Though the smoke of battle had dissipated from the Macragge's Honour, the atmosphere within the battleship, beyond the exhaustion of victory and the bustle of repairs, held a subtle undercurrent of worry beneath its calm surface. This worry stemmed from Gaius's deep concern and fear for his comrade.
After ensuring Luna and Eilaas were safely settled, and personally witnessing Dorian's unusually violent combat state, Gaius's unease reached its peak. He knew better than anyone the danger and agony of being coveted and whispered to by a Chaos God. He himself had faced Tzeentch's temptations on Terra, only breaking free through sheer willpower and the help of his comrades. He absolutely refused to see his brother-in-arms, Dorian, embark on that path of no return.
Without much hesitation, Gaius sought out the Company Chaplain. Not in the solemn chapel, but in a relatively quiet corner of a corridor leading to the medical bay. The Chaplain was still clad in his black power armor, adorned with skulls and symbols of atonement, and his gaze from beneath the skull helmet calmly observed Gaius, as if he could discern the turmoil within his heart.
"Chaplain," Gaius's voice was low and serious, with an undeniable earnestness, "I need to report an important matter concerning Brother Dorian."
The Chaplain nodded slightly, motioning for him to continue.
Gaius took a deep breath and described everything he had witnessed outside the medical bay, as detailed and objectively as possible: Dorian fighting Word Bearers and Possessed Marines in his flesh and blood, without power armor; his abnormally ferocious strength; his complete disregard for severe injuries and intense pain; his blood-red eyes filled with pure murderous intent; and those inhuman, beast-like roars.
"...That state, Chaplain," Gaius's voice carried a hint of lingering fear and gravity, "was far more than just bravery under severe injury. It was more like... what I've seen in records, the characteristics displayed by warriors corrupted by Khorne's curse, or... the berserkers of the World Eaters Legion controlled by the Butcher's Nails. I fear... Dorian may have been subjected to some... malevolent influence from the Warp."
He emphasized at the end: "Precisely because I personally experienced Tzeentch's deceit, I understand the strangeness and danger of that power even more. I absolutely cannot stand by and watch my brother fall into it as well."
The Chaplain listened quietly, his skull helmet obscuring his expression, but Gaius could feel the gaze behind the cold eye lenses growing sharper. When Gaius finished speaking, the Chaplain was silent for a moment, a silence that weighed heavily on Gaius's heart.
"Your concerns, Sergeant Karl, have been noted," the Chaplain's voice, muffled by his helmet, was deep and resonant. "You did well. Reporting any potential threats and anomalies promptly is the duty of every loyal warrior, especially when it involves Chaos corruption."
He paused, then continued: "I will relay your report to Captain Cassius. This matter is of great importance and requires the attention of the Company's high command."
Soon after, in the First Company's command center, Captain Cassius of the First Company listened to the Chaplain's retelling. The battle-hardened Captain, known for his composure, showed undisguised surprise and confusion on his face.
"Dorian? This... how can this be?" Captain Cassius's voice was filled with disbelief. "He is a warrior I watched grow! Rash and impulsive, that is his character, but his loyalty to the Emperor and Ultramar has never been flawed! He has nearly died multiple times to cover his comrades; on Terra, he also endured trials. How could he possibly..."
He couldn't reconcile the image of a Khorne berserker described by the Chaplain with the Dorian he knew—a rough but deeply loyal and absolutely reliable man in critical moments.
The Chaplain was not surprised by Captain Cassius's reaction. He calmly analyzed: "Captain, the corruption of Chaos, especially the temptation of Khorne, is often not instantaneous. It is skilled at disguise, striking at the purest parts of a warrior's heart—the desire for battle, the pursuit of power, the obsession with protecting comrades. If Sergeant Karl's description is accurate, then the anomaly appearing in Brother Dorian is not something that formed overnight. It is very likely that the seeds were sown in some previous battle or experience, and his brothers... perhaps out of trust, or perhaps failing to notice, chose to ignore or conceal it."
The Chaplain's tone became exceptionally serious: "We must face this possibility. A warrior corrupted by the whispers of the Chaos Gods poses a danger far exceeding that of ordinary enemies."
Captain Cassius's brow furrowed; the Chaplain's analysis left him no room to refute. He recalled some subtle changes in Dorian after his return from Austin Star severely wounded; he did seem more agitated and irritable than usual, but at the time, everyone attributed it to his injuries and the frustration of a failed mission.
"Then... what should we do now?" Captain Cassius asked, his voice heavy. "Immediately take control measures against Dorian? Isolate and investigate him?"
"No, not yet," the Chaplain shook his head, his answer surprising Captain Cassius. "Until Brother Dorian shows clear, irrefutable signs of corruption, we cannot take any drastic measures against him."
He looked at Captain Cassius and said earnestly: "Undue suspicion, rash accusations, and improper treatment can also destroy a loyal warrior's will and faith, and may even truly push him into the embrace of Chaos. Trust is the cornerstone of Chapter unity. We cannot easily shake this cornerstone because of a potential threat."
"Then what do you mean?" Captain Cassius pressed.
"Wait, observe, and be prepared," the Chaplain offered his strategy. "Wait for Brother Dorian to awaken from his severe injuries. At that time, I will personally communicate with him, using the power of faith and doctrine, to try and ascertain the true state of his inner self, to understand what exactly happened to him. We need to know if this is merely an extreme manifestation of being overwhelmed by battle and anger, or... if there is indeed some external evil force influencing him."
"During this period," the Chaplain added, his tone leaving no room for doubt, "we need to intensify our observation of Brother Dorian after he awakens, but it must be covert, not to arouse his suspicion. At the same time, relevant informed parties must maintain strict secrecy, limited to you, me, and Sergeant Karl who reported this matter. Before the truth comes out, we absolutely cannot allow rumors to spread within the Chapter; that will only cause unnecessary panic and division."
Captain Cassius pondered for a long time, finally nodding heavily: "I understand, Chaplain. We will do as you say. We will remain vigilant, but we will also give Dorian the trust and opportunity he deserves."
With the strategy decided, a heavy vigil quietly settled upon Captain Cassius, the Chaplain, and Gaius. They hoped it was just a false alarm, hoping Dorian was still the loyal brother they knew. But at the same time, they were prepared to face the worst-case scenario.
Meanwhile, in the intensive care unit of the medical bay, Dorian remained in a deep sleep. Various vital sign monitoring devices emitted regular low hums, showing that his body was slowly recovering with the aid of powerful self-healing abilities and medical technology. The Apothecaries had treated his horrific wounds, especially the large chunk of muscle removed from his right shoulder by a bolter, performing complex tissue regeneration and skin grafting surgeries.
His sleeping face seemed to have regained its usual ruggedness and calm, but his tightly furrowed brow and occasional unconscious muscle twitches seemed to indicate that his subconscious was not at peace. Had the bloody visions, the whispers of Khorne, and the twisted pleasure of killing that flooded his mind during battle truly dissipated with the end of the fight? Or were they like a lurking venomous snake, merely dormant for a time, waiting for the moment of his awakening to bare their deadly fangs once more?
