At this moment, the First Blood hovered in Brevis's exosphere, with the familiar blue-gray planet resting directly beneath its feet.
Cloud layers flowed below, the flames of war in Midtown and the rainbow light escaping from the Warp clearly visible.
"We... actually crossed through?"
The vice captain stared blankly out the viewscreen, unable to believe his eyes.
The captain let out a long breath as his tense body instantly went limp before snapping back straight, his voice filled with uncontrollable excitement:
"Pass down my order! Calibrate main batteries to the Midtown Chaos positions—fire!"
"Yes, sir!"
A second later, the broadside macrocannons of the First Blood roared.
Shells dragged long trails of flame through the atmosphere, slamming with precision into the rear positions of the Chaos army.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Tremendous explosions detonated across Midtown, sending charging daemon clusters tumbling through the air.
Several Sekhet Sorcerers preparing to cast spells were caught off guard by the abrupt fire support, blown into fragments on the spot.
The Southern Coalition soldiers retreating toward the armored blast doors froze.
They looked up toward the sky, gazing at the shell trajectories tearing through the clouds; after a moment of dead silence, a earth-shaking cheer erupted.
"The fleet! It's the Imperial fleet!"
"Our support has arrived!"
"The Emperor protects! We are saved!"
Morale that had teetered on the brink of collapse skyrocketed in an instant.
Soldiers gripped their weapons tight once more, with some even launching a countercharge amid the chaos sweeping the enemy positions.
...
Outside orbit, inside the bridge of the Gemstone, everyone stared at the returned display.
The moment the First Blood successfully broke through and its shells struck the target, a wave of suppressed whispers broke out across the bridge.
It worked!
It truly worked!
Dominic's clenched fist slowly relaxed, a glimmer of excitement flashing across his eyes.
He knew this path would hold.
"My Lord, a signal from the Brevis Expeditionary Fleet!" the communications officer suddenly shouted.
"General Geth leading the Peak Obsidian and two Lunar-class cruisers requests synchronized transit through the barrier!"
Dominic raised an eyebrow.
Geth?
The commander who devised the asteroid fortress tactic?
He stepped to the lightscreen, seeing that three warships had detached from the Brevis fleet array and were approaching another vortex dissipation node.
Evidently, the other party had also grasped the barrier's weakness through their own channels and seized this opportunity.
"Reply to them: transit permitted," Dominic said in a deep voice.
Before long, at the exact moment another vortex's energy dropped to its trough, the Peak Obsidian took the lead while two Lunar-class cruisers followed close behind, three ship silhouettes plunging into the twisted light mist one after another.
The process proved even smoother than the First Blood.
Evidently, Geth and his crew were thoroughly prepared, their Geller field modulation executed with heightened precision.
In a brief dozen seconds, all three warships emerged through the barrier, appearing in Brevis's low-Earth orbit.
Massive hulls gleamed with cold metallic luster under the starlight as macrocannon arrays rotated slowly to lock onto the Chaos positions on the ground.
With three more capital ships present, ground pressure vanished significantly.
Dominic looked at the fleet displayed on the screen—unflamboyant yet extraordinarily steady—the corners of his lips curving upward slightly.
Under Raynor Corvaner's command, there were indeed fierce figures who dared to fight and stake it all.
If frigates could pass and cruisers could pass, then battleships could naturally pass as well.
He turned around, his gaze sweeping over every officer on the bridge, his voice booming and firm:
"All ships pay attention!"
"Every department prepare for transit. Tech-Priests check the Geller field cores; Navigators lock onto the next energy trough."
"This time, we go in personally."
"I want to see just how many volleys these Thousand Sons scum can take."
Silence fell over the bridge for a brief second before a unified response broke out:
"Understood, My Lord!"
Vice Captain Carron looked at Dominic's tall, straight back, opening his mouth only to swallow his words of caution back down.
He knew that once the Rear Admiral made up his mind, no one could alter it.
Besides, he looked down at the Imperial Aquila badge on his sleeve, a fire igniting in his heart as well.
Indeed, they were the Imperial Navy.
How could they stand by watching from the shore while their ground brethren fought in blood?
The massive hull of the Gemstone adjusted its posture swiftly, its bow locking onto the direction of the profane barrier.
Three giant Skyfire lances began charging, while fifty-two macrocannon arrays completed self-checks simultaneously.
The iridescent runes across the profane barrier swirled slowly as another macrocannon volley raised rippling waves across its surface.
The energy reading climbed all the way to its peak. According to the experience of the previous two transits, a vortex absorbing sufficient energy would take form within sixty seconds, followed by a three-second energy trough—the prime window for crossing the barrier.
On the bridge, every eye was glued to the fluctuating energy curve on the screen.
