Eroking
patreon
Chapter 149: Everyone Got Theirs
🕑 Added 2025-09-14 12:57:03 +0000 UTCChapter 149: Everyone Got Theirs
'The post-war reconstruction will probably be very troublesome. I wonder if the Black Templars will have the time to rebuild.'
Aglaia stood beside a Stormbird, the data-slate in her hand glowing faintly, her fingertips sliding quickly as she recorded her mission report. Her gaze would occasionally sweep her surroundings. The Storm Troopers bearing the Inquisitorial rosette stood at attention at her side. Their numbers were few, their presence more symbolic than practical.
A gentle breeze blew, lifting the cloak on her shoulders and revealing an empty holster at her waist.
Normally, Inquisitors liked to have some Astartes, Battle-Sisters, or Storm Troopers at their side to display their connections and authority, to intimidate those who would dare to challenge the Inquisition. But now, the situation was different.
Most of the Inquisition's forces had been sent to the front lines. Although the combat effectiveness of the Storm Troopers was commendable, rather than engaging in a meaningless display of force, it was better to let them earn some military merit and get some equipment on the front lines.
As for the so-called authority of the Inquisition—
Aglaia's lips curled into a confident smile. That thing had long since been thrown to the far corners of the galaxy.
It was a joke. The crusade fleet now had at least twenty thousand Astartes, and who knew how many more were hidden. In the past two years, the Schola Progenium and the military nobility of the planets along their route had been completely drained. Who knew how many new recruits there were.
Who was intimidating whom?
"Question: the origin of the relic Ordinatus Majoris in this operation," the Inquisitor's voice was cold and abrupt.
Zahariel, who had been trying to act invisible, narrowed his eyes, a barely perceptible cold light flashing within them, his fingers unconsciously stroking the hilt of his sword.
"Excavated from the ruins of this planet," Arthur's voice came, accompanied by the roar of cannon fire. He was, according to Romulus's instructions, continuously bombarding a designated area, his tone flat, as if stating a perfectly ordinary fact.
"Understood." Aglaia nodded, her expression calm, and recorded this information verbatim into her mission report. The action was smooth and natural, as if it were all a matter of course.
This made Zahariel, who had been preparing to make this Inquisitor "loyal," freeze. He tilted his head slightly, a hint of doubt and confusion in his eyes.
Wait, you're really just writing it down verbatim?
"Question: after this operation, how will this forbidden weapon be handled?"
"The forbidden weapon is severely damaged. Its Machine Spirit has been assessed by the Archmagos to be on the verge of death. After fulfilling its final firing duty, the crusade fleet will have it smelted and reforged, to serve as an immortal monument for the people of this planet to remember."
On the control desk, which had been polished to a gleam by the Iron Warriors, Arthur fluently issued firing commands. The Machine Spirit roared with joy, and another round of death-dealing concussion waves was sent into the fortress.
"Understood." The Inquisitor noted it down again.
Hot damn.
One of them really dared to say it, and the other really dared to write it.
Although the crusade fleet's disregard for the Codex Astartes was already out in the open, and various ancient war machines and equipment were being used without end, this did not mean that the matter did not require supervision.
It was one thing to use non-Codex tactics and weapons secretly, and another to have them approved by an Inquisitor. The latter could, after all, put the High Lords of Terra at ease.
In essence, this was not a rebellion against the Imperium. The various factions were all exercising restraint, just carefully probing each other on an invisible boundary.
The Terra side just hoped that the crusade fleet would not spread any rumors that were unfavorable to Terra. As long as things looked good on the surface, and this matter could be settled peacefully, then as long as these people didn't come to the Sol System in the future, the High Lords wouldn't say anything.
The ancient warriors wanted to establish their authority through the crusade, to explore a way to survive in this era. The various Chapters hoped to learn from the ancient elders.
Among them, the Chapters that had long been disgusted with the restrictions of the Codex were also using this opportunity to break through its limits, absorbing the technology and gene-seed gifted by the elders. And because they had tasted the sweetness of mechanized combined arms, they had even asked for production lines and had begun to form mortal auxiliary forces.
The Schola Progenium on the various Imperial worlds along their route had been almost completely drained by the crusade fleet. The opportunity for Astartes modification, the honor of a crusade that swept across half the galaxy, made these Scions, who had long been prepared to sacrifice for the Imperium, flock to them.
Even for such an opportunity, countless had given up the chance to become Arbites or Commissars, and had participated as a Storm Trooper.
And all of this, she could report truthfully.