No one knew. Only when he truly awoke and faced the Chaplain's questions and the inquisition of his own heart, would the answer perhaps be revealed. And whatever the outcome, for Sanks Squad, for the First Company, and indeed for the entire Ultramarines Chapter, it would be another severe test.
The void of the northern Ultramar sector gradually recovered some order and calm from the clamor of war. The vast Chaos forces had dispersed, and the loyalist fleet began its final cleanup and regrouping. The various successor Chapters that had completed their support missions, as well as the Dark Angels' squadron, having confirmed the situation was stable, began to weigh anchor and depart, returning to their respective defense sectors or home worlds. The grey Space Wolves fleet had long since vanished into the depths of the stars, leaving only legends of the Wolf King's return to circulate among the warriors.
However, one fleet temporarily remained—the Blood Ravens Chapter.
The Blood Ravens had endured immense pressure during the initial engagements and subsequent prolonged battles. Most of their warships were severely damaged and urgently needed extensive repairs and resupply, making long-distance travel immediately impossible. Several Blood Ravens' warships hung silently in the void anchorage, like wounded giant birds, their hulls covered with laser scorch marks, macro-cannon impact craters, and damaged hatches from boarding actions. Tech-Priests and Tech-Sergeants were busily working around them like worker bees, carrying out emergency repairs.
Chapter Master Marius Calgar observed all of this. The Blood Ravens Chapter had unhesitatingly rushed to provide aid at the first sign of crisis and fought with exceptional bravery. The Ultramarines had to remember and repay this friendship.
He summoned Lieutenant Golden to the bridge and issued an order: "Golden, our Blood Ravens brothers have paid a heavy price for Ultramar. Take a few men in a transport shuttle to their flagship, and on behalf of our Chapter, express our most sincere gratitude in person. Ask them if they have any needs regarding warship repairs and material resupply. Remember, Ultramar is never stingy with brothers who extend a helping hand. If they ask, we will do everything in our power to fulfill it."
"Understood, Lieutenant Golden!" Lieutenant Golden immediately accepted the order. He knew the importance of this diplomatic mission; it was not just a thank you to the Blood Ravens Chapter, but also an opportunity to solidify the deep friendship between the two Chapters.
Lieutenant Golden pondered for a moment, then named Gaius and two other experienced, steady Sergeants to accompany him. Gaius was not only brave in combat but also calm and composed, suitable for such occasions.
Soon, a small transport shuttle flew out of the Macragge's Honour's hangar, heading towards the Blood Ravens Chapter's flagship—the "Omnis Arcanum."
The "Omnis Arcanum" was a heavily modified battle barge, its appearance differing from the Ultramarines' square and orderly style, appearing more... practical and with a hint of mystery. Besides the Blood Ravens Chapter's emblem—a raven clutching a scroll—some decorative elements or scars from other Chapters could also be seen on its hull, as if narrating its long and complex history of campaigns.
Guided by the signal, the transport shuttle docked smoothly at the designated port of the "Omnis Arcanum." The airtight door opened, and Lieutenant Golden straightened his attire, then, accompanied by Gaius and the two other Sergeants, stepped onto the Blood Ravens' warship's deck with steady strides.
They were greeted by a Blood Ravens Company Champion, clad in deep wine-red and black power armor, with a tall posture and sharp eyes. After exchanging greetings, he led Lieutenant Golden and his party through brightly lit but somewhat solemn corridors towards the bridge.
Along the way, Gaius and the two other Sergeants couldn't help but curiously observe their surroundings. The Blood Ravens Chapter's interior decoration style was distinctly different from the Macragge's Honour they were familiar with. There were fewer traces of rigid holy scriptures and more of the weight of knowledge and... the display of trophies. In the alcoves along the corridors, ancient scrolls, damaged but still exquisite xenos artifacts, and even certain types of weapon components could occasionally be seen, all carefully placed, as if silently narrating the Blood Ravens Chapter's pursuit of knowledge and history.
This impression was even more profound when they entered the "Omnis Arcanum"'s bridge. The bridge layout was efficient and practical, but what was most striking were the "decorations" hanging in prominent positions.
On the central wall behind the Captain's throne hung a massive, specially treated head that still retained a ferocious expression! It was the head of a Word Bearers Chosen of Khorne, its twisted demonic features clearly visible, its empty eye sockets seeming to still emit residual evil intent. It hung there, not for ostentation, but more like a silent and firm declaration—a warning of ultimate hatred and victory against traitors and xenos, proclaiming that this was the fate of those who opposed the Emperor!
Besides this most conspicuous one, smaller xenos skulls or fragments of Chaos Space Marine shoulder pads could also be seen on other support pillars or near weapon control consoles. They were like trophies, yet also like monuments, reminding every Blood Ravens warrior who stepped onto the bridge what kind of enemies they faced, and the cost and glory of victory.
This slightly... "collecting" style, made Gaius and the others feel a bit novel, but it also deepened their understanding of the Blood Ravens Chapter's unique culture. This was a Chapter that was exceptionally firm, even somewhat obsessive, in its pursuit of knowledge and its fight against Chaos.
Just then, a loud and powerful voice came from the direction of the command throne at the front:
"Welcome to the 'Omnis Arcanum,' Lieutenant Golden, and brothers of the Ultramarines."
A Chapter Master, clad in deep wine-red power armor with the ornate Blood Ravens emblem emblazoned on his shoulder pads, rose from the throne and approached. He was Chapter Master Gabriel Angelos of the Blood Ravens Chapter. His face was resolute, his eyes deep, as if containing endless knowledge and battlefield wisdom, and he exuded an aura of authority forged in countless battles.
Lieutenant Golden immediately stepped forward, his right fist striking his breastplate heavily, performing a standard military salute, his voice clear and respectful: "Chapter Master Angelos! I am commanded by Chapter Master Calgar, on behalf of all warriors of the Ultramarines Chapter, to extend our highest respect and most sincere gratitude to you and the valiant warriors of the Blood Ravens Chapter!"
He continued: "During this crisis in Ultramar, the Blood Ravens Chapter extended a helping hand at the first opportunity, fearless of sacrifice, fighting valiantly. This friendship, we Ultramarines will forever engrave in our hearts! Chapter Master Calgar specifically instructed me to inquire if your Chapter has any needs regarding warship repairs and material resupply? Ultramar is willing to provide all possible support to its brothers!"
Gabriel Angelos listened to Golden's sincere words, a gentle smile appearing on his resolute face. He returned the salute, his voice steady: "Lieutenant Golden, you and Brother Calgar are too kind. Fighting Chaos and defending human territory is the sacred duty of every Astartes Monk. For the Blood Ravens to fight alongside the Ultramarines is an honor, and also a responsibility. We appreciate your Chapter's sentiment; we can manage our repair materials ourselves for now, but if we have any needs, we will certainly ask."
