Eden had once dug into the tomb-world of a certain unlucky Necron Overlord—one who called himself the Nameless One and insisted his true name could not be spoken aloud.
From that excavation, Eden obtained information about the Æonic Orb.
The Æonic Orb was a creation of the Necrons—or rather, of the Necrontyr—at the height of their civilization, back when they slaughtered their enemies across the stars under the dominion of the C'tan.
Any species that dared resist that rule and that power would have its system's sun stripped away, leaving behind only endless darkness and killing cold.
As for the shattered remnants of those destroyed stars, they were fashioned into the Æonic Orb's ammunition—terrifying beyond measure.
From the data Eden had, the Æonic Orb was a weapon of annihilation with an enormous effective area. Compared to it, a cyclonic torpedo was basically just an oversized grenade.
It seemed likely that before humanity ever colonized Fanes, this system had been the capital of the Kalozasa Dynasty—otherwise it wouldn't possess such a monstrous defensive weapon.
Eden knew the Æonic Orb existed, yet even so, he found it difficult to estimate its true destructive output.
"No matter what, that thing can flip the Third Diocese's main fleet," Eden muttered. "Kalozasa really is a dynasty ruled by a Phaeron. With an Æonic Orb as the backbone of Fanes' defense grid, a conventional fleet can't do a damn thing."
He couldn't help thinking about someone else's inheritance, and sighed with genuine regret.
"What a perfect weapon. Pity it doesn't belong to humanity. If I could dig it out and haul it back… better yet, I'd dig up the entire tomb…"
While thinking, he didn't hesitate for even a second. In the form of a mind-vision, he sent a message to Chapter Master Ansemor.
He told the man to immediately take command of the Third Diocese fleet and run—get far, far away from Fanes.
The main reason was simple: the Kalozasa Dynasty was moving too fast.
The moment Eden dealt with the archbishop, the Crownless Phaeron began acting.
By the time Eden finished executing the heretic and seizing the fleet, the Necron armies were already assembled—and their macro-cannon was already emplaced.
How was anyone supposed to "talk" under those conditions?
All one could say was that their mobilization speed was absurd. No lag at all. Even the Tyranids might not match it.
Most of the Necron forces were utterly standardized, fully obedient living-metal machines.
In short, they couldn't stay in this system for the time being. The Third Diocese fleet had to leave as fast as possible—
—so that this pathetic fleet wouldn't get wiped in a single sweep by the Æonic Orb's main gun.
The best approach was to wait for Eden's own Imperial Vigilance Star Expeditionary Fleet to arrive—along with allied Aeldari, Ork, and Tyranid fleets—then decide how to resolve the situation.
Those armed fleets were already in transit. They would reach the Fanes System soon.
As for Eden, this "Savior" and "Emperor of the Imperium"—he didn't necessarily have many talents.
But one thing he did have was troops. As many as needed.
If the arriving fleets still couldn't solve the problem, he could simply use the Webway to keep pulling in reinforcements until that Phaeron was kneeling and begging.
"As for the defensive risk of shifting forces around—what war has no risk? Win first. Talk later."
As he thought, Eden sent the situation report of the Fanes System to the Departmento Munitorum.
He instructed them to calculate, under worst-case assumptions, how many forces would be required to drown the Kalozasa Dynasty.
In fact, some senior Munitorum officials who hailed from the old Imperium quietly believed their Emperor was being overly cautious.
The Imperium's economy and defensive strength had risen dramatically compared to the Regent era.
They argued the Imperium should raise the Imperial Tithe, absorb more resources, and launch one thundering crusade after another.
But the Emperor wanted more than "more." He wanted the Imperium to stabilize growth while advancing step by step.
Keeping those armed forces in reserve inside Imperial space meant that when a critical moment arrived, they could erupt with terrifying suppressive power.
Put simply: the Emperor had a firepower-deficiency phobia. He didn't want his armies scattered. He wanted the ability to concentrate overwhelming force on demand and crush any enemy outright.
Most of the time, Eden was rather gentle—hardly a ruler addicted to war.
He preferred to win through operations and planning, to break opponents without fighting.
But if the other side refused to give face, then fine.
Fleet bombardment it was.
He'd show them what it meant for his fleet to blot out the void like a sky of steel.
When the Emperor's order reached the Munitorum, the new Imperium's war machine—terrifying beyond imagination—began to turn, and inconceivable violence started to gather.
Inside the Third Diocese flagship, Eden's awareness remained concealed within a chicken-thief creature, subtly guiding the fleet's command.
After receiving the message, Chapter Master Ansemor ordered the Navigator to enter jump status.
The fleet would enter the Warp as a whole and withdraw far from Fanes.
However, the moment the Gellar Field came online, Eden sensed something wrong.
His perception of the Warp was exceptionally sharp.
"This isn't normal jump-condition. The Warp is far too chaotic. If we force entry, the ships will be torn apart by a massive storm.
"Is it the blackstone tomb complex beneath Fanes, or interference from the Æonic Orb?
"Either way, we must abort the jump!"