"My Lord, the vortex activation time... is slower than the previous two times," the Navigator frowned, his voice carrying a trace of hesitation.
"According to the frequency of the first two attempts, it should have entered the energy-charging state twenty-five seconds ago."
"A mere thirty seconds off," Dominic stood before the viewscreen with hands behind his back, his red hair casting a cold glint under the barrier's reflection.
"The more energy the barrier absorbs, the longer the charging time becomes naturally."
"Once the vortex enters its dissipation phase, that will be our window."
His tone remained calm, unhesitating over these minor anomalies.
With the First Blood successfully crossing earlier and Geth's three warships landing smoothly afterward, this path had been validated twice.
In Dominic's view, it was merely that the incoming firepower absorbed this time was fiercer, rendering the vortex's energy cycle slightly longer—nothing abnormal.
His gaze rested on that twisted Warp domain in Midtown.
As long as the Victory-class battleship Gemstone arrived smoothly in Brevis's low-Earth orbit, combined with the firepower of the Mars-class battlecruiser Pegasus, the pressure on the ground Chaos forces would double in an instant.
Under his fire support, they would be picked apart by ground forces sooner or later.
"Signal from the Pegasus: Geller field calibrated and ready to launch at any moment," the communications officer reported loudly.
"Navigator lock onto the energy trough node. Countdown ten seconds."
Dominic issued the order in a deep voice.
"Ten, nine, eight..."
The readings dropped rapidly; the violently spinning energy vortex began to settle, and the energy density at its central zone dropped to an all-time low.
The parameters matched the previous two transits almost down to the digit.
"Now! Full speed ahead!"
The engines roared as the massive hull of the Gemstone accelerated abruptly, its dark gold and wine-red hull cutting through the icy dark, charging straight toward the center of the vortex.
To its rear, the battlecruiser Pegasus followed close behind, two warships driving like unsheathed swords with pinpoint accuracy into the weakest dissipation zone of the vortex.
The sensation was identical to the previous two transits.
Violent Warp turbulence slapped against the Geller field, raising pale blue ripples.
The hull vibrated lightly while distorted bands of rainbow light passed outside the viewscreen, uncounted fine strands of psychic lightning striking the field with crisp snaps.
The psyker maintaining the field sat upright in the core chamber, a faint holy light swirling around his body; though fine sweat seeped from his forehead, he was far from his limit.
"Geller field operating stably, depletion rate twelve percent, lower than expected."
"Hull structure intact, no signs of spatial erosion."
"Estimated to break through the vortex and enter Brevis's exosphere in twenty seconds."
Good news arrived one after another, loosening the atmosphere inside the bridge considerably.
Dominic walked to the star chart table, his fingers sweeping rapidly across the lightscreen as he began planning post-transit fire placement:
"Upon emerging, the Gemstone prioritizes locking onto that Chaos spire in Midtown. A full salvo from all three Skyfire lances to destroy the barrier's energy source directly."
"The Pegasus covers the Chaos forward positions to support the Northern Coalition's advance..."
His voice was steady and powerful, as if the direction of the battle had already unfolded within his hands.
No one noticed that in the corner of the lightscreen, the reading representing Warp concentration was surging upward at an abnormally frantic speed.
At the same time, deep within Midtown, atop the Chaos spire:
Atia stood with his hands behind his back beneath the STC sphere, his blue sorcery robes fluttering in the warped air currents.
He raised his head, sensing the two warships that had breached the outer layer of the barrier, an icy, cunning smile curling beneath the shadow of his hood.
"The big fish has taken the bait."
He whispered softly, his voice carrying the satisfaction of a successful trap.
From the very beginning, this profane barrier was never a passive, static defense.
As an STC derived from one of the Master's ten thousand spell fragments, its inherent capabilities were infinitely adaptable.
The so-called pattern of "absorbing energy, vortex counterstrike, energy trough" was merely a lure he had intentionally cast out.
The smooth transit of the frigate and cruisers twice before was entirely the result of his deliberate indulgence.
All to tempt this largest fish into entering the net of its own accord.
"Since you have come, stay here."
Atia extended his hand, tapping his fingertips lightly against the air before him.
Tzeentchian runes emerged from his fingertips, slithering like living entities into the STC sphere at the apex.
The smoothly rotating metal fragments accelerated sharply, a piercing blue light bursting from the sphere's surface as uncounted obscure incantations spread rapidly along the barrier's patterns.
The entire profane barrier began to undergo a drastic transformation.
On the bridge of the Gemstone, the countdown reached its final three seconds.
Outside the viewscreen, the faint blue contour of Brevis's atmosphere was almost visible, victory mere steps away.
Yet right at this moment, piercing alarm sirens burst forth!
