Creed stood before the flickering holographic projection in the center of the strategic sanctum, surrounded by the high-ranking commanders of the Cadian Defense Force, senior representatives of the Adeptus Mechanicus, and the grim-faced survivors of the Astartes Chapters.
The atmosphere in the room was so heavy it felt palpable, a thick shroud of tension that pressed against the lungs of every officer present. All eyes were fixed on Creed's exhausted yet resolute face. The commanders could not fathom why, despite the apparent victory and the retreat of the Black Legion's main ground forces, the Lord Castellan looked more burdened than ever.
Creed's mind was a closed loop, replaying the dire warnings of Alexei and Saint Celestine. Cadia still cannot escape its final hour, he thought bitterly. He glanced toward Alexei, who was staring blankly at the metal table, and then at the Living Saint, who sat with her eyes closed in silent prayer. Finally, Creed addressed the assembly. "Gentlemen, I have received the most unfortunate intelligence. Cadia still faces total destruction. We must immediately begin preparations for a planetary evacuation."
"That is impossible!" Supreme Commissar Zabien barked, slamming his fist onto the table. "We have broken the back of the Thirteenth Black Crusade! The ground war is entering its final stages of mopping up. Reports indicate the Black Fleet is in full retreat under the pressure of the Imperial Navy and the Phalanx. To speak of destruction now is more than nonsense—it is defeatism!"
Creed opened his mouth to retort, but Alexei cleared his throat, signaling his intent to speak. As the room's focus shifted toward him, Alexei composed his thoughts. "Everyone, you are overlooking the most dangerous variable remaining in this system: the ruins of the Blackstone Fortress."
Tor Garadon, standing like a golden pillar near the door, crossed his arms. "The threat of the Will of Eternity was neutralized by the Phalanx. It is nothing more than a drifting graveyard of stone."
Alexei sighed, his expression weary. "That is precisely the problem. Had it remained intact, Abaddon might have hesitated to discard it. But now that the fortress is shattered, it has transitioned from a weapon of war into a kinetic hammer. Imagine the Despoiler's rage after being humiliated on the surface. Imagine what a monster of his spite would do once he realized the tactical situation was unsalvageable."
Alexei clenched one fist to represent a celestial body and held his other hand flat for the planet's surface. He slammed them together with a sharp, echoing crack. "Boom. Just like that, gentlemen. He is going to drop the moon on us."
The group exchanged uneasy glances. Belisarius Cawl raised a servo-arm to indicate he had completed a data-pass. After a nod from Creed, Cawl projected a series of rapid-fire calculations onto the hololith. "Based on standard orbital mechanics, debris of that magnitude poses a significant, yet localized threat. At most, the impact would level a few sectors and perhaps a fortress-monastery or two."
Alexei stepped forward, his fingers dancing across the interface to overlay a new set of data. "Under normal circumstances, Archmagos, you would be correct. But your calculations omit the variable you created yourself: the Pylon Dead Zone."
The projection shifted to show the pulsating anti-warp field emanating from the surface. "By reversing the negative polarity of the Cadian Pylons, you have turned the planet into a lightning rod for reality-warping turbulence. If those Blackstone ruins—saturated with the residue of the Warp—strike the Pylon network, the reaction will be catastrophic. It won't just be a kinetic impact; it will be a metaphysical rupture. The veil will tear, the city of Kasr Kraf will be atomized, and..." Alexei's voice turned grim. "The Eye of Terror, no longer restrained by the Pylon array, will surge outward. Half the Imperium will be swallowed by the Great Rift."
The silence that followed was absolute. The commanders stared at the holographic simulation of a fracturing Cadia and the roiling purple tides of the Empyrean. Finally, Zabien stood up, his voice trembling. "No. We cannot simply abandon the gateway to the Heart of the Empire!"
Creed looked toward Cawl. "Can we not simply deactivate the Pylon field? Return the poles to their original state?"
Cawl's mechanical eyes whirred as he processed the request. "Perhaps... but such a recalibration requires time we do not possess." He did not mention that the "Xenos collaborator" Trazyn had provided the final key, and that the Necron had vanished without explaining the reversal process. Cawl cursed the necessity of Xenos intervention in his binary thoughts.
Saint Celestine opened her eyes, her voice soft but carrying the weight of divine truth. "The Governor speaks correctly. I can feel the threads of fate fraying. The path to safety lies in the stars, not the soil."
With the Saint's endorsement, the room erupted into a low-volume chaos of frantic whispers. Creed slammed his hand on the table, the sound like a pistol shot. "Quiet!" He took a deep, shuddering breath and closed his eyes. "Begin evacuation protocols. Now."
"I absolutely disagree, Ursarkar Creed!" Zabien roared. "The Inquisition will have your head for this! Where is the Grand Inquisitor?"
"The members of the Holy Ordo were found murdered in their chambers," Creed said flatly, his eyes opening with a cold, hard light. "There is no one left to appeal to but the Emperor Himself. Move."
Just then, a terrified tech-priest burst into the sanctum, his vox-grille emitting a panicked screech. "Archmagos... Lord Castellan... long-range scanners have confirmed it! The primary mass of the Blackstone Fortress wreckage has shifted trajectory. It has entered near-orbit and is accelerating toward the northern polar continent. Impact in less than two hours!"
Creed surged to his feet, his voice a thunderous roar that galvanized every officer in the room. "Why are you still standing there? Sound the general retreat! Prioritize the civilians and the wounded! Move every ship into the atmosphere!"
As the room emptied in a flurry of activity, Alexei turned to Creed. "The Aiur Fleet is at your disposal for the extraction. Our hulls can accommodate three hundred thousand souls if we pack them into the cargo bays."
"Three hundred thousand..." Creed gave a bitter, hollow smile. There were tens of millions left on the surface, but every life saved was a victory against the dark. "Thank you, Alexei."
Alexei exited the sanctum and immediately coordinated with the fleet. He had already decided on a destination for the refugees: the agricultural world of Tybalt III, located near the Aiur sector. It had recently been scoured of Orks, and thanks to the rapid ecological restoration of his fungal-carpet technology, the planet's biosphere was recovering into a fertile paradise. It would be a new home for the orphans of Cadia.
He watched Belisarius Cawl depart with his retinue. Alexei had not forgotten his primary objective: he needed to accompany the Archmagos to Macragge. He would follow them, but not in a way that would draw the suspicion of the Inquisition or the High Lords.
Alexei looked down at the transparent interface flickering before his eyes. Since absorbing the residual essence of both the Holy Sword and Drach'nyen, a new ability had manifested on the panel: Void Projection.
He recalled the ancient Xel'naga concepts etched into his subconscious. Their true essence existed only within the Void—a realm beyond the infinite multiverse. They would project "Void Projections" into fledgling realities to shepherd the growth of life and spiritual purity. At the end of a universe's cycle, they would choose the most worthy races to inherit their essence, completing a cycle of eternal reincarnation.
The Void Projection was a perfect avatar. While it could be destroyed, such a death had no effect on the true form anchored in the Void. It possessed the full power of the original, though it required a constant link to Void-energy, or it would gradually wither away in the dimension of reality.
Alexei was still physically tethered to the materium, but as his power reached toward the divine, he realized he was becoming a "Boss" in his own right. The "Alexei" the galaxy saw would soon be but a shadow of the god-thing slumbering in the dark.