The exchange between the two commanders was filled with the unspoken understanding and mutual respect between brother Chapters. Behind them, Gaius's gaze once again swept over the silent trophies on the bridge, especially the grotesque head of the Chosen of Khorne, and his respect for the Blood Ravens Chapter deepened even further. These silent displays, more than any grand words, truly embodied the will and conviction of this Chapter.
The wounds of war take time to heal, but the operation and legacy of a Chapter cannot be delayed in the slightest.
Although the Macragge's Honour and its fleet suffered heavy losses and significant casualties in the recent fierce battle, Ultramar's efficient and comprehensive operational system demonstrated its powerful resilience at this moment.
Not long after, a small formation consisting of several transport ships, escorted by warships, arrived at the Ultramarines fleet, which was still undergoing maintenance in the void.
These transport ships carried the latest batch of new recruits, who had completed basic training and passed the final assessment, urgently transported from Macragge.
When the transport ship's hatch opened at the Macragge's Honour's receiving port, out walked young, resolute faces, unable to hide their nervousness and excitement.
They wore standard new recruit gray carapaces, equipped with basic Bolters and close-combat weapons, their eyes filled with anticipation for the future and awe for the battlefield they were about to step onto.
Orpha, the 10th Company Captain, was already waiting there.
His face was stern, his gaze sharp, as he scanned this fresh blood.
Although the Chapter had just endured a bitter battle and was in urgent need of replenishment, his requirements for new recruits would never be lowered because of it.
"Welcome to the battlefield, new recruits!" Orpha's voice echoed through the port via the loudspeaker.
"You have proven to possess the potential to become guardians of Ultramar.
But from this moment on, you will be assigned to various reconnaissance teams of the 10th Company, to learn and grow in true blood and fire!
Forget your achievements on the training ground; your eyes must always look in the direction guided by the Emperor, and your lives will be completely dedicated to the Imperium, the Primarch, and the Five Hundred Worlds!"
"For the Emperor! For Ultramar!" The new recruits shouted in unison, their voices filled with youthful passion and determination.
The arrival of these new recruits injected new vitality into the heavily wounded Chapter.
They would be assigned to various veteran teams, performing tasks such as patrols and reconnaissance under the guidance of experienced old soldiers, beginning their true careers as Ultramarines.
The gaps left by the fallen would be filled, and the Chapter's blade would once again be honed sharp.
Meanwhile, in the Eighth Company's medical bay, the atmosphere was relatively quiet.
In a private medical pod, Sergeant Vik had awakened from a long coma and the critical period.
He lay on the medical bed, connected to various life support and monitoring devices, his face still pale, but his eyes had regained their sparkle, though with a hint of weakness from his recent severe injuries.
The Apothecary was performing a routine check, recording various physiological data.
"Your recovery speed is astonishing, Sergeant Vik," the Apothecary's voice was calm and unruffled.
"With such severe injuries, merely surviving is a miracle; to regain consciousness in such a short time further proves your resilience."
Vik's lips moved slightly, his voice still a bit hoarse: "It was my duty... Coves.
I merely... did what any Ultramarines would do."
He seemed to think nothing of his feat of single-handedly beheading the Dark Apostle; to him, it was merely a task that had to be completed in that specific situation.
He was silent for a moment, as if gathering strength, then softly asked: "Coves... my arm guard's... that wreath... how is the repair... coming along?"
At the mention of the wreath, a rare tenderness and concern, completely different from his ferocious image on the battlefield, appeared in Vik's eyes.
That dried wreath, woven from unique Vesta grass stalks, was his most precious keepsake, a symbol connecting him to his past, to Eilaas, Lina, Gaius, and Dorian.
It was also one of the important spiritual pillars that supported him, an orphan, in growing into an Astartes Sergeant.
The Apothecary stopped writing on his data slate and looked at Vik, his tone still steady, but with a hint of imperceptible regret: "Sergeant Vik, regarding that wreath... the Tech-Sergeants have done their best.
But it is extremely old, its material already very fragile, plus the damage it sustained in this battle... it was quite severe."
He paused, then continued: "Although some reinforcement and repair attempts were made, its structure can no longer withstand the vibration and impact of the power armor's arm frame during daily activities and combat.
I regret to say, it can no longer... be affixed to your arm guard as it once was."
Upon hearing this news, Vik was stunned.
He lay there, silent for a long time, only the light in his eyes seemed to dim a little.
He understood the Tech-Sergeants' difficulties and knew that the wreath was, after all, merely a mortal object, unable to withstand the baptism of ten millennia of war.
But understanding aside, a deep sense of loss inevitably surged into his heart.
It was not merely an ornament; it carried almost all of his 'human' emotions and memories.
Just as a brief silence fell within the medical pod, a light, quick knock broke the stillness.
Immediately after, a clear, lively, and slightly joyful female voice came from the communicator on the door:
"Apothecary! Hello! I am Tech-Sergeant Eilaas of the First Company!
May I... may I come in and see Sergeant Vik now?"
It was Eilaas.
The Apothecary looked at Vik, and seeing him nod slightly, he replied into the communicator: "Come in, Tech-Sergeant Eilaas."
The hatch slid open, and Eilaas's small figure
flew
in like a cheerful little bird.
She first gave a polite, if not entirely standard, military salute to the Apothecary: "Apothecary!"
The Apothecary looked at this Eldar girl, who, despite decades passing, still seemed to have the appearance and temperament of a young girl, and shook his head helplessly, his tone carrying a hint of elder-like teasing: "Eilaas, you must be almost fifty years old now, aren't you?
It's time you learned to be a little more mature and steady."
Upon hearing this, Eilaas immediately stuck out her small tongue, made a face, and mumbled: "No way!
That's so boring!"
The Apothecary chuckled at her childish reaction, said no more, picked up his data slate, and walked out of the medical pod, leaving the space to Vik and Eilaas.
As soon as the Apothecary left, Eilaas immediately rushed to Vik's medical bed, her small face filled with concern and excitement: "Vik!
You're finally awake! That's great!
We were so worried!"
Vik looked at Eilaas's still pure, innocent, and vibrant face, and the sense of loss in his heart was greatly diminished, a gentle smile appearing on his pale face: "Yes, I'm awake.
I'm sorry I made you worry, Eilaas."
"Vik, let me tell you!" Eilaas eagerly began to share her "big news," her small mouth chattering like a machine gun, "I saw His Royal Highness the Raven Lord a few days ago!
That's Corvus Corax!
He's on our ship!
I even talked to him for a long time!"
She gestured wildly: "But His Royal Highness the Raven Lord might have a sore throat, he doesn't like to talk much; I asked him so many questions, and he only answered with one or two words... But he's really handsome!
More handsome than anyone I've ever seen!
Are all Raven Guard warriors as handsome as him?
Vik, have you met any Raven Guard warriors?"
She chattered on and on, from the Raven Lord's handsomeness to how she secretly touched his feather decorations, and then to interesting stories about ship repairs, completely immersed in her own world.
Vik listened quietly, a tolerant and gentle smile on his face, occasionally chiming in.