"Warning! Warning! Warp index surging abnormally!"
"Vortex structure shifting! It is expanding!"
The Navigator's agonizing scream shattered the bridge's calm; blood trickled from the third eye on his forehead, his face filled with pain and terror:
"Wrong... spatial coordinates are scrambled!"
"Ahead is not the atmosphere—it is Warp energy turbulence!"
Dominic snapped his head up to stare ahead.
The vortex that should have been dissipating was now expanding wildly like an over-inflated balloon, its once-narrow channel growing boundless in an instant.
Rainbow-colored Warp energy churned madly, uncounted distorted phantoms and daemon shrieks surging from its depths, several times more violent than before.
The two warships that had been on the verge of reaching their destination plunged headfirst into an endless Warp storm.
"What is happening?!" the guard captain shouted in panic.
"Geller field load surging! Fifty percent, seventy percent, still rising!"
"The psyker cannot hold on much longer! Field core overheating!"
Bad news arrived in rapid succession.
The hull's shuddering intensified instantly, like a lone skiff on a raging sea, tossed about by the violent currents.
Beyond the viewscreen, not a trace of starlight or atmosphere remained—only endless bands of distorted light and hideous Warp phantoms.
They slammed frantically against the Geller field, unleashing ear-splitting shrieks as they attempted to breach the hull and devour the souls of everyone aboard.
"All hands to Grade-1 battle readiness! Seal off all non-essential compartments, push field power to maximum!"
Dominic's voice remained steady, yet his tightly clenched fists betrayed the severity of his mood.
He had fallen into a trap.
That was no naturally occurring energy trough; it was a snare intentionally left by the enemy.
"Attempt to contact the outer fleet!"
"Reporting, My Lord: signals are completely severed! The electromagnetic environment inside the vortex is disrupted—we have lost all contact with the outside world!"
Dominic took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping across the boundless, raging turbulence outside the viewscreen, a tinge of desolation in his eyes.
Having campaigned for years, this was his first time falling so completely into defeat.
The enemy had calculated that he would seize the vortex window to push forward, just as they had calculated his trust in the previous two successful transits.
In this match, his loss was not unearned.
Outside orbit, the remaining Tithe Fleet was similarly plunged into chaos.
"Sir, the barrier is wrong!"
Vice Captain Carron, left in charge of the fleet, stared fixedly at the lightscreen, his heart sinking to the absolute bottom.
The moment the Gemstone and the Pegasus fully entered the vortex, the energy fluctuations in that region vanished suddenly.
Immediately following, the smooth profane barrier spread over like flowing water, completely covering and smoothing over the entire vortex zone.
Viewed from the outside, not a trace of the vortex remained—only a seamless energy barrier swirling with runes.
It was as though the two warships had vanished into thin air inside the barrier.
"How could this be..."
Someone muttered to themselves, disbelief written across every face.
Everyone had assumed the profane barrier was an automatically operating STC construct following fixed energy laws.
Yet the scene before them communicated the truth with absolute clarity.
This barrier was alive—controlled by someone behind the curtain.
All its previous reactions and patterns had been intentionally staged for their eyes.
"What do we do now, sir?"
Every gaze fell upon Vice Captain Carron.
Having lost the capital battleship Gemstone and a Mars-class battlecruiser, the remaining fleet's combat capacity had plunged by a fifth.
"Halt all bombardments. Do not continue feeding energy to the barrier."
Carron gritted his teeth, his voice dry and raspy.
"Simultaneously contact ground forces; inform them the flagship has been intercepted, and instruct them to halt their offensive and hold existing positions."
Yet he knew very well in his heart that this little fire support could not sustain the ground battle at all.
The true nightmare had only just begun.
...
On the ground, at the Northern Coalition position in Midtown:
Soldiers had just seized the lull in orbital support to re-form their lines, preparing to launch a new round of charges.
Yet just a few minutes ago, the orbital fire had suddenly thinned out before ceasing entirely.
"What happened? Why did the fleet stop firing?"
Frontline soldiers exchanged glances, a subtle unease rising in their hearts.
Before they could make sense of it, a blinding blue light suddenly flared across the profane barrier overhead.
Soldiers looked up instinctively, seeing a giant vortex slowly taking shape across the smooth surface of the barrier.
It looked identical to the form it took when counterstriking the orbital fleet earlier.
Yet this time, the opening of the vortex was aimed straight at the ground!
"Not good! Take cover!"
Just as the officer's roar rang out, destructive radiance ignited at the center of the vortex.
A hyper-concentrated psychic lance crashed down with a roar, striking the forward position of the Northern Coalition with pinpoint accuracy.
There was no deafening explosion, nor flying debris.
Within the area enveloped by the psychic lance, everything dissolved in an instant.
