The rhythmic thunder of continuous detonations and the roar of heavy ordnance echoed ever further into the lightless depths of the Webway. Blood and slaughter had beco the absolute constants of this sub-spatial realm.
Resupply fleets from Segntum Pacificus had already arrived twice, their holds disgorging endless waves of chanical reinforcents. The legion of automata was now re... unknown leagues away from total dominion over this fractured section of the Webway.
As more units were committed to the void-paths, the internal topography of the Webway began to manifest with increasing clarity. Sixteen billion machines had been poured into the breach, flowing into the singular entrance like liquid into a bottomless gullet. However, as the daemonic presence began to recede, the mapping of the structural conduits revealed a far more vexing reality.
Axion realized the current explored territory resembled a three-dinsional sector, a one-sixteenth arc-segnt centered on Terra, yet its innermost sanctum had not yet grazed the Throneworld itself.
The complexity was staggering, but the clearing operations were absolute. Nevertheless, on the far side of Terra, and perhaps in other coordinate planes, there likely existed even more interlaced spaces or convoluted sectors. The most troubling variable was Axion's ignorance regarding which specific region the Golden Throne's sealed Webway Gate actually connected to.
It was a spherical, multi-dinsional labyrinth. If one traveled outward from Terra, there would ultimately be but one exit. But to journey from the periphery inward was to gamble against an infinite series of dead ends.
To conduct an exploration of the sa intensity across the entire sphere would require at least sixteen tis the current chanical force. What Axion found most inefficient was that these peculiar sectors appeared to have no local shortcuts or interstitial linkages. This dictated that they would have to traverse unknown distances within the Webway, navigating countless forks and junctions just to find a single transit point to an adjacent region.
To any mortal mind, this task would be a soul-crushing exercise in futility, an impossibility of patience. But for an Iron Man, there was only the execution of the directive.
The Leviathan Mining Planet still retained more than half its original mass; Axion did not doubt for a nanosecond the feasibility of the mission.
…
After the Iron Man fleet had stood sentinel at the edge of the Sol System for over two months, Roboute Guilliman once again departed Segntum Solar. Word had arrived from the Inquisition within the Imperium Nihilus: the Dark Angels, led by the returned Lion El'Jonson, had finally stirred up a hornet's nest in the darkness.
Logan Grimnar, the Great Wolf, returning from the Ultima Segntum aboard the Wrath of Fenris, had been engaged in his characteristic "rry hunt." By sheer coincidence, he crossed paths with the Dark Angels, who were scouring the void for any trace of Abaddon the Despoiler and Vashtorr the Arkifane.
Following a joint strike against the Archenemy, the Dark Angels had once again demonstrated their uncanny talent for abandoning their allies, leaving the Space Wolves isolated before the foe.
Seeing his battle-brothers suffer needless losses, Logan Grimnar's fury boiled over. After brutally tearing through the remaining traitors, he brought his flagship about to intercept the Dark Angels, demanding an explanation.
True to their nature, the proud sons of the Lion deigned not to answer, preparing instead for an imdiate warp jump.
Driven to the brink of madness by their arrogance, Logan ordered a warning shot from the Wrath of Fenris.
The Dark Angels' response was swift and lacked any such restraint. The Invincible Reason returned fire, not as a warning, but with a direct, punishing salvo. The sight of his flagship crippled by "allies" shattered the last of Logan's restraint.
In the ensuing exchange, the Invincible Reason, boasting superior displacent and heavier armor, gained the upper hand. After successfully disabling the Wolf-ship, the Dark Angels vanished into the void.
Both sides had sustained damage, though the catalyst for the tragedy lay squarely with the Dark Angels and their penchant for backstabbing their confederates. By the ti the rest of the scattered Space Wolf fleet arrived, the Unforgiven were nowhere to be found.
Ultimately, the Wolves enacted field repairs on the Wrath of Fenris and escorted her back to Mars for extensive dry-docking.
It was only upon seeing the scarred hull of the Gloriana-class vessel and questioning Logan that Guilliman learned his brother's progeny had committed such a monuntal folly. Guilliman knew the sons of Russ did not trade in lies.
Regarding the Dark Angels and the Lion, Guilliman's heart was far from tranquil. Since his awakening, he had yearned for a brother to help him shoulder the burden of the dying Imperium. Yet, since returning from the Dark Side with Axion, he had slipped into a strange, brooding lancholy.
More than once, Guilliman had stood alone before the statue of Lion El'Jonson in the Imperial Palace, muttering to the cold stone.
"Why you? Why did it have to be you?"
The Imperium was besieged by a legion of foes and rotting from within, and the "reinforcent" sent by fate was a colossal problem child. Guilliman felt a weariness that reached his very genes.
He missed Sanguinius with an ache that never faded. He often whispered to the shadows, wondering how much better things might be if Rogal Dorn or Vulkan had returned instead. But Sanguinius was dead, and Dorn had vanished, leaving only a severed hand behind.
Perhaps Vulkan would have understood him best. Yet, Guilliman had heard nothing of his brother's whereabouts. His only solace was the certainty that Vulkan lived; during the War of the Beast, the Prothean had returned to the Imperium to strike down a Great Beast. As a Perpetual, Vulkan could not truly die.
As Guilliman set out once more for the Imperium Nihilus to confront the Lion and resolve the crisis of the Dark Angels, one of the many escort vessels dispatched by Axion encountered a xenos species that had previously existed only in the Imperium's archival records.
The T'au.
…
Explosions and fire blood across the planetary surface, a sight that caused Inquisitor Ham of the Black Ships a mounting headache.
According to the directives from the Black Ship League, the Inquisition had attached a peculiar escort vessel to their tithe-gathering mission toward the edge of the Ultima Segntum. Three days prior, this vessel had intercepted them and autonomously integrated into their formation.
Though slightly smaller than a standard Black Ship, its silhouette was unlike anything Ham had ever seen. Had the official orders not contained the vessel's profile data, Ham would have ordered his gunners to open fire on a xenos intruder.
As an Inquisitor, he generally welcod additional muscle. Given the horrors lurking in the galaxy, one could never have too much firepower. However, his initial diplomatic outreach had been rebuffed.
The mysterious cruiser had denied his boarding request, stating flatly that it operated under the direct mandate of the Lord Regent for "multi-vector objectives." It presented a unique cipher-coded directive.
The orders were specific: upon completion of the Imperial Tithe at each world, the Inquisitors were to assess the local population of unsanctioned psykers. Instead of the usual processing, they were to maximize the capture of these witches and transfer them to the custody of the escort vessel.
Inquisitor Ham verified the command codes through the prescribed verification protocols. He then attempted so standard "casual dialogue" to glean more information, but the entity on the other end showed zero interest in small talk. Every response was as cold and rigid as a pre-programd formula.
This chanical stalemate persisted until they reached the orbit of the tithe-world.
The strange escort cruiser imdiately deployed a swarm of unrecognized strike craft. Only then did the bridge's auspex arrays detect a fleet of T'au Empire vessels lurking on the far side of the planet.
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