The Warmaster Fled Again

Inside the Profane Maw, the battle had reached a fever pitch.

The assault spearhead formed by the Valkyries and Adeptus Custodes was unstoppable, advancing at high speed through the twisted steel corridors.

Each wave of Glory's barrage cleared an entire area; Prince of Wales's triple-mounted guns hammered through sturdy bulkheads and stubborn enemies alike; Prinz Eugen's Wall of Sighs force field blocked deadly artillery fire and sorcery, providing the team with solid protection; Joan of Arc's holy light continuously dispelled filth and healed the warriors' wounds; Nimi's secondary guns were like precise hunting rifles, picking off Chaos Daemons attempting ambushes or setting up heavy weapons.

Behind them, the few remaining Adeptus Custodes and Sisters of Silence acted like vengeful golden thunderbolts and silent purifiers, filling gaps in the firepower and slaughtering anything that slipped through.

Though the Chaos defenders resisted madly, they shattered again and again like waves crashing against reefs before absolute strength and flawless coordination.

Yet the path to the core reactor room and the Blackstone Spire below remained long and perilous.

Chaos Lords and powerful daemon engines had built layer upon layer of defenses at key points, while profane energy shields and twisted Warp traps hindered their advance.

Time was still running out!

Then, a deep, powerful engine roar unlike that of any Chaos engine approached from afar, coming through the massive breach the Valkyries had violently torn into the warship's hull!

Several assault transports with hard-edged silhouettes, reddish-brown paint, and Crystal Cross insignias boldly entered the relatively open reserve hangar bay inside the Profane Maw through the breach like agile steel birds!

Their hatches opened!

There were no battle cries, no clamor.

Only a heart-pounding, oppressive silence.

Figures clad in dark green MJOLNIR powered assault armor, like humanoid tanks, filed out at astonishing speed and instantly occupied advantageous positions.

Their movements were swift, precise, and efficient, like the activation of the most sophisticated war machines.

The lead warrior's armor was not much different from the others', but the ice-calm gaze beneath his helmet visor, along with the intangible aura radiating from his signature assault rifle, allowed everyone who saw him to sense the absolute will and lethal threat forged through countless brushes with death.

Master Chief—John-117!

"Red Team, confirm mission briefing."

Master Chief's voice, processed through the communicator yet still carrying its distinctive metallic quality, rang through the Spartans' encrypted channel. Calm as though reporting the weather, he said, "Objective One: support the Valkyrie units and clear the guards around the core reactor room and Blackstone Spire.

Objective Two: seize the bridge and take control of this warship. The engineering team needs its database and... special structural samples. Carl, Doug, your squads are with me on Objective Two.

Jerome, Alice, your squads support Objective One. Move!"

"Understood!" The uniform reply rang through the channel without the slightest hesitation.

The six Spartan Squads erupted with terrifying combat power like ice water dropped into boiling oil!

The three Spartan Squads led by Jerome and Alice surged forward at high speed along the path opened by the Valkyries and Adeptus Custodes, like three deadly torrents of steel!

Their arrival instantly raised the intensity of the battle to another level!

The Spartans moved far faster than ordinary people could imagine, while their MJOLNIR Armor granted them terrifying strength and protection.

The roars of Bolters, magnetic accelerator rifles, and shotguns intertwined in the narrow passageways into a symphony of destruction.

Their shooting was frighteningly precise. Whether Chaos cultists peeking out from behind cover, Chaos Space Marines trying to charge, or even the weak joints of heavy daemon engines, all were instantly crippled or blown apart by accurate bursts or lethal heavy fire.

Their coordination with the Valkyries and Adeptus Custodes was flawless.

Glory provided suppressing cover fire, Prince of Wales's heavy guns destroyed hardened cover, and the Spartans precisely removed exposed threats like surgical scalpels—or used their superhuman mobility to plunge into enemy ranks for close-quarters slaughter! Prinz Eugen's force field shielded the Spartans, while Joan of Arc's holy light enhanced their recovery.

The pressure on the Adeptus Custodes and Sisters of Silence dropped sharply, and their advance abruptly accelerated!

Under attacks from within and without, and repeated heavy assaults, the Chaos defenses began developing enormous, irreparable cracks like glass repeatedly hammered by a sledgehammer!

Master Chief personally led Carl and Doug's two squads away from the main battlefield like ghosts, advancing rapidly along a relatively secluded maintenance passage that led directly to the upper levels of the bridge.

Their target was the ship's "brain"—the bridge!

The Spartans operated with textbook precision.

Carl's squad took point, using advanced drones to precisely clear checkpoints along the way.

