryly on the pathetic last word of the damned. "Was he auditioning for some form of theatrical performance?"
The Blood Ancestor's destruction triggered a cascade of psychic energy that rippled outward from the palace. The perpetual cloud cover that had shrouded the world for centuries dissipated like smoke, allowing natural sunlight to touch the surface for the first time in living memory.
Across the planet, surviving Blood Descendants caught in the dawn light ignited spontaneously, their unnatural forms unable to exist without the Warp energies that had sustained them.
Their screams echoed briefly before being cut short by complete immolation.
Warp-spawned creatures prowling the wilderness suffered similar fates as reality reasserted its natural laws.
Without the Blood Ancestor's palace serving as an anchor point for Immaterium energies, the barriers between dimensions strengthened rapidly. Daemons found their corporeal forms dissolving as they were forcibly returned to the realm of Chaos.
The nightmare that had consumed an entire world for centuries ended in minutes.
Standing amid the ashes of corruption, the Emperor contemplated the implications of what He had witnessed. The ease with which a single mortal's pact with Chaos entities could damn an entire civilization reinforced His growing concerns about humanity's vulnerability to Warp influence.
"This experience has strengthened my resolve regarding certain... institutional arrangements," He announced, His voice carrying the weight of irrevocable decision.
"I shall establish the Sisters of Silenceāan order dedicated to recruiting and training Blanks from across the galaxy. They will form the core of a Night Watch organization, tasked with monitoring psychic phenomena and suppressing Chaos cults wherever they emerge."
The Raven tilted its head thoughtfully. "An admirable foundation, Great Emperor, but I believe your plan requires additional considerations."
The Emperor paused, genuinely curious about His companion's perspective. "What aspects require refinement?"
Nearby, Constantin Valdor observed this exchange with carefully concealed amazement. The Master of Mankind's certainty had always been absoluteāHe rarely solicited advice from anyone, including His closest advisors. Even Malcador occasionally found his counsel dismissed when it conflicted with Imperial doctrine.
Yet here He stood, genuinely interested in the Raven's suggestions.
For a being whose humanity seemed to diminish with each passing year, this display of intellectual flexibility represented a profoundly positive development.
To be continued...
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