Chapter 47: A Promise Fulfilled

“Layman Loken?”

Soshyan looked closer and realized it was actually the Tech-Priest of the orbital station. The man was clearly terrified by the brutal battlefield, especially after seeing the fallen Space Marines scattered across the ground.

The Imperial officialdom had always propagated the idea that the Astartes were immortal, undying angels. Loken had been raised on such propaganda, so the psychological impact of seeing these "angels" lying in pools of blood was immense.

The other warriors also noticed the sudden appearance of the Adeptus Mechanicus priest, but they didn't pay him much attention; they were too busy tending to the wounded and recovering the gear of the fallen.

“Layman Loken?”

Seeing him standing there in a daze, Soshyan called out again, louder this time. The man jolted, snapping back to reality.

“S-sorry!”

Loken bowed, speaking in a sincere tone. “Is there anything I can assist you with?”

Soshyan looked at him with confusion. The man had approached them of his own accord, yet it felt as if Soshyan had summoned him.

“I do need your help. We are here for the supplies and equipment originally requisitioned by our Chapter.”

“Oh, oh! This way! This way!”

Loken nodded hurriedly and led Soshyan to a centralized warehouse not far from the spaceport. This was the primary storage facility for the orbital station, constructed of reinforced adamantium. Without Loken's authorization, even the main batteries of a starship might struggle to breach it.

“It is... here!”

There were five warehouses in total. The Tech-Priest stopped in front of the third massive gate.

He opened a nearby console, inserted his mechanical appendages, and entered his security and biometric codes.

Once the input was complete, the ten-meter-high, five-meter-thick adamantium door began to slide open with a piercing grinding sound, like the gates of a giant from myth.

As the doors slid to either side of the orbital track, a massive surge of steam billowed from the gap, swallowing both Soshyan and Loken.

“It is inside.”

Loken coughed twice, brushed off his red robes, and stepped forward. Soshyan followed closely behind.

As soon as they entered the warehouse, all the lighting systems flickered to life. The facility used an independent power supply, so it was unaffected by the central power grid.

Soshyan was instantly awestruck by the sight.

The space was as vast as the hangar of the *Starfire*. The first thing that caught his eye were the dense rows of melee weapons hanging on racks along both walls: monomolecular chainswords, power swords, power axes, and boarding shields—hundreds of them at a single glance.

In the center of the hall were stacks of massive containers, each as tall as a Leman Russ tank.

Soshyan walked up to one of the containers, and Loken tactfully opened the door. However, due to his lack of physical strength, he had to exert every ounce of effort just to unlatch the lock.

The Space Marine beside him said nothing and simply reached out, pulling the door open with ease.

The small internal lights flickered on instantly.

Inside were neatly arranged rows of bolters and bolt pistols, while heavy bolters hung from the container walls above sealed ammunition crates.

Soshyan used a dagger to pry open an ammo crate. Inside were neatly stacked bolts; the brass casings carried the scent of fresh oil, clearly having been produced not long ago.

It wasn't just this—the entire warehouse was permeated with the scent of incense and sacred oils, suggesting this was not a neglected, sealed-off tomb.

“I inspect this equipment regularly,” Loken explained truthfully. “To ensure they are ready for use at any moment.”

Soshyan removed his helmet, nodded to the man, and said gently, “You have been diligent, Layman Loken.”

“It is a small matter, a small matter. My mentor always said one must strive for perfection and never complain about the trouble.”

“Your mentor...” Soshyan recalled the name mentioned by Brother Sede. “...was Master Espid?”

He was referring to Bishop Espid, the Forge Lord of Mars' Kander II.

“Yes.” Loken nodded, his expression turning slightly awkward—a change Soshyan caught immediately.

“What happened?”

“My mentor... has returned to the embrace of the Omnissiah.”

“I see.”

Soshyan nodded thoughtfully. He knew well that the Adeptus Mechanicus was far from a harmonious collective. Although they constantly emphasized their devotion to the Machine, mortal desires and flaws did not vanish from them; sometimes, they were even more intense.

Jealousy and animosity never truly disappeared from their cold, mechanical logic. It was, in a way, quite ironic.

But Soshyan could only ask. The internal affairs of the Mechanicus were not for outsiders to meddle in, especially not for a Chapter on the brink of annihilation.

The reason the Chaos Space Marines had come so close to succeeding this time was due to their use of trickery and exploiting small openings; otherwise, even a complete Chaos warband would find it no easy task to strike a Forge World.

“That is a tragedy. I had intended to thank him for his long-standing support of our Chapter.”

“Um...” Loken hesitated for a moment, then whispered, “My mentor did not die of natural causes...”

Soshyan turned his head to look at the young face beneath the hood. For a member of the Mechanicus, Loken possessed a surprising amount of "flesh"; there were almost no visible signs of augmentation on his face, making him look more like a priest of the Imperial Creed.

Feeling the weight of Soshyan's gaze, Loken shivered and took a step back. “My Lord, I—I didn't mean anything by it.”

“Since you were a disciple of Master Espid, I shall tell you the truth.” Soshyan sighed and spoke in a heavy voice. “The reason we have come to collect these supplies ourselves is that our Chapter has just endured a devastating campaign. From our former Chapter Master downwards, all 771 Battle Brothers have fallen. Only about thirty neophytes remain. I have only been in command for a single Terra standard week.”

“Uh...”

Loken was stunned. His worldview was shattered. In his eyes, the combat that had broken out between the twenty-odd Space Marines on the orbital station was already at a god-like level.

What kind of horror must a war be that could claim seven hundred Space Marines in a single stroke?

The hymns of the Omnissiah drifted through his mind; he could almost see his mentor's wrinkled, machine-augmented face smiling at him...

“...Our monastery fortress has been transferred to another Chapter. We are currently using a Battle Cruiser as our base. These supplies are vital to us; we had to come in person.”

As Soshyan finished speaking, he noticed the man looked as if he were sleepwalking. He reached out and tapped his shoulder.

“Layman Loken?”

“Did you... forget to wash... Ah! Sorry, sorry! I shouldn't have asked! I shouldn't have asked!”

Startled, Loken began bowing and scraping frantically toward Soshyan, causing the Space Marine to frown.

Most Tech-priests Soshyan had encountered were rigid, like actual machines, but highly disciplined. This priest, however, seemed a bit unhinged. If he hadn't been able to open the warehouse, Soshyan might have suspected he was an Imperial Guard impostor.

“I almost forgot the business at hand. Here is the manifest.”

After regaining his senses, Loken fumbled around for a moment before finding a data-slate and handing it to Soshyan.

“Fifty-six chainswords, eighty power swords, twenty power axes, four pairs of power gauntlets, one hundred and twenty boarding shields, one hundred and forty bolters, two hundred and sixty bolt pistols, thirty heavy bolters, ten plasma pistols, forty armor-piercing rocket launchers, armor-piercing grenades...”

Looking at the long list of supplies, Soshyan had to admire the generosity of the former Tech-Bishop. It wasn't just weapons; there were also large quantities of power armor repair parts, sacred oils, spare servitors, and more.

No wonder such a massive warehouse was required.

Having finished the list, Soshyan turned his gaze back to Loken.

“Our starship will be entering the spaceport shortly. Please arrange for a crew to transfer the supplies from the warehouse to the spaceport's loading docks.”