"Hahahahahahahahahaha!"
Accompanied with Bucharis guttural and hollow laugh, flesh exploding and scream of daemon fill the chamber as Atharion and his men continue to push towards the mad Cardinal.
Unlike from the first wave that make up of just mad cultist and some daemon here and there, now they are comprised of the traitor guardsmen and the personal guards of the Cardinal. While still posed no significant threat, but their ability to still coordinate their attacks have prove to nuance and successfully in slowing down the Dark Knights advance.
Atharion surged forward, unwilling to let the Cardinal's ritual feed a moment longer. Psychic fire crackled from his gauntlet, each swing of his hammer amplified by the force of his will. Traitors were hurled aside like ragdolls, their bones snapping before the weapon even struck. Others simply burst apart, their souls burned out by the sheer pressure of his mind.
At last, the path narrowed—Bucharis stood before him, arms spread wide, the air around him writhing with unnatural light. Atharion raised his hammer to strike—
—and the air split.
A Bloodletter burst from the warp-slick haze, its blade of blackened brass shrieking against reality as it materialized between them. Its burning eyes locked onto Atharion, and with a roar like tearing steel, it brought its hellblade down to intercept his swing.
The daemon's maw twisted open, words spilling forth—not in Low or High Gothic, but in a grinding, alien tongue that seared the ears and clawed at the mind. Its voice was a chorus of slaughter, guttural syllables hammering against Atharion's skull like chains.
Atharion didn't answer. He poured his will into the haft of his hammer, runes along its head flaring white-hot as psychic power coursed through the weapon. The chamber trembled under the sudden surge, the warp-slick haze recoiling as if struck.
The Bloodletter howled and pressed harder, its hellblade sparking against the hammer's radiant head. Around them, the traitors convulsed and screamed, the daemon's presence driving them into frothing berserk fury. They hurled themselves at the 1st Company, heedless of anything that hurled at them, their madness feeding the storm that thickened the veil.
Atharion can feel it, the reality is thining and he can hear more daemon begin to materialize in the real space. He can't wait any longer.
"Enough!"
With a roar, Atharion channeled a psychic surge through his hammer and swung upward in a crushing arc. Warp-light erupted in a blinding flash as the head of the weapon struck the daemon full in the chest. The Bloodletter screamed, its form unraveling, torn apart by the psychic backlash. Its body burned away into a spray of molten ash and warp-fire, sucked screaming back into the void from which it had come.
With the Bloodletter banished, the backlash rippled outward like a shockwave. Traitors screamed as warp-fire burst from within them, bodies igniting like candles in a storm. Others simply collapsed, their souls torn free, leaving empty husks that crumpled at Atharion's feet. The chamber still stank of the immaterium, heavy and oppressive, but its tide had stopped rising. For now.
Atharion exhaled once, the sound hissing inside his helm. His grip tightened, his hammer blazing brighter as the psychic resonance hummed along its head. He strode forward, boots grinding through ash and bone, each step echoing across the warped cathedral like the toll of a bell.
"No… no… this is impossible." Bucharis stammered, his voice breaking, no longer the booming chorus of the warp but a hollow rasp. His once-bloated frame, fed by luxury and corruption, shriveled with each second. Vestments that once strained to contain his girth now hung loose over a body wasted and skeletal, the flesh clinging to bone like a starved slave in the depths of a penal hold.
The warp-light that had crowned him sputtered and bled away, retreating like shadows before dawn. His skin cracked, leaking thin rivulets of black ichor that hissed when they struck the deck.
"I was chosen!" He shrieked, clawing at the air as if to grasp the power fleeing him. "The God-Emperor have chosen me as his Speaker, the new and true manifestation of Him!"
"You're never His manifestation—you're not even the voice of Him." Atharion's tone was like a death knell as he raised his hammer high, its head blazing with psychic fire. "You're but a parasite. A liar fattened on the faith of the weak."
Bucharis stumbled back, skeletal arms flailing, his eyes wide with both terror and denial. "No! I am His chosen! I—"
The rest was swallowed by the descending strike.
