Chapter 5: Landing

"For the Emperor!"

The assembly ended with a synchronized oath. Each company, following their assigned tasks, arrived at the lower decks to prepare for boarding the drop pods.

The moment the *Storm* breached the enemy’s force field, they would detach from the hull, fly toward that terrifying xenos fortress, and meet a bloody battle where the odds of survival were nil.

"We’re going to beat them into the dirt, right?"

In the comms channel, Akse’s voice was as loud as ever, though the pre-battle tension made his tone tremble slightly.

"That’s right. We’re going to finish them."

Sotha-Nyan spoke in a calm tone to soothe his squad’s nerves. He was the squad leader now, responsible for leading nine brothers into battle.

Perhaps this was too difficult and too great an honor for a new recruit, but no one in the Astral Knights had ever raised an objection. He was the finest of his entire batch of recruits, perhaps even the finest the Chapter had seen in centuries.

Calm, resilient, charismatic, and physically imposing.

The former were traits he had demonstrated in numerous operations; the latter was slightly peculiar, as Space Marines were not crude greenskins who relied on size to lead.

But Sotha-Nyan’s physique was truly extraordinary. He stood a head taller than the average Space Marine, to the point where his power armor had to be specially modified for him to wear it.

Some called him "Big Guy," while a few others preferred a more teasing moniker—

[The Little Primarch]

It was a title difficult to accept, and one strictly forbidden by the Chapter Master.

In truth, Sotha-Nyan hated being called that, for it was a word that was both a blessing and a curse.

The eighteen Primarchs created by the Emperor had forged eighteen great Legions and built the glorious Galactic Empire of Man.

Yet, it was also those same Primarchs who led their Legions in an unprecedented rebellion, nearly destroying the entire human Empire. Half of them had turned traitor.

To this day, the poison of that rebellion still coursed through the Empire’s veins, even though ten thousand years had passed...

Alarms and sirens blared throughout the landing zone, their sound harsh and chaotic from overuse. Crewmen sprinted through corridors bathed in the red glow of emergency lights, their worn boots and rags-wrapped feet splashing through blood flowing from the ceiling, walls, or unknown sources. The time spent serving under the Space Marines had worn away their fear; they shoved past one another, racing toward their battle stations.

Gaunt servitors with lobotomized frontal lobes dragged their bodies into the engine rooms and drop pods. Chapter serfs marched with heavy steps toward the weapon batteries, their reinforced arms, coated in white powder, ready to haul massive, heavy shells.

The *Storm’s* engine banks were pushed beyond their limits, causing the surrounding bulkheads to vibrate. Amidst the groaning of metal, the ship turned to face the approaching xenos fortress.

"Prepare for boarding."

Seeing a squad of Space Marines approach, the mortal crew hurriedly cleared a path for the giants clad in power armor. The giants gripped their bolters or chainswords tightly, a sense of resolve radiating from the deep red lenses of their helmets. Their activated armor hummed, sending ripples through the blood pooling on the deck.

Enemy shelling had already caused casualties, but there was no time to tend to the wounded; everyone was busy at their posts.

Sotha-Nyan’s company would launch from this landing zone. They were to concentrate their attack on the core region of the World Engine. In principle, they were supposed to group up once the tactical phase began.

But it was a completely alien battlefield, and the landing process was fraught with countless unknowns. No one could be certain where they would land, so everyone set a top-priority objective: kill every xenos they saw.

"Sotha-Nyan, your squad will use Drop Pod One. Wait for my command before launching."

The Captain’s voice suddenly cut into the comms channel. Before Sotha-Nyan could ask a question, the connection was severed, and the various combat squads began entering their respective pods.

He found it strange, as Drop Pod One was no ordinary pod. It was an ancient Anvilus-pattern drop pod that had joined the Chapter alongside the *Storm*.

Such pods had been used frequently during the Great Crusade, capable of deploying ten warriors or a Dreadnought at once. They possessed incredibly sturdy armor and could automatically ascend for recovery after landing. They were extremely rare now, usually reserved for the elite veteran companies of the Chapter.

But Sotha-Nyan quickly buried this doubt; now was not the time for such considerations.

From the outside, the massive *Storm* glided through the colorful void. Not far away, the twisted fragments of a frigate scattered like raindrops, causing her void shields to flicker.

