Alexei and his retinue walked in silence along the winding path leading to the subterranean vaults of the Blackstone Pylon. The only sound in the oppressive quiet was the constant, rhythmic humming of the servo-skulls hovering around Belisarius Cawl.
Just as Alexei was debating how to initiate a conversation with the Archmagos, he stopped abruptly. He looked toward the sky, where the atmosphere seemed to ripple with a sudden, violent discharge of empyrean energy.
"Has the Blackstone Fortress been neutralized...?" Alexei mused, his eyes narrowing. "It seems the timeline is accelerating. We can no longer afford to trail behind Cawl at a leisurely pace."
Archmagos Cawl, sensing the pause, turned his colossal, multi-limbed frame. "Hurry, hurry! Do not squander the moments. Time is the vessel of knowledge, and we are currently leaking."
Alexei snapped out of his contemplation and hurried to the Great Sage's side. He glanced at Magos Crane, cleared his throat, and looked up at the towering Archmagos.
Cawl noted Alexei's lingering gaze. He tapped the stone floor with the haft of his massive Omnissian Axe. "What is it now, Governor? You possess the look of an organism struggling to suppress a primitive biological urge. If you have something to say, process the data and speak."
Alexei's lips twitched. He had heard rumors that Cawl was prone to eccentric tangents, but the bluntness caught him off guard. He decided to abandon subtlety. "I wish to participate in your long-term designs."
"I have already granted you permission to observe this site," Cawl countered.
"No, not this study," Alexei said, stopping to meet Cawl's optical sensors directly. "I am referring to the original casting. The Primaris project."
Cawl froze, the whirring of his internal gears falling silent for a rare second. How could he possibly know? The Archmagos was certain he had encrypted those plans behind levels of security even the Inquisition couldn't breach. "By what logic do you make such a prediction?"
"Call it a well-informed intuition," Alexei replied vaguely.
"No, no, absolutely not. You are... unsuitable. You are far too old for the transformation," Cawl dismissed him.
"I am not asking to be a candidate for the procedure. I am offering my assistance and my fleet. I intend to accompany you to Macragge," Alexei said with iron seriousness.
Cawl lowered his head, staring at Alexei—who barely reached his mid-section—for several silent seconds. Finally, with a complex whir of servos, he adjusted his multi-legged carriage. "I have observed your 'strange' vessels. Their technology is... intriguing. Very well. I accept your proposition."
Alexei watched the Archmagos begin his descent into the vaults, then suddenly shouted after him, "Watch out for the xenos, Great Sage! They are closer than you think!"
With that, Alexei turned and departed. The Blackstone Fortress was gone, a third of the Black Fleet had been consumed by the Warp, and the shadow of orbital annihilation that had gripped Cadia had momentarily lifted. He needed to reach the Spire Plains in the north to join the final defense.
Mist began to roll across the landscape—a thick, unnatural fog that smothered the eastern Beta Curtain Wall. It was a cloying, crimson-tinged vapor that clung to the faces of the defenders.
Watching the fog thicken until she could no longer see the hand in front of her face, General Anna's expression darkened. This was no natural weather pattern; it felt like the residue of a foul sorcery.
"General Anna," a calm, weary voice called out. It was the Baroness of House Raven. she emerged from the mist to Anna's side, flanked by her household guards. "This fog... it tastes of copper and old blood."
Anna nodded. she had already dispatched her 'Ghosts' to scout the perimeter. Before she could voice her concerns, a piercing, discordant whistle tore through the air.
The color drained from the Baroness's face. "Enemy contact!"
The whistle was followed by the shriek of incoming shells. The void shields protecting the curtain wall buckled inward under the impact of heavy artillery, the energy fields flickering wildly.
Alarms screeched along the ramparts, and Cadian soldiers scrambled to their battle stations. Knowing they were blind in the red mist, Anna gave the only order that made sense. Every Earthshaker cannon on the wall and every Siege Tank in the rear initiated a saturation bombardment.
As the shells detonated, the concussive blasts momentarily cleared the fog, revealing the nightmare within. A tide of ferocious monsters was surging forward—skinless, crimson-muscled entities with jagged horns.
"Khornate Daemons!" Anna shouted. Bloodletters by the thousands were closing in. These Warp-spawned horrors possessed a terrifying resilience to ranged fire; only the bite of a blade or a point-blank impact could truly banish them.
In the skies, Hell-Angels roared low, dropping high-yield munitions into the heart of the horde. Massive mushroom clouds erupted, but while the daemons at the epicenter were vaporized, the rest simply continued their relentless, silent advance across the scorched earth.
Then, a flight of Heldrakes shrieked out of the crimson clouds, engaging the Imperial aircraft in a chaotic dogfight. The Imperial batteries continued their thunderous work, but against the unnatural tide, the conventional shells were proving insufficient.
The massive gates of the curtain wall groaned open. The Baroness, piloting her scarred and battle-worn Knight, led the remains of her household into the fray. As they met the horde, the Knights switched to their Reaper Chainswords and Thunderstrike Gauntlets.
The massive war machines tore through the daemon ranks. But as a Knight Errant swung its blade through a cluster of Bloodletters, a new sound emerged from the fog—a deep, mechanical thrum. A colossal blast of cannon fire dispelled the mist, revealing a towering, brass-clad engine of war.
"A Lord of Skulls," Anna whispered, her grip tightening on her command staff. She wondered how many more of these brass behemoths were hidden in the red.
The Lord of Skulls engaged the Knight Errant in a brutal melee. Within moments, the already damaged Knight succumbed to the daemon-engine's massive Great Cleaver. The Lord of Skulls then depressed its chest cannon, washing the nearby infantry in a torrent of boiling blood and ichor.
At that moment, the roar of medical transports and heavy dropships rose from behind the wall. Nearly two hundred Thor-class heavy walkers were air-dropped into the combat zone. The ground shook as the massive metal frames slammed into the dirt, instantly bolstering the morale of the flagging Cadians.
A massive formation of Thors began a slow, grinding advance. Once anchored in position, their heavy cannons swiveled. A barrage of artillery fire—heavy enough to saturate the entire sector—rained down, making the very planet tremble.
Khorne's children were resilient, but absolute firepower was its own form of divinity. Meanwhile, a squadron of Liberator gunships arrived overhead, transitioning into stationary siege modes. Their large-caliber plasma cannons opened fire, the concentrated beams of blue heat melting through even the thickest daemon-engine plate.
"As long as we keep their Titans at bay and the skies clear of orbital fire, our mechanized strength can hold this line," Anna muttered. But her eyes remained fixed on the horizon. She knew the Legio Vulcanum was still out there, somewhere in the red.
In the ruins of the northern city, the Space Wolves had long since withdrawn. Gorth and his Iron Warriors stood in silent, respectful ranks behind a towering, shadowed figure. Gorth was cautious; he knew that while the Warmaster before him appeared serene, a furnace of absolute rage burned beneath the surface.
Abaddon the Despoiler gazed toward the distant Spire Plains. He had escaped the destruction of his flagship, and now he craved a reckoning.
Behind him stood the veterans of the Black Legion, the surviving engines of the Vulcan Titan Legion, and a sea of daemons straining at the leash, ready for a feast of Cadian souls.
The Warmaster's gauntlet tightened around the hilt of Drach'nyen. He slowly raised the daemon-sword, pointing it toward the northern horizon. He would personally oversee the final moments of this world.
Cadia would fall.