The wall rose six ters, the trench freshly dug.
"Archmagos. Saint." Creed hurried forward, recognizing Cawl's party.
They'd once stood together against Abaddon, believing they'd won Cadia.
None foresaw Abaddon's final act: hurling Blackstone ruins to shatter the matrix.
Warp energy tore Cadia and the galaxy apart.
Regints were left to fight alone.
Only scattered vox signals told survivors to fall back to Elysion.
"Castellan?" Inquisitor Greyfax exclaid. "I thought you'd already returned to the Emperor's side."
"Nearly did," Creed replied. "Abaddon's lackeys nearly finished ."
"How did you raise this wall and ditch so fast?" Cawl asked, awed.
Creed pointed at Datch.
"All of it is the handiwork of the Emperor's unknown champion. I cannot explain it—only call it a miracle."
Cawl's auspex returned nothing on Datch.
Celestine was equally bewildered.
Greyfax strode toward Datch, determined for answers.
But Datch looked past her.
"The enemy is here."
Creed barked,
"Stand to! Hostiles approaching!"
Panic spread as civilians surged forward, even a Chira running over refugees.
Bang!
A Commissar shot the driver, restoring order.
Datch ignored them, heading to the breach—super shotgun and chainsword ready.
"Blood for the Throne! Skulls for the God-Emperor!"
Templar Marshal Amalrich and Inquisitor Galen nearly had a heart attack.
Is he a Khorne cultist or an Imperial zealot?
Celestine intervened.
"The Emperor says He minds not. Let this noble warrior serve in his own fashion."
Refugees flooded the port, enemy snapping at their heels.
Among them, Astartes blessed by the Dark Gods—monstrous, roaring, reaping souls.
"For the Emperor! Cadia stands!"
A few brave n and won fired back, but were quickly slaughtered.
"The Corpse Emperor cannot save you," a Chaos Space Marine sneered, chainsword dripping.
"Pah—coward who betrays the light," a dying woman spat back.
The Traitor mocked her.
"This Imperium was built by our hands."
Terror sent civilians fleeing.
A mother and child were trampled.
Datch halted, lifted them, and sent them on their way.
"For the Emperor! For mankind!"
His charge fanned a spark of courage.
So soldiers broke ranks and joined Creed's line.
Datch forged upstream, chainsword reaping Traitors, shotgun booming.
A Plague Marine shrugged off his shot.
"In the na of Father Nurgle!"
"Oh—one of the fat guy's fans."
Datch fired again, blowing the plague-warrior's head apart.
Another Chaos Marine rushed in.
Datch was too slow on the reload, took a hit that cracked his armor and spilled blood.
He knocked the foe back with a skill, but the Traitor ramd his blade through Datch.
"Damn this broken ga—simple-mode mobs hit like trucks! Aren't Hell-mode enemies supposed to match the lore?"
He respawned, then butchered his killer.
Amalrich, Galen, and Greyfax stared, dumbstruck.
Was he immortal? Was this Vulkan reborn?
Celestine's eyes widened.
Why is his resurrection so fast? The Emperor's blessing?
"Enough questions. Enemy at the gates!" Creed shouted.
Cawl glanced at Datch, then hurried up the ramp.
He still had a mission.
Celestine followed, guided by the Emperor to escort Cawl and the Armour of Fate to Macragge—only there could they save Guilliman.
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