The crusade fleet was just using the banner of supporting Macragge to quietly expand its own strength, and at the same time, had left a little something for the various Imperial factions behind them to eat.
Anyway, whether it was the Fabricator-General, the representatives of the Rogue Trader dynasties, or the Ecclesiarch, they had all given considerable approval to the results of this crusade.
This also made an Inquisitor's job exceptionally easy.
Aglaia was grateful for the lords' reasonableness. So she could pretend not to see certain things. She believed that even if someone else came, they wouldn't be able to manage it. If they really tried to interfere, the probability of them getting lost in the Warp would be much higher. The High Lords had already praised her countless times for being able to regularly transmit high-quality intelligence back. The Grand Master of the Officio Assassinorum had even privately thanked her for stepping in to preserve the Imperium's precious forces, and had said that if she ever encountered a particularly troublesome enemy of the Emperor, she could contact him directly.
Ever since she had dealt with the Archmagos's Pierdra report, and had put her head before the Golden Throne for a while, Aglaia felt that her career as an Inquisitor was steadily improving. As for the internal performance of the Ordo Originatus, a large group of ancient warriors were letting her interview them, and she was the only one with first-hand information—
If this continued, after another ten or twenty years, she could retire with dignity.
"My Lord, I will take my leave."
Aglaia thought optimistically, packed up her report, and then saluted Arthur in farewell.
"Hmm." Arthur nodded slightly, as if unconcerned with the Inquisitor's departure.
She immediately turned and boarded the Stormbird.
Next, Aglaia had to go to the front line, to record the war process of the various factions and to monitor for any possible signs of Chaos corruption.
She sat in the cabin, tilted her head slightly, and looked out through the thick bulletproof glass window. The engine of the Stormbird let out a low rumble, like a giant beast growling. Although this ancient vehicle was slightly inferior to the modern Imperial aircraft in terms of ground attack capability, the void shield it was equipped with brought an irreplaceable sense of security.
Within her line of sight, directly below her, the zealous Sisters of the Order of the Bloody Rose were mustering. Their numbers were abnormally large, already reaching three thousand, nearly the size of a small Astra Militarum infantry regiment. The figures of the Sisters were exceptionally striking in the sunlight, their armor inlaid with rose emblems, their hands tightly gripping their weapons, their expressions solemn and fanatical.
And at the rear of the battle line, the Sisters of the Order of the Sacred Rose were conducting post-disaster rescue operations with the sons of the Angel. Medical supplies were being continuously transported. The figures of the Sisters moved through the ruins, bringing equal rescue to all the victims.
They all had one thing in common—their numbers were all absurdly large.
Aglaia tilted her head slightly and swept her gaze across the cabin.
Her newly recruited second-in-command was standing ramrod straight at her side, his eyes fixed on the rusted ring-lock on a Storm Trooper's belt, as if it were a piece of art worthy of study.
The corners of Aglaia's mouth turned up slightly in a meaningful smile.
Hmm, she got hers too. And those Ecclesiarchy Sisters also got theirs.
Everyone got theirs.
She had taken quite a few red envelopes from the Archmagos. Recently, the Archmagos had even hinted at whether she wanted the support of a Space Marine Chapter. He was probably trying to use the Inquisition's connections to push some agenda.
Of course Aglaia had agreed.
The men had arrived on the spot. The problem was solved later. She knew what was more important.
As for the difficulty of the solution—
You see this Adeptus Mechanicus escort fleet, this fully armed Primaris Space Marine Chapter that meets the Codex standards, these ten thousand Storm Troopers, and these various heavy armored units? Would you like me to repeat that?
The Ordo Originatus can give you a chance to rephrase.
Sigh, I wonder which lucky soul will inherit my legacy in the future.
The Inquisitor mused happily.
"Cease fire."
Romulus's voice came through the personal comms.
Arthur, without a hint of hesitation, quickly slid his fingers across the control panel and set the system to pre-fire mode.
With the Machine Spirit in high spirits, the Tiamat Ordinatus Majoris had fired a total of twenty-six times. Combined with the concussion missiles that had been poured into it, the main structure of the fortress had already collapsed in large sections.
Dust filled the air, and wreckage was scattered everywhere. The rain now carried a scorched smell, mixed with the pungent stench of melting metal.
"The Titan?" Ramesses asked, a bit unsatisfied. His gaze, through his tactical lenses, looked far into the distance at the giant figure standing tall in the ruins. The Titan's silhouette was hazy in the smoke, like a slumbering behemoth.
This Ordinatus could also take out a Titan in one shot.
"Send in the Deathwing," Arthur's voice was calm, as if everything had been planned.