Soldiers had no time to scream before their bodies and armor turned to ash, leaving only the faint wails of souls being ignited as they scattered into the air.
At the center of the position, a death zone several hundred meters in diameter was cleared instantly.
"Ah! My hand! My soul is burning!"
Soldiers on the perimeter caught in the shockwave collapsed to the ground, frantically tearing at their chests.
Those multicolored psychic flames clung to their skin like bone-corroding parasites, burning through flesh straight into their souls.
Any conventional fire-extinguishing methods proved useless; they could only watch helplessly as they were burned to cinders bit by bit.
The entire frontline fell into utter disarray.
"Hold the line! Everyone hold!"
Ecclesiarchy priests held their holy symbols high, chanting prayers at the top of their lungs to soothe the soldiers with the power of faith.
Yet before their hymns could take full form, several concealed psychic bolts shot out from the Chaos positions, landing with precision among the priests.
Blood and bone fragments flew as several priests in the front row met their deaths on the spot.
"Charge!!"
From the direction of the Chaos positions, a mountain-shaking roar erupted.
Millions of daemons and Chaos cultists surged out like an overflowing tide, with Thousand Sons warriors of the Thrallband arrayed at the center, their blue-green power armor glinting with eerie light under the psychic glow.
The force swords in their hands harvested the lives of retreating soldiers at will, while Sorcerers' spells rained down onto the defenders' positions.
The scale of this counteroffensive far exceeded any previous push.
Having lost orbital fire suppression and thrown into disarray by the psychic lance, the Northern Coalition could organize no effective resistance.
Soldiers retreated step by step; the several kilometers of position reclaimed through blood and sacrifice were entirely lost in less than half an hour.
The battlefront was pushed all the way back to where the offensive had first begun.
Atop the spire, Atia looked down at the retreating human army below, his face devoid of emotion.
To him, this was merely a trivial step in the overarching plan.
His true goal had never been defeating this motley coalition.
"The Tyranid host..."
He whispered softly, turning his gaze toward the Upper City, where St. Gallus Castle stood.
That human with the unique soul signature—the prey entangled with the nascent Hive Mind—was the ultimate objective of his journey.
By capturing him, he could follow the thread to locate that Tyranid swarm hidden in the shadows.
"Time to pull in the net."
Meanwhile, on the third underground level of St. Gallus Castle:
Lynn finally joined up with the elite Upper City rescue force sent to retrieve him.
Leading the team was a battle-hardened Adepta Sororitas squad leader, her dark power armor stained with blood, her expression resolute:
"My Lord, the outer Chaos cultist line has been breached, and the route is clear. Please follow us."
Lynn nodded, his gaze sweeping over the subterranean battlefield behind them.
Luna's Scourge forces were still offering desperate resistance, but they could no longer form a coherent threat.
"Leave two squads to continue holding off the underground forces. The rest of you, fall out with me."
He did not hesitate for a second.
With the battle in Midtown deteriorating and Atia's Thrallband advancing steadily, any further delay would carry unthinkable consequences.
The priority was to break out of the castle and reclaim overall command.
The group pressed forward along the cleared corridor, quickly breaking through to the main entrance plaza of St. Gallus Castle.
Yet the moment he stepped out the main gates, Lynn froze in his tracks.
He looked up at the sky.
The heavy, lead-gray clouds hanging over the Upper City were burning in an eerie display.
Flames woven from crimson and shadowy blue rolled through the cloud cover, filling the air with a turbulent, rotting psychic aura that pressed down like an unbearable weight.
Not good!
Lynn's heart skipped a beat, and without a second thought, he shouted at the top of his lungs:
"Fall back! Everyone back into the castle! Move!"
The soldiers around him hesitated for a fraction of a second, but years of discipline compelled them to turn back instinctively.
Yet it was already too late.
A second later, countless streams of multicolored psychic fire rained down from the burning clouds.
Unlike ordinary fire, these flames lacked intense heat, yet carried far more horrific destructive power.
They passed through armor with ease, burning directly into the soul the moment they touched skin.
"Ahhh!!!"
Agonized screams erupted in rapid succession.
The accompanying mortal soldiers collapsed to the ground, rolling and shrieking frantically, completely unable to douse the psychic flames clinging to their bodies.
In a matter of seconds, dozens were incinerated into absolute nothingness.
Only the Adepta Sororitas, relying on their faith, raised holy relics to project faith shields, barely holding off the fiery rain.
The Genestealer officers in the ranks, drawing upon their robust physiques and psychic resistance, managed to maintain their combat effectiveness despite their pale complexions, pulling nearby mortal soldiers back into the castle.
Lynn stood by the castle gates, staring fixedly up at the sky.
