Chapter 159: Why Are You Still Here? |
The Obsidian Blades, a successor Chapter of the Ultramarines, was founded by a Legion Duelist Champion from Guilliman's era. The Chapter's name was inherited from the obsidian two-handed greatsword wielded by this very champion.
The star system they were stationed in was consequently named the Obsidian System.
Centered around this system were thousands of observable star systems where the stars emitted a toxic radiation of unknown origin. The constant incursions of Orks also made this Sector exceptionally dangerous.
However, due to its abundant deposits of precious rare metals and the presence of certain civilizational ruins that drew extraordinary interest from various Forge Worlds, this Sector held immense value for both Ultramar and the Adeptus Mechanicus.
Consequently, the Obsidian Blades, as an Ultramarines successor Chapter, were chosen by all parties and ordered to garrison the region.
Yet even Space Marines would suffer irreversible damage over the passage of time due to prolonged exposure to the Sector's toxic radiation.
Their bodies would begin to wither, their lifespans would diminish, and eventually, their flesh and blood would succumb to rot.
One such victim was their First Chapter Master, Saevius Scaevola, a former Legion Duelist Champion of the Ultramarines.
"I never expected to witness such a sight ten thousand years later."
He looked up at the void beyond the Starport.
The unimaginably radiant Gloriana-class battleships sailed into the Starport. Behind them followed a combined fleet that stretched far beyond the limits of sight.
Arranged in overlapping echelons, the mere sight of the fleet's orderly advance instilled an inexplicable sense of comfort.
Such military might made Saevius's consciousness waver in a brief daze.
'If only our Genetic Father were still here. How wonderful that would be.'
As someone who had stood out purely through his combat power even within the talent-filled Ultramarines Legion, Saevius had fulfilled his duties perfectly, guarding the Obsidian Sector century after century.
He had received the news of Dracus's death in battle, and that their Genetic Father was grievously wounded, forced into an endless slumber within a stasis field.
He had received the news of Aeonid Thiel's passing; a monumental tribute to the sergeant was left in the memorial halls of Macragge.
He had witnessed the final Primarch, Rogal Dorn, vanish into the stars, marking the end of the Primarchs' era.
One familiar face after another had departed, until astropathic communication could no longer catch a single trace of them.
Until the toxic passage of time finally broke him down, and he at last entered his slumber.
He entrusted his remaining time to the future, hoping that one day he could dedicate his final moments to the duty given to him by his Primarch.
[Two years ago in the Terran Calendar, twenty-six Ork Clans were annihilated or driven away. Sector Threat Level: Low.]
[Transport Warp Routes are clear. The Obsidian Blades are to maintain their garrison.]
This was the final message the Chapter had received. He was never supposed to wake up at this time.
However, the Chapter's stasis field had unexpectedly broken down. No matter how much effort the Tech-Marine expended, he could not force the Dreadnought back into slumber.
It was as if some unseen force was actively preventing him from sleeping.
"My Lord, we will definitely find a way."
Sextus, the current Chapter Master of the Obsidian Blades, said. However, the expression hidden behind his Terminator helmet was one of profound sorrow.
Unlike the vast majority of Dreadnoughts, the Elder's body was relatively intact, yet it was constantly rotting away. Even the vaunted vitality of the Adeptus Astartes could not halt this deterioration.
If he could not enter stasis, he would soon die from failing physiological functions.
"This is for all of us."
Even though the voice rasping through the vocal grille was grating, his tone remained steeped in unwavering resolve.
"For the entire Chapter."
Outside the Starport stood a guard of honor comprised of nearly six hundred Astartes of the Obsidian Blades. They still had four more companies patrolling within the Sector, escorting transport fleets from various factions.
They had also received the urgent distress call from Macragge. The Chapter was preparing to deploy three hundred Space Marines to reinforce the world.
Meanwhile, in a corner obscured by a Forge Shrine, the Tech-Marine was leading his squad through final preparations. Soon, he would participate in a Crusade of Penance targeting the Ork Clans within the Obsidian Sector.
No one had forced him to do this; it was his own choice.
"I have never believed that I represent the entire Chapter, child."
Saevius withdrew his somewhat hazy gaze. He felt that if he had the opportunity to join this expedition, awaiting death in battle wouldn't be such a bad end.
"And if this is my destiny, then I am prepared to embrace it."
They all knew what the Expeditionary Fleet was here for. After all, this crusade, whose origins remained a mystery, launched seemingly on a whim from Baal, had thrown Terra into utter chaos for quite some time. Even an isolated Chapter like theirs had received warnings from Terra.
During this period of forced wakefulness, Saevius had also participated in handling a series of administrative affairs for the Obsidian Blades.
After all, whenever he tried to engage in rehabilitation exercises fitting for a warrior, the younger generation would put on an expression that clearly said: 'If you do that today, I'm going on a Crusade of Penance tomorrow.'
