Chapter 1: Astral Knight

Standard Imperial Calendar. 912.M41

In the void, a multitude of ships gathered together. Decorated with ornate battlements, the vessels moved slowly through the silent darkness, as if preparing for an epic assembly.

The cathedrals standing amidst the complex superstructures of the ships looked as if they had been excavated directly from the ground and carved into the warships themselves, their magnificent spires carving clear trajectories against the stars.

Moments later, the meticulously sculpted, arrow-shaped prows began to turn. The formation was majestic and imposing, all of them turning in unison toward the direction of the darkness.

Torches burned, appearing entirely out of place in the surrounding vacuum. Plasma flames erupted from the chimneys on the gunmetal-colored hulls, which stretched for thousands of meters, leaving turbulent, pale orange wakes in space.

Such signals were only used before the outbreak of conflict. The reckless venting of flames and the release of scorching heat were a message intended for the enemy

"We bring the light of destruction."

The massive ship leading the fleet, with its dark green armored prow, seemed as if it had been carved out of the shadows of the fleet’s steel jungle. Like a dagger thrust by a silent killer, even in its slowness, it left the enemy with no escape and no resistance.

Only the way this ship was decorated was somewhat underwhelming.

The ship’s only decorations were those that naturally radiated a militaristic quality. On its pear-shaped prow, long passages of text were etched in letters a man’s height tall: the times it had fought, the worlds it had reached, and the enemies it had annihilated.

There were two specific decorations that could be listed—the golden double-headed eagle on the uppermost bridge and an emblem made of massive nickel-iron: two crossed longswords.

More ships followed, gradually forming a spear-shaped battle formation with her at the lead.

To signify the unwavering resolve of the Space Marines, the builders had proudly chiseled a massive name onto the hull of this warship: *Storm*.

The bridge of the *Storm* was a solemn place, like an ancient temple lost beneath the tides. Finely carved walls and pillars extended toward an arched ceiling illuminated by the faint glow of the ancient ship’s energy shields. The rock-like walls and aged decks resonated with the sharp, descending tones of a chant, while buzzing cherubs flew overhead, swinging automatic censers.

Red-robed Tech-Priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus were chanting aloud, joining the monophonic High Gothic hymns with seasoned composure; their prayers could greatly soothe the increasingly irritable Machine Spirit.

"...Astral Knights, as Astartes, we walk a path of hardship and devotion. As your Chapter Master, I have asked much of you in the past while protecting the Emperor’s domains, and I have often made such demands...

But, these words have never felt as true as they do now!

The World Engine has already plowed a path of destruction through this sector; it must be stopped! No weapon can harm it, no teleportation can penetrate it, but we can! We can tear the heart out of this beast and put an end to its atrocities!"

Chapter Master Amulad was delivering his final pre-battle speech. Chapter Chaplain Massayak stood by his side. Banners bearing the shield emblem of crossed swords swayed gently above everyone’s heads. Artificial air currents wove through the steel beam framework, and even the low humming of the floating servo-skulls was drowned out by the immense noise outside.

Under the gaze of the golden eyes of the Imperial Aquila, 772 warriors clad in silver armor stood in neat formation in the Hall of Glory, listening to the Chapter Master’s address, as motionless as marble statues.

Even though the deck beneath their feet, the surrounding walls, and every weld and screw were groaning in agony.

What they stood upon was the battle barge *Storm*, a warship laden with legend.

It had been laid down 4,000 years ago in the shipyards of the Forge World Ryza. Throughout the entire Imperium, only six ships of this class were ever built, and today, only three remain sailing the star-seas.

Although their design blueprints and construction secrets have long been lost to the dust of history, every Ryza-class ship is renowned for its incredibly sturdy prow construction. They were designed to traverse space mines and complex asteroid belts, allowing the Ryza-class to withstand impacts that other ships could not.

Some Tech-Priests even believed that, in terms of sheer durability, the Ryza-class was not inferior to the Gloriana-class.

It was precisely because of this characteristic that Chapter Master Amulad threw out his plan during a heated argument with Captain Ventinius of the Ultramarines 7th Company—a plan that was, in every sense, insane.

The *Storm* would ram directly into the World Engine, like a sharp nail piercing tough hide, breaking through the enemy’s seemingly impenetrable denial field.

Afterward, all Astral Knights would board the World Engine for one final stand.

