Gana and his squad members retreated all the way, encountering only a handful of corrupted individuals, and even the flesh hounds that usually shadowed them had vanished without a trace.
This abnormal calm made the hum of the power armor's servo systems sound piercingly loud.
"Either the Warp fluctuations are disrupting the demons' perceptions, or they're busy preparing an even more disgusting welcome ceremony," Tech-Sergeant Tolk muttered over the comms channel, patting the side of his helmet.
A lucky charm carved from an Ork tooth, said to be a trophy from the last greenskin clean-up operation, hung there.
The four-man team successfully reached the ground-level mine exit.
What greeted their eyes was a blockade formed by dozens of Planetary Defense Force soldiers.
These soldiers, clad in khaki uniforms, huddled behind cover like sand worms, their flamethrower fuel tanks reflecting a greasy sheen in the sunlight.
When four Space Marine in cast-iron power armor emerged from the shadows, at least twenty gun barrels simultaneously turned towards them.
"Lower your weapons! It's the Astartes of the Iron Hands!" The leading sergeant roared, his voice cracking and veins bulging in his neck. The soldiers fumbled to lower their muzzles.
Meanwhile, in the top-floor office of the mining district's central tower, Norton rhythmically tapped the edge of a data-slate with his fingernail.
The window glass reflected the bloodshot in his eyes.
"Three standard hours and forty-seven minutes," he announced to the empty room, as if that would force the clock to move faster.
The incarcerated malfeasant had long since been "persuaded" into an incoherent wretch by the Inquisitor, but intelligence from the mine was scarcer than a T'au's conscience.
Beep—
The sharp alarm of the communicator pierced the deadly silence like a blade. Governor Norton's fingertips slammed onto the answer button almost the instant the sound rang out, his movement so swift that his chair let out a dangerous creak, nearly tipping over.
"Confirmation of Chaos corruption, and it has reached the uncontrolled threshold," the voice from the communicator was as dry as the wind on Mars's desert.
Norton's knuckles pressed unconsciously against the table, leaving a pale indentation on the expensive hardwood surface from the excessive force.
In a trance, he seemed to already see the main gun arrays of the warships in orbit beginning to charge, the runes of Exterminatus faintly visible in the clouds.
"Sir?" The aide at the door cautiously poked his head in, just in time to witness the Governor slam his fist onto the desk.
The finely crafted solid wood desktop groaned under the strain, and Norton's expression was unusually cold.
"Notify the spaceport to prepare Valkyrie gunships."
As he strode down the corridor, the portraits of previous governors on the decorative wall trembled.
...
The mining district's spaceport was now a cacophony of impending doom.
The roar of shuttle engines intertwined with the shouts of soldiers, and the flow of evacuees surged across the tarmac, a scene like the entire Hive City's lower-level rush hour compressed into this small area.
Gana's power armor gleamed with a cold metallic luster under the blood-red sunset, and exposed conduits at the broken right arm joint occasionally sparked with electrical discharges, adding a touch of desolation to the damaged war-body.
He was exchanging information with Governor Norton, who had hurried over, but noticed the other's gaze constantly searching for something in the crowd.
That look was mixed with a kind of almost obsessive anticipation, yet also seemed to be pre-emptively brewing some kind of mourning.
"Where is Envoy Knox?" This question instantly froze the air, even the servo-skull of the nearby Adeptus Mechanicus stopped humming.
"He chose to cover our retreat," Gana's voice came through the helmet's amplifier, mixed with a bit of static, like some electronically synthesized eulogy.
At the words, Norton froze instantly, his expression reminding Tech-Sergeant Tolk of his own shock upon seeing a Dreadnought for the first time.
A complex emotion somewhere between awe and stomachache.
The Imperium had thus lost a... maverick talent.
Norton silently mourned for a full three seconds in his heart, which was all the private emotional quota he could spare.
Immediately, in full Governor mode, his voice cut through the clamor decisively: "Attention, all! Execute evacuation protocol immediately!"
Zzzzzzt—
A piercing static noise suddenly tore through the heavy air, like an invisible hand roughly cutting off everyone's thoughts.
In the squad, a Planetary Defense Force soldier's communicator at his waist suddenly began to vibrate wildly, its amplitude so great that his belt buckle clinked along with it.
He glanced down at the signal source, his brow instantly knitting into a tight knot.
This was neither an in-squad channel nor any known encrypted band, but a string of constantly shifting, bizarre code.
"This thing is even less reliable than an Ork's communicator..." The soldier mumbled, his finger hovering over the answer button, hesitating for a full three seconds.
For information that might involve Chaos corruption, three seconds of hesitation was enough for the Inquisition to stuff him into a flamer and roast him for two rounds.
Finally, he pressed the button.
"This is Knox of the Daemon Inquisitorial, survival report: Chaos corruption source has been purged, repeat, threat neutralized."
The voice from the communicator was extremely cold and calm, as if the speaker had just returned from an afternoon tea party, rather than the core of Chaos corruption.
The soldier's pupils contracted sharply. He looked up at Governor Norton nearby.
"Report!" He almost stumbled over, his voice slightly off-key with excitement, "Just received a communication from Envoy Knox! He said... the source of the Chaos corruption has been purged!"
Norton's brow furrowed slightly, his expression caught between shock and disbelief.
And Captain Gana, standing beside him, immediately entered combat readiness, the servo systems of his power armor emitting a low hum.