He looked at this older sister, who, after decades, still maintained her initial innocence and joy, and it was as if he was transported back to his childhood on Vesta, the little boy who followed her and Lina.
Eilaas's vibrant voice and guileless concern were like warm sunlight, dispelling the gloom that had settled in his heart due to the damaged wreath.
Some things may wear down and fade with time, but some emotions and bonds can grow stronger through the long river of years, becoming the strength that supports each other to continue forward.
Inside the medical pod, the gravely wounded warrior and the Tech-Sergeant with an eternal childlike heart formed a rare, warm, and touching scene in the interlude of war.
The warm conversation between Vik and Eilaas did not last too long before the medical bay door was knocked on again.
This time, the sound from outside the door was not Eilaas's clear voice, but a deep, magnetic conversation, as if someone was communicating with the Apothecary who had just left.
A moment later, the hatch slid open, and two tall, imposing figures entered, instantly making the already somewhat cramped medical pod feel crowded.
The foremost person was clad in finely crafted azure power armor, his helmet uniquely shaped with a distinct "pig nose" respirator grille, and on either side of the helmet were horizontal crests symbolizing a Captain's authority.
Beneath the horizontal crest, a small, exquisite golden laurel wreath of honor was additionally affixed, proclaiming the extraordinary achievements of its wearer.
He was Captain Cato Sicarius of the 2nd Company, renowned for his bravery and assault tactics.
Following him was a warrior of equally composed demeanor and eagle-sharp eyes.
Although his power armor bore no Captain's crest, the aide's helmet attached to his waist also featured a laurel wreath of honor, and his mountain-like steadiness, coupled with the marks of battle, all indicated that he was an extremely experienced commander.
He was the legendary aide of the 2nd Company, Titus.
The joint arrival of these two highest commanders of the 2nd Company made their purpose self-evident.
Captain Sicarius walked to Vik's medical bed, his helmet with its unique "pig nose" grille and horizontal crest slightly lowered, his gaze through the eye lenses falling on Vik's pale face, his voice loud and direct, carrying undisguised admiration:
"Sergeant Vik! Well done!
Single-handedly cutting through the enemy ship, beheading the Dark Apostle, and paralyzing the enemy's command center!
Such valor is precisely the quality we in the 2nd Company most admire!"
He paused, his tone becoming formal and powerful: "I, Captain Cato Sicarius of the 2nd Company, hereby officially inform you.
Once your injuries are healed and you pass the assessment, you will be directly assigned to the 2nd Company, becoming one of us!
Your bravery is worthy of the 2nd Company's glory!"
He seemed to think of something and added, with a hint of teasing in his voice: "Of course, I just hope that fellow Heck won't come looking for a 'champion's duel' to poach you because of this."
Although this was a joke, it also revealed the fierce competition among the companies for excellent talents like Vik.
Aide Titus, standing behind Sicarius, now stepped forward.
On his weathered face, his gaze towards Vik was filled with deep admiration and a feeling almost akin to mutual appreciation.
Aide Titus himself was known for his unwavering tenacity and for creating miracles in desperate situations; Vik's feat this time undoubtedly shared a similar legendary color.
"Sergeant Vik," Titus's voice was steady and powerful, carrying a convincing strength, "the achievements you have created are a great glory, belonging not only to you personally but also to all of us Ultramarines.
The 2nd Company is a company that values offense and is adept at creating miracles.
Here, there is ample room for you to display your talents, and there are more legends and glories awaiting you to write."
He looked at Vik, his eyes firm: "Now, your only task is to rest and recover.
We look forward to you joining the ranks of the 2nd Company in your best condition as soon as possible."
Facing the personal recruitment and high praise from the two highest company commanders, even Vik, with his resilient will, could not help but feel a surge of warmth and excitement.
He struggled to sit up and salute but was stopped by a gesture from Sicarius.
"Just lie down, Sergeant.
Resting is important," Sicarius said.
However, at this solemn and glorious moment, a discordant murmur sounded from a corner of the medical pod.
Eilaas had instinctively recoiled and hidden behind a chair when Captain Sicarius entered.
Now, she was peeking out half of her small head, frowning, and "complaining" to Vik, who was lying on the bed, in what she thought was a very low voice:
"Vik... look at Captain Sicarius's helmet... that 'pig nose,' and that horizontal crest, plus all those fabrics and the cloak on his power armor... hmm, it feels so flashy, not pretty at all..."
Her small hand secretly pointed in Sicarius's direction, "The main thing is, that deep, knife-scar-like slash on the left eye lens of his helmet looks so fierce and scary..."
Although Eilaas's voice was low, everyone present was an Astartes Monks with extraordinary senses, so they naturally heard everything clearly.
Captain Sicarius's originally imposing aura instantly paused.
He turned his head in some surprise, looking at the little sprout hiding behind the chair, who was critiquing him.
He subconsciously touched the honorable scar on his helmet, which represented a dangerous battle, and then looked down at his meticulously decorated cloak and fabrics, which symbolized the glory and history of the 2nd Company.
"Ahem..." Captain Sicarius tried to maintain his dignity, but his tone inevitably carried a hint of defensiveness, "Little sprout, you're wrong.
The design of this power armor is full of power and majesty!
And this horizontal crest was personally approved by the Chapter Master and is unique in the entire Chapter!
What's not pretty about it?"
He seemed to want to find some agreement, his gaze sweeping across the medical pod, and suddenly he thought of something and said: "Moreover, Sergeant Karl Horn, doesn't he also have the same helmet as me?
How come I've never heard you say his helmet isn't pretty?"
If Gaius, who was suddenly named, had been present, he would probably have felt a touch of helplessness.
Seeing herself caught, Eilaas simply stopped hiding, put her hands on her hips, and retorted righteously: "That's different!
Mister Gaius's helmet doesn't have that scary scar.
And other Captains' armors have standard paint jobs, clean and neat, unlike you, who's almost decorated everything that can be decorated.
Your cloak is more ornate than others, and your fabrics are more exquisite than others, it looks... it looks even more ornate than the Chapter Master's armor!
Not modest at all!"
Her small mouth rattled on for a long string, from armor color schemes to decoration styles, and then to the so-called "modest aesthetics," leaving Captain Sicarius stunned and at a loss for how to refute this little one with unique taste and a sharp tongue.
Aide Titus stood by, his serious face looking at Sicarius in bewilderment; he had been in the 2nd Company for so long and had never seen anyone dare to speak to the 2nd Company Captain like that, except for the Chapter Master.
The solemn recruitment occasion was instantly derailed by Eilaas, filling the air with a relaxed and amusing atmosphere.
Vik looked at this scene, and a more obvious smile appeared on his pale face, as if even the pain from his injuries had lessened a bit.
The void of the northern Ultramar Sector, after enduring the baptism of a great war, was gradually restoring its former order. However, on this day, a fleet of a strikingly different style quietly warped in, breaking the sector's brief tranquility.
