Chapter 58: Ship of Magic (IV)

“This is...”

Soshyan felt a premonition. He turned his head and discovered that at the end of the right-hand fork lay a sealed airlock door. The door was covered in claw marks, etchings, and many indescribable words and images.

Intuition told Soshyan that the life signal was likely emanating from behind that door.

More critically, monstrous tides were closing in on them from both front and rear; the direction of that door was the only safe path.

“This way!”

With no other choice, Soshyan led his squad straight toward the airlock.

Upon arrival, he realized the door had been locked from the outside. Seeing the chaotic abominations surging toward them, Soshyan immediately ordered his warriors to crank the heavy wheel.

Accompanied by the agonizing screech of metal and piercing friction, the heavy metal door, which had been sealed for untold ages, slowly creaked open a crack. Soshyan peered inside, but saw only a thick darkness that even his night-vision optics could not penetrate.

“Get inside first!”

After waving his warriors through one by one, Soshyan cleaved three lunging monsters to pieces with a single sword stroke, then slipped inside himself and shoved the door shut with all his might.

Strangely enough, once the door closed, the creatures fell silent.

A deathly stillness enveloped the squad. Everyone held their weapons tight, using tactical flashlights to pierce the boundless darkness.

The space seemed to have once been a prison. The group walked along a wide thoroughfare lined with individual rooms on both sides. Most were composed of metal bars as thick as an arm, some of which had been breached, leaving broken metal pipes scattered across the floor.

A vast amount of fine dust hung motionless in the air, but as the group passed, the resulting disturbance in the airflow seemed to allow the originally stagnant time to flow once more.

“Captain!”

Armin’s voice crackled over the comms. Following the direction of his tactical light, the group discovered a wreck.

The remains of an Astartes.

Soshyan stepped forward, cautiously using his sword to nudge the corpse. The grey veins on its face had vanished; he no longer possessed that powerful anti-subspace strength and had to be exceptionally careful.

After confirming there was no danger, he knelt down to inspect it closely.

It was, in fact, a nearly empty shell of power armor, containing nothing but decaying bones within. Clearly, time had not completely frozen in this place.

Judging by the crimson color of the power armor and the faint insignia visible on the shoulder plate, the corpse likely belonged to a Word Bearer. The cause of death was a penetrating wound through the face of the helmet.

Based on the width and thickness of the wound on the helmet, Soshyan deduced that he had been killed by a sword—a sharp, wide-bladed sword.

Furthermore, the attacker had been incredibly clean and efficient. The strike was swift, with no superfluous movement; the wound perfectly matched the blade, with no cracks in the surrounding material.

A terrifying killer.

Soshyan stood up, a sense of doubt clouding his mind. This was on a Word Bearer vessel, yet they had been killed.

Had the prisoners in this jail revolted?

Or had they been subjected to a boarding action?

Suppressing these questions, Soshyan knew now was not the time for investigation; the detonation timer on the thermite charges was nearing its end.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Soshyan felt a tremor through the soles of his boots.

The thermite charges had been activated.

“Captain—”

It wasn't just Soshyan; every Space Marine felt the tremor. The vibration grew increasingly violent, as if the entire starship were beginning to fracture.

“Move!”

Seeing the objective achieved, Soshyan wasted no time and immediately led his squad to search for another exit.

They pressed forward, passing through the cage zone, and as expected, found a large door at the other end of the compartment.

However, the Space Marines all raised their weapons.

They had noticed a mass of shadow curled in a corner about thirty meters to the right of the door.

The moment everyone turned their targets and tactical lights toward that shadow, it moved.

With incredible speed, the thing lunged toward Soshyan’s squad with heavy, thudding strides.

“Open fire!”

No further words were needed. The muzzles of the Space Marines' bolters flashed with fire, but without exception, every bullet was deflected behind the creature. It was too fast.

In the blink of an eye, it had crossed hundreds of meters and arrived directly in front of Soshyan.

Soshyan raised his hand, thrusting the Holy Flame Sword toward the thing like a bolt of lightning, but he immediately felt a massive force surge through his grip.

His sword was parried aside.

Sparks flickered in the dark compartment for half a second, and then Soshyan felt something hurtling straight for his face.

The manner of the Word Bearer's death flashed instantly through his mind.

To avoid becoming the second corpse to fall, he twisted his wrist, swinging the Holy Flame Sword in a semi-circle before him to parry the weapon.

But he had miscalculated.

The threat in front of him suddenly vanished, but something else slammed into his chest.

“This—!”

The six Space Marines beside Soshyan immediately aimed their weapons at the entity facing their Captain. Under the intense glare of the tactical lights, a tear appeared in the cloak of Soshyan’s power armor, which then fluttered to the ground, revealing the shining Aquila on his chest.

A wide-bladed sword, bright as new, its tip still razor-sharp, came to rest right before the Aquila.

Only then did the group see clearly: the attacker was none other than a Space Marine!

Or rather, he looked like one.

The man possessed the physique of a Space Marine, with a mane of disheveled, grass-like grey-white hair that extended to his elbows, even obscuring his entire face.

He wore a set of damaged power armor, though its original form was difficult to discern; even the power pack was patched with metal plates, leaving only a faint impression that the armor had once been a shade of purple.

“Who are you?”

After a moment of silence, Soshyan and the mysterious Space Marine spoke simultaneously.

Then came another silence.

“I am Soshyan Alikse, Chapter Master of the Knights of the Realm.”

Finally, Soshyan identified himself first.

But the man gave no response, nor did he lower his sword.

Soshyan could feel that if the opponent wished, this blade could pierce his heart instantly.

“Drop your weapon!”

Armin, standing to the side, could no longer restrain himself. He aimed his gun at the mysterious Space Marine's head and shouted a command.

“You...”

Then, from behind the obscured face, a ghostly, raspy voice drifted out.

“...which Legion do you belong to?”

The group looked at one another, momentarily unsure how to answer. Finally, Soshyan spoke

“We are sons of Dorn.”

“Dorn... Imperial Fists.”

The man let out a long sigh, containing complex emotions that Soshyan found difficult to fathom.

Then, he withdrew his sword.

“So, Terra... was held?”

“Who exactly are you?”

Faced with these bizarre words, Soshyan had a suspicion, but he wasn't certain; after all, it sounded utterly impossible.

And the man ultimately confirmed his suspicion.

He drove the sword into the ground and used both hands to push back the hair covering his face, revealing a countenance that was grime-streaked yet still handsome.

“Third Legion, Decenary, Saul Taviz.”

(End of Chapter)