Doug's squad guarded the rear and flanks, ensuring the safety of the assault route.

Master Chief commanded from the center, his assault rifle like Death's roll call; every precise burst took down a critical target.

The resistance they encountered was relatively weak, but far more cunning.

The Chaos Lord had stationed an elite Terminator guard and sorcerers skilled in psychic traps near the bridge.

Yet before the Spartans' tactical coordination, advanced equipment, and Master Chief's almost precognitive battlefield instincts, such resistance proved futile.

The Terminators' heavy armor was not invincible against the Spartans' armor-piercing rounds and energy weapons. Their joints and helmet seams became fatal weaknesses.

The Chaos sorcerers' profane spells were often interrupted by precise sniping or Master Chief's ghostlike charge before they could fully form, after which their necks were snapped or heads blasted apart by the terrifying strength enhanced by powered armor.

Their advance was so fast that it drove the Chaos defenders to despair!

On the main battlefield.

Abaddon stood on the bridge of the Vengeful Spirit, his face livid.

On the tactical display, the Profane Maw's signal was deteriorating rapidly!

The signals representing the Valkyries and Spartans were moving swiftly through the warship's interior—one closing in on the core, the other charging straight for the bridge!

And the Claw of Destruction squadron he had sent as reinforcements was tightly pinned down by the Imperial Navy and that damned Spirit of Fire, unable to move an inch!

The Spirit of Fire was anchored like bedrock between the Profane Maw and Woles Orbit. Its fire was precise and lethal, continuously destroying Chaos vessels attempting to approach.

Every roar of its main guns made Abaddon's heart bleed.

Guilliman's fleet had unleashed unprecedentedly ferocious firepower, clamping down on the Black Legion's main force and giving him no chance to redeploy his strength.

That blue-and-gold Primarch seemed to have calculated everything. Sitting calmly at the center of it all, he dragged Abaddon into the mire of attrition through cold, efficient command.

"Warmaster! The bridge... we've lost contact with the bridge! The last transmission was... 'Intruders! They're too fast...!'" A terrified, desperate cry came through the communications channel.

"The reactor room! The reactor room has been breached! Those gold-armored warriors and xenos women have broken in! They're attacking the spire's foundation! We can't hold them!"

Abaddon's single eye fixed itself on the symbol representing the Profane Maw. It had completely stopped moving toward Woles Orbit, its signals chaotic; it had clearly lost power and effective command.

It was over!

The final and most crucial link in his carefully planned Iron Ring operation had snapped completely!

Humiliation! Utter humiliation!

Not only had he failed to blockade the Solar System or kill Guilliman, he had suffered losses and was about to lose even the flagship transporting the Blackstone Spire to the enemy!

"Guilliman!!!" Abaddon let out a roar mixed with fury and unwillingness, his scarlet eye seeming ready to spit fire.

He slammed a fist onto the Adamantium command console, leaving a clear dent.

"Orders!" His voice was like a blade scraping over ice, filled with venomous hatred. "All fleets, disengage! Retreat! Immediately!"

"Warmaster! What about the Profane Maw..." the Chaos captain asked unwillingly.

"Abandon it!" Abaddon's voice was cold enough to pierce bone. "Activate the pre-set self-destruct sequence! I want that ship, those bastards aboard it, and that damned spire reduced to cosmic dust together!" He would never allow his flagship and the precious Blackstone Spire technology to fall into Imperial hands!

"But, Warmaster, the self-destruct sequence requires bridge authorization, and now..."

Abaddon's roar cut him off. "Then use the Vengeful Spirit's main guns! Target the Profane Maw! Blast it, along with the surrounding void, into nothing!"

"This... will hit our own support fleet..."

"I said fire!" Abaddon's voice was vicious, filled with the madness of wanting to destroy everything.

He would use the most violent method possible to put an end to yet another failure—and leave Guilliman with a complete mess.

The Black Legion fleet began turning in disorder, attempting to break contact with the Imperial Navy and flee toward the Warp jump points at the edge of the system.

Meanwhile, the massive bow-mounted main cannon of the Vengeful Spirit, like a daemon's eye, began gathering heart-stopping, foul energy of destruction.

Inside the Profane Maw.

Below the core reactor room, the enormous corrupted Blackstone Spire foundation covered in profane runes groaned under the combined assault of the Valkyries, Adeptus Custodes, and Spartans. With shrieks of leaking energy, it finally snapped apart with a thunderous crash!

The spire itself shook violently. The energy field it radiated to seal off the Warp instantly became extremely unstable, then went completely dark!

In the bridge area.

