Blazkowicz looked up as the Imperial Somnium weighed anchor, entering a star gate and departing the material universe. Malcador followed closely behind in a fast ship, leaving the reality sector of the Gate of Heaven.
"I will proceed with caution," Junior said, stowing the Hydra sigil before joining the main force to begin boarding.
Within minutes, the bulk of the forces had departed, and the sprawling Great Tree platform gradually fell silent. With the psychic barriers deactivated, siege engines were lowered from high orbit, and thirteen floating platforms were retracted, having served their purpose.
"Sophia," Blazkowicz called out, summoning the Grand Steward of the D'Nur Stars.
"How may I serve, my Lord?" Sophia reappeared, offering a slight, elegant bow, her tone humble and her posture graceful.
"Construct two anti-psychic fortresses." Blazkowicz gestured toward the holographic globe of Requiem, selecting two suitable sites on the eastern and western hemispheres of the equator. "Commence construction immediately. They will await garrisoning by the Silent Sisters and the Legion warriors."
As he spoke, the holographic display shifted again to show two subterranean tunnels connected by a hyper-speed rail link between the fortresses. Following the architectural blueprints, Sophia translated the commands into a systematic defense plan.
"I shall also construct large-scale light-shunts to conceal Requiem," she said elegantly. In the outer space of the holographic star map, several massive devices appeared. These shunts could mask the light of a planet or even a star, evading optical observation and hiding the system's coordinates.
"Proceed," Blazkowicz agreed. Requiem was unique; it currently glowed with a golden brilliance and would eventually evolve into a psychic world. It was best kept away from prying eyes.
He paused for a moment in thought, then added to Sophia, "Attempt to awaken the Slaughter Intelligences—perhaps we will have need of them in this war."
"My Lord—" Sophia's brow furrowed, a trace of hesitation in her expression. "Those colleagues are far too dangerous. The degree of sanity remaining in the Slaughter Intelligences is entirely unknown. Awakening them could lead to severe consequences."
"I am aware," Blazkowicz replied, his face grim. He understood the risks perfectly. "But we must be prepared. This war concerns the survival of two empires. The scale of the first Rangdan invasion force is massive, and we cannot rule out the possibility of later reinforcements."
"The Slaughter Intelligences are dangerous, but they are the core of the Ring of War. They once wielded the great power of technology to sweep aside all enemies of the D'Nur Stars."
"Assign the Stone Masons to oversee it," he continued, his expression conflicted but his resolve firm. "If they prove impossible to communicate with, destroy them utterly."
To prevent an accidental activation of the Ring of War, the intelligence cores had long ago been removed from their cradles and sealed in dimensional space. Without suitable chassis, their danger was mitigated, but they remained high-risk relics. If they were found to be uncontrollable upon awakening, they would have to be destroyed to prevent a catastrophic legacy for future generations.
"Your arrangement is logical," Sophia nodded gently, a hint of regret in her eyes. "It is the only way."
As a fellow super-intelligent core, the Slaughter Intelligences were the "kin" of the Central Law, created in the same era to serve humanity. Now, being tasked with potentially destroying her brothers and sisters caused a flicker of sadness in her data-driven mind.
"Perhaps it won't be so bad," Blazkowicz said, offering comfort despite his own doubts. "They are merely in a deep slumber; their minds may yet be intact."
Before they fell into dormancy, the Slaughter Intelligences had left behind a wake of silent star-wrecks—a perpetual reminder of just how dangerous they were.
"I understand. Sometimes we must make hard choices," Sophia said before vanishing.
Blazkowicz reflected for a moment, ensuring no major detail had been overlooked. "We depart as well." With his primary affairs settled, he signaled his Primarch Guard and headed for the landing craft.
The engines of the expeditionary fleet flared brilliantly as ships entered Warp gates in waves, leaving realspace and setting course for their destinations. The Void Wanderer activated its Geller Field, its massive bulk slowly sliding into the star gate for a crusade that would determine the future of mankind.
After Junior's main force left, the Royal Majesty ignited its engines and entered the Warp.
