Regarding Emrys' sudden decree, a portion of the crew expressed confusion, but his prestige was absolute. Even the grumbling from the minor collateral bloodlines of the Merchant House was swiftly suppressed.
From his own perspective, this decision wasn't born solely of altruism; it carried a cold, calculated motive. Setting aside the invaluable favor of the Blood Angels, the raw assets of an intact Civilised World—its factories, refined ores, and billions of productive lives—were a prize beyond measure.
For a Rogue Trader, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to strip a world of its value before the Tyranids could digest it.
The Astropaths immediately broadcast Emrys' intent via Warp-psykana, signaling the Blood Angels fleet currently moving into synchronized orbit. Evacuating a world of billions was a monumental task that required the explicit consent and protection of the Adeptus Astartes.
Time was a dying resource. Hive Fleet Leviathan had already shattered the Adamantium Shield and the Fortress Ring; the Cryptus Shield system was on the verge of total collapse.
"I am Castellan Zargo, Chapter Master of the Angels Carmine," a response soon crackled through the vox. The Angels Carmine, a storied successor of the Blood Angels, held the vanguard.
"Lord Captain Emrys, I regret that I cannot grant your request. The Hive Fleet is upon us. We must execute Commander Dante's orders without delay: the Cryptus System must be scoured to protect Baal at all costs."
Emrys frowned, pondering for a moment before replying. "May I speak directly with Commander Dante? This concerns the survival of billions and the preservation of industrial capacity that could prove decisive in the coming Siege of Baal. If we can salvage these resources rather than burning them, the resistance will be far stronger."
Zargo hesitated. Though the Great Rift isolated the Imperium Nihilus, word of the "Hero of Vigilus" had managed to cross the divide. Logically, a Chapter Master outranked a Rogue Trader, but Emrys' reputation preceded him.
He was the man who had thwarted Abaddon's shadow-war, saved the Vigilus gauntlet, and held a close alliance with Forge World Metalica. Most importantly, he was a hero personally recognized by Marneus Calgar.
In anxious anticipation, the connection was eventually bridged. A projection flickered to life, revealing the Regent of the Imperium Nihilus, the oldest living Space Marine, and Lord of the Blood Angels: Luis Dante.
Despite it being a mere psychic projection, Emrys felt a wave of genuine reverence. Dante was a living legend, a commander of unparalleled artistry who had endured fifteen centuries of bloody warfare. To many in the Imperium, his deeds were no longer history; they were myths.
"Greetings, Commander Dante," Emrys said, offering a respectful bow.
"I know your name, Emrys," Dante said, his eyes preternaturally calm as he studied the young Rogue Trader. "Calgar spoke highly of the strategy you employed to break the Black Crusade's grip on Vigilus. He sent word that you were a man of exceptional vision, though I did not expect to find you in this sector."
"My fleet was caught in a Warp-eddy following the Vigilus campaign," Emrys explained briefly. "Fate saw fit to deposit us here."
"The Nihilus is a different beast than the Sanctus," Dante mused. "The Warp is more predatory here. Navigation is a gamble even for the most experienced."
"I have learned that lesson well, Commander." Emrys nodded. "But to the matter at hand—Castellan Zargo informed me of your refusal regarding the five-day window."
"I know you wish to save these souls," Dante said, a hint of weariness creeping into his voice. "But Leviathan has broken our outer lines. I cannot risk the location of Baal being compromised. I cannot grant you five days."
"With all due respect, Commander, do you truly believe that creating a zone of scorched earth will stop this specific Hive Fleet?" Emrys asked, meeting Dante's gaze.
Dante's eyes narrowed. "Are you suggesting that the destruction of the Cryptus Shield is a futile gesture?"
"I am suggesting that this Hive Fleet is behaving differently than any Imperial record suggests," Emrys stated firmly. "Have you not seen it? Their behavior has shifted."
"Go on," Dante said, his voice level.
"Standard Tyranid doctrine is the consumption of biomass. They linger; they feast. But Leviathan's vanguard isn't feasting. They are bypassing rich worlds. They aren't looking for food, Commander. They are looking for you. Their target is Baal."
A heavy silence followed. Dante's expression didn't change, but his eyes grew distant. "I have discerned this as well. Leviathan is not merely hunting; it is seeking vengeance. My order for Exterminatus is not just to deny them food, but to buy a glimmer of time for our homeworld's defenses."
"Then let me offer you a better trade," Emrys said. "I can relocate the essential population, the industrial centers, and the mineral wealth of Bhikkhu within five days."
"Impossible," Dante countered. "Not even a Crusade fleet has the transport capacity to strip a Hive World in such a timeframe."
"Five days," Emrys repeated, holding up five fingers. "Commander, if I can deliver the entire industrial output of this world to your doorstep at Baal, it would ensure your Chapter is resupplied for the duration of the siege. Not to mention the Cadian regiments stationed here. Can you afford to burn those soldiers when they could be standing on the walls of your monastery?"
Dante scrutinized him, his gaze heavy with the weight of centuries. "Why should I believe you possess such a capability?"
"Have you heard the name of the Living Saint, Morgana?" Emrys asked, using the name he knew would resonate. "The one they call the War Apostle in the Vigilus records?"