Warp travel was that dangerous—one mistake and it was shipwreck and death. Such catastrophes happened across the Imperium from time to time.
And not just the Imperium. Other species suffered the same. The T'au had even lost an entire main fleet in a single disaster.
In the next instant, alarms flared across the flagship.
Eden's awareness received fresh reports: the Third Diocese Navigator had enough experience to force an emergency abort.
But the backlash drove him into a coma.
He was lucky—his head hadn't simply exploded under the Warp's pressure.
Only then did the Third Diocese fleet finally register the extreme energy signature on Fanes itself, and understand what threat it truly faced.
Their void shields could not withstand an attack of that magnitude.
Ansemor and the other commanders realized, at last, how correct the Emperor's guidance had been—this threat had been foretold ahead of time.
Their awe of the Savior-Emperor's psychic might deepened, and they moved swiftly to respond.
Seeing that the Rift Lord Chapter had detected the planetary threat, Eden didn't waste words.
In this situation, any Chapter with a functioning brain knew what to do.
Instead, Eden focused on his own plan, so he wouldn't lose too much time.
It was their only chance.
Soon, the Third Diocese fleet abandoned its dense formation and scattered in every direction, desperately opening distance from Fanes.
Only that could reduce casualties—only that could prevent too many ships from being erased by that dreadful strike.
Third Diocese Flagship.
Bridge.
At this moment, officers and crew alike were gripped by panic.
They tried to break free of the killing threat, yet found no way out.
"My Lord, we have been locked by the xenos macro-cannon on Fanes. At our current velocity, we cannot evade. Probability of impact: 99.99%."
The fleet executive officer sounded close to despair, forcing calm through clenched teeth.
"Even with void shields pushed into overload, they cannot bear an attack of that scale.
"This is the strongest ground-based energy signature we've ever recorded. The xenos gun on Fanes is not something void shields can block.
"Based on the models, we would require at least twenty times our current void-shield load capacity to cancel the strike—and that's without ruling out follow-up fire…"
"Executive officer," Ansemor said, staring hard at the spherical tactical holomap where Fanes and every ship's position were displayed. "Clear vessels away from the Preacher's perimeter. Using them as a screen has no value anymore."
Then he asked, "How much reaction time do we have?"
The executive officer took a deep breath.
"About one minute. Possibly less. We have no viable means of withdrawal. That energy output has a broad kill-radius.
"Even if we could abandon ship, we wouldn't get far. That would be even more dangerous."
Ansemor's expression shifted slightly.
For once, he tried to lighten the mood—though his humor was ice-cold.
"Then all we can do is pray the xenos gun misfires… or shoots wide."
"Let's hope," the executive officer replied with a hollow, practiced smile. He knew it wouldn't happen.
But aside from prayer, there truly was nothing else.
Across the bridge, voices murmured litanies to the Emperor's protection, begging that Presence to save the ship—
—or at least let their souls return to the Throne cleanly, rather than be tormented by the Warp.
Ansemor remained composed, yet a sliver of expectation lingered in his heart.
"The Emperor… foresaw this threat. Can he help us?"
But he quickly let out a soundless laugh at himself.
The attack facing them now—no psyker alive could stop it.
And that Presence wasn't even in the Fanes System. At most, he could send information through sorcery.
He could do nothing.
Beep—beep—beep—
The ship's detection arrays screamed.
An ultra-high-intensity energy source was incoming—so fast it nearly outstripped the radar's tracking limits.
Ansemor turned toward the observation dome.
In the void, he could see a massive crimson energy mass surging in from the direction of Fanes.
It looked like a miniature sun, igniting everything around it, as though even the emptiness of space were burning.
The bridge temperature climbed—like the inside of a steaming furnace. Countless machine-lines began spitting fault alerts.
That "sun" was approaching, radiating heat so extreme it defied imagination.
If it struck the ship directly, the result didn't need explanation.
Ansemor watched the rising vapor and the "sun" swelling until it nearly filled his sight.
He knew the fate of himself and this vessel was sealed.
They would be reduced to the purest charcoal under impossible heat.
"May our souls return to the Throne."
The Rift Lord Chapter Master closed his eyes and accepted release.
Yet as death arrived, he couldn't help wondering whether he had truly redeemed his sins—whether he deserved the honor of returning to the Throne at all.
Boom!
In an instant, the bridge heat reached its peak. Even the outer bulkheads reddened faintly.
Then came the shockwave.
In darkness, Ansemor felt the world spin violently—
—yet the next second, he snapped his eyes open.
He braced himself against the command seat, instinctively hauling the executive officer with him, and shouted in disbelief and joy:
"Emperor—by the Throne! The xenos shot didn't hit us. It passed right by!"
The flagship had rolled under the thermal surge kicked up by the stellar fragment, taking only a glancing wash instead of a direct impact.
Secondary damage still scarred the ship, but most of the crew would live.
When the ship's roll finally stabilized, the bridge erupted into fanatic fervor.
