Seraphs of the Emperor’s Judgment

Chapter 170: The Arrival

He awoke from the dream with a scream, his eyes snapping open.

For a split second, he thought he was blind.

The bitter cold had stolen his vision, and then the freezing embrace of his armor dragged him from the distant past back to reality.

He felt cripplingly cold, as if his dreams had bled into reality, wrapped in memories laced with frost.

Solid ice obscured the optical lenses of his helmet. The shifting light filtering through brought a grim realization—the ice was pink, a frozen coagulation of snow mixed with blood.

The pulsating signal of warning runes flashed in the corner of his vision, a dim, rhythmic throb of red.

Warning: Total vacuum environment detected.

Warning: Armor breach detected.

Warning: Zero gravity environment detected.

Damage assessment initiated.Armor power reserves low.

He couldn't remember where he was, or how he had survived while his power armor had been driven to the absolute brink of destruction.

He blinked, attempting to refocus his thoughts. Sensation was returning to his body—the feedback of pain radiated from his right leg, but his left hand refused to answer the call of his mind, as if it had been swallowed by a black hole. His tongue tasted entirely of metallic rust.

But he was still alive. That was enough.

Floating in the hard vacuum, he attempted to move his right arm, but the armor fiercely resisted. No matter how hard he tried to clench his left hand, it remained utterly unresponsive; he couldn't even feel his fingers.

Struggling on the precipice between consciousness and unconsciousness, he looked at the fading warning runes—his power armor's energy reserves were dropping to critically low levels.

It wouldn't be long before he became nothing more than a lifeless, metallic husk.

He could only close his eyes, steadying his breathing and his pulse.

As his mind cleared, he understood exactly where he was—he was drifting through the hard vacuum of space.

His power armor's thermal regulation system was still struggling, desperately trying to keep his body warm, but it was failing. Its final dregs of energy were about to be extinguished.

While his genetically enhanced physiology was vastly more resilient than that of a baseline human, the freezing cold would eventually consume him, plunging his twin hearts into eternal silence.

It was merely a matter of time.

For a fleeting moment, he wanted to howl, to violently shove away the iron embrace of his armor—the primal instinct of a drowning man.

The last breath of air burned in his lungs. The inevitable, dark fate awaited him; eventually, they would stop beating.

He forced his breathing to slow, suppressing his primal instincts.

To survive, a choice had to be made.

"Initiate total system reboot."

The power armor complied, a surge of electrical impulses immediately flooding his body.

But the very instant it rebooted, earsplitting alarms began to blare.

The neural interface stung his spine, the ceaseless wail of the alarms filled his ears, and a cascade of angry red runes absolutely flooded his helmet's retinal display.

He blinked rapidly to banish the alarms.

He had a few minutes of power remaining before the armor transformed into his tomb.

With monumental effort, he raised his right hand and scraped away the melting ice crusting his helmet's visor.

Light flooded his eyes, a blinding, piercing white.

He realized he was floating within a colossal hall. Sunlight streamed in from somewhere behind him. A layer of pink ice coated everything, glittering in the light like delectable frosting on a sweet cake. A fine mist of ice crystals drifted around him, frozen in the exact shapes they had taken upon forming.

He also saw Him—Sanguinius, the Great Angel, their gene-sire.

In the vacuum, tears of blood seemed to stream from his eyes.

He dared not look directly at Him again, for he had failed the Blood of Sanguinius.

He remembered now. This was the chapelry aboard the Battle Barge Daughter of the Storm.

But she had fallen.

Suddenly, something bumped against his shoulder, slowly drifting into his field of vision.

It was a frozen object, slightly wider than a hand, and it didn't immediately drift away.

He reached out to push it aside, but it suddenly rotated, staring right back at him—it was a severed head, its eyes entirely devoid of life.

The memories of what had preceded this immediately flashed before his eyes.

Enraged minotaurs, the shattering of the hull and the agonizing shrieks of tearing metal. Their pride had been seized by roaring flames, blood cascading and pooling across the decks as fragments of the ship danced wildly in the air.

