Three days had passed since Grand Master Ima and the thirty Grey Knights under his command set out.
No communications had come from the planet during those three days.
Krippman could only stand on the bridge, staring at the world of Landes with worried eyes.
The planet looked reddish from space, dotted with green. Krippman knew that was an illusion created by the fiends upon it.
Agriculture capable of sustaining the Imperium's people.
Yet the development of that agriculture was clearly unnatural—supernatural.
Barren soil, thin air, not to mention the shortage of clean water.
No hardy plant could flourish in such a dead land. Only the tiniest, most inconspicuous mosses could rejoice in the damp, dark corners of the hive cities.
"Nurgle's corruption..."
Krippman nervously bit his hand. Only the servitors needed to keep the Grey Knights' ship operational remained aboard. The loss of a full fifty Grey Knights was enough to make the Imperium sigh. During the First War for Armageddon—
To banish the fallen primarch Angron, the 109 brothers they dispatched had suffered devastating losses. Only thirteen had barely survived.
And now, against an isolated shrine world, were the Grey Knights about to lose fifty men?
Had the Greater Daemon on this planet truly become so powerful?
"My lord... we..."
"Wait another two days. Keep trying to contact them..."
The two days passed swiftly. Krippman stood motionless on the bridge for those entire two days.
The planet remained as it had been, showing no signs of madness, yet every attempt to contact the Grey Knights failed.
With a sigh, his heart heavy with grief and pain, Krippman did not know how he could report such news to the Grey Knights' monastery.
"...My lord, should we deploy Exterminatus?"
"Prepare the Cyclonic Torpedoes. Grant this planet mercy."
"Yes, my lord."