On the broad landing pad, several private soldiers stood beside a cabinet in front of the transport's hatch, along with a Tech-Priest who was going over maintenance matters with Ana.
Farther out, densely packed ranks of soldiers listened as a herald read out the senate's commendation for Sith and the 101st Regiment.
But rather than the herald's drivel, almost everyone's gaze was fixed on the suit of Artificer Power Armour.
There was none of the plain rigidity of assembly-line manufacture. The entire suit gleamed a muted silver, with ornate golden patterns engraved on its plates.
At its back hung a magnificent blue-and-gold cloak, along with a power pack painstakingly crafted by a master of the Adeptus Mechanicus on Vigilus.
The helmet was fully enclosed. Apart from its external equipment, its face bore only a pair of red-glowing lenses.
Both pauldrons were solid, with several "Purity Seals" for warding off evil hanging from their edges.
Although Sith had yet to put it on, its mere presence was enough to hold everyone's gaze, leaving them unable to look away once they set eyes on it.
Especially when they noticed the weapons beside the armour out of the corners of their eyes, they felt that even two eyes were not enough to take it all in.
The accompanying weapons were a boltgun capable of effectively wounding or killing Astartes on one side, and an ornate, master-crafted Power Sword on the other.
The boltgun was one thing, but perhaps the nobles really had more money than they knew what to do with: they had actually commissioned the Adeptus Mechanicus to make the Power Sword resemble an ancient blade glowing with runic light.
The smooth adamantium blade bore not only elaborate patterns but even glimmered with flecks of light in the daylight.
The crowd ignored the herald's commendation, merely staring at the suit of Artificer Power Armour.
Only after the herald finished speaking, feeling he had made a fool of himself, did he turn toward Sith.
"My lord, before we leave, we still need you to put on the Power Armour so we can take a few photographs."
Sith looked at the herald in some confusion, and the herald gave a slightly embarrassed, wry smile.
"At a time like this, we need publicity featuring you all the more."
"After all..."
The herald suddenly stopped there, his expression growing a little more awkward.
Because there would either never be another round of publicity, or Sith would have to return alive from the water purification station.
At that thought, even the herald's and private soldiers' envy of Sith's possession of this suit of Power Armour diminished considerably.
In their eyes, even if this suit greatly increased Sith's combat strength, it would still be difficult for him to climb a space elevator a full thousand kilometres high and retake the water purification station.
Unless the Power Armour's machine spirit suddenly awakened and displayed tremendous might on par with a divine artefact such as Guilliman's Armour of Fate.
But...
Was that possible?
The herald grumbled inwardly, the envy in his eyes disappearing completely. Just then, a crisp clang of alloy striking the ground reached his ears, and, with the soldiers of the 101st Regiment before him wearing expressions of deep respect, he looked beside him.
At some point, Sith had already donned his Artificer Power Armour.
Even though he had already written Sith off as a dead man, the sight of Sith standing before him in Power Armour still made his eyes widen involuntarily.
The pursuit of beauty had always been a human instinct. So when a magnificent "knight" stood before him, tall and well-proportioned, a gun in his right hand and a sword at his waist, how could the herald still care whether Sith lived or died?
And when Sith walked before his soldiers' formation, boltgun in his left hand and the regimental standard raised high in his right, accompanied by the fervent slogans erupting from the soldiers below, the herald felt that if his own life could buy him a few days wearing that armour, it seemed... quite a bargain!
Amid the "rousing send-off" from the Orks and Genestealers below, the transport struggled back to Hyperia.
At the top of the Hive City's spire, facing two thousand of the most elite veterans, Sith rotated his arm slightly, feeling the terrifying strength flowing from the armour after Hundredfold Amplification. He raised his hand and held up one finger.
"From now on, every one of you must climb to the tip of the spire every day... one hundred times!"
Hyperia Hive Cluster.
Excited Orks converged from every direction, shouting in a frenzy as they attacked the terrified mortal soldiers before them.
The concept of defence was difficult for the Orks to understand.