Dante's brow furrowed. He had heard rumors of a child-saint who had appeared at Calgar's side, a beacon of the Emperor's light in the dark.
"She is here, Commander," Emrys said, stepping aside to reveal Morgana.
The young girl looked up, her innocent face filled with a serene compassion. Deep within her pupils, a faint, rhythmic golden light pulsed, casting a soft glow over the bridge. It was a presence that felt fundamentally different from the psychic pressure of the Warp; it was a fragment of the Divine.
"If you doubt me," Emrys said softly, "I can bring her to meet you in person. Once you look upon her, you will understand why five days is all the time the Emperor requires."
The Strategium of the Crimson Council held immense significance for every scion of Sanguinius.
This was sacred ground—the place where their gene-father, the Primarch Sanguinius, had once refined the spirit of his bloodline, transforming a Legion feared for its unrestrained savagery into the noble "Blood Angels."
A towering statue of the Great Angel stood at the center of the hall. The air was thick with the scent of burning braziers, the smoke of rare spices and incense mingling with the metallic tang of sanctified oils. Ornate stained-glass panels lined the walls, depicting the triumphs of Sanguinius and the long, bittersweet history of the IX Legion from the dark days of the Revenant Legion to their golden glory.
At the center stood a massive table of white marble. Sanguinary Thralls had prepared a formal banquet—a ritualistic meal of vitals and spiced wines infused with essential nutrients, a necessity for warriors whose bodies demanded constant sustenance to stave off the Red Thirst.
Responding to the call of Commander Dante, the Successor Chapters—divided by the Codex Astartes but united by the blood of the Great Angel—had rushed from war zones across the galaxy. Among them were those the Inquisition deemed 'Excommunicate Traitoris,' such as the Knights of Blood. Though they had succumbed so deeply to the Red Thirst that they were hunted as renegades, they had still traveled across the stars to defend their spiritual home.
Dante had reconstructed the Council Hall to ensure no Chapter felt slighted, but his true motive was centralization. To break Hive Fleet Leviathan, he needed to clench the many fingers of the Successors into a single, crushing fist.
As the Chapter Masters entered, clad in various shades of crimson and gold, they felt the resonance of their shared lineage. Time and tradition had changed their customs, their skin tones, and their battle honors, but the noble pride inherited from Sanguinius remained immutable. As they looked upon the statue of their father, a single thought echoed through the Strategium:
They had come home.
They had returned to Baal to die. They would use their own bones to pave the defenses, ensuring no xenos or heretic ever stepped foot upon the holy soil of Sanguinius' birthplace.
Cherubic servitors sounded massive golden clarions, their notes echoing like celestial music. The whispered conversations of the gathered heroes died away as a figure emerged from the shadow of the Great Angel.
"The Lord of the Blood Angels, Commander of the Cryptus Shield, Warden of Baal... Luis Dante!"
The herald's voice, woven into a rhythmic poem of the Lord's long life, flowed through the silent hall. Suddenly, the great doors thundered open. The Blood Angels' Sanguinary Guard marched in perfect unison, escorting the day's protagonists.
It was Dante, the Golden Legend himself. But to the shock of the assembled Chapter Masters, accompanying him was a human. He was dressed in ornate noble attire woven with threads of gold and precious gems, his chest adorned with medals of such distinction that his demeanor seemed to match the gravity of the Space Marines.
The two took their seats before the statue. Following them was an ancient Contemptor Dreadnought, a keeper of the Chapter's memory, bearing a weathered standard from the days of the Great Crusade. Sanguinary Priests followed, carrying the most sacred relics of the bloodline: the last feather of Sanguinius and the Red Grail, the vessel that had captured the dying blood of the Primarch himself.
Dante, wearing the golden Death Mask of Sanguinius, looked out over the assembly. His voice, amplified by the hall's acoustics, was steady and commanding.
"My brothers!"
"The Tyranid Leviathan preys upon our sector. Both the Adamant Shield and the Bastion Ring have been shattered. Their next target is the Cryptus System, and after that... Baal itself."
"This is our home. The birthplace of our father. It is the final line of defense for the Imperium Nihilus. If we fall, the dark takes everything."
"Ten millennia ago, our forefather sacrificed himself for the Emperor's victory. Now, that duty falls to us. We are the Angels of Death. We are the Avenging Sons. The Cryptus line must not break!"
A ripple of shock went through the hall.
The Cryptus System?
"The Cryptus Shield?" one Chapter Master spoke up, unable to remain silent. "Commander Dante, with all respect, reports indicate the Cryptus line has already been breached. Its fall is a mathematical certainty. Why waste our strength defending a system already marked for Exterminatus? We should be fortifying the Blood Red Line here, on Baal!"
A murmur of agreement rose. Many felt 'deceived.' They had come to die for Baal, not for a doomed system of hive worlds and mining outposts.
Dante tilted his head slightly toward the young man beside him. "The Cryptus System is destined to fall," Dante said calmly, "but we must hold it for at least thirty days. And as for why..."
He gestured to Emrys. "Persuading them is your duty, Lord Captain. If you are to lead the efforts to save the Cryptus System, you must learn to speak to my brothers."
Emrys stared at Dante, completely caught off guard. This wasn't the plan. He was supposed to be a silent observer—a witness to history.
Suddenly, he was the protagonist.