Titans, especially those of the Chaos Undivided factions like the Iron Warriors, were, like their warships, of great recovery value to the Imperium. A quick purification of the Machine Spirit, a new crew, and it could be put back into service, without even needing to be reforged.
There were also a few Deathwing members among the Fallen Angels. Ramesses had, over this period, recruited some reliable Dark Angel "Stormcast" to lead the team, barely managing to form an anti-Titan force.
"Speaking of which, I really find it strange. Weren't the Deathwing in that era generally equipped with Tartaros, not Cataphractii? How are they able to use such a miraculous anti-Titan tactic like teleporting to board a Titan?" Ramesses asked pointedly, a hint of teasing in his tone.
His gaze swept over a certain Librarian of the Order of the Pentagram who was accompanying the team. The latter's face was ashen, his fingers gripping the hilt of his power sword so tightly in a stress-response that his knuckles had turned white. If he hadn't been "educated" by Ramesses in private and known just how absurd this Thousand Son was, the Librarian would have already ignited his brain.
"Don't ask. Just say their skill is exquisite," Romulus's voice came through the communicator, a hint of helpless laughter in his tone.
"And, it does not involve any Warp-sorcery," Arthur added. He then swung his power sword, the blade cutting a silver arc in the air, and disappeared with Ramesses, not leaving even a ripple of energy.
The subsequent cleanup work of the Ordinatus Majoris could be completely handled by Zahariel. The Fallen Angels would handle everything as it was in the report, leaving no loose ends.
The abandoned Ironwing members looked at each other, a complex look in their eyes. They found that the relationship between the four leaders of the Dawnbreakers was truly unusual. Such a sensitive issue, and they could just pull it out and joke about it, as if they didn't care at all.
The Ironwing members looked away and began to notify their comrades to come and do the cleanup work. At the same time, they couldn't help but doubt themselves.
Are we being too sensitive?
[Warning. Fortress main structure destroyed. Central defensive circle breached. No longer has defensive capability.]
The cold mechanical voice echoed in the command room, the piercing alarm accompanied by flashing red lights, dyeing the entire space in a tense atmosphere.
[Warning. Abnormal life signs detected. Preliminary judgment: Imperial Fists. Outer defensive squad has engaged. Casualty ratio 1 to 88. Requesting new orders.]
"New orders? New orders! The enemy has already broken into the fortress, and they're still following defensive orders! What about their mobile warfare training? Can't they fight without an order?" Idriss's voice thundered, his fist slamming on the control console, making the screen tremble slightly. His gaze was constantly darting to the Phalanx Warders on the surveillance screen. Although they had changed to the colors of a successor Chapter, their familiar tactical movements and combat style allowed him to recognize their identity at a glance.
'It was clearly you who forbade any unit from acting on its own.'
The surrounding commanders lowered their heads, silently complaining in their hearts, but no one dared to voice their doubts. In the system of the Iron Warriors, to question was in itself an error. Even if the result was wrong, the order had to be strictly executed.
"Mortal retinue, send them out. Find the enemy's position. Have the defensive end contract. We need to formulate a new battle plan," Idriss quickly commanded, a hint of anxiety in his voice. His fingers flew across the tactical map, trying to find a chance to counter-attack.
The staff under his command responded quickly, a series of confirmations coming through the communicator.
"What about the Titan Legion?" Idriss suddenly looked up, his gaze like a knife as he swept over the crowd.
"The Legion is silent, but there has been no large-scale damage," a staff officer quickly replied, a hint of hesitation in his voice.
"?"
Idriss's brain froze for a moment, his brow furrowed, as if he were struggling to digest this information.
To be unable to cope with a sudden situation was a common problem for the Iron Warriors. After all, iron does not permit superfluous thoughts—this creed had been deeply carved into their genes by Perturabo. Even Idriss, who had commanded troops for many years, when all his plans were blasted to smithereens by the sudden appearance of the Ordinatus, subconsciously felt at a loss.
"What about the enemy's offensive?" Idriss gave up trying to think about that problem and asked instead.
"They are advancing along the path opened by the Ordinatus Majoris, using heavy firepower to destroy the various hidden routes and to compress the maneuvering space of the garrison," the staff officer replied, a hint of helplessness in his voice.
"Damn it! How do they know the route?" Idriss cursed under his breath, his fists clenching again, his knuckles turning white. His eyes were fixed on the tactical map, trying to find a flaw, but the situation before him was like a tangled mess, leaving him with no place to start.
The command room was silent, only the sound of the alarms and the static of the communicators echoing in the air, as if urging Idriss on.