The burning clouds parted slowly to both sides.
A figure descended from the flames, standing atop a spinning Disc of Tzeentch.
He wore deep blue sorcerer robes embroidered with gold trim, a massive horned helmet crowning his head.
The gem atop his staff shifted continuously through vibrant colors, surrounded by dancing, iridescent psychic flames.
A terrifying psychic pressure bore down like a physical weight, making it difficult for everyone in the plaza to breathe.
Atia—High Sorcerer of the Cult of Knowledge.
He looked down at Lynn at the entrance, a playful smile curling at the corners of his lips.
"I have finally found you, human entangled by the Tyranids."
Amid the rolling flames, Atia hovered mid-air on his Disc of Tzeentch, the rainbow gem atop his staff glowing with a treacherous light.
He looked down at Lynn from his vantage point, his voice penetrating the layers of fire-rain to fall clearly on every ear.
Lynn's knuckles turned white around the hilt of the Sword of Valeria, his heart sinking to the absolute bottom.
He did not need to guess: Atia had expended tremendous effort breaking through the lines to personally block the entrance of St. Gallus Castle for a single objective.
Specifically, him—a "human" possessing a special connection to the Tyranid swarm.
Underground, he could use the complex terrain to maneuver, but now in the open plaza, with a blockading force ahead and pursuers behind, the situation had grown dire in the extreme.
"Protect the Governor! Form a defensive line!"
The Sororitas captain shouted loudly, but the ground shook violently a second later.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Several Helbrutes meters tall broke through the fiery clouds, crashing heavily onto the plaza floor.
Heavy footpads cracked the stone tiles, their twisted metallic hulls wrapped in rainbow-colored Tzeentchian runes.
The infernal engines within their chests roared with explosive force, spewing sulfur-scented psychic flames.
The heavy weapons on their shoulders rotated slowly, locking their muzzles onto the hastily arrayed human soldiers.
Following close behind was an endless tide of Tzeentchian daemons.
Flamers turned into iridescent phantoms as they emerged from the fire-rain, screeching as they pounced on the crowd.
Blue and Pink Horrors sneered in the air, pouring down psychic bolts, while massive Chaos Spawns dragged twisted limbs to charge through the rubble.
Fire-rain continued to fall and daemons kept surging; the small rescue force was overwhelmed in an instant.
"Open fire!"
Relying on castle pillars and statue covers, the Vanguard elites fired back, their heavy bolters barking roaring bursts.
Rounds struck the Helbrutes' armor with sparks, yet struggled to pierce the metal shells reinforced by Chaos.
The Battle Sisters stepped forward with flamer units; wherever the holy flames swept, low-level daemons let out agonized shrieks before dissolving into wisps of green smoke.
Yet the sheer number of daemons was overwhelming.
They seemed endless, surging continuously from the burning clouds.
Just as a frontline soldier severed a Horror, another daemon tore open his throat from behind.
Resonant psychic attacks rained onto the positions, each explosion taking a wave of flesh and blood with it.
Lynn drew his sword, the Sword of Valeria igniting with pale gold holy fire.
He stepped aside to dodge an incoming psychic beam, sweeping his blade to sever two Pink Horrors in half.
Holy flames scorched the daemons' Warp bodies with sizzling crackles.
Yet on his own, he could not hold the entire line.
The battlefront retreated step by step.
Casualty counts among the soldiers climbed rapidly; the rescue force of several hundred elites was reduced by nearly half in under fifteen minutes.
The plaza ground was soaked through with blood, bodies piling up before the defense line like a low wall of flesh and armor.
Even worse news arrived from behind.
"My Lord! Chaos Knights behind us! Eight total—charging directly toward our position!"
The comms officer shouted with desperation over the battlefield noise.
Lynn whipped his head around.
At the end of the castle avenue, eight twisted Chaos Knight suits were charging at full speed.
Their armor was carved with Tzeentchian runes, weapons flashing with psychic power; structures and barricades along their path were shattered like paper.
Leading them was a Heldrake Lynn knew all too well—Luna.
She had managed to break through the underground blockade and pursue them outside.
Lynn realized the dynamic in an instant.
Atia wanted to capture him to study the secrets of the Tyranid swarm and offer them to the Architect of Fate.
Luna wanted to capture him to claim the achievement and prove herself as Tzeentch's favored servant.
Two thralls of Tzeentch were now racing against time, both seeking to grasp him first to win favor from the Architect of Fate.
High Sorcerer and Helbrutes in front, Chaos Knights behind.
Attacked from both sides, with no escape in sight.
Lynn watched his soldiers collapse one by one, seeing the holy light shield of the Battle Sisters grow increasingly faint.