Master Chief kicked the Chaos Lord's corpse from the captain's chair, its head half-blasted apart by a Bolter round.

Carl and Doug's squads had already purged the last few resisting Chaos Daemons from the bridge.

The engineer was leading the technical team, inserting data probes into the consoles at a dazzling pace, cracking the systems, and attempting to overwrite Chaos's underlying commands to seize control of the warship.

"Engineering report: 70% control of the main engines secured. Weapons systems offline. Engines locked... Warning! External high-energy weapon lock detected! Source: Vengeful Spirit! Energy rating: exterminatus-class!" The engineer's voice carried a hint of urgency.

Beyond the bridge's enormous observation windows, the massive cannon at the Vengeful Spirit's bow, like an eye of the Abyss, was radiating destructive light!

"Everyone! Take cover!" Master Chief shouted sharply, then spoke into his communicator. "Captain Anders! We've secured the bridge, but a flagship's main cannon has us locked! Requesting emergency evasive support!"

"Understood!" Captain Anders immediately replied.

The Spirit of Fire's massive hull instantly erupted with powerful thrust. At the same time, several huge thruster nozzles along its flanks shifted direction, and the entire warship suddenly slid sideways with agility utterly disproportionate to its size, placing itself like a gigantic shield directly between the Profane Maw and the Vengeful Spirit's firing line!

Almost at the same moment!

An incomparably thick crimson beam, carrying destructive energy and foul Warp flames, burst from the Vengeful Spirit's immense cannon like a whip from hell, lashing viciously toward the void where the Profane Maw lay!

BOOOOOOM—!!!!

The destructive beam slammed into the Spirit of Fire's suddenly flaring, immensely thick reinforced energy shields!

The terrifying flash of the explosion instantly swallowed that region of space! Violent energy shockwaves spread like ripples, blowing nearby wreckage and small vessels away like fallen leaves!

The Spirit of Fire's shields flickered wildly, flashing in and out. Its hull emitted a teeth-grinding metallic groan as the enormous kinetic force drove it backward, but... it held firm!

The main-cannon strike, powerful enough to heavily damage or even destroy a battleship, had been forcibly blocked by the Spirit of Fire using itself as a shield!

"Shield depletion: 65%! Hull structure intact! Target Profane Maw secure!" The report from the Spirit of Fire's bridge carried a trace of relief.

As the explosion's radiance gradually faded, the Spirit of Fire still stood in place like a loyal guardian giant. Its shields had dimmed considerably, but its hull remained intact.

Behind it, the protected Profane Maw had miraculously retained its main structure, aside from a warped hull and partial equipment failures caused by the shockwave!

And after delivering that spiteful strike, Abaddon's Vengeful Spirit turned without looking back, joining the flood of retreating Black Legion ships. It tore open the Warp and vanished ignominiously into the chaotic starfield.

Only his unwilling, venomous roar seemed to continue echoing through the Void:

"Guilliman! And all you damned bastards! I will return!"

On the battlefield at the edge of the Woles Galaxy, the fierce cannon fire gradually died down.

The Imperial Navy vessels were scarred and battered, but their morale was soaring. Watching the Black Legion flee, they erupted into earth-shaking cheers!

The Profane Maw floated silently in the Void, its engines dead and weapons offline, like a gigantic beast stripped of its fangs and claws.

The threat of the Blackstone Spire had been removed. Abaddon's Iron Ring operation had collapsed completely, and the Solar System's lifeline—the Woles Node—had held!

Guilliman stood on the bridge of Macragge's Honour, looking at the symbols of victory on the tactical display as he let out a long breath.

His gaze swept over the captured Chaos flagship, the Spirit of Fire standing like a guardian deity, and the Valkyries and Spartans flying out through the breach in the Profane Maw.

"Excellent work," he said quietly, and at last a long-lost, relieved smile appeared at the corner of his lips.

The final battle provoked by Abaddon ended with the Chaos Warmaster's disgraceful flight and the Imperium's glorious victory.

And the powerful allies from the Hilling Empire had undoubtedly played a decisive role in it.

On the Spirit of Fire's bridge, Captain Anders looked out at the devastated yet victorious battlefield and said into the communicator, "Engineering team, prepare to receive our new toy. Sparrow, inspect that ship inside and out, especially that Blackstone tower and their engines... Oh, and don't forget to disinfect the ship first! I don't want to bring any lice back aboard!" Her tone was relaxed, carrying the teasing humor of victory.

"Understood, Captain. The disinfection procedure has begun. We'll scrub it clean inside and out, including all that unclean data." Sparrow's voice held a touch of helplessness, as though complaining about having to clean up after this group of warriors again.