Initially, Saevius had been incredibly dissatisfied with the lack of progress in the Obsidian Sector. The living conditions on the Chapter's homeworld hadn't improved at all. Ever since he had been interred within the sarcophagus, the construction of the anti-radiation quarantine zone in the inner system had ground to a complete halt.
But after carefully reviewing the history of the Imperium over the past ten thousand years, he quickly let go of his grievances.
These children were not at fault. The blame lay with this damned galaxy, the damned Adeptus Mechanicus, and the damned Terran government.
And with that damned Chaos.
"My Lord, why has our Imperium turned into this?"
Saevius muttered to himself. From the moment he finished reading the Imperium's history and began handling administrative duties, he realized exactly what kind of era he had awakened in.
Then, he spoke up:
"In the past, I was but a weapon in the realm forged by our Genetic Father. If I can provide even the most insignificant support among the ruins of the Imperium, then even if that is all I can do, I shall lead by example."
"..."
The Chapter Master remained silent. Ever since the Venerable Dreadnought had awakened and learned of the Imperium's current state, his most frequent reactions were heavy sighs and a gradually budding desire for death.
He could acutely sense that this resolute warrior, who had guarded the Sector for the Imperium for millennia, was now seeking an end.
This left Sextus feeling exceptionally despondent, assuming the Elder was simply dissatisfied with the Chapter's current iteration.
He didn't understand why this was the case. After all, from the moment he had become a Space Marine, the universe had always been exactly like this.
With a heavy sigh, the Chapter Master dispatched the Priest to welcome the representatives of the Expeditionary Fleet. This armada had brought their Chapter a considerable supply of Relic Vehicles, and keeping them waiting would hardly foster any goodwill toward the Obsidian Blades.
—
In front of the Obsidian Blades' monastery lay a massive terrace. Anti-radiation equipment floating in orbit shielded the area, providing maximum protection while also fulfilling the duties of an Orbital Defense Platform.
"Component degradation at forty-one percent. Estimated time until catastrophic failure: two hundred and fifty-one years."
Archmagos Cawl offered this helpful reminder as he strolled across the Starport, a relic from the Dark Age of Technology.
He was currently assisting the Transmigrators in decrypting its technology.
Cawl's ultimate wealth of experience, accumulated over eons, perfectly supplemented the Transmigrators' gaps in knowledge. It allowed their decryption efforts to be far more precise, unearthing even deeper, hidden technologies from the various arrays of equipment.
Ever since the two parties had reached a certain level of technical sharing agreements, they had recognized their mutual compatibility during an expedition to a Forge World.
Working together ensured everyone reaped the rich rewards, did it not?
Having tasted the benefits, everyone naturally pursued higher efficiency and greater gains. The Transmigrators were more than happy to learn.
After all, no one was more professional in this field than a Magos of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
"Can it be repaired?"
Arthur asked.
"It can. In fact, it is not difficult at all."
Cawl keenly perceived that the local Magos of this Sector had seemingly failed to properly fulfill their duties.
This was a rather common occurrence. A dedicated and trustworthy Archmagos like himself was as rare as a phoenix's feather.
Ever since the Binding Noose around their necks was removed, the Adeptus Mechanicus had grown increasingly brazen and unchecked.
"I'll have Romulus communicate with them on our behalf."
Sensing the lethal chill radiating from beside him, Arthur raised his hand. Several figures instantly vanished into the shadows, setting off to investigate the truth behind the matter.
The Adeptus Mechanicus truly needed to be reined in. Comparing the production capacity these cogboys would explosively unleash during Guilliman's future Indomitus Crusade against the Imperium's data from the past ten thousand years, it became blatantly obvious just how thoroughly half-hearted they had been in producing armaments for the Imperium.
After conversing with the members of the Ironwing, Arthur also concluded that a show of intimidation was necessary.
Unfortunately, the Legion's strength was still insufficient, meaning they could only start by making an example of these Tech-Priests.
Regardless of the scale, it was a start, a chance to accumulate experience.
In any case, following the new human empire's technological training models, they would eventually have to deal a massive blow to the cogboys to force them to fall in line.
Cawl remained noncommittal. Someone willing to supervise the Adeptus Mechanicus was a good thing; those fools had caused him trouble on more than one occasion.
He even felt that simply making the involved Magos disappear was far too lenient of a death.
They should be stripped of their augmetics, their flesh laid bare to the toxic atmosphere of a Forge World. Dying under the watchful gaze of countless peers and returning everything they had plundered back to the Omnissiah, that would be a truly fitting punishment.
Then, he suddenly stopped in his tracks.
Because Arthur had stopped as well.
Cawl still didn't want to get too close to this knight.
Arthur had suddenly noticed a commotion up ahead.
Amidst the ranks of the Obsidian Blades, a Dreadnought had clashed with Dracus.
"Dracus!"