People ignored their wounds, tears streaming down their faces as they gave thanks for the Emperor's protection.
"By the Emperor!"
"That Presence has favored the Preacher! We're alive!"
Rumble—
Suddenly, a distant burst of searing light drew everyone's attention.
Ansemor and the others turned toward it and sucked in a breath.
A crimson curtain lit their faces.
A gigantic fireball, wrapped in flame and magma, was consuming the void—the kind of collapse that looked like the end of days.
A moment ago, it had been a barren little asteroid.
The xenos macro-cannon hadn't hit the flagship.
It had hit the asteroid behind them, annihilating it in a single instant.
This was nothing like cyclonic torpedoes using environmental catastrophe to erase life.
This was raw, direct destruction.
Unstoppable.
There were few Imperial bastions that could withstand such a strike.
Using it to shoot ships was practically wasteful.
As the bridge crew watched the asteroid's collapse and the high-velocity debris cloud forming around it, a new fear took root.
If that xenos gun could fire again, then with Warp travel denied, the Preacher—and the entire Third Diocese fleet—might still face fresh despair.
Given the weapon's range, it had more than enough time to systematically destroy every ship before they could exit the system.
"We're safe!"
Ansemor's voice rang out suddenly—bright with conviction.
He had just received a message from his Librarians.
The Rift Lord Chapter Master's tone became even more devout, leaving no room for objection:
"All Third Diocese vessels: return along the original route. Proceed to Fanes and prepare for planetary landing, to assist local defense against xenos heresy and to conduct relief operations.
"This is the command of His Majesty, the Emperor of the Imperium. It will be carried out!"
Through sorcery, the Emperor had declared the Preacher safe and issued fresh orders.
Then it had to be true—somehow, that Presence had altered the macro-cannon's trajectory and spared them.
What power was this?
In a hidden corner of the ship, a chicken-thief creature lay curled tight, finally finishing the transmission of a psychic message.
"It seems my plan worked. The misunderstanding between the Kalozasa Dynasty and the Imperium has been eased—for now.
"Otherwise, that living-metal Governor, that Phaeron, wouldn't have deflected the shot and let the Preacher survive.
"At the very least… he's wary."
Eden let out a long breath, thinking so.
Not long ago, he had used the wisdom of the Imperium's ancestors to send precise information down to Fanes.
And that information would likely pass through any interference untouched—accurately delivered straight to the Phaeron's presence.
It was also a warning.
As for the outcome… that depended on the other side's choice.
Eden could only hope that those Necrons who still believed themselves "human" hadn't fully realized their own might—
—and just how much devastation they could inflict upon this region of space.
After that, Eden's awareness fully withdrew from the flagship.
Lately, his consciousness had been drifting back and forth through realspace and the Warp, acting like a signal relay.
It honestly felt awful.
Fortunately, his true body was finally about to reach the system.
This time, the Emperor himself would arrive.
His supreme will would descend upon the Fanes System, and nothing would be able to stop it.
Where the Emperor's gaze fell, the shadow of fleets and the wrath of war would drown everything.
…
Earlier.
Fanes Prime Hive, Upper Hive.
The Kalozasa Dynasty's forces had gathered—black as a sea—and a massive war with the Imperium teetered on the edge of ignition.
A Cryptek descended from the air to the ground and saluted with deep respect toward the Necrodermis Governor, Zhabok, and the Crownless Phaeron:
"My lords, the Æonic Orb is operating. The Imperium's fleet will be swallowed by a star's fire."
In their fury, they had activated the terrible main gun as an answer to what the Imperium had done.
"The Imperium has betrayed us. It deserves that end!"
Some of the hawkish high nobles were practically vibrating with excitement. The Æonic Orb's firing would become the war-horn.
It was Fanes' revenge.
Zhabok sat upon a throne forged from blackstone and living metal, silent.
He knew that once the Ecclesiarchy vessels were destroyed, Fanes and the Imperium would become mortal enemies, with no path back.
As the Æonic Orb rose, the nobles' mood grew taut.
After all, that was the Imperium they had believed in for so long—unfathomably mighty.
The Imperium's power and its legends were carved deep into the bones of both the dynasty's nobility and the planet's populace.
They couldn't be erased in a moment.
No one dared promise that Fanes could survive the war that would follow.
In short, they believed the Imperium was terrifying—unstoppable.
If Holy Terra discovered that Fanes had rebelled…
Then it would be fight-to-the-death.
"Look—what is that in the sky…?"
In the tense atmosphere, the nobles noticed something and looked up.
Something was falling through the airspace, like scattered black specks.
Worse—those unknown objects, without anyone realizing, had already passed through the newly activated energy defense field and were now dropping straight toward their heads.
No warning. No reaction. No defense.
The sight filled them with dread.
It looked like an Imperial strike.
"T-This… is impossible!"
A ripple of panic spread among the Kalozasa nobles.
Terror rose unbidden in their chests.
Had they only just attempted to strike the Ecclesiarchy fleet—
—and the Imperium's dreadful retribution had already arrived?!
(End of Chapter)
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