An Account of the Age of Chapters (II: Crimson Woe)

Khalil stretched out his hand and accurately pulled out a piece of paper from the mountain of documents. It was three fingers thick, and the rough surface was coated with a thin layer of gel material. The characters and the real paper were clearly visible in the solidified gel.

Karyl pinched it slightly with his fingers and was surprised to find it as hard as stone.

This was quite interesting. He squinted and held the paper up to his face. Unsurprisingly, it enveloped his entire upper body.

At first glance, this appears to be a battle report, documenting a significant Chapter experienced by the Crimson Claws in 145. M32. The writer clearly possesses extensive experience, as he succinctly captures the perilous nature of the war in just a few words.

Karyl returned to the beginning and began to reread it carefully, and three important names were thus captured by him.

His name was Seth Harlan, an Inquisitor focused on hunting down traitors. Karyl closed his eyes, pondered for a few seconds, and quickly recalled his life. This Inquisitor lived for four centuries, ultimately dying in a rebellion attack within the Imperium.

He was completely surrounded by the rebellious Imperial Guard in the easternmost part of the Sol System. He tried to break out but was powerless. Before his death, he tried to call upon the name of God according to the top-secret regulations of the Inquisition.

His name, not that of a god of Vengeance.

Karyl smiled—another one of Malcador's little tricks, but it worked; at least he could hear it in the dark.

The second name is Captain Justaerin de Baal from the Urtogen Penal Legion 72nd Regiment. His name is somewhat ominous, but he himself is an impeccably loyal man.

In this battle, named the Crimson Woe, he led the 72nd Regiment in a flanking attack, beheading the enemy's main mortal commander, a governor whose name had been erased.

His bravery secured the victory, but his end was far from happy. Twenty-six years after the war, he froze to death in a world of ice and snow, alone, while his troops were lost in the blizzard due to the influence of Chaos Sorcery. He was forty-nine years old.

May you rest in peace.

Then came the last name—Yar Ashshik, Chapter Master first Chapter Master of the Crimson Claws. He died in this battle, along with all 622 of his comrades.

So, why?

Karyl had the answer, but it was from Yar's subjective perspective, so he began to reread it.

The cause of the battle was attributed to the betrayal of the governor of Tertius —the site of the battle—who sent out a distress signal, falsely claiming that his planet was under siege by a large number of Astartes traitors.

The Crimson Claws, who happened to be roaming nearby, received the broadcast and quickly headed to Tertius. They found the traitors near near-Earth orbit, but they were a well-prepared group that outnumbered them several times over.

In that situation, Yar Ashshik quickly assessed the circumstances and delivered a speech. The writer reconstructed his speech from the survivors and from the records of the Cogitator Array on the Bloody Jihad.

"We could certainly break out and leave, but we can't, because that's exactly what those cowardly, shameless bastards want us to do. We will never do as the enemy desires."

Let me tell you why.

"Look, gentlemen. Right now, they hold the entire Imperial World and the lives of all its innocent inhabitants in their hands, yet they are not in a hurry to set it ablaze as they have before. What more do I need to say? It is obvious that this is a trap, designed to lure us in."

"Therefore, if we follow rational judgment and attempt to break through, we have a fairly good chance of leaving safely. But, in my opinion, this is where we truly fall into their trap!"

"A Night Lords can be killed, but death is only the beginning for us. What they really want is to force us to wallow in the blood of the innocent, until we become maggots as vile as they are."

"They will not succeed, the Blood Crusader will not retreat, and neither will the Crimson Claws. We will fight and die, and we will never abandon any innocent."

After delivering this speech, the Crimson Claws fleet began its charge and boarding maneuver towards the twelve enemy ships anchored in near-Earth orbit.

With their Dreadnought and unwavering determination, they gained some advantages, destroying or bombing all enemy ships, leaving none standing. The cost was that only one of their seven warships survived. Although the casualty ratio was staggering, it was almost a major victory.

However, they have more than just enemies among the stars to deal with.

With battle still raging on the ground in Tertius, the surviving Crimson Claws regrouped and, in a desperate gamble, forced their way to the ground by re-entering the atmosphere through their ships.

Their airdrop system was severely damaged in the naval battle and rendered unusable. The forced landing only made matters worse, nearly cutting the original Bloody Jihadists in two.

However, their risk was worthwhile, and ninety-five hours after the start of the battle, the last traitor on Tertius was also killed.

A resounding victory, a Pyrrhic victory, a glorious triumph. These were the three words the writer used to describe the victory.

Additionally, it's worth mentioning that several members of the Crimson Claws directly ascended to demonic power during the battle—in fact, almost two-thirds of the 622 casualties were directly ascended to demonic power.

To win this war, they had to tear off their own human skin and fight in a more ferocious manner. In this state, in the eyes of witnesses, they were not much different from those traitors; they were even more evil and terrifying.

After the war, Seth Harlan led his team to Tertius, where he somehow stabilized the local society. Those who had heard rumors and were eyewitnesses were either rendered amnesiac or brought before the Inquisition.

It seemed like a good ending, but Tertius was forever changed after this battle. It was completely tainted by a spiral of hatred, and the local customs became extreme and violent.

Of course, that's a story for another time.

Karyl sighed and put down the battle report in his hand.

He didn't know what to think. Although he could hear their voices and even see some fragmented flashbacks in the dark, these cold words were more impactful than the images.

They are merely stacks of data, cold descriptions devoid of any rhetoric or embellishment of memory. What they reveal is only the purest and most brutal truth.

The truth is, similar things have happened countless times over the past ten thousand years. And it's not just happening to the Night Lords; countless others are bleeding as well.