Saevius, who had been surveying the Expeditionary Force with a nostalgic expression, flashed a look of utter disbelief the moment he spotted the Invincible Iron Guard. Then, like an enraged tiger, he lunged at the incredibly familiar figure among them.
Hardly anyone anticipated this sudden assault. Thanks to Arthur's prior warning, aside from Rameses, who swiftly activated a cognitive-alteration barrier to prevent certain individuals from hearing things they shouldn't, neither Karna nor Romulus made a move.
Clang!
The Axe of Macragge blocked the Greatsword swinging horizontally toward him from the Contemptor Dreadnought. Dracus looked bewildered at first, but upon noticing the black stone embedded in the Blade, a look of pleasant surprise washed over his face.
"Saevius, is that you? You're still alive?"
"Alive, of course I'm alive! Or did you think there was an Ork Warboss in the Obsidian Sector capable of killing me?"
The disruption field crackled fiercely, perfectly parrying the next sweeping strike of the Obsidian Greatsword. Dracus stepped back a few paces and expertly locked the massive blade in place.
The Terminator and the Dreadnought found themselves deadlocked in a bizarre standoff.
This should have been utterly impossible.
How could a Terminator ever match the raw strength of a Dreadnought in a grapple?
"I received the news of your death! You and your men all perished in the Warp! Aeonid brought back the Primarch, and then he died too!"
Saevius was undoubtedly a master swordsman. Even while piloting a cumbersome Dreadnought, his onslaught remained relentless, governed by his exquisite control.
"Yet here you stand, and your strength—"
His strikes rained down without pause as the Dreadnought bellowed.
"Which master do you serve now? Why are you still here? Why are you all still here?!"
"I can explain. I will tell you everything."
Dracus replied calmly, his footwork not betraying a single hint of panic.
"Excellent!"
Clang!
Another heavy collision rang out as the two warriors stepped apart.
Saevius afforded his old comrade a brief moment to adjust his stance.
A split second later, he swung his Greatsword once more.
"Let our blades do the talking!"
—
The Dreadnought and the Terminator clashed furiously.
Driven by duty, the Invincible Iron Guard immediately raised their weapons, aiming squarely at the Astartes of the Obsidian Blades to prevent any extreme retaliation.
In response, the Obsidian Blades raised their Bolters in unison, leveling them at their Battle-Brothers from the Expeditionary Fleet.
The tension instantly spiked to a boiling point, though fortunately, no one fired a shot.
Mainly because neither side entirely understood what was happening.
The troops under the Expeditionary Fleet could not possibly be corrupted; those who surrendered to Chaos would be exposed in less than a second under the Emperor's radiant light. Likewise, the Obsidian Blades hardly looked like traitors.
"Battle-Brothers of the Obsidian Blades, I am Supreme High Marshal Ledodes of the Black Templars. Could you please explain what is going on here?"
Ledodes exchanged a glance with Romulus. Having received unspoken permission, he instantly stowed his weapon, stepped away from the ranks, and questioned Sextus.
He had a vague theory in mind, but it required verification.
"Brother Ledodes, I am Sextus, Chapter Master of the Obsidian Blades. I am equally in the dark about this situation. It seems the Elder is acquainted with your commander."
Sextus replied promptly, internally breathing a sigh of relief.
It appeared the other side was completely rational.
Elder.
Ledodes immediately pressed further. "From ten thousand years ago?"
"Yes, ten thousand years ago."
Sextus was surprised that the High Marshal had made such a leap, but he gave a confirming nod.
This was nothing to shy away from; it was their Chapter's honor.
Other Chapters could only dream of such prestige.
"I understand."
Ledodes nodded and waved his hand. The ranks of the Expeditionary Fleet behind him immediately lowered their weapons.
The Sharks, clad in their lead-black power armor, looked visibly disappointed.
Ever since they had joined the Expeditionary Fleet, they lacked for nothing. They rarely resorted to raiding anymore, and desperately needed some blind fool to cross them so they could rediscover the thrill. Otherwise, they were liable to forget how to survive in the outer void.
At the same time, Ledodes felt a twinge of surprise.
It was one thing for the Carcharodons to possess a ten-thousand-year-old Dreadnought, but how did this low-profile successor Chapter have one as well? Did all these successor Chapters just love hiding their relics?
He pursed his lips, swallowing the corrosive acid secreted by his Betcher's Gland.
The Sons of Dorn had historically been plagued by Gene-seed Flaws, meaning very few ever survived long enough to be interred within a Dreadnought. A thousand years old was already considered ancient among them.
Of course, they had no reason to be envious now.
Their own Elder had already confirmed he would be staying with the Black Templars.
After all, ever since discovering the current state of the Imperial Fists and the specific conditions on Terra, not a single one of these ancient veterans had any desire to go looking for trouble on the throneworld.
Glancing back at the solemn ranks of the Huscarls, a joyous smile shone in Ledodes's eyes.
They had an entire company of them!