All they knew was that the humans had suddenly charged out to fight them, so they absolutely could not stay where they were. They had to meet them head-on and hit back.
Thus, this massive offensive drew the attention of more and more Orks.
Meanwhile, in the Hive Cities where Genestealers gathered, Calgar dispatched large numbers of bombers to carry out indiscriminate bombing, relying on the air superiority barely maintained by the remnants of the fleet.
In some Hive Cities that had fallen completely, they even began dropping small Cyclonic Torpedoes to exterminate them outright.
This also enraged the Genestealers, whose strength had been rapidly expanding.
Throughout the Hive Cities' districts, and in the chaotic lower hives where no one ventured, ever more Genestealer armies surged out from unknown places.
Yet amid these threats from within and without, Calgar's desk was piled high with accusations against Sith!
"Three months! For three months, the 101st Regiment hasn't launched a single attack on its objective!"
One noble spoke with righteous indignation. After all, if they could retrieve that priceless suit of Artificer Power Armour before Sith went off to his death, it would be such a fine thing that merely thinking about it made their eyes burn.
And the fact that Sith had still not attacked a full three months after Calgar launched the offensive became a point of attack for the nobles and even the Astra Militarum.
The nobles were throwing obstacles in his path, while the Astra Militarum genuinely could barely hold out.
Looking at yet another large batch of reports about Sith delivered before him, Calgar, busy directing the battle, had no choice but to divert some of his attention once again.
Although Calgar had never expected Sith to succeed, and the plan was essentially a measure to reduce the population, destroy enemy troops, and conserve water.
Still, faced with a mortal regimental commander delaying a plan he had devised for a full three months, even Calgar had to take the matter seriously.
Picking up a report and giving it a quick glance, Calgar's furrowed brow instantly relaxed.
"This isn't a delay. Don't all these reports say that Sith's troops are training to climb?"
Calgar tossed the reports back indifferently. Although the nobles below knew that his true purpose was to reduce water demand, they had not expected him to disregard Sith to such an extent.
Even though everyone had decided from the outset that Sith's mission meant going to his death, the nobles still hoped Calgar would at least punish Sith for appearances' sake.
At least get back the suit of Power Armour the nobles had given away.
Seeing that Calgar had already turned his attention back to the front, the nobles exchanged looks, finally admitting helplessly that they had overestimated Sith's importance in Calgar's eyes.
To Calgar, Sith did not even count as a piece he could move around. At most, he was background scenery brought out to lend support whenever an overarching plan was drawn up.
The nobles withdrew wordlessly, while Calgar remained wholly absorbed in command.
But when the doors opened once again, the one who entered this time was not a messenger delivering military reports, but a Tech-Priest of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
A cold electronic voice rang shrilly through the hall, its volume exceeding the threshold!
"The water purification station!"
"The progress of recapturing the water purification station passed 50.01 percent exactly one minute and thirty-two seconds ago."
The clamorous hall instantly fell silent. Not only did the nobles and the other mortals all turn toward the Tech-Priest, but even Calgar above, who had devised the entire operation to conserve water and redirect tensions, fully withdrew his attention from the front for the first time.
His body paused briefly. Calgar slowly turned his massive head, the red bionic eye on his left flashing as he fixed a heavy gaze on the priest.
The priest offered no explanation. He merely raised a hand and summoned two Servo-skulls. As a blurry projection appeared, the scene it displayed made even Calgar straighten his entire body to face it.
Inside the enormous circular space elevator, countless Genestealers kept falling from hundreds of kilometres above, howling.
And before the dense torrent of endless Genestealers climbing downward was a "swarm of fleas" whose climbing movements were terrifyingly agile.
Faced with the densely packed human soldiers who had become a frenzied swarm of fleas, crazily devouring the Genestealers, Calgar could only stare at the number 101 on their bodies, unable to say a word.
Instead, an unknown junior officer in a corner quietly voiced everyone's feelings, his face filled with terror.
"Over a thousand kilometres..."
"They actually fought their way up?!"