Witness History

Until that day.

A Thunderhawk gunship from the Fourth Fleet of the Indomitus Crusade landed at their base. A travel-worn Space Marine of the Ultramarines stepped down from the gunship and handed an order personally signed by Admiral Abukansis, commander-in-chief of the Fourth Fleet, to Colonel Karsten and Alexander.

The order was brief and clear.

[Order: The 99th Regiment of the "Cadian Pride" is to immediately complete its reorganization and embark within seventy-two hours for garrison duty in the Malakbel System, located on the dark side of the Imperium.]

Malakbel.

When Colonel Karsten found the name on the star chart—it lay on the other side of the galaxy, in a dark region shrouded by the shadow of the Great Rift—a sense of foreboding rose within him.

But Alexander, standing beside him, showed a flash of uncontrollable fiery light in his pale golden eyes, which had always been calm as still water, the instant he heard that name. It was mixed with excitement, anticipation, and madness.

He knew that the final battle of this life was finally coming.

Malakbel. The Hymn Engine.

And... the furious, roaring, unstoppable red apocalypse of destruction that would soon be drawn out of the Warp by the Hymn Engine's psychic light.

The primarch of the World Eaters Legion, bearer of the Butcher's Nails, chosen of Khorne.

—the "Red Angel," Angron.

"...How interesting."

Deep within Liu Zhipeng's soul came a pleased, expectant whisper that only he could hear.

"Using soldiers I twisted into fanatics with the ideals of 'family' and 'protection' to fight a tragic demigod driven mad by the loss of his 'brothers' and 'family.'"

"This is cosmic-level black humor."

"I want to see whether the protective flame burning from my tiny 'hearth' burns brighter,"

"or whether the fury of his vengeance, burning for ten thousand years, burns hotter."

He turned to look at the Imperial officer beside him, whose face was grave in the face of the unknown war ahead, and gave him a radiant, warm smile like sunlight.

"Are you ready, Colonel?"

"We're going to... witness history."

Warp travel was the most brutal test of the human body and mind, a journey spanning tens of thousands of light-years. Within the cramped, oppressive cabins of the transport ship, time lost all meaning. Beyond the portholes lay the bizarre, ever-shifting chaotic colors of the Warp, enough to drive any rational soul mad. The monotonous, unchanging hum of the Gellar field was their only barrier against the endless malicious whispers outside.

For any normal Astra Militarum unit, such a months-long voyage in confinement would have been nothing short of a disaster. The soldiers' morale would inevitably plunge to rock bottom. Homesickness, fear, and suspicion would spread through the ranks like a plague. Small-scale brawls, breaches of discipline, and even mental breakdowns would become commonplace.

Yet for the 99th Regiment of the "Cadian Pride," this voyage became an unprecedented large-scale mobile family bonding event.

Until that day, when a piercing, shrill alarm tore through the transport ship's eternal calm. The steady, breathing-like hum of the Gellar field suffered violent and ominous fluctuations for the first time. The hull began to shake violently, while the bizarre colors beyond the portholes instantly turned into a blood-red darkness brimming with malice and hatred.

"Warp storm! We've encountered a powerful Warp storm!" The captain's terrified roar echoed through the communications channel. "All personnel! Return to your stations immediately! Hold onto anything around you that can keep you secured! Pray to the Emperor!!"

The cabin instantly descended into chaos. Yet not a single soldier of the 99th Regiment panicked. As one, they turned their gaze toward the figure who still stood as steady as a mountain amid the violent shaking—Alexander von Lawrence.

"Looks like our guests came early to welcome us." There was not the slightest fear on Alexander's face. A teasing smile even played across his lips as he spread his arms and loudly addressed the "family" whose eyes were filled with absolute trust.

"Brothers! Do you hear that? Those are the enemy's wails! The terrified screams of those cowards cowering in the darkness, afraid of the flames we are about to bring!"

"Hold tight! Our hearth is being thrown into battle!"

"Let this storm rage even harder!"

Like a lone boat in stormy seas, the transport ship struggled and rolled within the Warp's fury, charging toward an unknown shore filled with darkness and death.

When his consciousness finally recovered from that long, nauseating whirl of dizziness, the transport ship had already ended its agonizing voyage and now lay quietly docked in the hangar of an enormous orbital station.

He, and his 99th Regiment, had finally arrived at their destination—the Malakbel System.

Through the hangar's enormous reinforced crystal viewport, he saw the planet that would bring his journey in this life to an end—Malakbel. It was an unremarkable ocher rocky planet. Yet upon it stood a magnificent structure so immense that it could be clearly seen with the naked eye from low orbit. It was a white spire that pierced the heavens like a sword, radiating a gentle, holy light.

The Hymn Engine.

Like a candle planted in endless darkness, its psychic light of order and hope was so warm and bright. It constantly purified the malicious universe around it, corrupted by the Great Rift. Any person loyal to the Emperor would feel warmth and reassurance rise from the depths of their soul at the sight of it, like a wanderer returning home.

But in Alexander's eyes, this "candle" was also full of deadly, alluring danger. For it not only guided lost Imperial ships, but was more like a massive bonfire lit in a dark forest. It would draw in lost travelers—and also the hungry, bloodthirsty beasts attracted by its light and heat.

"Commissar, Colonel." A liaison officer from the Fourth Fleet approached them and gave a standard military salute. "Admiral Abukansis is awaiting your arrival aboard the flagship, the Glory of Terra."

The Glory of Terra was an Imperial battleship so magnificent that anyone seeing it for the first time would be left breathless. Its mountain-like hull, more than ten kilometers long, was covered with densely packed macro-cannon turrets and defensive arrays. The enormous pure-gold double-headed eagle at its prow reflected a holy, majestic radiance beneath the starlight. It was the absolute core of the Fourth Fleet.

When Alexander and Colonel Karsten entered the immense bridge, large enough to accommodate an entire Knight formation, they saw dozens of elaborately dressed commanders from every elite fleet of the Imperial Navy standing on either side, their faces filled with scrutiny and curiosity. At the center of the bridge, before a massive three-dimensional star chart formed of light and shadow, an old man in a white naval marshal's uniform slowly turned around. He was tall, with graying hair, but his eyes remained as sharp as an eagle's.

He was Admiral Abukansis, commander-in-chief of the Fourth Fleet, one of the highest commanders of the Indomitus Crusade, and the legendary naval marshal known as the "Shield of the Imperium."