It was a near-suicidal plan, yet it was not driven by mere heroics, but by the fact that this weapon threatened everyone...

A standard Terran month ago, the appearance of the World Engine in the Vidar sub-sector had caught the Imperium completely off guard.

To this day, it remains uncertain whether the World Engine is a Necron tomb world propelled by xenos technology, or merely a planetary-class warship built in the darkness between the stars.

After the World Engine’s Gauss projectors turned two of the Vidar sub-sector’s agri-worlds into scorched earth, all speculation regarding its origin was cast aside; its destruction was the only thing that needed to be considered.

Under the rare, efficient directives from Terra, a massive fleet and no fewer than fifteen Space Marine Chapters gathered in the Vidar system, including the Ultramarines, the Astral Knights, the Invaders, and the Aurora Chapter, among other storied Space Marine Chapters.

They launched a concentrated attack on the World Engine as it carried out its bloody harvest among the planets. Yet, even the Imperium’s most powerful weapons could not breach the World Engine’s energy shields. Despite launching over a dozen assaults and making more than twenty attempts to overwhelm the enemy with courage and firepower, they only gained countless sunken and damaged warships and millions of casualties.

Worse still, boarding attacks seemed impossible. Drop pods and assault boats could not penetrate the World Engine’s shields, and even teleport beams had their frequencies scrambled upon projecting onto its surface. After the Invaders Chapter lost two full squads of Terminators for this very reason, all similar attempts were forbidden.

Under such circumstances, Captain Ventinius of the Ultramarines 7th Company demanded that all forces retreat. Such a result would leave the Hive World of Vanquor exposed to the scythe of the Necrons—a planet inhabited by 2.1 billion souls.

Astral Knights Chapter Master Amulad engaged in a heated argument with him, ultimately deciding to adopt this extreme course of action, at the cost of what would likely be an entire Chapter.

Every Astral Knight knew what this plan meant. No one voiced any dissent. This was their destiny. From the moment they accepted their augmentations, from the moment they donned this power armor that symbolized supreme honor, sacrifice became the final destination for all Space Marines.

They are the extension of an immortal will, the Emperor’s Angels of Death, the walking final retribution, and the last sturdy shield standing between humanity and the eternal darkness of the galaxy.

*Candle of the Emperor’s Will, pierce the darkness.*

"...Candle of the Emperor’s Will, pierce the darkness."

Sergeant Soshiel Alexei of the Chapter’s 6th Company, 4th Battle Squad, repeated the prayer he remembered most deeply. In the comms channel, other battle-brothers were doing the same.

He was considered a new recruit, having only left the Scout Company thirty years ago.

Thirty years—for a mortal, it might be half a lifetime, but for a Space Marine, it was nothing more than the blink of an eye as the hourglass turned.

A violent tremor penetrated the magnetic locks of his boots. The warship, which had been exceptionally steady during the voyage, now felt like a small skiff struggling in a turbulent tide.

Soshiel did not need to see it to know that the *Storm* had begun to engage the enemy with its weapons.

He could perceive the unique impacts; for instance, the sound of lascannon fire hitting the deck was different from that of a laser array, and the roar of the macro-cannons was like a volcanic eruption, each one accompanied by a painful vibration.

Moments later, a sound like a grinding machine emerged.

This was the sound of massive amounts of firepower hitting armor unprotected by shields. At this moment, the *Storm*’s posture was like a hunter closing in on its prey, delivering a vicious strike to its ribs.

If not for the *Storm*’s exceptionally sturdy prow structure, it likely would have already disintegrated under the enemy’s dense fire, but in truth, that was only a matter of time.

Through his helmet, Soshiel could smell that everything around him reeked of death, including the cold machinery, mixed with the chemical stench unique to burning conduits and melting metal.

Servitors were running wild and screaming below the decks. They might not have had such noble thoughts, but as the saying goes—

Sacrifice is the foundation of the Imperium.

Regardless of their wishes, this was destined to happen. The Emperor would use his currency at the right time and in the right place.

The World Engine seemed like a fine place for it.

But before that, before everything was about to end, the long-dormant mortal mind in Soshiel’s head became active once more.

Like most who are near death, there is always something that, like a ghost, tries to make these great warriors feel the true pain of death once again.

That thing is called memory...

(End of chapter)