Warp Teleportation

"...Something's off. I can smell a conspiracy."

Leonardo swung his Guardian Spear, the Power Blade flashing like a bolt of light as it pierced a Chaos Space Marine's throat in an instant, then spoke in a low voice.

A bolt of Psy-lightning streaked past his side, its radiance blazing bright, illuminating the dim ship corridor for a moment as the remaining enemies were reduced to charred cinders.

The Inquisitor twirled his blade in a flourish, then sheathed his Force Sword, immediately replying:

"Right, in my experience, these heretics' resistance has been far too weak—weak enough to put anyone on guard."

Indeed, that was true.

The current Rowan Squad's strength was such that, across the entire galaxy, the vast majority of ships couldn't stop their boarding action—and this Strike Cruiser was no exception.

But that was no excuse for abandoning all resistance.

After dealing with the earlier group of Chaos Cultists, Rowan and the others had thought the following squads might bring some surprises.

Instead, the enemies that followed were just hordes of cultists and a handful of Chaos Astartes—a combination that might threaten a standard boarding party, but unfortunately couldn't even slow Rowan's advance.

Rowan turned his head, glancing to the side at the Executioner Main Cannon, still hidden by optical camouflage, which hadn't fired a single shot yet.

He rubbed his chin, musing: "...It's been eight minutes since we entered this ship, and we still haven't encountered anything like a Helbrute or Daemon Engine—just basic infantry units."

These attacks were utterly meaningless.

Surely the enemy couldn't still be unaware of the danger?

After all, they'd chosen the shortest route straight to the Bridge—if they hadn't been detected by now, the enemy was truly incompetent.

Continuing forward, Rowan paused and asked Sibyl:

"Have you searched the memories of the Chaos Space Marines we killed?"

Sibyl nodded: "I did, but I got no useful intel. They were just following orders to intercept us; they knew nothing else."

"Alright, then there are only two possibilities."

Rowan said, "One: that Chaos Lord saw the situation was hopeless and fled. Maybe he's already on a small shuttle by now. As for the second..."

He trailed off, not spelling out the second possibility, but the implication was clear.

Everyone present easily grasped Rowan's meaning.

"Either he's confident enough to crush us on the Bridge and doesn't want unnecessary casualties."

Living Saint Lucia flapped her faintly glowing golden wings, her voice calm.

"Speed up. We might still have a hard fight ahead."

Rowan waved his hand.

With the brief exchange done, the group immediately sprinted at full speed through the ship's interior.

There were obstacles along the way, but the intercepting squads—neither in numbers nor quality—posed any threat, all crushed like speed bumps underfoot.

In the corridor, the roar of Bolters and the crackle of psychic energy intertwined, the path clear, leaving only a trail of mangled corpses behind.

Finally, after climbing a flight of stairs, they reached the ship's top deck.

Just a short distance ahead lay the Bridge—the core of any vessel. Destroying it would cripple the entire ship, like severing a human's central nervous system, the impact immeasurable.

And outside the Bridge's door, under the crimson light warped by the Warp, stood about twenty Noise Marines in brightly colored Power Armor, wielding bizarre sonic cannons, arranged in a neat formation—a very un-Slaaneshi display.

These special Slaanesh Astartes were known for their devastating sonic weapons; each blast of their sonic cannons had immense penetrating power, all aimed at the corridor entrance, ready and waiting.

At that moment, a Chaos Sorcerer named Bataria stood at the rear of the formation.

He spread his psychic energy faintly, penetrating layer after layer of steel plating, trying to lock onto the approaching intruders, while silently complaining:

"That bastard Malven really knows how to push people around."

Bataria had been in his room, absorbed in experimenting on his "artwork," seeking its "beauty," when the War Band's leader, the Chaos Lord, had forcibly summoned him through a deafening Vox Array Communication.

"But if the task is just to delay them a few minutes, that's simple enough."

The Sorcerer thought to himself.

It was hard to imagine something you'd never seen. He couldn't conceive of any enemy that could break through so many Noise Marines' blockade in a corridor in such a short time.

With the Sorcerer's will, the psychic tide surged, rushing deeper into the corridor, determined to lock onto the intruders.

The next second, he froze.

What... was that?

His mind felt like it had been struck by a heavy hammer. A psychic force roaring like a tsunami erupted from outside the corridor, forcibly shoving his own power back.

Before that overwhelming psychic might, his nearly two centuries of advanced study in the psychic arts seemed like a joke, utterly crushed.

"No, this can't be!"

Bataria had no time left. He began to struggle desperately, his body floating, feet leaving the ground, as pink-purple psychic light radiated around him.

But it was all futile.

Hearing the massive commotion, his Astartes guards immediately turned their heads, looking at Bataria, whose expression had suddenly become as calm as a lake's surface, with a strange blue psychic light flickering in his eyes. Doubt arose in their hearts:

What's happening?

Unfortunately, it was this brief hesitation that extinguished their last shred of hope for survival.

Bataria's face withered, becoming ashen as dry bones, yet within his body, a blinding radiance brewed—one so intense that even his Power Armor could not contain it.

Then, it erupted with a thunderous blast!

A violent shockwave expanded, swallowing all the Chaos Astartes in the next instant, hurling them away like trash, scattering them in disarray.

By the time the air settled, the Noise Marines struggled to their feet from the ground. And at the epicenter of the explosion, what came into their view was a towering figure over three meters tall, clad in golden armor, wielding a Guardian Spear.

It's over.

That was the first thought that flashed through the minds of every Astartes present.

And it was also the last thought of their lives.

A minute later, Rowan and his two companions arrived at the scene, meeting up with Leonardo, who had already reached the location via a Warp teleport.

All resistance had been completely cleared. The four of them stood before the Bridge's massive doors.

Without needing a prompt, Sibyl spoke first:

"Let me handle this."

Then, with practiced ease, she once again channeled her psychic powers, her gaze piercing through the obstruction of the thick doors, looking into the interior of the Bridge.