His cloudy eyes were fixed on the burning Imperium warships on the screen, his face twisted and ferocious beneath the mask.
He could sense that the Field of Corruption upon which he depended for survival was rapidly dissipating, the warship's self-healing ability had almost completely ceased, and even the surrounding subordinate warships were affected.
"Major General! The enemy flagship's signal is malfunctioning, and its Field of Corruption's energy level has plummeted. It can't move anymore!"
The observer's voice was full of surprise.
Dominic stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the massive, dark green shadow struggling in the golden flames on the screen, his tone resolute:
"Main Lance Battery, charge! Target: Enemy flagship's core compartment!"
"Charging countdown: three minutes!"
The atmosphere on the bridge became heavy again.
Everyone stared at the progress bar of the light spear's charging, their breathing quickening.
Dominic stood with his hands behind his back in front of the porthole, his military uniform impeccably tailored, but the fingers hidden at his sides were slightly clenched.
Unlike the others who looked relaxed, his brows furrowed even more deeply.
The memory of Ragnar's feigned death is still fresh in my mind.
The Orks warlord, who appeared to have been blown to pieces, turned around and emerged unharmed from the blast, even having one of his arms eaten away.
The vitality of the Grandfather's believers is no less than that of the Orks.
We must not relax our vigilance in the slightest until the dust has completely settled.
He didn't look away for a second, watching the charging progress bar slowly fill up.
As the Pale Rose grew dimmer and dimmer in the holy flames, the tension in my heart remained taut.
"Charging complete!"
"Emission!"
Three beams of azure light, several times thicker than before, shot out from the bow of the Gemstone.
The beam of light pierced the sky and carried devastating energy, instantly traversing a distance of hundreds of kilometers and striking the midsection of the Pale Rose with unparalleled precision.
The first beam of light tore through the charred outer layer of flesh and armor and the remaining corrosive shield.
The second beam of light pierced through layers of flesh and blood chambers, reaching the core of the engine.
The third beam of light pierced through the entire warship, from bow to stern, engulfing the bridge and core compartment where Phelps was located.
Violent explosions rang out one after another inside the ship, as dark green corrupting energy collided and fused with golden holy flames.
It eventually transformed into a colorful fireball that expanded for several kilometers.
The massive heavy cruiser broke in two, then shattered into pieces, with debris flying in all directions.
The originally thick, pungent stench of decay dissipated and diluted in the vacuum at a visible rate, quickly falling below the warning line.
"Confirmed! Enemy flagship signal completely disappeared! Warp anomaly signal reduced to zero!"
The observer's voice trembled uncontrollably.
The bridge was initially deathly silent, then erupted into long-suppressed cheers.
Lieutenant Karen let out a long sigh of relief, wiped the cold sweat from her brow, and turned to Dominic with a smile:
"Major General, it's finally over! Those traitors..."
Dominic's tense shoulders and back relaxed slightly, and his heart, which had been hanging in suspense for a long time, finally settled down.
Just as he was about to order the mopping up of the remaining enemy, he suddenly caught a glimpse of a faint silver-red light flashing by in the shadowy corner on the right side of the bridge.
The light was extremely faint, blending into the red halo of the alarm lights, like fine stardust, and was completely undetectable to others.
Dominic's heart skipped a beat.
He never forgot that touch of silver-red.
On the day Ragnar boarded the ship, after Ralfa's death, he almost lost his will to fight.
If it weren't for the appearance of that Inquisitor, who physically saved him from the Blood Axes agents' guns and psychologically encouraged him, he wouldn't have been able to hold on until reinforcements arrived.
Afterwards, he went through all the personnel records and battle videos on the ship, but couldn't find the person who made the move, so he just assumed it was a hallucination caused by being seriously injured and on the verge of death.
But now, that light has reappeared.
He glanced around discreetly. Everyone was gathered around the main screen, either cheering or reviewing battle reports. No one noticed the unusual activity in the corner.
Dominic cleared his throat and calmly instructed Lieutenant Karen:
"I'm going to the lower chapel to check on Bishop Venka and also to confirm the stockpile of relic ammunition."
"You're in charge here for now. Report any unusual activity immediately."
"Yes, sir." Karen, without suspicion, nodded in agreement.
Dominic stepped off the bridge and walked down the corridor toward the silvery-red trail.
The light, like living fireflies, floated in the air, leading him around two corners to a rarely visited maintenance passageway.
This place is always filled with spare pipes and spare parts boxes. It is dimly lit and usually only the Tech-Priest's attendants come to inspect the equipment. No one else ever goes here.
In the shadows around the corner, a slender figure stood quietly.
She was dressed in a black Inquisitor's uniform, the hood pulled low, covering most of her face, revealing only her sharply defined jawline and pale pink lips.
A wisp of silver-red Psychic Power light flowed from her fingertips, casting dappled shadows in the dim passageway—it was Sorine.
Dominic's heart inexplicably quickened, and he instinctively stopped in his tracks.
He had imagined the figure who saved him countless times in his mind, but when he actually stood face to face with him...
A thousand words stuck in his throat, ultimately transforming into the calm, steady tone typical of a soldier:
"What... does he/she want with me?"
The greater good of the nation and its people always comes first; personal feelings must be suppressed in one's heart.
Even if the other person is someone he has been longing for day and night, he will never lose his composure.
Sorine didn't turn around, nor did she meet his gaze. She remained standing in the shadows with her back to him, her voice as cold as the wind on an icy plain, brief and devoid of any extra emotion:
"The core of the Pale Hand did not perish with the flagship."
Dominic's pupils contracted sharply, his recently relaxed nerves tensing up again. "What did you say?"
"In the instant before the explosion, the consciousness of the Pale Hand transferred along the Warp Rift."
Her voice was calm and even, as if she were stating something utterly ordinary:
"Right on the Gemstone, near cargo hold in District Seven on the lower deck."
"My detection equipment has detected residual corrosion fluctuations."
Her tone was completely neutral. "Believe it or not."
The moment the words left his mouth, Dominic was about to step forward and ask further questions, but the silver-red light before him had already vanished.
When he quickly walked to the corner, the shadows were already empty, with only a faint, cool fragrance remaining in the air, proving that what he had just seen was not a hallucination.
Dominic stood in the empty corridor, his brow furrowed.
There was no evidence, no witnesses, only a vague and incomplete warning.
Normally, he would have just dismissed it as a heretical trick or an illusion caused by Warp disturbances.
But he remembered that time during the Orks warlord attack.
Once could be a coincidence, but twice?
He raised his hand and pressed it to his chest; the family's heirloom emblem felt slightly cool to the touch through the fabric.
The Emperor's followers never disregard any warnings from the unseen realm.
Perhaps, this really is an envoy sent by the God-Emperor to guide him at the most crucial moment.
Dominic took a deep breath, suppressing the surging emotions in his heart, and turned to walk quickly toward the bridge.
Whether what the other party says is true or false, caution is always a good thing.
The remnants of the Pale Hand must not take root on his flagship.