This fleet consisted of several warships with deep, ink-like paint, sleek and stealthy lines. They glided through the starlight like ghosts, silently approaching the Ultramarines' mooring area. The emblem on their hulls—a raven with outstretched wings clutching a star—proclaimed their identity: the Raven Guard.
The leading battle barge was the flagship of the Raven Guard Chapter, the "Avenger." It did not display the ostentatious might of some Chapter flagships; instead, it exuded a restrained yet deadly sense of oppression, as if it could merge into the surrounding darkness at any moment to deliver a fatal blow to the enemy.
Soon, an encrypted communication request was sent to the Macragge's Honour. The communication connected, and the figure of Chapter Master Esol'Jaan of the Raven Guard appeared on the screen. He was still wearing his deep black, master-crafted power armor adorned with raven feathers, but this time, his usually calm and composed face uncharacteristically revealed a complex mix of excitement, awe, and urgency.
"Chapter Master Calgar," Esol'Jaan's voice was more solemn than ever, "the Raven Guard fleet has arrived in the Ultramar Sector. According to the agreement with the Raven Lord, we will welcome back our Primarch here. Request permission for our delegation to board."
Chapter Master Calgar was well prepared for this; he immediately replied, "Chapter Master Esol, welcome. Permission has been granted. Please align with the guidance signal. We are awaiting you in the designated area."
Soon after, a Raven Guard assault boat, like a black arrow, docked precisely at the Macragge's Honour's designated port. The hatch opened, and led by Chapter Master Esol'Jaan, ten carefully selected and most elite Raven Guard warriors stepped onto the Ultramarines' deck with neat and solemn strides.
These Raven Guard warriors exuded a profound aura, their eyes sharp. Their power armor's paint scheme was similar to Esol'Jaan's, but the details were more ancient and imbued with a sense of slaughter, as if every scratch told of countless silent hunts conducted in the shadows. Their appearance seemed to make the surrounding air grow several degrees heavier.
Chapter Master Calgar personally led several Captains to the reception area. The two Chapter Masters greeted each other; despite their differing styles, their eyes held mutual respect for each other's Chapter and their Primarchs.
"Thank you for the valuable intelligence your Chapter provided during this crisis, Chapter Master Calgar," Esol'Jaan began, his tone sincere.
"The Raven Lord's timely warning this time was crucial, Chapter Master Esol. We are both part of the Imperium and should support each other," Calgar responded.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Esol'Jaan could no longer hold back. His gaze swept over the reception area, his voice betraying an undisguised urgency: "Brother Calgar, I wonder... where is the Raven Lord now? We are eager for an immediate audience."
Calgar was about to answer, to guide them to Corvus's temporary quarters. However, just as he was about to speak—
An anomaly occurred.
To one side of the reception area, next to an Ultramarines Ironclad Pattern Terminator standing like a steel fortress, the perfectly normal shadow cast by its heavy armor suddenly writhed and stretched like a living thing!
The next moment, under the astonished gaze of everyone present, a lean, tall figure clad in pitch-black power armor, as if rendered from an ink wash painting, silently emerged in full form from that shadow.
It was Corvus Corax!
He was still helmetless, his pale and inhuman face somewhat stark in the reception area's lights, but his usually cold, pure black eyes, as they now looked at the eleven Raven Guard led by Esol'Jaan, seemed to have melted a trace of their ten-thousand-year chill, revealing a very subtle, yet genuinely present... tenderness.
It was the gaze of a father looking at his long-separated children, mixed with scrutiny, remembrance, and a hint of imperceptible satisfaction.
"Esol," Corax's voice sounded, still deep and calm, but seemingly a little less absolutely cold than when he faced outsiders.
Esol'Jaan and the ten Raven Guard behind him, the moment Corax appeared, all simultaneously knelt on one knee, their right hands heavily striking their left chests, performing the Raven Guard's most supreme and ancient internal greeting ritual! Their movements were uniform, filled with heartfelt excitement and reverence.
"Chapter Master Esol'Jaan of the Raven Guard, and ten Raven Guard warriors, present themselves before Primarch! We welcome your return!" Esol'Jaan's voice held an uncontrollable tremor, the excitement of a ten-thousand-year wait finally answered.
Corax slowly walked forward, his gaze sweeping over each kneeling son, as if to engrave their appearance in his heart. He gently raised his hand: "Rise, my warriors."
Esol'Jaan and the others then rose as instructed, but still bowed their heads slightly, maintaining absolute respect.
"You... are well," Corax looked at them, a flicker of satisfaction in his pure black eyes. He could feel the resilience and deadliness in these sons, tempered by ten millennia of war, yet still retaining the core spirit of the Legion.
There were not many words, but the silent communication in that moment was worth a thousand. The Raven Guard knew that their Primarch, the Lord of Shadows, had truly returned. And Corax also confirmed that his Legion, his sons, were still the sharpest shadow blades in his hand.
Meanwhile, in the medical bay at the other end of the warship, the atmosphere was relatively peaceful, yet tinged with a hint of concern.
Gaius had just undergone his final comprehensive examination by the Apothecary. The results showed that his back injuries had mostly healed, nerve connections were stable, and his physical condition had recovered to a level where he could return to combat. The Apothecary officially declared him "preliminarily recovered," needing only a period of adaptive training before rejoining the company.
Freed from the burden of his injuries, Gaius also felt a sense of relief. He did not immediately return to his post but first went to visit Luna.
Luna's recovery was better than expected. She could now walk slowly for short distances with assistance. Although still weak and unable to engage in any strenuous activity, being free from the medical bed had greatly improved her spirits.
Gaius carefully helped her, and the two slowly walked towards Dorian's medical pod.
Dorian was still in a coma, lying on the medical bed, connected to various life-sustaining tubes. His robust body seemed to have thinned somewhat, and his face was pale, but his breathing was steady and strong, indicating that his vital signs were steadily recovering.
Looking at the sleeping Dorian, the relaxed expression on Gaius's face gradually faded, replaced by a look of solemnity. He hesitated for a moment but decided to tell Luna the situation. He lowered his voice and briefly recounted what he had witnessed outside the medical bay—Dorian's berserk combat state—and his subsequent concerns reported to the Chaplain.
As Luna listened to Gaius's narration, her eyes, which had brightened slightly from being able to get out of bed, instantly dimmed, and a complex, guilty expression appeared on her face.
She remained silent for a long time before speaking in a weak voice: "Gaius... actually... Dorian... he started having that strange dream a long time ago."
Gaius's heart tightened at her words: "A long time ago?"
Luna nodded, recalling: "Roughly... from decades ago when he was on Macragge, before he officially joined the First Company, he started having similar dreams intermittently. He once vaguely mentioned it to me... the dream was of an endless plain of bones, a dark red sky, and... and that Daemon Primarch, Angron..."
Her voice carried a hint of self-reproach: "At the time... I thought it was just him being overly stressed about your safety, combined with hallucinations and nightmares from his previous combat injuries... I thought it would get better after a while... So, so I chose to keep it a secret, didn't tell anyone... Perhaps, perhaps I shouldn't have hidden it from the start... If I had taken it seriously earlier, would it have..."