With relentless tides of Chaos advancing from both directions, a surge of helplessness and despair welled up uncontrollably from his heart.
Was he truly destined to fall here today?
He tightened his grip on his sword, his fingers trembling slightly.
Not out of fear, but unwillingness.
He still had Brevis to defend, Reina waiting for him, and countless things left unfinished.
Yet the daemons were upon them, the Helbrutes' muzzles locked onto his position, and the roar of the Knight suits behind drew closer by the second.
Only a handful of elite warriors remained at his side, fighting to the death to protect him.
Yet right at this critical juncture, a clear, resonant dragon roar suddenly pierced through the din of the battlefield.
"Roar!!!"
The dragon's roar rang loud and piercing, carrying a power that penetrated straight into the soul, causing even the frantically charging daemons to pause instinctively for a split second.
Immediately following, a sky-wide blizzard descended without warning.
This was no light scattering of snowflakes as seen on the icefield, but a violent, earth-shrouding ice-and-snow storm.
Cold winds whipped feather-thin snow, tearing a massive gap straight through the burning clouds.
The burning psychic fire-rain collided with the storm, sizzling into white steam before scattering into nothingness.
Half of the burning clouds were swallowed whole by this abrupt blizzard.
Everyone froze on the spot.
Raynor snapped his head up, gazing deep into the wind and snow.
A slender, azure dragon silhouette descended from the cloud layer, wrapped in the sky-spanning blizzard.
Nearly ten meters in length, its scales mirrored the purest jade, reflecting a cold luster amid the driving snow.
A pair of ice-blue vertical pupils stood sharp as blades, radiating cold detachment and overwhelming pressure.
Its wings unfurled like clouds hanging from the heavens, fanning up bone-chilling winds and ice blades with every flap.
The Frost Dragon.
The mythical creature from Brevis's legends had descended in truth.
Raynor's heart skipped a beat before being wrapped in warmth.
It was Reina.
She had come after all, throwing all caution to the wind.
He had always been wary of the Sisters of Silence and the Imperial Fleet, not daring to let Reina expose her true form lightly.
Yet in his moment between life and death, she had come anyway, landing before him in the most bold, matchless manner possible.
"Hiss!!"
Several more sharp dragon roars echoed out.
Dozens of smaller Frost Dragons, three to four meters in length, followed behind the primary dragon, diving straight down through the snowstorm.
Smaller in size, their speed was staggering, their azure scales identical to the main dragon's, their claws and fangs gleaming with icy light.
These were the Tyranid flying warrior organisms Reina had meticulously modified, coated in a frost shell using psychic power to disguise them as young dragons.
They struck like streaks of azure lightning, pouncing precision-first onto the daemon clusters closest to Raynor. A single sweep of their claws tore ten Horrors to fragments.
Their ice breath froze swathes of Chaos Spawns into ice sculptures before shattering them into dust.
This chaotic battlefield was carved open by these dozens of "young dragons."
Seeing the defenses around Raynor stripped bare, a Helbrute let out a dull roar, charging forward with heavy strides.
It raised its power claw flashing with psychic light high into the air, bringing it down toward Raynor's head with crushing force.
"My Lord, watch out!"
The few remaining guards nearby threw themselves forward with a scream, only to be swept down instantly by the Helbrute's shoulder cannon fire.
The power claw drew closer, its wind stinging Raynor's cheeks.
Just then, two azure blurred silhouettes swept in from the side.
Two "young dragons" slammed into the Helbrute's side armor simultaneously, the impact tilting the multi-ton war machine off-balance.
The power claw grazed Raynor's side as it smashed into the ground, detonating a deep crater into the floor.
Now!
Raynor's eyes turned sharp without a hint of hesitation.
Pushing off the ground, he leapt into the air, gripping the Sword of Valeria with both hands to channel his full strength and holy flame into the blade's edge.
Golden holy flames burned furiously, illuminating his resolute face.
"Die!"
With a fierce roar, the longsword drove its scorching holy flame straight into the core of the Helbrute's infernal engine inside its chest.
"Sizzle~!!"
Holy flame and Chaos energy collided violently, releasing a piercing screech.
The twisted souls trapped inside the infernal engine let out agonizing wails as the blazing holy fire spread along the conduits, scorching every inch of metal and flesh.
The Helbrute's massive body twitched violently several times before its power claw dropped limply, the light in its chest extinguishing completely.
With a heavy thud, the massive iron coffin collapsed onto the ground, devoid of life.
Raynor landed, breathing slightly, his sword-hand slightly numb.
He looked up at the largest dragon silhouette in the sky, his eyes filled with concern and warmth.
High above, the Frost Dragon Reina had transformed into locked its cold, vertical pupils onto Atia atop his disc.
This was the man who had backed Raynor into a corner.