With a sound like a thunderclap, the hammer crashed down. Warp-light and power-field merged in a single shattering impact that broke Bucharis utterly—bone and flesh obliterated in a flare of psychic ruin. His scream ended in silence, his body reduced to ash that scattered across the desecrated deck.
With his death, the last tether of warp-spawned influence snapped. The surviving traitors, already faltering, were cut down with grim efficiency by the combined wrath of the Dark Knights and Space Wolves. What had once been a screaming tide of zealotry collapsed into a rout of broken men, quickly silenced by bolt, blade, and flame.
When the final gunshot echoed into silence, the two Chapters withdrew. Their battered but unyielding forces returned to their respective battle-barges, leaving the corrupted vessel to its fate.
Moments later, both flagships turned their guns upon the enemy battleship. Lances of plasma fire and streams of macro-batteries hammered into its hull. The void was lit by the fury of Imperial vengeance as its structure cracked, burning from within. Finally, the battleship's plasma reactors went critical, tearing the vessel apart in a sun-bright explosion. The shockwave rolled through the void, scattering debris and the last vestiges of warp-taint into nothingness.
The heresy of Bucharis was ended.
===============================
"I will think about your proposal, brother," the Great Wolf said, his expression thoughtful. "But I will need to bring it before the Wolf Lords. Such a change would alter much of Fenris' defenses that didn't see much changes since the Great Crusade, and they will not accept it lightly."
Atharion inclined his head. "Of course. Take the time you need. If ever you require my help, you know where to find me." His lips curved into the faintest of smiles.
"Hah!" The Great Wolf's booming laugh filled the chamber. "I will make sure the Wolf Lords know this scheme was yours! They'll howl for your head before the first horn of ale is raised!" His eyes gleamed with mirth even as he grinned wide.
Atharion's smile deepened a fraction. "Then may we meet again, brother—ideally before they try to separate it from my shoulders."
"Aye," the Great Wolf chuckled, his laughter fading into a solemn nod. "May we meet again… and may the Allfather keep His gaze upon us both."
With that, the holo-feed flickered and died, leaving Atharion alone in the quiet gloom of his chamber. The faint hum of the vessel's systems pressed in, steady and cold. He turned to the console, gauntleted fingers tapping a sequence of runes. Another hologram shimmered into being—Grand Master Thothrax, bowed slightly in deference.
"So," Atharion began, his voice low, face unreadable, "how goes the research?"
Thothrax's features were grim, his tone weighty with ill news. "My lord… it is as you suspected. The Cardinal's last moments—his fear, his desperation, his pride—all of it has been leeched into his ring. The warp-taint that saturated the chamber fused with it, birthing a chaos artifact."
Atharion's eyes narrowed, shadows playing across his face as the hologram flickered.
Thothrax continued, his voice tightening. "The wearer would find their words twisted with unnatural power. With but a whisper, they could sway the hearts of the faithless and the loyal alike. Left unchecked, it could topple worlds. Whole sub-sectors could burn if it fell into the hands of one cunning enough to wield it."
"Understand." Atharion nodded. "The ring is to be secured within the Labyrinth the moment we return to Avalon. No one beyond the Circle is to know of its existence. Not even our allies in the Ordos. This artifact must vanish into shadow—forever."
Thothrax bowed his head deeper. "It shall be done, my lord. The Labyrinth is designed for this purpose… and once sealed within, not even the warp itself may find it again."
===============================
310.M36
Camelot
When the Dark Knights and Iron Seraphs arrived upon the capital world, a small parade is organized by the Lords of Camelarion to show the citizens within the realm that their protectors still able to dispatch enemies of the Imperium and are indeed capable of protecting them after couple years of no combat, strictly busier themselves with construction and politics of the Camelarion.
The Iron Seraphs led the procession. They marched in perfect step upon the main road, banners of argent and crimson flying high above their ranks. Behind them came the thunder of armored engines, squadrons of tanks and transports advancing with methodical precision. Towering Ironclad Dreadnoughts strode among them like iron colossi, each step echoing against the stone of Camelot's ancient avenues.
Following them were the Dark Knights. The 3rd and 5th Companies marched in solemn formation, each company divided into two proud blocks of fifty Astartes. Their black and silver armor caught the pale light, grim and resolute, their company banners carried aloft like silent oaths. Alongside their advance rolled their armored vehicles, engines growling low, a display of discipline and restrained menace.