"
Seeing the remorse on Luna's face, Gaius gently patted her shoulder and comforted her, "Luna, it's not your fault. None of us expected this. It's not too late to find out now. I've already informed the Chaplain and Captain Cassius, and they will surely take it seriously and find a way to help Dorian. We must believe in the Chapter, and believe in the power of the Chaplain."
His words were steady and firm, bringing a sliver of comfort to the uneasy Luna. The two stood outside Dorian's medical pod, looking at their sleeping brother inside, both knowing that a silent war concerning the purity of Dorian's soul might only truly begin the moment he woke up.
Afterward, Gaius helped the still weak Luna leave the medical bay, which was filled with the smell of disinfectant, and walked towards the solemn and majestic Chapter Chapel deep within the warship. Every step was difficult for Luna; the nerves in her back were still healing, causing sharp pain, but her pale face held an unshakeable resolve.
Inside the Chapel, the scent of incense was peaceful and distant. The towering dome frescoes depicted the Emperor's glorious achievements and the heroic figures of the Primarchs. The Company Chaplain stood silently before the Emperor's holy effigy, as if in daily meditation. He wore his eternal black power armor, and his skull helmet looked even more grim in the flickering candlelight.
Hearing footsteps, the Chaplain slowly turned, his cold gaze falling upon Gaius and Luna.
"Chaplain," Gaius said, supporting Luna, and both saluted simultaneously.
Luna endured the pain, and with Gaius's careful support, she knelt on one knee with difficulty but firmness—the proper etiquette when facing the Chaplain's inquiry. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead from suppressing the pain.
The Chaplain did not relax his demands due to Luna's injuries; the inquisition of faith allowed no compromises. His deep, penetrating voice echoed in the silent side hall, beginning the standard inquiry process.
The Chaplain's voice, deep and penetrating, came through his helmet: "Tech-Sergeant Luna Aisa, raise your head and look into my eyes. During the battle on Austin Star, and after you suffered severe injuries, did your heart ever waver in its faith in the Emperor due to pain or despair?"
"No, Chaplain," Luna replied, raising her head, her gaze clear and firm, though her voice was weak. "The Emperor's faith and the Primarch's teachings are the strength that sustains me."
"During your unconsciousness or awakenings, did you perceive any whispers or illusions not belonging to the real world? Especially any anomalies related to your mechanical implants?"
"No, Chaplain. My will and my mechanical parts are equally pure."
Luna gave clear and affirmative answers to a series of sharp and direct questions. Her loyalty and purity were beyond doubt.
Only after the inquiry was complete did the Chaplain slightly raise his hand, signaling that Gaius could help Luna stand up. He slowly walked to a nearby lectern, picked up the thick, ancient Codex Astartes, his rough fingers brushing over the cover embossed with the Aquila, but he did not open it.
His gaze returned to Gaius and Luna, and his tone became exceptionally serious: "Now, tell me about Brother Dorian. According to Sergeant Gaius's description, and the information Tech-Sergeant Aisa, you may have known before—how long has this abnormal sign lasted? Have you... ever concealed anything in any form?"
His voice carried an unquestionable authority, as if it could pierce souls: "For your brother's sake, tell me the truth. Any slightest oversight could push him into an abyss of eternal damnation."
Under the Chaplain's oppressive gaze, Luna's body trembled slightly, not from fear, but from long-suppressed guilt and worry. She took a deep breath and, in as steady a tone as possible, slowly revealed the secret buried in her heart:
"Chaplain... About ten years ago, when Dorian was on Macragge, before he officially joined the First Company... he started having some... strange dreams intermittently." Her voice was soft, yet clearly audible in the silent Chapel.
"He vaguely mentioned it to me once..." Luna recalled, a look of pain on her face. "He dreamed of... an endless plain of bones, and the sky was an unchanging dark red... In the distance, there was always the echo of fighting and roaring... And... and a towering throne built of brass and skulls, reaching into the clouds..."
She paused, as if having made a decision, and spoke the most crucial and unsettling name: "He mentioned... the Daemon Primarch Angron in his dream..."
Luna looked up, her eyes filled with remorse: "At the time... I truly thought they were just post-traumatic hallucinations from his severe injuries and near-death in a previous battle... I thought that with time, he would slowly recover... So, I chose to remain silent and didn't mention it to anyone... I... I never thought it would come to this point..."
Her words were filled with self-reproach, as if Dorian's current abnormality was entirely due to her concealment.
The Chaplain listened silently. His skull helmet showed no expression, but his cold eye lenses remained fixed on Luna. When he heard "Brass Throne" and "Angron," the aura around him seemed to solidify a few more degrees. This almost confirmed his worst fears—the shadow of Khorne had long since enveloped Dorian.
Just then, a light and hurried footsteps broke the solemnity of the Chapel. A small figure rushed in, it was Eilaas.
Seeing the Chaplain, she immediately stopped, performed a standard military salute properly, her small face flushed with excitement. First, she crisply called out, "Lord Chaplain!" Then she eagerly turned to Gaius and Luna, chattering away:
"Lord Gaius! Lord Luna! I have good news for you! Lieutenant Golden has ordered our First Company to send brothers to garrison the captured secondary flagship, the 'torment of the word'! They'll be responsible for initial security and assisting the Tech-Sergeants with repairs! I can go too!"
Gaius saw Eilaas being so boisterous in such a serious setting and was about to tell her to wait a moment.
However, the Chaplain slightly raised his hand, signaling Gaius not to stop her. His cold eye lenses turned to Eilaas, as if he wanted to hear what else this little one, who always brought unexpected "information," would say.
Given "tacit permission," Eilaas became even more excited, her little mouth babbling out more news: "And! And! I just ran into Lina in the hangar! Guess what? Captain Cassius recommended her to the Chapter Master, and she's now been promoted to Captain of the 'torment of the word'! She's in charge of the entire warship's repair and reorganization! And the Chapter Master even specially assigned two Honour Guard to protect her at all times! Lina is so formidable now!"
Lina promoted to Captain of a captured warship? This was indeed surprising news. It meant her abilities and contributions had received absolute recognition from the highest echelons of the Chapter.
Eilaas was still excitedly describing how "formidable" Lina was, but the Chaplain had already withdrawn his gaze. He slowly closed the thick and authoritative Codex Astartes in his hand, making a soft "snap" sound.
He looked at Eilaas, who was still immersed in excitement, and said in his usual, inscrutable tone: "Tech-Sergeant Eilaas, you should learn to be more mature and composed. Joy can be shared, but one must be mindful of the occasion and propriety."
After speaking, he no longer paid attention to the three of them, turned back to face the Emperor's holy effigy, and resumed his previous silent posture, as if merging into the shadows of the Chapel.
Gaius understood that the inquiry was over. He helped the weak Luna, gave Eilaas a look, and the three quietly exited the Chapel.
