Preparing to Land

Planet Roswell VII's surface.

It was a dim, lifeless planet. Its atmosphere contained only a thin trace of oxygen, and radioactive dust swept across the surface on the breeze. Almost all of the ground was covered in iron-gray gravel and rubble, with no sign of life anywhere.

Yet even such a desolate planet had complex terrain. Vast, deep rifts, like scars across a continent, crisscrossed the entire world, making Planet Roswell VII look like a mass of cracked scabs.

The rifts were riddled with caves and tunnels carved out by underground rivers of ammonia, forming a maze of tangled passages.

At that moment, a bulbous transport ship, its hull covered in blasphemous script and violent graffiti, sat motionless between the walls of a deep ravine.

It was daytime on Planet Roswell VII, but the planet's atmosphere had long since filtered out most of the star's light. The transport ship, tucked away in a deep chasm, was darker still, as black as night.

The ship's control room was littered with prayer banners and scrolls covered in dense Colchisian script. No lights had been switched on, but candles of all sizes burned in the gloom. The air was thick with the nauseating stench of blood, mixed with the pungent smell of burning incense.

At least, Liaoxia Hong had nearly vomited when he first entered the control room.

He cautiously looked up at the terrifying, towering figure seated in the broad chair at the center of the room.

In the dim, yellow candlelight, his hideous armor seemed to writhe like a specter. Fine black prayers covered his dark red shoulder plates, and sharp metal spikes lined the edges of his armor.

The armor's owner wore no helmet. His pale, bald head was covered in the same twisted script. He kept his head bowed, his face lost in shadow, while the armored index finger of one hand tapped lightly against his knee, again and again.

Liaoxia Hong knew his name: Klofa, the one in charge of these three transport ships.

A powerful Chaos Space Marine.

When Liaoxia Hong and the others had been summoned to the control room, they had faced the powerful fallen Astartes with great caution. No one dared speak first.

Only the tapping of a finger echoed through the dim control room. At last, amid the suffocating silence, the Chaos Space Marine raised his head. His pale, wicked face came into view, and he spoke in a low voice:

"They intend to trap us on this planet."

The bald man's eyes were yellowish white, and every tooth in his mouth had been filed to a point. When he opened his mouth, Liaoxia Hong couldn't bear to look at the rows of fangs.

No one answered him. Klofa continued in a slow, measured voice:

"They'll be landing soon... The Ultramarines are cautious. They'll probe our strength a little at a time."

"Those blasphemers are clever... They won't fight a war of attrition against us in caves and tunnels. Once they've located the transport fleet, they'll teleport back and call in an orbital strike."

At that, he raised his head and stared straight at the people before him.

"Then we'll all be buried in this damned ravine beneath the high-explosive bombs unleashed by a Lunar-class Cruiser."

Klofa asked with a playful note in his voice:

"You claim the Ruinous Powers sent you to assist me. Faced with such a predicament, what would you suggest?"

In the early days of the Horus Heresy, the rebels were weaker than the loyalists. With the idea that the enemy of one's enemy was a friend, Warmaster Horus actively contacted illegal Psykers, Mutants, space pirates, and others who were discriminated against and oppressed within Imperial territory. He encouraged them to rebel and disrupt order across the Imperium, so in the beginning, they were more or less on the same side as the Warmaster.

Klofa had evidently lumped the Reincarnators in with them.

Liaoxia Hong swallowed and thought quickly.

He had been in the Warhammer 40K universe for some time now. He already knew how these gene-enhanced warriors called Space Marines fought, and he understood their teleportation and other technologies.

Liaoxia Hong had no doubt that the Chaos Space Marine leader had correctly guessed the enemy's plan. Now he needed to find a way to disrupt it.

"My lord, I can provide you with excellent warriors. As long as there's enough food, the supply of warriors will never run out!" a middle-aged man with reddish-brown hair and a thick beard exclaimed excitedly. He looked like a scholar.

Liaoxia Hong, who had been about to speak, couldn't help but scoff.

Klofa smiled faintly at the man, baring his sharp teeth. In a sinister voice, he said:

"Belinsky, I remember you. Your little bugs are interesting. They might be useful against ordinary people, but they're too weak to fight Space Marines."

Liaoxia Hong watched the middle-aged man clutch the long, iron-gray metal canister in his arms and cursed inwardly: Idiot. This is the Warhammer 40K universe, a world where even the weakest fighters are formidable. Xenomorphs have exoskeletons that can be damaged by ordinary firearms, and they're only a little stronger and faster than ordinary humans. They're no match for bolters and Power Swords.

The red-haired, bearded man pressed his lips together, looking unconvinced.

Ignoring everyone else, Liaoxia Hong made up his mind and spoke in a grave voice:

"My lord, I can block the enemy Space Marines' teleportation for thirty minutes."

"Oh?" Klofa's interest was clearly piqued. "How would you block it? Do you have some ancient jamming device?"

Liaoxia Hong explained, "No. Once my domain devel—uh, I mean, once I activate my psychic ability, all teleportation within a five-kilometer radius will fail!"

Klofa narrowed his eyes and studied the thin, black-haired young man from head to toe. He rubbed his chin.

"A Psyker who doesn't need a psychic amplifier. Interesting..."

Liaoxia Hong said, "I can only interfere with their teleportation back to their warships, my lord. As for the Space Marines already on the planet, you'll have to deal with them."