Last came the trophies of war. Captured standards of the heretic and the hulks of twisted war machines were paraded for all to see. Shackled prisoners—survivors of the traitor host—were dragged in chains, their broken forms a living testament to the Emperor's judgment.
As the parade going on, Atharion already within the fortress-monastry, Avalon, in a meeting with the 12 members.
"So," spoke II, his voice steady, "how have the Iron Seraphs performed? You have invested much of yourself in this Founding."
"They have performed well." Atharion answer as a holographic show their battle reports. "Even when they are not fully strength, they still able to perform multiple battles upon different worlds in short period of time." He stop while furrow his eyebrows. "Though this also resulting in a higher casualties than initial plan."
"Well, if they want to become stronger, this is a process that one need to undertake." 'VII' said with his mechanical voice. "Just like you and your Dark Knights."
Atharion didn't rebuke as this is the reality.
"So, do we continue with what we have plan?" 'X' ask. "If so, we need to proceed quickly, I have a feeling that a threat is looming over the Segmentum."
"Of course." Atharion said quickly. "Other than Iron Seraphs, Steel Wardens have also perform well enough that I and my officers conclude that they have enough strength to hold themselves." Atharion stop before looking at everyone present. "Though they still need some help as both are not full strength."
Iron Seraphs and Steel Wardens are both found under an idea of a strong ground Astarte force that can wistahn an attack from a strong traitor warband, or multiple at the same time. As according to Atharion plan, both Chapters will be assign to Segmentum Obscurus, Iron Seraphs to Cadia System while Steel Wardens to Vraks Prime.
Iron Seraphs will be permanently station within the Cadia System, with its main force station upon Cadia Prime, and small detachments garrisoning the rest of the worlds within the System.
Steel Wardens main mission is to protect the armoury world, Vraks Prime. Though Atharion also wanted them to help the Scarus Sector if any of the important worlds within the Sector is being attack or happen to it.
"I can help with the supplies situation." 'X' said with his cold and mechanical voice. "I have a surplus of power amrours and weapons for Astarte, though I lack any heavy weapons for them."
"I can help with that." 'III' interject. "I currently have two Forgeships that I'm able to gift to them. Other than the normal weapons, equipments and ammo, both ships also able to produce Rhino and Predator with their variants too."
"I have also secure a recruit world for both of them." 'VI' said. "Iron Seraphs will be able to recruit from Macharia, while Steel Wardens can recruit from Thracian Primaris. Though, the sector governor of Scarus did offer Imbrium for Steel Wardens to serve as their homeworld."
A low whistle escaped from 'XII'. "I can't believe he....or she willing to give a world out just like that, not to said not even meeting the Chapter first."
"Nonetheless," 'I' said as he look at Atharion. "You need to have to discuss with them first, though having a homeworld is definitely a boon, but records show that Imbrium lies farther from Vraks than Thracian Primaris. That distance may hinder their response to threats against the Armoury world."
"Understood," Atharion inclined his head. "I will consult with the Chapter Masters before a decision is made." His voice hardened slightly, though his tone remained even. "And I thank you all for your aid on their behalf. After all…" his eyes swept the gathering, "they cannot know of your existence."
"Hmph." A snort from 'II' can be hear. "So, I hear that you have also begin the process to found two more successor Chapters." He then leaned forward, seemingly wanted to give Atharion more pressure. "Why so quickly, even the two Chapters that you declared ready are not even full strength, and now you preparing the next batch."
"Indeed." 'X' said with her puzzled voice. "Why do you seem so hastily? Though we know that the archenemy will be launching an attack soon, but with your own Chapter, plus the Angels of Wrath, Fire Hawks and Lamenters assisting you, not to said with Nine's forge world and your Auxilia forces, you should be able to handle it."
Atharion didn't said anything at first, after all, all this preparation is not only for Abaddon and the traitor legion. It's also for the future, Necrons, Tau, Orks, mainly for Ghazghkull and most importantly, the Tyranid. If not accounting all this threats, there are still region that require Astarte Chapter presence for their stability, mainly the Maelstrom region that plugae with traitor warbands and pirates from different races because of the resources that the worlds within the region can produce.