The ancient battle barge maneuvered skillfully, rolling to dodge a volley of Gauss cannon fire from afar. Beams of light the size of hive city spires whistled past, yet she remained unscathed.

The World Engine’s shape was difficult to describe in human language. It was less a ship and more a moving necropolis. Its main body consisted of a vast array of towering obelisks, adorned with geometric palaces and the statues of their despised xenos gods, all as massive as an asteroid.

The high-speed *Storm* dove toward the underside of the World Engine, the vacuum between them filled with the fire of lances and kinetic weaponry.

As the distance closed, the battle barge’s void shields began to bear the brunt of the enemy fire. Kaleidoscope light illuminated the surrounding twisted space, layer after layer of energy fields began to overload, and the wreckage of damaged weapons and armor orbited the hull. Hundreds of crewmen were swept from breached decks into the void, turning into rigid corpses in an instant.

The *Storm* pressed on. Relying on her agile engines, she successfully slid beneath the right side of the World Engine. She executed a perfect roll, unleashing clusters of brilliant lances toward the World Engine’s drive array.

But as before, nothing could penetrate that thick force field. The World Engine continued forward, its propulsion section leaking faint, pale green trails.

And the *Storm* continued to roll.

The moment she swept past the underside of the World Engine, relying on momentum, the engines suddenly accelerated. She slammed into the undefended belly of the xenos fortress, locking her hull into place.

A massive spot of light flared like a newborn star in all directions the moment the void shields and the force field collided violently. The immense kinetic energy released forcibly halted the World Engine’s pace, causing it to sway like a small boat in a storm, yet it remained indestructible.

The *Storm* began to disintegrate. Her forward section, scarred and battered, pierced the previously near-invincible shield, spraying countless silver-gray fragments like seeds scattered across a field.

"Combustion chamber operational."

The drop pod’s machine spirit confirmed the command and responded. Sotha-Nyan had waited until the very end to receive the Captain’s order; his was nearly the last pod to launch from the *Storm*.

After the unsettling tremors vanished, the teardrop-shaped pod began to glide silently through the void. The roar of the rocket engines passed through the drop pod’s reinforced upper structure, through the personnel cabin, through the hatch, through the descent struts, and finally reached Sotha-Nyan’s ears.

He was unsure of the *Storm’s* fate—the battle barge that carried all their Chapter’s history, the most glorious vessel, and once their most precious asset.

"Activate rear cameras."

His voice was incredibly calm. He could hear the steady echo of his own breathing inside his helmet, just like his nine brothers in power armor.

Once again, the machine spirit responded. The rune screen mounted in front of the control struts hissed and slowly flickered to life.

Sotha-Nyan scrutinized everything within. Data on speed and distance, both confirmed and estimated, reflected constantly on his optical lenses.

The external cameras also activated one by one, allowing him to observe the twilight-like space and the enemy situation from all angles. Looking out, a vast portion of the void was occupied by the World Engine’s glaring trails.

In the distance, the *Storm* was quietly disintegrating. Armor fragments peeled away naturally, exposing her internal structure to the cold void, while enemy fire continuously etched hole after hole into her.

They would likely never have the chance to recover this ship again, and the precious equipment and personnel aboard would be lost entirely.

"Forward camera."

Sotha-Nyan issued a new command. Directly in front of the drop pod lay the World Engine—it was so massive, desolate, and flat, its color resembling some kind of mineral.

*Boom!*

Suddenly, a loud noise came from outside the pod, followed by intense shaking. It was clear they had been hit by something.

The image on the screen began to blur. Sotha-Nyan could vaguely see many explosions on the desolate surface of the World Engine; clearly, his brothers who had arrived before him were already at work. Of course, various green beams still danced through the air as usual. If they were unlucky enough to be hit, they wouldn't even make it to the ground.

"Prepare for high-speed insertion and impact."

Sotha-Nyan issued the order to the others through his helmet. He could hear the restraint frames and safety harnesses creaking as they tightened. He also felt the vibration and swaying as the exterior of the drop pod made contact with ship debris.

By adjusting the camera, he could see the process of the pod’s exterior unfolding like the ribs of an umbrella, but the struts were not operating smoothly. The previous heavy impact had damaged some systems, which meant their landing would not be a smooth one.

"Brace for impact!"