Chapter 158: It Has Been Ten Thousand Years, It Is Time for a Change |
There would never be a war that was entirely smooth sailing. In this universe, there was only bad news, and worse news.
The Ultramar Defense Line, constructed around the ocean fortress world of Tyran at the edge of the galaxy and garrisoned by nearly five thousand Adeptus Astartes—primarily Ultramarines—alongside dozens of Imperial Capital Ships and over a hundred and twenty Astra Militarum Regiments, had simply been torn to shreds.
Grand Marshal Ledodes sighed heavily in his heart.
While the total annihilation of the Imperial Navy in the Ultramar Segmentum was undoubtedly a tragedy, he unexpectedly found a familiar feeling of past warfare amidst the disaster.
The Expeditionary Fleet's offensive had been far too smooth sailing—so flawless that it hardly felt like something the Imperium could achieve.
Sure enough, the situation over in the Ultramar Segmentum represented the true standard of the Imperium in the 41st Millennium.
In the past, the normal sequence of events went like this: the Sector defense fleet would be completely wiped out. Both sides would then engage in a prolonged tug-of-war over the segmentum. The Sector government would receive the news and report it upward, and Terra would spend years, or even decades, processing it. Due to the abysmal efficiency of communication, reinforcements from the Astra Militarum, Adeptus Astartes, and Adeptus Mechanicus would arrive in succession. Both sides would gradually escalate their commitments, and the intensity of the war would steadily climb as time marched on.
By the time the next wave of Imperial Navy reinforcements finally arrived, the planet would either be reclaimed through the heroic sacrifices of Imperial soldiers, or it would have already fallen to Chaos or been stripped bare by Xenos.
Rarely did help ever arrive in time.
...was often a problem that could have been easily solved if the Imperial Navy had simply managed to do the following: carefully analyze the strength of both sides, fight around the planet's anti-air defense systems, secure a victory in void warfare, and then fire a few orbital bombardments at the planet's surface.
Regardless, he felt certain that the reason for this defeat was inextricably linked to the Navy going rogue, some faction altering the defense line without authorization, or the Terran government reallocating troops. Such actions would have triggered a chain reaction, ultimately forcing Ultramar to broadcast an emergency distress signal.
"Lord Romulus."
Ledodes spoke up.
"Please, speak."
Romulus took a deep breath. As the initiator of this meeting, he had been so lost in thought that he had entirely forgotten everyone had already gathered.
The four leaders clearly possessed some understanding of the Imperium. This was especially true for the one overseeing the entire Expeditionary Fleet, who had expended considerable effort compiling a series of combat experiences into a manual, subsequently delivering it to Calgar on Macragge via a special Inquisition channel.
Ledodes observed his seemingly calm expression, but saw only deep-seated suffering and hatred hidden within those furrowed brows.
Even with all unit types completely transparent to their side and practical combat guidance provided, they had still managed to fight such a disastrous battle...
It was fortunate that the Elders remained unaware of the Imperium's current state. Once the detailed battle reports were fully analyzed, anyone who could maintain Romulus's current composure would be considered exceptionally well-mannered.
"I will invoke the Black Templars' emergency contact protocols to understand exactly what happened in Ultramar."
Ledodes was unsure of what else to say, so he resolved to simply do what was within his power.
The Black Templars' footprints spanned the entire Galaxy. Their fleets could be found in nearly all five major segmentums.
Long before everyone had decided to reinforce Macragge, two small fleets that had not received the Emperor's calling were already patrolling the North Ultramar Sector. They were currently fighting under the command of Calgar, the Lord of Ultramar and Chapter Master of the Ultramarines.
They should be able to bring back firsthand intelligence from the battlefield.
"The Inquisition will also utilize its own channels to gather evidence and reconstruct the truth of the incident to the best of our ability,"
Aglaia quickly added. She had gained quite a few information channels recently. She possessed the direct contact details of the Grand Master of the Officio Assassinorum, and various councils of the High Lords had granted her varying degrees of clearance, hoping she would make significant contributions to the Imperium.
She could only express her gratitude that the Expeditionary Fleet had been willing to bring her along. A massive shower of benefits had simply fallen into her lap out of nowhere.
Under normal circumstances, she would have gone to her grave without ever learning the contact information for the Grand Master of the Officio Assassinorum.
Many of her colleagues within the Source Tracing Conclave were already currying favor with her, desperately hoping to secure more support for their future historical research endeavors.
Ah, tagging along with the Expeditionary Fleet was truly a wonderful thing.
But now, someone was stirring up trouble. Someone intended to tarnish an expedition that should have been crowned with absolute victory and honor from start to finish.
"If you have any questions regarding information retrieval, you can come to me,"
she stated explicitly. She wanted everything to remain stable and secure.
Aglaia naturally knew exactly where her authority came from, which was why she never considered stirring up trouble. She was not a prophetic Psyker either, wasting her days being overly suspicious of everything.