"Let me think," Idriss muttered to himself, his brow furrowed. His thoughts churned in his mind, like a sharp dagger, dissecting past memories, searching for the fragments that could break the stalemate.
He was different from the other Iron Warriors. He knew how to reflect, how to learn from his failures.
Countless battlefield images flashed in his mind, like a silent storm. Finally, his memory settled on the Battle of Schadvermund, ten thousand years ago. That time, he was the attacker, leading the legion of the Iron Warriors, surging into the fortress that had been crushed by the Titan Legion.
However, in the intricate routes deep underground, he had been completely defeated by Dantioch.
He had lost his four limbs, and also the favor of his Primarch.
"Dantioch..."
That name was like a sharp thorn, stabbing into his mind. Idriss's teeth ground together.
In the period just after the legion had entered the Warp, Perturabo had rarely communicated with the Trident and the Warsmiths. But those sentences—"If only Dantioch were here," "Dantioch would never be like you," "Dantioch..."—were like sharp knives, mercilessly piercing his heart, making him feel an immense humiliation and anger.
"My Lord!"
An urgent call pulled him back from his memories to reality.
Idriss looked up, his eyes like ice, coldly sweeping over the staff officer. "What is it now? Don't tell me you wastes have already been broken through to the inner defensive circle!"
The staff officer lowered his head and sighed inwardly, his tone filled with a dry helplessness, "Yes, my Lord."
"The sons of Dorn are conducting a targeted cleansing of the outer defensive sectors. They are using their numerical advantage to feint and stretch our defensive line. Scattered assault squads are penetrating our lines to gather battlefield data. Several units have already breached the B23 sector defensive line with the help of heavy armored vehicles."
"How can they be so fast?" Idriss's fist slammed on the command console, the sound of the metal impact echoing in the empty command room. His voice was filled with disbelief and anger, as if he wanted to tear the staff officer before him to pieces.
The staff officer forcibly suppressed his anger and continued, "They have precisely calculated the maximum difference between the cannon fire shattering the walls and causing friendly fire. Almost the instant the cover was completely collapsed, the assault squads had already arrived."
Idriss's pupils contracted slightly. A familiar sense of déjà vu suddenly flashed through his mind.
His thoughts froze again, and then he suddenly realized—
This was clearly his own tactic.
The tactic he had experimented with using the Emperor's Children when he had been testing the Ordinatus Majoris, hoping to win the Primarch's reward!
"They're... operating my cannon, and using my tactics to fight me?"
Idriss's gaze fell on the holographic images displaying the various battle situations. He looked at the torn defensive lines, and an unprecedented sense of humiliation surged in his heart.
The mutual borrowing of battlefield experience was a common thing. Victory often depended on who could apply the tactics more skillfully.
However, at this moment, Idriss could only feel the fire of rage burning in his skull, almost consuming his entire being.
Because he had really been broken through!
"The front line command needs new orders."
The staff officer's voice sounded again, interrupting Idriss's impending explosion of anger, pulling him back from the brink with the cold, hard reality.
The staff officer was also angry, but he couldn't think of what to do. He could conduct a masterful defensive battle based on a fortress, and he could also carry out an excellent offensive operation against an enemy fortress—
But all of that was on the premise that the fortress could still play its role!
Useless!
Idriss cursed in his heart, not just at his staff, but also at himself.
How is it that after the environment was disrupted, I don't even know what I should be doing?
Idriss greatly missed the time when Lord Perturabo was still commanding them. At that time, they only needed to execute orders and never had to face such a complex situation.
"Abandon the outer areas! Consolidate the defensive circle! Enter the lower passages!" Idriss commanded loudly, a hint of desperation in his voice.
He quickly began to pack his equipment, fixing the portable command center to his arm-guard, while checking the weapon at his waist.
"We will also transfer. I will command them personally."
His voice was low and firm, his eyes shining with a cold light. Idriss recalled the strategy Dantioch had used to deal with him back then, searching for every detail in the bitterness, thinking of a counter-strategy.
Dantioch's heavy counter-measures against him began to be simulated in his mind, then applied, and then transformed into a mature tactical strategy.
I will kill you.
Idriss silently recited in his heart, constantly optimizing the details of his tactics. He believed that he would, under the witness of his Primarch, completely destroy this force of the sons of Dorn.
Then, his gaze fell on the portable command center in his hand, and his brow suddenly furrowed.
"What do you mean, the various lower passages have already been controlled by the sons of Dorn?"
With an emotion of disbelief, another question echoed in the constantly trembling command center.
(End of Chapter)