Outside, Eilaas was still overjoyed about Lina's promotion and her own participation in the new warship mission. But Gaius and Luna's hearts were shrouded in a deeper gloom because of their recent conversation with the Chaplain. The truth about Dorian had been revealed, and what would the Chapter do next to counter this threat lurking deep within their brother's soul? Everything remained unknown.
The Word Bearers' secondary flagship, the torment of the word, captured by the Ultramarines, hung silently in the void anchorage like a colossal beast, its fangs and claws ripped out, yet still gasping and struggling in the darkness. Inside, the signs of battle were horrifying, the air thick with the lingering stench of blood, ozone, and the foul residue of unholy energy.
Following Lieutenant Golden's orders, several Terminator squads and Sword Master squads from the First Company, led by Sergeant Karl Horn, boarded the warship, which was full of unknowns and dangers, via the docking tube. Their mission was clear and arduous: to thoroughly clear out any remaining Word Bearers stragglers, Chaos cultists, and, most dangerously, lower-tier demonic entities integrated into the ship's structure, ensuring the Tech-Sergeants could safely carry out repair work.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the empty, twisted corridors. The Terminators moved like mobile steel fortresses, Storm Shields forward, Bolters and assault cannons ready to unleash hell. The Sword Master warriors were more agile, responsible for clearing flanks and complex compartments.
Gaius led an Indomitus Terminator squad along the main energy conduit, pushing deeper into the warship, towards the area with the strongest Warp energy reactions. The scene here was even more bizarre; distorted human faces occasionally surfaced on the metal walls, as if souls were trapped within; some pipes slowly writhed like living things, oozing viscous black liquid; and the air resonated with faint, malicious whispers, trying to erode the warriors' will.
"Stay alert! Purge all anomalies!" Gaius's voice came through the helmet comms, steady and calm.
They encountered the first wave of resistance—several "ship-borne demons" made of discarded parts and unholy energy, resembling a mixture of steel and flesh. They roared, lunging from the shadows, brandishing rusted claws and energy tendrils.
"For the Emperor!" The Indomitus Terminators roared, their storm Bolters spitting a dense hail of bullets, instantly tearing apart the first few monsters. Power Fists struck with immense force, crushing the demons attempting to close in, along with nearby pipes.
The battle was brief and fierce. Though these residual demons were ferocious, they were no match for the First Company's most elite Terminators. The blue figures moved like a light of purification; wherever they passed, filth was cleansed, leaving only burning wreckage and gradually dissipating evil energy.
However, the deeper they went, the weaker the resistance became, but the environment grew increasingly unsettling. They felt as if they were delving into a living, malicious nest.
Meanwhile, in the outer regions of the torment of the word, the atmosphere was relatively "normal." Numerous Tech-Sergeants, Adeptus Mechanicus priests, and crew members were busily engaged in emergency repair work. Welding sparks flew everywhere, servo-skulls buzzed as they transported parts, and damaged systems were systematically checked and repaired.
Eilaas also joined the repair team here. Dressed in her newly issued Tech-Sergeant uniform and carrying her characteristic toolkit, her small face was filled with excitement and drive. She quickly found Lina, who was coordinating the overall efforts near the bridge.
Lina, by this time, had changed into a modified uniform bearing captain's insignia, her expression focused and capable. Two Honour Guard warriors, personally assigned by Chapter Master Calgar, stood like silent guardians, one on each side behind her, signifying her current status and importance.
"Lina!" Eilaas cheered, like a happy little bird, and threw herself into Lina's arms.
Lina stumbled back half a step, a helpless but doting smile on her face. She gently patted Eilaas's back, her voice soft but with a hint of admonition: "Eilaas, you're a full-fledged Tech-Sergeant now. When on duty, you need to learn to be more mature and composed."
Eilaas looked up from her embrace, sticking out her tongue: "I know, I know! Lina, you're a captain now, that's amazing!"
Lina smiled, saying nothing more, but a flicker of pride and the weight of responsibility crossed her eyes. Being appointed captain of this captured warship was a testament to the Chapter's immense trust in her abilities.
The repair work in the entire outer region was proceeding in an orderly manner. Everyone knew that only when the internal threats were completely eliminated, external repairs completed, and a large-scale psychic purification ritual performed by the Chapter's Librarians, could this powerful warship truly serve the Imperium.
While the outer region was bustling, Gaius's squad, deep within the torment of the word's belly, made a startling discovery.
They passed through an area of the power core that pulsed like living organs, eventually arriving at an exceptionally thick door cast from a material resembling obsidian. The door was covered in long-defunct unholy runes, but more striking was that it was sealed by an independent stasis field generator, still weakly operational.
"There's an anomalous energy signature here, but... it's very weak, unlike Chaos psychic energy," a Terminator reported.
Gaius motioned for the squad to remain vigilant. He stepped forward to carefully examine the stasis field. The generator's power seemed almost depleted, and the field's light flickered erratically. He attempted to override it with his access codes, and after several tries, accompanied by a harsh screech, the stasis field finally collapsed.
The heavy door slowly opened with the groan of hydraulic mechanisms, revealing a small, cell-like compartment behind it.
The compartment was devoid of any decoration, with only a transparent stasis field chamber placed in the center—and this chamber was still operational! Though its light was dim, as if it could extinguish at any moment.
Everyone's gaze was instantly drawn to what was sealed within the stasis chamber—
Inside, an Astartes Monk lay quietly!
He wore blue and white Power Armour, but the armor's style was extremely ancient and heavy, characteristic of the Great Crusade era, appearing to be an early "Iron" pattern Power Armour. The armor was covered in battle scars and marks of age, but it was relatively well-preserved. Most striking was the symbol on his shoulder pad—a stylized, eye-like emblem.
And judging by the distinctive horizontal crests on either side of his helmet, this Astartes's identity was far from ordinary—he was likely a Company Commander-level officer!
An Astartes Company Commander, sealed in a stasis field, wearing Power Armour from ten millennia ago? Deep within this Word Bearers' warship?
This discovery was so shocking that the squad members fell into a brief silence.
Gaius immediately contacted Company Commander Cassius, who was on the Macragge's Honour discussing subsequent actions with the Chapter Master, via an encrypted communication channel.
"Captain Cassius, this is Gaius. We've discovered an independent stasis field cell deep within the torment of the word. Inside... an Astartes Monk is sealed."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the communication, then Cassius's grave voice came through: "Describe the situation in detail, Sergeant Karl."
Gaius reported as thoroughly as possible: "He's wearing blue and white, extremely ancient Power Armour, suspected to be Iron pattern. He has a Company Commander's horizontal crest. He's in stasis, but the field's energy is almost depleted."
At this point, the communication seemed to be transferred to Chapter Master Calgar, whose steady voice spoke: "Can you identify his Chapter? Based on the armor's insignia."
Gaius's gaze fell once more on the striking, eye-like symbol on the armor's shoulder pad. This symbol... he seemed to recall seeing records of it in the Chapter's historical archives, representing a dark and humiliating period... He replied with a hint of disbelief and uncertainty:
"Chapter Master... based on the insignia on his Power Armour... it appears to be... Sons of Horus."
