V3 Chapter 37: Upgrading the Blade of Glory
The light fell across the desk and across the power sword lying flat in front of Duvette.
The blade had followed him through years of war. The edge was still sharp, the disruption field connectors along the fuller had been well maintained, and near the hilt the inscription and his name were still legible.
Duvette pressed his fingers lightly along the cold flat of the blade. The sword had a name, engraved alongside his own in the inscription near the hilt: Blade of Glory.
The Blade of Glory, Duvette's personal sidearm.
Under the effect of the Eternal attribute, the blade's surface was covered in a layer of gold-tinted patterning too fine to be seen easily. It was not true scale armour; it was more like a grain that only became visible in certain light conditions.
The patterns ran the length of the blade, fitted close against the metal surface.
Duvette had once asked Cawl to examine it. The conclusion the man had eventually produced was simple: it was still a power sword, but certain aspects of its internal structure could no longer be explained by conventional material science.
That was sufficient.
For Duvette's purposes, the blade could be used, could cut through things, and could not be destroyed. That was enough.
He looked at his current Emperor's Wrath total: just over five thousand points.
That was a substantial reserve.
The past stretch had brought nothing but complications: Balhaut, Tanith, Tarentus, Castalor, and then the unexpected business with the Necron. He finally had the opportunity to add something to his old companion.
Duvette directed his attention to the panel.
Three hundred Emperor's Wrath was deducted.
Three options appeared in his field of vision.
The first two were straightforward.
One enhanced cutting sharpness, the other strengthened the disruption field. Both were practical and followed the natural development path for a power sword.
If Duvette had only wanted the blade to cut through power armour and plating more easily, he would probably have taken one of them.
But his attention stopped on the third option.
[Soul Severance]
[When this blade lands an effective strike against daemons, daemon-possessed targets, Warp projections, or Chaos constructs, the blow reaches the target's essential nature and briefly suppresses its Warp activity. The more dependent the target is on Warp power, the more pronounced this effect.]
Duvette's eyes sharpened.
A small Emperor's Sword.
Not a true Emperor's Sword, of course. Only a small one.
The blade would not have the ability to permanently destroy a daemon's essential nature, and it would not make a Greater Daemon killed by it vanish from the Warp entirely. What it could do was reach that essential nature and use the order of realspace to suppress whatever Warp state the target was in.
That was already extremely useful.
Duvette understood clearly that daemons were never troublesome only because of raw power. They each came with their own blessings: Nurgle daemons with their high wound tolerance, Khorne daemons with their resistance to incoming damage at range, Slaanesh daemons with their agility, Tzeentch entities with their psychic capabilities. If this blade could suppress those characteristics for a short time, it would create openings for everything that followed: gunfire, flame, psychic force, or heavier options. Combined with his own Silence field, it would produce considerably more.
Duvette chose Soul Severance without hesitation.
Emperor's Wrath was deducted.
A wash of white light spread from the hilt, moving slowly along the crossguard and fuller until it reached the tip. The white light covered the entire blade, and where it passed, the faint gold patterning that had always been barely visible became sharper and clearer.
There was no wind in the room.
But the few papers on the desk shivered very slightly.
Duvette looked at the blade in front of him and could feel that something in it had changed from before.
He lifted it.
The white light gradually withdrew into the blade and then disappeared.
The sword looked the same as it always had.
Metal blade, blue-gold crossguard, his name and the Macragge Honour inscription near the hilt.
Duvette ran his fingers along the fuller again, taking in the new weight that had entered the blade. He allowed himself a small smile.
Guilliman had a sword said to be the Emperor's.
Now he had one too.
A smaller one. Perfectly normal.
He briefly entertained the thought that maybe next he should find a shield, and maybe even add a power lance to the collection.
Duvette let that thought go. He looked at what the next upgrade would cost.
Nine hundred points.
He considered for a few seconds and chose to upgrade again.
This time the options that appeared were again weighted toward direct combat. One enhanced disruption field stability, the other gave the blade a temporary increase in cutting force.
Duvette looked at them briefly, then let his eyes settle on the third option.
[Oath-Keeper]
[When the bearer fights for an oath they have made, this blade will answer their will.]
The description was short, and vague.
It gave no indication of how the blade would answer, or to what degree of effect. It was nothing like the first two options, where the combat value could be read at a glance.
Duvette stared at it for a long time.
Oaths.
That word carried significant weight in the Imperium.
Astartes swore to the Emperor and to their gene-sire. Astra Militarum personnel swore obedience to the Imperium. Inquisitors swore to defend humanity. Mechanicus priests swore to pursue the truth of the Omnissiah.
Mortals made oaths too.
Usually the oaths did not survive contact with shellfire, hunger, fear, and death.
Duvette thought it over, and chose Oath-Keeper anyway.
He was curious what would happen if he one day swore an oath to end the tides of the Warp. What would the blade do in response?
Probably nothing. He was hardly going to leap up and slap himself for dreaming.
The thought made him laugh quietly.
Nine hundred Emperor's Wrath was deducted.
This time the blade did not produce white light.
The blade only shivered very slightly. The inscription near the hilt warmed briefly, then returned to cold.
Duvette held the hilt and waited.
Nothing happened.
He looked down at the blade.
"Fair enough," Duvette said. "It seems you also agree the time has not come yet."
Without dwelling on it further, he sheathed the blade and set it to one side.
Then Duvette looked at his skill panel.
He still had approximately four thousand Emperor's Wrath remaining.
He could not put all of it into the sword. The crusade was about to begin. Guilliman was heading to Terra, and the route would bring complications without question.
He could not afford to think only about himself.
After a brief consideration, Duvette decided to spend fifteen hundred points upgrading three skills.
Flesh Engine.
Blessing of the Omnissiah.
Iron Crusade.
The first two were capabilities he had verified many times.
One could push mortals and Astartes past their physical limits at critical moments. The other enhanced weapons, vehicles, and mechanical systems, keeping technical equipment in better operational condition during combat.
Iron Crusade was the more appropriate choice for what was coming.
It allowed formations to maintain higher efficiency during extended marches and sustained consecutive operations. For a crusade to Terra, that kind of capability would likely prove more valuable than any single burst of combat output.
Duvette invested the points without hesitation.
The text in the skill panel shifted.
Flesh Engine: duration extended.
Blessing of the Omnissiah: duration extended.
Iron Crusade: duration extended.
Duvette looked at the remaining twenty-five hundred Emperor's Wrath and did not spend any further.
He had three directions locked in mind.
One skill targeting naval fleet enhancement.
One Legion-wide skill targeting daemons.
One Legion-wide skill targeting xenos.
Which of the three to develop first would depend on what the crusade encountered.
Duvette had a feeling.
Guilliman's fallen brothers would not leave him alone.
Even without the Great Rift to amplify the Warp's reach into realspace, those daemon Primarchs would find other methods. Ritual, sacrifice, corrupted worlds, hex-bound fleets, brief projections, and the warbands willing to give everything to the Ruinous Powers.
The trouble would come. The only question was timing.
At that moment, someone knocked on the door.
Duvette looked up.
The hatch opened. An Ultramarine was standing outside and gave him a nod.
"Marshal-Commissar Duvette. The Primarch requests your presence."
Duvette gave a nod.
"Understood. I will be right there."
The Ultramarine turned and left.
Duvette looked at the power sword one more time and hung it back on the weapon rack beside the door. The scabbard settled into the mount with a quiet click of metal.
He straightened his black greatcoat and put his peaked cap on.
Right then.
Time to find out what Guilliman had to say.