Perhaps someone will compile these events into an epic tale of heroism, but Karyl can only see endless bloodshed and countless bones between the numbers.

This is a bloody disaster he single-handedly created.

Yes, he knew that many people survived because of him. But how many died because of him?

Karyl put down the battle report, his face, which had almost fully recovered, showing no expression. But if someone could delve into his mind at this moment, they would find that the dark thoughts that had been so painstakingly suppressed were now making a comeback.

They rose from the depths, defying the limits of reason, unstoppable like a tidal wave. It took Karyl several minutes to barely regain his senses.

He sighed and walked to another pile of documents. He didn't want to interrupt his work like this, but if he continued reading the battle reports, his already crumbling sanity might just plummet into the abyss.

By then, it will probably be quite difficult to return to "normal".

For the safety of all the crew members of the Nightfall, he picked up a booklet bearing the insignia of the Inquisition. Aquila and skull came into view. With trembling fingers, he turned a page and saw a line of printed text in the center of the white paper.

"Orlicana Hive City Survey Report"

He turned the page again, but with slightly more force, almost roughly. The blood even transcended the constraints of psionic energy, seeping through the bandages and leaving a clear, crimson fingerprint on the white paper.

His breathing became heavy and labored, a bitter feeling rising within him at the sight of this broken white harmony. But he was helpless and could only loosen his grip, letting the blood continue to drip.

Just then, a voice came from outside the office door.

"Instructor."

Karyl looked over with eyes that had turned a dark red, and replied hoarsely, "Come in."

The door slid open, and the Hunter entered, his posture rather intriguing. He clutched a dark tome in one hand and a rusty, sharp knife in the other, the blade pointed directly at Karyl, as if he were about to attack him at any moment.

"I'm here to deliver something," the Hunter said calmly, seemingly oblivious to Karyl's dangerous posture.

His words were met with a cold stare. Karyl casually put down the blood-stained investigation report in his hand and began to approach him. His steps were by no means gentle; on the contrary, they were very heavy, each step making the steel tremble.

The Nightfall wailed at his feet, and the howling wind began to tear at the Hunter's body, urging him to hurry away. But the Hunter remained unmoved, standing still until his cloudy white eyes reflected Karyl's crumbling face.

His skin is torn again, the Hunter thought.

"Instructor," the Hunter called again, "I'm just here to deliver something."

Karyl stared intently at him for a long while before reluctantly lowering his head to take the book and the rusty blade. He glanced at them, then instantly shoved the rusty blade back into the book.

The book trembled for a moment, and a faint rumble of thunder echoed through the room. The cold wind gradually turned into a gale, and the Hunter slowly spoke, "It was Ahzek Ahriman who asked me to return this book to you."

"The blind."

After a few seconds of silence, Karyl uttered the name with difficulty. His teeth were grinding, not from hatred, but from the resurfacing of distant memories.

The Hunter nodded and said, "Yes, also known as the Blind Man. He somehow foresaw your return and believed you would need this book more than he did."

"He's still alive?"

"The door remains, and so does the key," the Hunter said. "Thanks to this book, the blind man has transcended; in the baptism of wrath, he is forever condemned to hell."

"There are four others who have had the same experience as him, but their situation is not as good as His Excellency Ahzek Ahriman's, who is still able to stay with his brothers."

Karyl paused for a moment, then placed the book he was holding on the pile of documents. He pointed to the Astartes- sized chair, then walked to the corner, moved the normal-sized chair over, and sat down.

"Tell me about it," he said hoarsely. "I'm very interested in these things."

For the first time ever, the Hunter smiled.

"Lord Ahzek Ahriman and his brothers are currently serving in the Space Wolves as bards, a rather special position, under the direct jurisdiction of Commander Bjorn."

"Lord Sigismund fell into a deep slumber many years ago. He was transported back to the fortress of Rogal Dorn by the Black Templars and is now sleeping deep within."

"Sol Tavitz is currently roaming Chemos, tasked with recruiting new blood for the Emperor's Children Chapter. As one of the parent chapters, they have always been small in number. I believe this is related to Lord Tavitz's stringent standards."

"Thunder is the most mysterious of them all; we rarely hear from him, yet he still wanders among the stars. His most recent appearance was two centuries ago, fighting alongside the Lamenters, a subgroup of the Blood Angels."

Karyl slowly closed his eyes and nodded gently.

"The Lamenters?"

He asked again, his voice now slightly softer. The Hunter knew he wanted to listen further to distract himself, so he immediately continued the conversation—frankly, this was probably the most he had spoken in his nearly three hundred years as a "Hunter."

"Yes, Lamenters, instructors. A glorious and noble Chapter, they and we often make the same choices when faced with the innocent and the people of the Imperium. For that reason, I personally respect these cousins, but they seem very unfortunate."

"Since the Chapter's inception, they have faced numerous immense calamities that they could not possibly handle on their own. Fortunately, Lord Regent Sanguinius quickly took notice of this and summoned the remaining 221 members of the Lamenters near Terra."

"Then what?"

"And yet, they remained unfortunate," the Hunter sighed. "Despite the Primarch's support, and the direct aid and equipment from the Mother Group, their misfortune persisted."

"It's hard for me to say exactly why. Perhaps I could figure it out if I saw them in person, but we've never met them."

Karyl opened his eyes, the dark red had completely faded from them. He lowered his head, tapped his knee as if deep in thought, and spoke in a hoarse voice.

What is your relationship with Talos Vaul?

The Hunter didn't answer, but simply stood up, bowed slightly, and then turned to leave. Karyl watched him go, then reached for the book.

There's still a lot to see.

He opened the book, and the bloodied and mangled face began to recover rapidly, as if a monster had donned a human disguise.