Stability. She simply wanted to smoothly fulfill the duties assigned by the Imperium, steadily perform her own job, and reliably assist the Expeditionary Fleet in winning this crusade—
And then, peacefully retire!
As she continuously scrutinized the news of the Macragge defense line's collapse, still hoping to extract some useful detail from it, a hint of nervousness leaked into Aglaia's eyes.
"She seems to be thinking about something else,"
Karna noted quietly.
"Her villa is located in the Ultramar Sector, on the agricultural garden world of Asteria,"
Arthur replied through their encrypted internal comms. "It is a private estate that covers thirty-nine percent of the garden world's coastline, spanning over twenty-six million square kilometers."
At first, he had wondered why Aglaia cared so much about a mere villa. How could someone who had already become an Inquisitor still obsess over a house?
After looking into it, he realized he had been deeply mistaken.
Within the vast territories of the Imperium, there were only a few hundred garden worlds in total. Aglaia had managed to secure ownership of roughly one ten-thousandth of one. To achieve this, she had not only drained her entire life savings but also accrued a massive mountain of debts and favors owed to various high-ranking Imperial officials.
It would be unreasonable for her not to constantly fret about it.
"Then I will leave it in your hands."
Romulus forced himself to focus. Seeing that everyone was present and realizing that Dracus had already briefed them on the current situation, he chose not to elaborate further.
After all, this was merely an initial notification. The detailed reports of the incident could not be transmitted yet.
"Order the Navigators to begin charting a course. We will set off immediately."
"Understood!"
——
The various commanders quickly departed, returning to their respective fleets.
The command center of the Dawnlight suddenly emptied out, leaving only the four Transmigrators and the personal guards stationed openly and covertly around them.
"Sigh."
Romulus let out a heavy sigh, his expression rapidly crumbling into deep melancholy. A profound question coiled tightly around his heart.
'Is this right?'
The part of him that understood the Imperium was screaming, 'Yes, this is perfectly normal.' Yet the part of him governed by rational logic was furiously arguing, 'No, this makes absolutely no sense.'
How could they lose?
How was it even possible to lose a battle like that?
Since he had yet to receive a detailed battle report, Romulus could only run endless simulations in his mind based on the known military strength of the Ultramar Sector. He continuously modeled how the Tyranid Hive Fleet might attempt to breach the Ultramar blockade, and the resulting conclusions were becoming increasingly unacceptable to him.
It was pure torture.
Karna's smile vanished as well.
The reason was simple.
Aside from the fact that they had launched a crusade for various reasons—earning enough prestige to lay a solid foundation for a future that might or might not ever arrive—the Imperium itself had undergone absolutely no fundamental changes.
Had they improved at all over these many years?
Not even slightly!
If the Imperium's myriad of bizarre, systemic problems were not resolved, it would not matter if their forces won every battle all the way to the edge of the Galaxy. The moment they turned around, the entire front line would still erupt into flames.
Lord Solar Macarius himself was a painfully tragic lesson in this regard.
"Once the battle in Ultramar concludes, no matter what other emergencies arise, they must yield to our plans,"
Romulus declared, his expression more solemn than ever before.
Expanding outward was no longer a viable option. If the Imperium performed this disastrously on its home turf, then internal governance had to take priority.
He would also have to properly communicate with Terra regarding the issue of taxation down the line.
He could accept paying taxes. He could accept reinforcing besieged Imperial worlds like Cadia—pouring any amount of resources into such defenses was worthwhile. He would not even mind funneling aid to impoverished, backwater Sectors.
However, the Wings of Dawn needed the absolute authority to decide exactly where those taxes were spent.
As long as the funds were not wasted locally, it would be fine, right?
"Agreed."
The other three nodded earnestly.
They had all directly witnessed the consequences of excessively fragmented military structures. While this design effectively prevented mass rebellions, the resulting internal ideological chaos led to horrifically ugly and disjointed responses whenever the Imperium faced sudden crises.
Their nation could absolutely not be allowed to fall into such a state.
It had been ten thousand years.
The men exchanged glances and clenched their fists.
It was time for a change.
——
Aboard the Inquisition Fleet's Invincible-class Battleship, the Magnificence.
Inquisitor Aglaia always projected an aura of perpetual busyness. In fact, many people subconsciously perceived her as somewhat gullible and easy to brush off.
Her face never bore a terrifying expression, and she rarely resorted to violence or coercion to force others into doing things against their will.
But that by no means meant she was not dangerous.
In truth, as the sole surviving Apprentice of the Source Tracing Conclave's most powerful Grand Inquisitor, Aglaia had practically single-handedly consolidated her political power on Terra. Along the way, she had shipped every single one of her noble-born rivals straight to the Adeptus Administratum.
In her generation, she was the first and only Throne Agent to walk out of the Librarium holding the rank of Inquisitor.
