Interlude 66: Coss at This Very Moment

Jago Sevatarion slowly raised his chainsaw, radioactive dust swirling around him, completely solidifying the blood on his armor. 👹♬ 🐤☝

The surrounding area was littered with corpses, numbering in the hundreds, all belonging to a common barbarian tribe. Now, that tribe was utterly wiped out, Sevatar personally slaughtered them one by one in the darkness.

There are countless tribes of this kind, large and small, on Calth, who fight each other on a daily basis, using people from rival tribes as slaves, food, or sacrificial offerings.

However, if they discover a fortress, these mutants, who lack even the ability to speak, will unite like never before and attack the fortress together until they breach it.

As for what happened after that, whether they continued killing each other or chose to smear every corner of the fortress with excrement, nobody cared.

Just like Sevatar doesn't care which tribe these people come from.

A flag was planted beside him, which was, unsurprisingly, made of human skin. The flagpole was formed from a polished thigh bone, and many small skulls were wrapped around the end.

A minute and a half ago, this flag was held by a mutant from this tribe, but now it has been decapitated.

Sevatar glanced at it, his breathing deliberately amplified by his helmet, carrying far in the darkness.

The surface of Calth where he was located was completely shrouded in darkness, and many dangerous beasts lurked around him, hungry and waiting, amidst the bitter cold and deadly radioactive dust.

Although they were hungry, they were still very perceptive, even perceptive enough to detect some aspect of Sevatar's nature amidst the strong smell of blood. This saved them from death.

Sevatar turned and left.

Running, leaping, and climbing, he quickly reached the designated strike location with superhuman speed, where Sheher Cold Soul and his men had been waiting for some time.

A biting wind howled past, churning the dark clouds in the sky and creating a bizarre and grotesque scene. Beneath the sky, on this artificially formed mountain of sand and stone, the Night Lords had already bared their fangs and claws.

"You're a little late, Lord Sevatar," the High Commander said in a tone that was both amused and mocking.

Sevatar glanced at him but did not respond to the mild mockery; his crimson visors quickly drew his attention down to the foot of the mountain.

There, numerous layers of tents and caves were faintly visible in the firelight. According to preliminary reconnaissance, this was the largest barbarian tribe within a radius of several thousand miles.

But that alone wouldn't be enough to make them come and kill these bastards. The real reason they came here to stain their hands with blood lies inside one of the tents.

"Are you sure there's no problem with the signal?" Sevatar asked coldly.

"The Calth's Sons have confirmed it multiple times; there's no problem. The signal is coming from here."

"Very good," Sevatar said. "Tell them they can close the net now."

"No problem," Sheher replied with a low, chilling laugh.

He quickly made contact with the Calth's Sons's relay station on the surface via a dedicated communication channel. This was supposed to be done by Sevatar, but for some reason his Power Armour was not compatible with the relay station's separate communication channel.

Fortunately, Sheher didn't have any objections to this—in fact, this wasn't the first time he had served in a similar role as a communications hub, and cooperating with the Inquisition meant frequently dealing with other Chapter.

Looking across the entire galaxy, it's definitely not the case that every Chapter is willing to communicate with the Inquisitor.

"They said they would launch the attack in five minutes."

"Understood," said Sevatar. "Then, Sheher, let's take these five minutes to discuss another matter."

He turned his head and looked at the Supreme Commander.

"I think the instructor's escape must be related to the Hunter," he said with certainty. "What do you think?"

"I don't think this has anything to do with him. When the instructor left, he was still with us in the conference room listening to your story, sir."

"No, this matter is related to him—think about it, Sheher, who gave that damned book to the instructor?"

"I don't think things can be handled that way."

"Damn it." Sevatar glared at him angrily and stopped talking.

Five minutes passed in the blink of an eye. As the countdown on the eyepiece reached zero, a flickering Mars suddenly appeared at the far end of the gathering place at the foot of the mountain. At first, it was only the size of a speck of dust, but it quickly grew to the size of a human head.

Finally, as the distance rapidly closed, the true face of Mars was fully revealed, as large as a corner of a city wall, illuminating most of the night sky below the mountain.

Sevatar's eyes lit up.

He had already read the relevant materials. In essence, this weapon, which had not yet been officially named and was jointly developed by the Calth, Techmarine, and the Mechanicum, was actually similar in principle to the catapults of the Savage World.

They all involve throwing an extremely heavy object in some way to kill the enemy. The only difference is that this experimental weapon can gradually accelerate during launch and absorb radioactive dust from the surrounding air.

In other words, if no upper limit is set, its power will only increase.

The power of science is boundless.

Sevatar smiled as he watched the dust bomb crash to the ground, the mountains trembled, the edge of the barbarian tribe was completely destroyed by this attack, and the already disaster-stricken land began to burn, with howls echoing in the flames.

The seeds of chaos have been sown, and on the distant horizon, the Calth's Sons are rapidly approaching in their troop carriers.

Sevatar and Sheher Cold Soul stood up in unison, and behind them, ninety-nine veteran Terminator of the Blade of Judgement also stood up.

What happened next was not unfamiliar to them; the Night Lords would experience such scenes many times in their lives, whether short or long—namely, the enemy roaring, the enemy screaming, the enemy wailing, the enemy crying.

Fear can be applied equally to anyone. When witnessing one's own kind being slaughtered cleanly and efficiently in seconds, even the bravest person will fall into a brief moment of bewilderment.

Moreover, these barbarians were not actually brave; their cruelty stemmed solely from ignorance and stupidity. If they knew who had killed them, they would likely have fallen into even deeper despair.

The massacre lasted eleven minutes, and no mutant survived. They faced only two choices: be shot by the Calth's Sons or be killed by the Night Lords using fist blades, Lightning Claw, or other melee weapons.