On the other end of the communication channel, a deathly silence fell.
The Sons of Horus... that was the traitor Legion that launched the Horus Heresy, sweeping across the galaxy! A traitor who should have been completely annihilated or scattered a millennia ago, why was he sealed deep within a Word Bearers' warship? What secrets were hidden behind this?
The deathly silence in the communication channel lasted for several seconds, as if even the background noise of the Warp was swallowed by this astonishing discovery. A Son of Horus? Sealed deep within a Word Bearers' warship? This was like digging up a corpse from history's grave that should have long since decayed.
Chapter Master Calgar's voice broke the silence again, filled with extreme gravity and caution: "Sergeant Karl, confirm the target's life status. Are there any obvious signs of Chaos corruption on him?"
Gaius immediately motioned for the Terminator beside him to conduct a deep scan with the portable scanner. The scan beam moved back and forth over the ancient armor.
"Reporting, Chapter Master, the life signs within the stasis field are weak but stable, in a state of deep hibernation. Scans show... no obvious, active Chaos corruption energy signatures detected. All wounds on the armor are physical damage, with no signs of mutation," the Terminator Sergeant reported.
This result brought a slight sigh of relief to everyone. No obvious corruption meant that he might not have actively defected to Chaos, or... he had not yet fallen before being sealed.
"Very good," Chapter Master Calgar's voice was decisive. "Immediately transfer the stasis field chamber, along with the occupant, safely to the Macragge's Honour. Proceed with caution, ensuring the target is under complete control. Once the transfer is complete, your squad will continue the purging mission on the torment of the word."
"Understood!" Gaius acknowledged.
The subsequent operation was swift and efficient. The Terminators carefully dismantled the nearly depleted stasis field chamber, secured it onto a specialized transport platform, and, escorted by an elite squad, returned to the Macragge's Honour via the docking tunnel. Gaius, meanwhile, led the Indomitus Terminator squad back into the task of clearing remaining threats deep within the torment of the word, as if the recent discovery was merely an interlude.
In a specially shielded, heavily guarded medical laboratory on the Macragge's Honour, the atmosphere was exceptionally tense. The stasis field chamber was placed in the center of the lab, with Apothecary Vorlak personally leading several of his most trusted Apothecaries and technical personnel waiting nearby. Chapter Master Calgar, Captain Cassius, and the Company Chaplain were all present, their gazes fixed on the ancient blue and white armor.
"Energy is almost depleted, preparing to deactivate the stasis field," Apothecary Vorlak's voice was as calm as a surgeon's knife. He personally operated the instruments, and as he gave the command, the stasis field, which had been maintained for countless years, flickered unsteadily before finally dissipating like bursting bubbles.
The Astartes Monks inside the chamber twitched slightly, and the data on the life monitor began to slowly climb.
Vorlak and the technical personnel immediately stepped forward and performed a series of emergency life sign stabilization and neural awakening procedures. They injected the individual with specialized awakening agents and nutrient solutions.
Time passed by minute by minute. Finally, the Sons of Horus's Company Commander's finger moved slightly, and then, his head, wearing an ancient steel helmet, slowly turned.
He was awake.
He seemed to take some time to adjust to the external light and sensations. The ocular lenses under his helmet scanned the unfamiliar surroundings, sweeping over the Astartes Monks in blue Power Armor standing solemnly around him. His gaze lingered for a moment on the Macragge's rings on their armor, clearly recognizing the affiliation of these warriors.
Chapter Master Calgar stepped forward, his voice steady, carrying an unquestionable authority, attempting to soothe any potential confusion or hostility from the other party: "Company Commander, you have just awoken from a long stasis. You are safe now, aboard the Ultramarines' flagship, the Macragge's Honour."
He paused, his gaze sharp as an eagle's, and asked the most crucial question: "Now, tell me your identity."
The Sons of Horus Company Commander still seemed somewhat dazed. He raised his hand, as if wanting to touch his helmet, but his movements were stiff. He remained silent for a long time, as if struggling to retrieve fragments of memory from a millennia of slumber. The medical room was silent, save for the faint hum of the instruments.
Finally, a hoarse, dry voice, like rusted metal grinding, spoke intermittently through the ancient helmet's vox-caster:
"I... I am... Kassius Volarax..." He stated his name, then seemed to instinctively continue, "...Sixteenth Legion... Sons of Horus... Fourth Company... Company Commander..."
As soon as the words left his lips, he seemed to be stung by his own statement, shaking his head abruptly, his voice suddenly rising with an urgent correction, even a hint of... pain:
"No! That's not right! It's... Shadowmoon Wolves! I am the Sixteenth Legion Shadowmoon Wolves... Fourth Company Commander!"
Shadowmoon Wolves! That was the name of the Sons of Horus Legion before the Heresy, the once glorious Sixteenth Legion, the Emperor's vanguard and pride!
This self-correction stirred something in the hearts of Chapter Master Calgar and the others. He seemed to subconsciously identify more with his pre-Heresy identity.
Chapter Master Calgar did not rush to press this point, but continued to inquire along the established line of questioning: "Kassius Volarax... why were you found deep within a Word Bearers' warship, sealed in a stasis field?"
Kassius Volarax fell silent again, seemingly struggling to recall the distant and blurry past. His voice became even more confused and fragmented:
"I... I don't remember clearly... many details... are blurred..." He forcefully tapped the side of his helmet, producing a dull thud. "I only remember... at that time... the Warmaster... no, Horus... he... he decided to betray the Emperor..."
His tone revealed a deep pain and incomprehension: "I... I and my Company... we couldn't accept it! We couldn't turn our weapons on the Emperor, on Terra! That was... betrayal! A trampling of all our oaths!"
His voice grew agitated: "We... we tried to leave... to lead our brothers away from that wrong path... but... we were discovered..."
He described the bloody past, his words broken: "The traitors... those brothers who had embraced the dark powers... they surrounded us... on... on the Vengeful Spirit? No... I can't remember clearly... We... we fought... for the Emperor..."
Finally, his voice dropped, carrying a great sadness and helplessness: "There were too many of them... and... Horus... he came himself... he... he was too powerful... My brothers... all... I... I also..."
He raised his hand and pointed to his head: "Then... I just... didn't know anything... until now..."
His fragmented narrative painted a shocking picture—a Company of Shadowmoon Wolves that tried to remain loyal in the early stages of the Heresy, only to be personally suppressed by their Primarch! And their Company Commander, miraculously, was preserved in stasis, spanning a millennia of time, to see the light of day again!
Chapter Master Calgar, Captain Cassius, and the Chaplain exchanged glances. If Kassius Volarax's words were true, then he was not a traitor, but a tragic hero who tried to uphold loyalty in a dark age but met with misfortune. However, his identity was too sensitive, and his appearance too peculiar. Were his words true or false? Was his loyalty still as it was? All of this would require time to verify, and more rigorous scrutiny and observation.
The atmosphere in the laboratory became increasingly complex and subtle due to this "guest" from a millennia ago and the heavy history he carried.