Standing before the viewport with his arms crossed, Blazkowicz witnessed a strange sight. A thin golden thread was clearly visible, piercing through two different realms. One end was anchored to Requiem; the other drifted through the Warp's tides, tethered to the Emperor himself.
Though time has little meaning in the Warp, the ship's chronometers showed that fifteen Terran days had passed when they finally reached their destination.
This was a vast expanse of the Segmentum Pacificus, located directly west of the Segmentum Solar. Compared to other regions, it was relatively peaceful. The xenos threat here was minimal; the primary issue was frequent rebellion. Two major Legions operated here: the VIII (Night Lords) and the XVII (Word Bearers).
The VIII Legion was largely deployed here to suppress revolts and act as a deterrent for the Administratum. The XVII, by the Emperor's command, conquered worlds while burning religious texts and heretical knowledge, uprooting the cultural soil of rebellion.
Together, the two Legions enforced the Imperial Truth and scoured away heretical thought.
However, Blazkowicz's mission was secret. He avoided contact with either Legion, hurrying toward his objective to claim a very specific legacy.
The Royal Majesty transitioned into realspace at the system's edge to ensure safety before performing a short-range in-system jump to the inner rings.
System 144, as the Denurian scouts called it. At its center was a red star. The fifth planet held a primitive xenos race transitioning from the steam age to the electrical age. These aliens worshipped a god, believing a Creator had built the universe and enlightened them, watching over His chosen people from silence.
The reason was simple: a Blackstone Fortress hung in the planet's orbit. The eight-pointed star construct acted as a moon, rotating around the world day after day. Since their age of enlightenment, the xenos had scrambled to climb the ladder of technology, desperate to reach the "divine construct" left by their Creator.
But today, a white warship slid slowly into orbit, coming to a halt near the obsidian star. The primitive race fell to their knees in worship, believing their Creator had finally returned.
Blazkowicz boarded a shuttle. The eight-pointed star pendant at his waist began to spin slowly; the "Key" had reacted the moment they neared the fortress. It levitated in the air, ancient ciphers forming images that dictated their path forward.
The Blackstone Fortresses—fortress-class vessels built during the War in Heaven. Created by the Old Ones to combat the C'tan by reverse-engineering Blackstone technology. The construct was formed of two joined structures creating an eight-pointed star shape, spanning five hundred kilometers from tip to tip. The black stone looked ancient and powerful.
At the center of the upper four-pointed star sat a pyramidal structure. This was the master control of the Blackstone Fortress; inserting the Key would activate this engine of war.
As if sensing the control key, runes etched into the pure black geometric hull began to flow with light. Purple Warp energy flickered as the fortress slowly stirred from millions of years of slumber. These super-fortresses were powered by the Warp, amplified by Blackstone to warp the laws of physics and drive these extraordinary vessels through the cosmos.
Beneath the pyramid structure, a purple rift opened in the seamless hull. The Blackstone folded aside like two-dimensional space overlapping, without any mechanical gaps. The shuttle landed slowly as the black floor pulsed with purple light, extending toward a deep corridor.
"Incredible," even Haran, a man of few words, marveled at the technology.
The purple light shifted beneath their feet, forming green footprints that pointed the way. The fortress subconsciously welcomed the bearer of the Key. The pendant spun and levitated, its light-ciphers weaving into High Gothic.
"Danger Perception," Blazkowicz read the script aloud. The fortress's functions were coming online. The system could sense the intent of those who entered; it shifted colors based on the level of hostility. Green was clearly a sign of welcome.
The group marched forward, the corridor lighting up as they were guided deep into the central control room.
When the final door opened, everyone gasped. Before them lay a central hub spanning over a hundred cubic kilometers. The ceiling and runic floor were lost in shadow, save for a colossal black stone pillar standing at the center of the chamber. This pillar was like a divine tree of stone, from which thousands of pitch-black bridges, stairs, and massive platforms extended.
"There." Blazkowicz pointed toward one of the countless dark portals where a light had flickered on, leading to the heart of the Blackstone Fortress.
As they moved closer, the group realized just how gargantuan these portals were—as if built for giants. Walking upon the stone stairs, the dizzying network of intersecting paths caused a loss of orientation, as if they had entered a psychedelic castle. The bridges were wide enough for Titans to march across.