There was no other way to go, and even resistance seemed futile.

They used to be able to cause trouble many times by taking advantage of their geographical location and numbers, and even used their familiarity with the deadly terrain to shake off the pursuing Calth's Sons.

[ ]

But now, with all intelligence thoroughly investigated by a group of elusive enemies, they no longer held any advantage. Victory was rightfully in the hands of the Astartes, but they were not excited.

They did not come to wipe out a savage, primitive tribe.

Three minutes later, the real purpose of their trip was finally discovered.

"The Physical Key," Kargio sighed. "It's turned out like this."

He carried a scepter that was somewhat too small for him, made of jet-black stone. A round metal ball was inlaid at the top of the scepter, emitting a faint white light.

Even after such a long time, the radioactive dust did not damage its surface, which is one of the advantages of Adamantium. Under normal circumstances, this metal cannot be worn down, even after ten thousand years.

Not to mention that for the past ten thousand years, it has only been worshipped and offered sacrifices as some kind of divine object by a group of ignorant mutants, and even protected as a symbol of authority.

Kargio reached out and took the metal ball, handing it to a Techmarine who carefully held it in both hands before quickly leaving the spot.

He will begin testing the stability of the Physical Key on the spot. If all readings are normal and match every detail in the database, then they will no longer need to spend time unpacking the orbital weapon platform's data packets.

Simply log in and use the Physical Key to gain access.

"I must say, Chapter Master Sevatar, your psionic talents have been truly invaluable," Kargio said sincerely, looking at him. "I never imagined that the Physical Key, which we ourselves had given up hope of, would actually still exist."

Sevatar nodded dismissively; he didn't think there was anything to praise about it.

If he hadn't read about the Physical Key in the records of the Calth's Sons, he wouldn't have thought to use his divination abilities to confirm whether the key still existed on Calth.

Furthermore, the instrument that could pinpoint its location was also developed by the Calth's Sons themselves.

Their Techmarine, unable to travel to Mars for further training, maintained excellent relationships with the remaining Mechanicum members and possessed considerable talent in mechanics and manufacturing.

Through generations of Legacy, this talent enabled them to complete numerous scientific and technological research projects, and also led them to create many strange and wonderful weapons.

To be honest, Sevatar genuinely believed they should go and communicate with the descendants of Ferrus Manus, or even go to Mars for further studies; otherwise, it would be a huge waste.

"It's good that it's helping," Sevatar said. "But I'm actually more concerned about something else right now."

"Twelve hours," Kargio said firmly. "Just another twelve hours, and our shuttle will pass the final test."

Sevatar nodded slightly and made a gesture at the same time.

Kargio naturally understood what he was referring to. The idea had been deeply rooted in his mind ever since Karyl Lohars crossed the galaxy in front of them and instantly arrived at the Macragge's Honour.

However, this idea did not arise suddenly. Long before him, countless Calth had dreamt similar dreams: about regaining control of the skies, about completely clearing away the haze, radiation, and threats.

And now, Kargio is personally making it a reality.

However, the ultimate goal of this Calth has changed slightly; it has become a prerequisite for a larger plan.

This plan is called Support for the Macragge's Honour.

The first step is to relaunch the orbital weapon platform, restart the various facilities within the remaining space station, and issue an emergency call to the surrounding star system.

The second step is to repair and inspect the weapon platforms during this period, and prepare them for firing. If any Imperium forces respond to their call and actually send ships, then these weapons can be put to use.

The sun in Calth has been cancerous for ten thousand years. It has not yet been destroyed, but it should be destroyed. Sunlight was once the mother of countless lives and nature, but this mother is now terminally ill and suffering greatly.

The Calth will give it peace, allowing the deadly electromagnetic storms to dissipate and enabling arriving rescue ships to reach near-Earth orbit smoothly.

However, if no one responds, Jago Sevatarion will activate the backup plan.

Kargio didn't understand what his backup plan was, but he didn't intend to ask. He was a good listener, one of his few virtues.

He truly didn't care what secrets the Night Lords were hiding—frankly, what secret could compare to Karyl Lohars' true identity?

This man knew Roboute Guilliman and could even call the Primarch by his name. He looked no different from an ordinary person, yet he could engage in hand-to-hand combat with Astartes and even gain the upper hand.

He had served as an instructor in the Eighth Legion ten thousand years ago, and just a day earlier, Kargio had learned from Jago Sevatarion that Karyl Lohars had a room on the Emperor's Dream.

No one would joke about something like this, especially since Sevatar didn't seem to be joking at the time.

With all these factors combined, the Chapter Master of the Calth's Sons was no longer interested in keeping secrets. He might not be particularly intelligent, but he was certainly not foolish enough to suddenly get stuck on a trivial matter at this critical juncture.

All he wanted now was to get to the Primarch's side as soon as possible so he could join the war and spread the news of the Calth's return to the stars to every planet in the Five Hundred Worlds and even the Imperium.

He wanted people to know that they were invincible. He also wanted those traitors to know that Calth could not be destroyed.

Yes, you may Calth again and again, to incite Chaos, or to plot in secret, just as the Word Bearers did to this jewel ten thousand years ago, but Calth will not yield.

It didn't exist in the past, it doesn't exist now, and it won't exist in the future.

Hector Kargio slowly clenched his fists.

Sooner or later, he will grind all those people to dust.

"Let's head back, Chapter Master Kargio."

Jago Sevatarion's voice came from beside him, the legend of legends gazing thoughtfully at the night sky over Calth.

Following his gaze, Kargio looked up and saw the dissipating clouds, and the enormous metal structure faintly visible behind them. That was their destination twelve hours from now.

The Chapter Master stared at him intently, his eyes behind his goggles seeming to burn.