"Are you sure it was Envoy Knox himself?" Gana stepped forward, his voice coming through the helmet's amplifier with the undeniable authority characteristic of an Space Marine.
The soldier nodded, then shook his head, his movements so quick one might wonder if his cervical spine had some kind of agility enhancement device installed.
"The communication has been cut off, I cannot confirm the identity or status of the other party for now."
On Gana's faceplate display, tactical analysis runes flashed wildly, finally settling on a bright red warning symbol.
"High Probability Deception Signal."
His brow was tightly furrowed, seventeen possible trap scenarios rapidly churning in his mind: from Slaanesh's illusory temptations to Tzeentch's deceptive tricks, he even considered the possibility of a bored greenskin Mekboy playing a prank.
"Could it be a trap set by Chaos?" He muttered under his breath, his voice extremely low, as if afraid of being overheard by some entity in the Warp, "The other party might already be corrupted and is now waiting for us to walk into a trap."
Silence spread through the team. Even the Adeptus Mechanicus's servo-skull stopped its usual humming, as if even the Machine Spirit was weighing the credibility of this information.
"Regardless, we cannot stand idly by," Gana finally took a deep breath, the joints of his power armor clanking with metallic friction, "The Iron Hands never shrink from the truth.
"If it is true, then it is the Emperor's blessing; if it is a trap..." He paused, a subtle curve appearing at the corner of his mouth behind the faceplate, "Then at least our boltguns can take down a few more demons."
His three squadmates raised no objections; the unspoken understanding between Space Marine needed no words.
They had already adjusted their weapon statuses, and the power armor's energy cores emitted a low hum.
Norton opened his mouth, as if to say something, but ultimately just nodded in silence.
Trying to stop them would be as futile as trying to block a meltagun blast with a sheet of paper.
Gana's squad advanced along the original path, the power armor's searchlights cutting sharp beams of light through the darkness.
However, the anticipated ambush by the corrupted did not materialize. Even the nauseating Chaos stench in the air had completely dissipated, replaced by a strange, almost sacred tranquility.
"Something's wrong," Tech-Sergeant Tolk whispered, the energy field of his power axe flickering slightly, as if wary of some unseen threat.
"Last time we were here, the walls were bleeding, but now it's as clean as an Mechanicus chapel."
Gana didn't answer, but his tactical optics had already caught the anomaly at the end of the cave; the Warp rift that had torn reality was now gone without a trace.
In its place was a sight that stunned even the four battle-hardened Space Marine.
Upon the altar sat a majestic figure clad in golden armor.
His presence seemed to fill the entire space, and the sacred pressure made the power armor's servo systems tremble.
Gana's genetic detection nerves screamed wildly, his brain almost unable to process the information before him.
Every contour of that figure perfectly matched the holy icon of the Emperor he had worshipped in the Chapter's reliquary as a child.
And beneath the altar, Knox stood still as a statue, hands clasped, as if performing some ancient ritual.
His Inquisition uniform was perfectly intact, not even a speck of dust, in stark contrast to the dilapidated surroundings.
"This... Is this..." Tolk's voice uncharacteristically trembled, and his data-slate emitted a wisp of smoke from overload.
"An illusion of the Emperor?" Gana finished in a low voice, his tone a mix of awe and skepticism.
However, before they could react further, the golden figure silently dissipated like morning mist, leaving only a faint golden glow, slowly diffusing into the air.
"Envoy Knox!" Gana called out loudly, the power armor's amplifier echoing through the cave.
Knox slowly turned, his face calm to the point of indifference. A lingering golden halo remained in his eyes, reminding Gana of the legendary saint portraits in the Chapter's reliquary.
"Captain Gana, thank you for coming down to investigate," Knox's voice was still calm, as if everything that had just happened was merely an insignificant interlude.
"There's nothing left to do here; everything has been resolved."
"Resolved?" Gana's brow almost twisted into the hydraulic joint of his power armor.
"You mean, you purged the source of the Chaos corruption by yourself?" Knox nodded slightly, his movement as elegant as signing an unimportant administrative document.
"I felt the Emperor's call," he paused, a subtle, unreadable curve appearing at the corner of his mouth, "His power... is greater than we imagined."
A series of psychological status assessment warnings instantly popped up on Gana's tactical optics.
Even by the Iron Hands' standards of rationality, this statement was enough to make any Tech-Priest crash on the spot.
Knox offered no further explanation, merely giving them a profound look before turning and walking towards the cave exit.
His back was exceptionally clear in the searchlight's beam, yet also seemed shrouded in an impenetrable mist.
Tolk quietly moved closer to Gana, his power axe's energy field set to its lowest setting.
"Captain, should we... give him a full scan? What if he's been..."
"No need," Gana interrupted him, watching Knox's back disappear into the darkness.
"Some truths, perhaps, are not meant to be deeply investigated."
The servo systems let out a low sigh, and the four Space Marine silently followed, only the heavy footsteps of their power armor remaining in the mine.
However, Tech-Sergeant Tolk's power armor's automatic recorder had already silently activated.
This was standard operating protocol for the Iron Hands Chapter; every unusual contact had to be fully archived.
On the side of his helmet, a miniature servo-skull operated at minimal power, its single eye lens glowing faintly red, encrypting and transmitting everything it had just witnessed to the Chapter's database in orbit.