An officer had been screaming something, his eyes wide and brimming with absolute terror.

He remembered the violent shuddering of the deck beneath his boots and the howling shrieks of the void storm raging outside.

In his panic, he violently jerked his hand away from the severed head. The sudden motion sent him tumbling through the frozen mist, the grand hall spinning dizzily in his vision.

Suddenly, a brilliant flare of light erupted within the hall. He managed to arrest his spin, and through the gaping tears in the hull, he found the source—a brilliantly white sun. He also saw a shimmering blue sphere, suspended against the infinite dark and dotted with faint starlight.

He remembered this place. This was the Badab System—

Dead warships littered the void, their hulls torn apart and thoroughly chewed to pieces.

Massive sections of armor plating had been stripped away, exposing cold metallic hearts and revealing the labyrinthine compartments and corridors within. The mountainous hulls had been reduced to tattered, ruined derelicts, resembling the refuse of a colossal scrapyard.

Were all of his brothers dead?

He pondered this dark possibility, feeling a cold he hadn't experienced in centuries.

Warning—

Energy depleted.

Warning—

Energy depleted.

"We have failed."

He murmured to the silence.

Within this prison constructed of dying armor, he felt as if he were plummeting into darkness, falling endlessly through mists and agony. He would be entirely alone in the dark and the cold, now and forever.

"Chapter Master? Chapter Master?"

Abruptly, a mechanical yet perfectly calm voice echoed.

Then, he felt a warm hand gently shove him. The effigy of Sanguinius in the hall began to spread its wings—

He snapped his eyes open, realizing he was seated upon his command throne. A warrior stood beside him, regarding him with profound concern.

"Chapter Master, are you alright?"

The man with the pale, gaunt face raised a gauntleted hand, brushing the dazzling blonde hair from his sweat-slicked forehead. He replied with a strained voice:

"I am fine. Do not worry... Where have we arrived?"

"We were dragged into the Vorenus System by an unexplained Warp turbulence. Our Astropaths have received some localized transmissions. It appears there is a war currently taking place here."

"A war?"

He uttered those two words with crushing weariness.

"What kind of war?"

"A crusade against the xenos."

"Initiated by whom?"

"The Excoriators Chapter and the Astral Knights Chapter."

"The Excoriators..."

The towering warrior, clad in bright yellow armor, pondered the name. About a minute later, several unpleasant memories began to surface.

"So, it is those treacherous cowards."

The warrior beside him was clearly ignorant of the history between the two Chapters, and upon hearing his Chapter Master utter such words, an expression of profound shock immediately bloomed on his face.

"Treacherous..."

But the man upon the command throne waved a hand, cutting off the inquiry.

"Pay them no mind. But the other Chapter... The Astral Knights."

The man thought for a moment, but failed to recall any truly useful information—only a few fragmented passages he had once read in the archives.

"If memory serves, they are a Successor Chapter of the Imperial Fists. Why on earth would they be operating alongside the Excoriators?"

"That remains unknown at present. The two Chapters are currently engaged in a purge of the local greenskin population."

"It has nothing to do with us. Locate the nearest Imperial supply depot."

The warrior hesitated for a moment before speaking in a low voice:

"There is one other detail. The Astral Knights Chapter is aware of our arrival. Their Astropaths have transmitted a message, inviting us to a parley at Gaethis, serving as a temporary Imperial fleet resupply point."

The man massaged his temples, appearing utterly exhausted and profoundly melancholic.

"What else could they possibly want? What else is left for them to take from us? We have absolutely nothing left..."

His words were laden with a crushing sorrow, pausing to draw a ragged breath after nearly every word.

"The Chapter Master of the Astral Knights is named Soshyan Alexey. He extended the invitation personally. He also instructed his Astropaths to append a single message."

"What message?"

"—He harbors absolutely no doubt regarding the unwavering loyalty and valor of the Scions of Sanguinius."