Space battles are often chaotic, awash with waves of violent energy.
Every explosion snuffs out hundreds of lives.
But the soldiers of the Imperium bore their sacrifices in silence.
The Macragge's Honoury shuddered violently under the Thousand Sons' barrage.
Siren wails echoed like a dying beast, never ceasing.
Ceiling lumen lamps sparked and died, plunging some areas into darkness.
Amidst the screech of torn metal, heavy iron frames crashed from tangled pipes above.
Yet the crew remained calm, methodically carrying out their tasks without panic.
To them, this was routine.
Maintenance orders were issued, and armored repair crews and servitors quickly cleared debris and replaced damaged parts.
It was as if they were not on a real battlefield, but in a daily drill.
But this numb calm could not change the brutal reality: the fleet was deep in crisis, retreating step by step.
The bridge staff looked grim, hurrying between posts, relaying data, calibrating targets, coordinating damage control.
They did all they could—but under the Thousand Sons' overwhelming firepower, their efforts seemed futile.
When Datch strode onto the bridge with his irreverent gait, he inevitably drew many eyes.
Stories of this mysterious Emperor's angel had already spread—his incredible abilities, his knack for turning the tide in unimaginable ways.
The desperate crew looked at Datch with a faint, unspoken hope.
When Datch asked the Primarch, the nearby Cawl, Celestine, and others exchanged complex glances.
Guilliman turned, fixing Datch with a grave, scrutinizing look.
He knew this nameless warrior always had strange gadgets and astonishing tricks, able to achieve the impossible.
But now, the threat was a void war of steel, courage, and strategy.
Could his methods really matter against such destruction?
"This… isn't something you can—" Guilliman tried to gently send Datch away.
"Skip, skip!" Datch cut him off, not wanting to waste time. "What's my mission?"
Guilliman: ...…
Here we go again!
So eager to skip, huh?!
"Give him a mission, Primarch."
Celestine suddenly spoke, her voice ethereal and resolute, piercing the roar of battle.
"I have seen the Emperor's prophecy. This nameless Astartes may help us break through the ambush."
"Him?" Cawl's mechanical eyes flashed with icy logic. All his calculations said it was impossible.
Unless someone could conjure a fleet equal to or greater than the Thousand Sons, nothing would matter—just delay the inevitable.
But even in peacetime, gathering such a force would take years.
"Perhaps for us, it's impossible. But for him, anything is possible." Celestine replied calmly, faith burning in her eyes. "We need only follow the Emperor's will and witness the miracle."
Guilliman looked between Datch, Celestine, and the deadly flashes outside.
Time was slipping by—every second more warriors and ships were lost.
After weighing for a moment, the Primarch decided.
"We've fallen into Magnus's trap. If we can't break through, the entire fleet will perish here. Please… help us escape and continue our journey to Holy Terra."
As soon as he finished, a familiar mission panel popped up in Datch's eyes.
[Mission: Assist Roboute Guilliman in escaping Magnus's trap.]
The expeditionary fleet has struggled valiantly, but Magnus has used Warp powers to ensnare them. Break through the Thousand Sons fleet and continue to Terra.
[Reward: 2000 XP, 2000 points, Reputation +150, [Super Shotgun Halloween Upgrade Skin Pack ×1]]
"A shotgun upgrade skin? Now that's what I'm talking about!"
Datch's eyes lit up in delight.
He'd long been bothered that his shotgun and jump pack didn't have pumpkin skins.
As soon as he completed this quest, he could give his beloved gun a fancy pumpkin look! And soon, his jump pack too—perfect!
"Don't worry, I'll take out that damned red-skinned, one-eyed Ogryn for you!"
Datch's words made Guilliman's mouth twitch, almost breaking his Primarch dignity.
Red-skinned, one-eyed Ogryn??
What a nickname! If Magnus ever heard that, his face would surely twist with rage, swearing to kill any who used it.
The others' expressions were subtle—many had seen Abaddon lose his cool before.
Datch ignored them, walking to the huge observation port and gazing at the deadly fireworks outside.
Then, raising his hand, a card wreathed in purple light appeared between his fingers.
"Come forth!" Datch called out, as if playing a chuunibyou anime protagonist, "Ancient, fallen empire! Guardians of forbidden knowledge at the pinnacle of the cosmos!"
As the card left his hand, it turned into a streak of purple light, passing through the armor and hull, into the cold, burning void.
Ripples spread, as though reality itself trembled.
"What was that…?"
Guilliman stepped forward, eyes full of suspicion.
He knew Datch was using another of his wondrous items, but only Datch knew what it did.
Cawl's sensors and logic engines went into overdrive, trying to analyze the card and the purple glow—without success.
Celestine quietly made the Aquila sign over her chest.
Moments later, Macragge's Honoury received an unknown communication.
With Guilliman's permission, it was played—a deep, dignified male voice rang out:
"Who… is calling the fleet?"
…
Read advanced chapters at patreon.com/AbsoluteCode