The Last Warmth

The screen lit up, and the young man's face appeared before everyone. Behind him was the enormous bulletproof glass of the central control room, now covered in spiderweb-like cracks. Through it, they could clearly see the hellish crimson sky outside, as well as the massive dark-red figure charging forward in a frenzy.

Yet the young man on the screen was terrifyingly calm. There was even a composed, almost polite smile on his face.

"Good afternoon, Admiral Abukansis, and all generals." His voice traveled through the currents, clearly reaching every corner of the bridge. There was not the slightest fear of death or despair at the apocalypse in it, only the calm composure of someone about to attend a long-awaited grand banquet. "My apologies for interrupting your enjoyment of this magnificent fireworks display of destruction, but what I have to say may take a while. I hope you will listen patiently."

Admiral Abukansis said nothing. He simply stared fixedly at the face on the screen, a face far too young.

"First, I must state a fact that you may not be willing to accept." Alexander's smile did not fade in the slightest. "We have failed. The Hymn Engine cannot be saved. This fortress cannot be saved. Angron cannot be defeated by mortals, at least not by our current methods."

His words were like a bucket of ice water, viciously dousing every commander present who still clung to a shred of hope.

"Second, I hope you will immediately issue the order to retreat."

"What?!" The Mars Fleet captain who had been the first to accuse Alexander of being a "coward" was once again the first to leap out. "Retreat?! You coward! You madman! Do you even know what you're saying?! We are soldiers of the Imperium! Behind us stands the Hymn Engine! The hope of the Imperium's dark side! We—"

"General," Alexander calmly interrupted his roar, which was filled with rage and humiliation, "allow me to ask you a question. Which do you believe is more important: the Hymn Engine, or the entire Fourth Fleet gathered here, a force that accounts for one-tenth of the Indomitus Crusade's living strength?"

The Mars Fleet captain was left speechless.

"The Hymn Engine is a lighthouse. It is important. But when the forest has already been consumed by an unquenchable blaze, a wise ranger should not cling to his little wooden watchtower and burn to ash alongside it. He should immediately take every tool and every person he can still use, retreat somewhere safe, and build a wider, stronger firebreak."

"Once the Hymn Engine is destroyed, the consequences will be far more than the loss of a navigation beacon." Alexander's voice suddenly became incomparably grave. "Its explosion will inject Khorne's towering hatred into the souls of every living mortal present, like the most vicious plague. When that happens, you will face an enemy more terrifying than Angron—yourselves."

"Your soldiers, your comrades, even you yourselves may instantly fall into becoming Khorne's slaves, knowing nothing but slaughter and bloodlust. Have you ever seen millions of your own people suddenly turn their guns around and begin madly massacring their own? Believe me, you do not want to see it."

The entire bridge fell deathly silent. An expression known as fear appeared on every face. It was not that they had never considered such a terrifying possibility, but they had always deliberately avoided it. Now, this young commissar had ripped open that bloody reality in the most cruel, cold, and straightforward manner, laying it before them all.

"So, Admiral." Alexander turned his burning gaze back toward the fleet commander who had remained silent all this time. "Please consider the greater good. Take the forces that can still withdraw and leave this place at once. Return to the Regent and tell him what happened here."

"As for us..." Alexander turned and glanced at the alloy doors behind him, which were already on the verge of collapse. That brilliant smile, as warm as sunlight, returned to his face. "...We will offer you and all the brothers withdrawing the most magnificent and dazzling... farewell fireworks."

The transmission cut off, and the screen went black.

The bridge remained utterly silent. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the white-haired old man, who stood motionless like a statue. They waited for their commander-in-chief to make the hardest and most painful decision of his military career.

After a long while, Admiral Abukansis slowly closed his bloodshot eyes. A muddy tear silently slid from the corner of his eye, like a dried riverbed. Then he abruptly opened his eyes. All hesitation, pain, and unwillingness had vanished from them, replaced by a cold resolve as hard as steel.

"All fleets, heed my command!" His hoarse voice, filled with unquestionable authority, rang throughout the entire fleet's communication network. "...Retreat. All ships still capable of moving are to disengage immediately and assemble at the designated emergency warp point. This is not cowardice. This is an order. For... The Emperor."

After saying that, he slumped weakly back into his commander's throne. It was as though all his strength and soul had been drained away in an instant, leaving behind an ordinary old man who had aged a hundred years in a moment.

And with that agonized yet resolute order, the brutal void battle above Malakbel underwent a dramatic change. The Imperium fleet's once-unbreakable steel line began to slowly contract like receding tides. A tragic grand retreat, filled with sacrifice and glory, had begun.

Meanwhile, in the fortress's crumbling central control room, Alexander lowered the communicator. He turned to face his ten thousand "family members," who had long since assembled. There was not the slightest fear of approaching death on their faces, only wild joy and excitement, as though they were about to attend the holiest of festivals. In their arms, they tightly clutched high-energy plasma explosives powerful enough to blast even Bloodthirsters back into the Warp. The cold casings had long been covered in fanatical slogans drawn in their own blood.

"Hearth is here, to burn all things away!"

"Our bodies are firewood, our souls are flame!"

"Fight for our eldest brother! Die for the Emperor!"

They waited, waiting for their eldest brother to give the final command.

Alexander looked at those faces filled with fanaticism and worship, and a trace of gentleness appeared in his pale golden eyes. He spread his arms as though he wished to gather all ten thousand of his family members into an embrace.

"Brothers! Did you hear it? That is the horn calling us home! Our fleet is retreating, and our other family members are leaving this place safely. And we will be their final shield! We will be the first, and brightest, beacon the Imperium lights in this land of darkness!"

"Now! Raise the 'firewood' in your hands! Let us offer that big fellow outside, who has already grown impatient from waiting, the final—warmth of our 'home'!!!"

"ROAR----------!!!"

Ten thousand throats of steel and flesh erupted in a world-shaking roar at once, filled with longing for destruction and glory!

Then, BOOM—!!!

The engine-room blast door, forged from an unknown alloy of the Dark Age of Technology, finally let out an overwhelmed groan beneath Angron's unceasing furious strikes and collapsed with a thunderous crash.

A massive dark-red figure, brimming with oppressive force, appeared in the doorway, followed by eight equally massive and terrifying figures burning with hellfire. Angron and his eight most powerful bloodthirsty servants had finally stepped into the tomb Alexander had personally built for them.