But, Atharion can't really tell them the matters about the future. Though all of them know of Atharion divination ability, it really hard to tell them without making it sound suspicious.
He exhaled slowly, as though weighing a decision of great gravity. Then he lifted his eyes to the circle of the Twelve, his voice calm but cold with conviction.
"Yes, with the current forces, it's might already enough to stop the archenemy from gaining much, after all, Abaddon didn't always bring his full might upon the Imperium and with the traitor legions sperate into warbands, the threats they may posed are smaller." He stop, seeing that some of the 12 nodded, while the rest still looking at him.
"But what of the years to come?" Atharion continued, his tone shifting—measured hesitation woven into his words to better sell the lie. "I have received…a divination. A vision of what may come."
The chamber fell silent. Even the most skeptical among them leaned forward slightly.
"I have seen the greenskins," Atharion said slowly. "They will carve out their own empire within Imperial space—vast, defiant, and ruinous to reclaim. Worse still, a so-called prophet will arise among them, uniting countless tribes beneath his banner. This Waaagh! will not be like the others. It will be greater, more destructive—a tide that could engulf the Imperium entire if unprepared."
"Hold on." 'XI' stop Atharion from continued. "Do you really think they can become that dangerous?" He said with a ridiculous tone. "Not to said we already shatter them on Ullanour under the God-Emperor leadership, and the subbesfunetly War of the Beast ended in our victories, how do you think that they may threaten us again?"
But luckily, only 'XI' think like this, while he rest didn't said anything. After all, this is the reason why the War of the Beast inflicted huge losses upon the Imperium.
"Yes," Atharion replied, his voice cold as he fixed his gaze on XI, "we emerged triumphant from the two greatest Waaagh!s known to history. But at what cost?"
He let the question hang in the air, the weight of history pressing down on the chamber.
"During the War of the Beast alone, sectors burned while the Navis Imperialis faltered, lacking the ships to respond in time. The Astra Militarum failed not through cowardice, but because their numbers had withered in an age of false peace, and their supplies rotted under corruption. We won—but only barely. And the Imperium has not grown stronger since then."
He paused, then continued in a lower, graver tone, his words deliberate. "Worse... that is not the only danger I have seen."
"Undying machines will stir from their long sleep," he went on. "Worlds will fall in the blink of an eye, their defenses shattered by weapons that defy comprehension—technologies bordering on myth, and war engines the size of worlds themselves."
"A new xenos threat will arrive from beyond our galaxy, in numbers beyond counting. They will evolve and reproduce simply by consuming biological and genetic material, leaving dead worlds in their wake as they devour everything."
"And another xenos power will rise—wielding advanced technology, forging a small but formidable empire from many alien species. Though limited in size, their strength will be enough to repel Imperial assaults and demand a costly campaign to bring them to heel."
Atharion stop, letting the 12 to process all this wild and unproven information that he just thrown at them.
After a few long moments, a tired sigh escaped from 'I', drawing every gaze.
"Very well," 'I' said, meeting Atharion's eyes. His voice carried the weight of centuries of duty. "If what you have seen is true… then we will need everything we can muster to ensure the Imperium survives what is to come."
"But," He interject before Atharion or others can said anything. "as all this only a divination, you can hardly prove that all those threats can happen."
He raised a hand before Atharion or any of the others could speak. "But… these are still divinations. You cannot truly prove that all these threats will come to pass."
He paused mid-sentence, his expression shifting as something occurred to him. "Except, perhaps, for the Orks," he admitted slowly. "Their return is… plausible. They did it once before. There's no reason to believe they couldn't do so again."
"For the rest, we will have to wait and see," 'I' continued. "For now, you may proceed with the Founding as previously planned. But"—he placed deliberate emphasis on the word—"you will inform us before any future Foundings. No more surprises."
"Of course," Atharion replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you all for your support and trust."
'I' gave a single, firm nod. "Then this concludes our meeting. Until next time."
One by one, the holograms flickered and vanished, leaving the chamber in shadowed silence.
"As planned, isn't it?"
"Indeed."