This was the man who had nearly destroyed Brevis.
Kill him, and everything would end.
A low growl rumbled in the Frost Dragon's throat as the surrounding snowstorm turned violent, ice-blue psychic power gathering between its claws and fangs.
Atia showed no fear whatsoever.
Hovering mid-air, his eyes widened as he stared fixedly at the azure dragon below and those "young dragons" clearing out the daemons.
Beneath his hood, his face bore a fanatical fascination, like a collector laying eyes upon a long-sought treasure.
"Tyranids... it truly is the Tyranids..."
He muttered to himself, his voice trembling slightly with excitement.
"The brutal, unfeeling Tyranids would actively come to shield a human."
"Wonderful, absolutely wonderful!"
To Atia, who worshiped the Architect of Fate and pursued every forbidden knowledge in the universe, nothing was more alluring than a "Tyranid organism achieving symbiosis with a human host."
This was a miracle breaking species boundaries—the finest sacrifice to offer the Architect of Fate!
"Come!"
Atia laughed wildly, raising his staff high.
Rainbow-colored psychic fire erupted from around his body as twisted Tzeentchian runes danced in the air, converging into a massive psychic shockwave that slammed toward the Frost Dragon.
Reina showed no weakness either.
Snapping her wings, the sky-wide blizzard condensed into a massive ice dragon roar, charging straight against the psychic shockwave.
Boom!!!
Ice and fire, order and Chaos—two vastly different streams of powerful psychic energy collided above St. Gallus Castle.
Violent Warp turbulence swept in all directions, tearing the cloud cover to shreds, shattering all the castle glass, and spider-webbing the walls with cracks.
Soldiers and daemons on the ground paused their slaughter instinctively, looking up at this sky-rending duel.
...
While psychic power churned in the sky and the heavens changed color, deep inside a long-sealed underground warehouse of St. Gallus Castle:
Leo San Gallus lay quietly on the dust-covered floor.
His face was pale as paper, his chest showing no movement, dried blood frozen at the corner of his lips.
Hours ago, he had been ambushed by Luna's confidants, severely injured, and thrown into this abandoned underground warehouse to be forgotten.
Signs of life had long faded from his body.
As his consciousness sank into darkness, frames of memory began flashing through Leo's mind uncontrollably.
He remembered his childhood, when his grandfather Karadogon carried him on his shoulders to teach him the family crest.
He remembered his youth, before his aunt Luna had fallen, when she held his hand to teach him about Knight suits.
He remembered the days after Raynor arrived, when Brevis began to improve bit by bit.
And he remembered Luna betraying the family to fall to Chaos, causing House San Gallus to fracture into pieces.
Uncounted memories intertwined, while faint whispers from the Warp lingered in his ears.
Those voices were filled with temptation, promising him power and revenge if only he would throw himself into the embrace of the Architect of Fate.
Leo smiled bitterly in his heart.
So this was what dying felt like?
In the end, he had achieved nothing at all.
His grandfather's whereabouts were unknown, his aunt had fallen to Chaos, and the honor House San Gallus had protected for generations seemed destined to be tarnished in his lifetime.
He had failed even to defend Brevis, failed to join hands with Raynor to drive Chaos out.
Unwillingness.
A towering wave of unwillingness inundated his fading consciousness like a surging tide.
If given one more chance...
If he could return to life once more...
He would never fall so easily again.
He would restore House San Gallus, rescue his grandfather, purge the family line, and safeguard this planet.
He would... fight shoulder to shoulder with Raynor once more!
As his consciousness sank deeper into the dark, his five senses were dragged into a strange, multicolored expanse.
It was the edge of the Warp—twisted light and shadow flowing around him as frantic, fragmented whispers grew deafening, pulling at his soul to drag him into the abyss of Chaos.
Yet at the precise moment his soul was about to sink into total oblivion...
A black sun rose abruptly at the edge of that strange space.
It offered no light, no heat—only absolute, icy silence.
Yet as that cold "sunlight" rained down, the chaotic, multicolored light around him dissolved like snow under a summer sun.
The seductive whispers fell silent instantly, purged into pure nothingness.
Leo's soul shuddered violently.
He felt a calling—a summon rising from his physical shell, from the deepest depths of his bloodline.
He had to go back.
He must return!
A silent scream detonated within the depths of his soul.
The next second, his soul began retracing its descent, hurtling backward at breakneck speed.
"Cough, cough... cough!!"
A violent fit of coughing shattered the dead silence of the underground warehouse.
That young body, which should have lost all vitality, suddenly heaved as its chest rose and fell before erupting into a series of excruciating coughs.
Leo San Gallus snapped his eyes open.
He gasped frantically for air, drenched in cold sweat as if pulled straight from deep water.