Her methods and capabilities were so astonishing that whenever the high-ranking officials of Terra's Adeptus Administratum mentioned this Inquisitor, their first thought was not that she was the Grand Inquisitor's Apprentice or the glory of the Source Tracing Conclave, but simply her as an individual.
Under her direct command, Aglaia fostered a spy syndicate known as the Grey Hat.
These nameless individuals, drawn from the ranks of Terran Nobles, harbored their own hidden agendas. They prowled Terra and the entire Galaxy on her behalf, hunting for valuable intelligence, uncovering historical texts, and establishing connections with high-level officials across all factions.
It was precisely because of this network that she was able to seamlessly take over the array of tasks distributed by Terra the very moment the throneworld learned of the Expeditionary Fleet.
Did people honestly believe that the High Lords—men and women whose professional competence had reached the absolute zenith of humanity—could be fooled by throwing a pile of half-baked, unverified reports at them?
Brushing things over was fine, provided you actually got the job done and kept your superiors satisfied. Only then did you earn the right for them to turn a blind eye to the details.
But at this very moment, the esteemed Inquisitor was experiencing a level of tension second only to the days of Pierred.
Aglaia was profoundly grateful that her past had granted her the chance to survive until now.
After all, not every young Psyker who lived through a Black Ship Incursion managed to retain their life under the meticulous screening of the Custodes, only to later ascend to the rank of Inquisitor.
Compared to her colleagues, Aglaia considered herself far more emotionally stable. She possessed excellent discernment, a realistic grasp of her own limitations, and commendable professional skills. She always knew how to swiftly find her proper place within any group.
This was because she took the time to carefully evaluate situations, rather than blindly relying on intuition and wishful thinking to solve problems.
Fortunately, she also possessed a natural talent for this.
This talent had allowed her to survive the silent slaughters of the Librarium during her youth, and it had helped her forge deep friendships with a substantial number of Nobles who had been twisted beyond recognition by their abusive domestic environments.
Aglaia attributed all of this to the experiences of her childhood, while simultaneously marveling at her incredible luck.
In her youth, the Emperor's Custodes had granted her a chance. In adulthood, Lord Arthur had extended her the very same mercy. Without them, she would have long since perished due to her cursed identity as a Psyker.
Aglaia genuinely believed that others—children who were just like her—deserved that exact same right to live.
She was currently experimenting, trying to see if a better environment could nurture superior individuals.
Thus, Aglaia had chosen Ultramar. She had chosen a garden world.
Leveraging her vast network, she hired the finest instructors and arranged the optimal environment for growth. She then dispatched subordinates who shared similar tragic pasts to escort the young Psykers she had personally vetted to this sanctuary.
From the Emperor's Custodes, to her own survival, to everything she had witnessed on her journeys—it all served as proof that she seemed to be walking the right path.
But she seemed to have overlooked a critical issue.
Looking through the viewport at the receding planet, the fortress side of Optus was already bathed in the light of its sun.
Grand architecture had been reduced to rubble. What should have been a landscape of rich, bountiful gold had been thoroughly scorched by the flames of war, leaving only a monotonous expanse of iron-grey.
This was war. It brought nothing but destruction.
No matter how brilliantly a spark shone, it would be utterly snuffed out beneath the grinding treads of a war that annihilated entire nations and species.
"Lady Aglaia."
When a Grey Hat operative—his entire face obscured by a holographic projection—pushed open the door and entered, Aglaia was struck by a very ominous premonition.
——
And so, the Expeditionary Fleet departed from Optus.
Every faction began utilizing their respective channels to gather intelligence on the breach of the Macragge defense line. Only afterward would they commence detailed discussions in a series of meetings.
This would be a long and arduous process.
The reason was simple.
Hindered by the colossal span of the Imperium's territory and its wildly inefficient methods of communication, no matter how anxious the Transmigrators felt, their only option was to order their fleets to rush toward Macragge first.
After all, aside from this single emergency broadcast, everyone's concrete understanding of the Ultramar Sector was stuck on the steadily improving updates they had received during earlier routine communications.
And then, this massive disaster had struck out of nowhere.
In short, crippled by incomplete information, there was absolutely nothing the fleet could do except maximize its travel speed.
Fortunately, the Emperor protected. Although the Navy had managed to catastrophically botch their operations and cause their own total annihilation, the Expeditionary Fleet's steady voyage remained undisturbed by the Archenemy of Chaos.
The Navigators could still reliably calculate their estimated time of arrival in Ultramar.
The Expeditionary Fleet would continue heading south, making a preliminary stop at the Tigrus Forge World, located south of the Obsidian Glaives Chapter's homeworld.
There, Archmagos Cawl had prepared one final round of resupplies for the ships. Afterward, they would chart a course through the northern regions of the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar—
A mysterious sector of space veiled by a Warp Storm, rendering it completely invisible to the eyes of the Imperium.
The fleet would push through at maximum speed and race to reinforce Ultramar.