As he spoke, Liaoxia Hong looked Klofa in the eye. He was sure the evil, cunning Space Marine understood what he meant.

Klofa smiled. "I'm beginning to admire you, clever mortal. Don't worry. The holy warriors blessed by the Four will keep the False Emperor's lackeys on the surface. Once they're tangled up with our forces, the Ultramarines' commander won't dare call in an orbital bombardment—not unless he doesn't care about his own warriors."

Seeing that the other strange individuals present had nothing more to add, Klofa waved a hand.

"Enough. You're all dismissed. We'll begin preparing our defenses and get ready for the False Emperor's lackeys."

The Reincarnators filed out of the main control room.

As they walked through the dim corridors, the screams and groans of victims occasionally rose from the darkness ahead, sending chills down their spines.

Liaoxia Hong guessed the Word Bearers were torturing prisoners for fun.

Just then, a woman dressed in black, carrying a long, cloth-wrapped object on her back, suddenly came over and whispered to Liaoxia Hong:

"Jujutsu Kaisen?"

Liaoxia Hong jumped and turned to look at her. She was a tall, slender white woman with Western features, dressed all in black and wearing a black hood.

"You know about it?" Liaoxia Hong asked.

The corner of the woman's mouth curled upward. "I heard those few words you let slip. Hmph. Asians aren't the only ones who watch anime."

She chuckled softly. "But you'd better be careful. If your domain doesn't work, I'm sure Klofa will crush your head with his own hands before that so-called Ultramarines' ship blows us all to pieces. Heh."

Then she turned and walked on.

Liaoxia Hong stopped and watched her go. To be honest, the white woman had a pointed chin, deep-set eyes, and an attractive oval face. But she gave him a constant sense of danger.

She was right. Despite the confidence he'd shown in front of Klofa, Liaoxia Hong wasn't sure his domain could disrupt the Ultramarines' teleportation devices. If it failed, the Word Bearers' fury would surely fall on him.

Liaoxia Hong looked at the long object wrapped in black cloth on the woman's back. Judging by its shape, he guessed it was a sword.

Elsewhere, the scholar-like, red-haired, bearded man clutched the iron-gray metal canister in his arms. Gritting his teeth, he muttered to a short woman beside him, who was hunched over and completely wrapped in a gray cloak:

"Klofa doesn't trust me. None of them do. Those damned fools don't understand the potential of Xenomorphs. Their potential is limitless. If Klofa would just give me a living Space Marine, I could breed an Astartes Xenomorph. It would be a being of unprecedented power. Damn it, damn it, what a bunch of ignorant, short-sighted fools..."

The woman's head was bent forward at an exaggerated angle, and a black veil covered her face. As she listened to her companion prattle on, she glanced around and spoke quietly:

"The fighting will start soon... Hss. Belinsky, we don't need Klofa to give us a living Space Marine. If we find the right opportunity, we can get one ourselves, can't we?"

Her voice sounded almost human, but not quite, with a strange, raspy hiss.

"I know," Belinsky said. "But you've seen it yourself. We can't just walk up to those twisted gene-enhanced warriors. Even when they're injured, they could swat us to pieces. And dead Space Marines are useless. Chestbursters can only gestate inside a living host."

"Patience, Belinsky," the hunched woman hissed. "Be patient. We'll get our chance."

On the teleportation deck, Vlahos stood motionless in the center, holding a tactical slate. Green dots flickered across its surface, showing the positions of each squad at a glance.

Reports on the ground teams' progress kept coming over the communications channel: which squads had met heavy resistance, and which had already reached their assigned positions ahead of schedule.

More and more battlefield reports poured in, converging on the Sotharan. Vlahos's mind raced as he calmly analyzed the information.

This was a unique ability inherited from Guilliman by his sons. It was said that the Primarch himself could process tens of thousands of pieces of information at once and make decisions in an instant.

Overall, the vanguard forces had met little resistance. But as they passed through caves and fissures and drew closer to the transport ships' actual location, enemy fire grew heavier. The defenders were bringing heavy shipboard weapons to bear, and the ground forces were calling for orbital support.

Vlahos rubbed his chin, deep in thought.

Beside him, ranks of Space Marines in dark blue Power Armor stood in formation, chests out and heads held high, ready for battle.

The Chaplain, carrying a Crozius, walked along the ranks, fastening each warrior's handwritten pre-battle oath to his plasteel breastplate with a red seal.

The Chaplain aboard the Sotharan was an Astartes Monk with brown hair streaked with white. He inspected every warrior's demeanor and pre-battle oath in turn.

When he reached Fu Qinghai at the end of the line and saw the bone-white armor, the Chaplain paused in surprise. Then he patted Fu Qinghai on the shoulder and smiled.

"Good luck, warrior of the Khan."

"Thank you, sir."

At last, Vlahos made up his mind. He raised his head and called out:

"Follow the latest updated coordinates. We'll carry out an orbital drop assault!"

The Tech-priest standing nearby, draped in a dark red hood, immediately gathered several Servitors and began busily updating the orbital drop parameters at the control panel.

After putting on his helmet, Vlahos led the drop squads into the Drop Pods.

The Sotharan hovered in orbit above Planet VII. A row of openings appeared along the underside of the warship, and the pointed noses of Drop Pods slowly emerged from its hull. Their thrusters ignited, and the long, cone-shaped pods became slender golden streaks, vanishing into the atmosphere.