He stared blankly at his pale yet real palms, feeling the heart beating once more inside his chest cavity.
He was... alive?
The warehouse remained dark, dust floating in the air, unchanged from the moment he lost consciousness.
Yet he could clearly feel a cold, heavy, yet deeply familiar power coursing within his body.
That power flowed through his bloodline, sleeping in his bone marrow as if it had resided there for a thousand years.
Supporting himself against the ground, Leo sat up slowly.
He looked down at his chest—the wound that should have been fatal had scabbed and healed, leaving only a faint scar.
Beyond the warehouse, the rumbling and explosions of colliding psychic energies echoed faintly.
Leo's gaze shifted from initial confusion to absolute, sharp resolve.
He had not died.
He was back.
This time, he would not lose again.
Leaning against the wall, Leo slowly stood up.
Following his memory, he walked deeper into the warehouse. If he remembered correctly, a spare family suit remained stored here.
Swirling dust floated through the air, bearing the sharp reek of rust and aged machine oil.
This underground vault had been sealed for an unknown number of years, the San Gallus family crest on the wall long faded and mottled.
Exposed piping bore the marks of time, while the accumulated dust was thick enough to swallow his boot soles, leaving clear footprints with every step.
Leo remembered clearly how, in his childhood, his grandfather stroked his head and said this vault was the ultimate trump card of House San Gallus—never to be opened unless the family faced absolute extinction.
And the sole key to opening the vault was the family genetic signature flowing within their blood.
Just moments ago, he had merely pressed his palm against the gateway's scanner, and the multi-ton alloy door opened without resistance or a single mechanical hitch.
"What is hidden here..." Leo muttered under his breath, his palms sweating slightly.
The emergency lighting system seemed to retain minimal operational power; as he moved deeper, sensory lamps overhead flickered to life one by one.
Yet the light was not standard Imperial cold white, but cast a strange yellow-green hue.
The jumping illumination stretched long shadows into distorted shapes, resembling dormant monsters lurking in the dark.
The air grew increasingly damp, carrying a subtle, metallic sweetness.
Leo followed the arrows stamped on the floor, the sigils covered in dust yet still recognizable by their ancient contours.
That was the exclusive mark of consecutive House San Gallus High Kings.
At the end of the corridor lay an extraordinarily vast space.
A towering leviathan stood quietly in the center, draped from head to toe in a massive sheet of red velvet.
The velvet's edges were frayed and buried under dust, barely revealing the outline of towering pauldrons and slender limbs, like a sleeping giant.
Leo's heart rate accelerated uncontrollably.
He strode over to the wall, finding the dust-covered control lever.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled the lever down with force.
The screech of turning gears and chains echoed in the cavernous room as the heavy red velvet retracted toward both sides along mechanical rails with a sharp whoosh.
Dust cascaded down, kicking up a suffocating cloud.
The moment illumination flooded the construct's body, Leo's pupils contracted sharply, his breath catching in his throat.
Bright yellow adamantium armor reflected a heavy metallic luster beneath the yellow-green lights, covered in sacred prayers of House San Gallus and angelic bas-reliefs.
The winged crest on the shoulder armor remained sharp and distinct despite the passage of time.
It stood a head taller than standard Knight suits—a full twelve meters high—its broad chest plate and solid lower limbs radiating unmatched power.
Its left arm housed a thick Plasma Decimator, the muzzle half a meter in diameter with cooling vanes arrayed along the barrel.
Even after silent slumber over the years, one could easily imagine the terrifying destruction it unleashed upon firing.
Its right arm held a Volcano Lance, the energy slots along the shaft empty, yet dark red scorch marks at the muzzle silently told how many foes it had vaporized.
"The Wrath of Divine Judgment..."
Leo murmured the name softly, his voice trembling with excitement.
He could never mistake it.
This was the sole Dominus-class Knight suit of House San Gallus—the exclusive mount of consecutive High Kings.
In ancient family records, the Wrath of Divine Judgment had accompanied the First High King through countless counter-rebellion campaigns.
It was the true king of firepower on the battlefield.
Yet ever since his grandfather Karadogon retired to the background in old age, this legendary Knight suit had vanished without a trace.
Some said it was heavily damaged in war and sent to Mars Forge World for repairs; others claimed it vanished alongside the old High King.
Leo had never dreamed it had been preserved here in the abandoned underground vault beneath the castle.
"Excellent... truly excellent..."
Leo pumped his fist with excitement.
With this Dominus-class Knight suit in his hands, why should he fear Luna's betrayal?
Why fear those Chaos cultists? Even against those Thousand Sons sorcerers, he possessed the power to engage them head-on!
The glory of San Gallus would never fall here.