The Imperium's Dark Side, Baal System.
The Baal system's history is ancient; even before the foundation of the first Galactic Empire, ambitious settlers had begun developing the system. With the two Moon help, Baal became a paradise—until the Age of Strife struck. Forced to abandon their Moons, the people watched their paradise decay.
The Age of Strife shattered connections between human worlds as a warp storm ravaged the galaxy. Baal was struck, birthing hordes of mutants, social collapse, and civil war. The paradise became hell.
Even after the Emperor led the Great Crusade and forged the Empire, Baal and its two moons still suffered radioactive poisoning. The children of Baal have long since forgotten the glory their ancestors created. They survived by endurance, battling in the barren wastes.
Now, this traumatized galaxy faces a harsh new test.
The entire galaxy was swallowed by the suffocating warp-shadow of the Tyranid Hive Fleet. Massive bio-ships floated in the void like malignant tumors. Their shadow was darker than deepest subspace, blotting out even starlight.
Many fleets and armies in support of Baal were destroyed in space, fighting desperately against a sea of Tyranids and perishing one after another. Death markers flooded communications, each representing thousands claimed by Tyranid jaws.
The sons of angels bled the last blood for Baal.
…
Arx Angelicum, Baal Monastery.
Dante, legendary Chapter Master of the Blood Angels for over 1,500 years, stood atop the highest watchtower, surveying the distant, lost battlefields.
The void shield shimmered under a barrage of bioweapons, sending ripples across its purple surface.
He no longer saw just desert and blood-red canyons, but an entire horizon writhing as a living, surging wave. The insect horde consumed land, air, and light—thousands of shells rubbing, echoing as death's white noise swallowed all.
The last outer defense line had fallen hours before; the explosions were but the world's final gasp before being drowned.
Now, only Arx Angelicum—the last temple and fortress of Sanguinius's sons—remained, a solitary reef in a raging sea. All Blood Angels and Immortal warriors who chose to live and die with their homeworld withdrew here.
Everyone knew their fate was sealed. They would fight to the last drop without yielding. But in the face of this cosmic wave, "victory" had been erased from the dictionary. Baal was dying.
This hurt Dante more than any wound he'd received before.
"Horus, why, why did you betray us?" prisoners in the Lost Tower screamed, throats raw. These poor souls had been completely consumed by black rage and thirst for blood, now reduced to monsters who knew only killing. Just as Sanguinius had once asked, they now asked the same question over and over.
"Great Angel, I return to your arms," Dante murmured to himself, vowing to resist till the last wall fell, then surrender reason, yielding to the black rage and bloodthirst, and fight to the death.
…
Baal Primus.
The battlefields of the Flesh Tearers, Blood Knights, and other angelic companies had long since become a swamp of flesh and broken shells. The endless horde battered the crumbling fortresses. Acid and biobombs turned all to rot; men dissolved, screaming, to be devoured.
But things got even worse. At the Great Rift's eruption, the enraged demon Khorne and his legion burst forth to the world of Babia, axes blazing, slaying countless every swing. All surviving Tyranids and angelic sons became his targets.
"Abandon restraint! Surrender to your rage and kill as you please!" Khorne's roar shook the battlefield, eyes on the Blood Knights fighting beasts and daemons. "Your anger is exquisite—destined to belong to the Blood God!"
Blood Knight Firstblade Jool felt the dam of his company's reason slowly crumbling under Khorne's roar and the ceaseless slaughter. The ancient curse of black rage rooted in their geneseed was howling uncontrollably.
They ignored humanity and reason. Their cries became inhuman, attacks unrhythmic, sinking into self-destructive frenzy.
"It's over," he thought. "Our rage will drown us completely."
When Flesh Tearers Chapter Master Seth came to help, Jool refused. The Blood Knights' chapter was a tragedy: afflicted by black rage and bloodthirst, they committed atrocities in madness and were branded traitors by Terra's highest rulers—though never truly corrupted. Trust lost, they fought alone in Jericho's shadows but answered Dante's call without hesitation.
Now, their final chapter had arrived.
"Seth, leave here," Jool rasped, the last glimmer of reason flickering in fiery eyes. "Take your men, return to Baal, help Dante. My legion will buy you time with our last moments."
Seth nodded and left. Jool abandoned reason, leading his final brothers in a charge at Khorne, intent to kill until spent and die unknown.
…
Baal Secundus.
Baal's second moon—another battlefield. The Crimson Blades Chapter, stationed to defend the Astropathic messages relay, numbered 800 on arrival—now only 157 remained. The original captains had all died in battle; now, the fifth sergeant of the 2nd Company led.
Their numbers dwindled daily, swallowed by insects along with mortal guardsmen.
Inside the relay, the burnt tang of psychic overload mingled with rusted blood. Only a young navigator, Geno, and the weary steward Jalen Litt remained, faithfully guarding the comms array.
Another comrade, Anama Tuk, had just died, her soul ripped apart by warp turbulence as she sent her last message of agony across the void.
Messages… souls—how cruel and fair the universe was.
"Master, might we talk a moment more?" Geno asked Litt. If nothing changed, he'd be the next to fall. Litt, the most experienced here, had to reserve his soul for the critical moment.
Geno didn't fear death, but still wanted to talk.
"What do you want to say?" Litt asked, exhausted.
"Have you ever seen a prairie? Or the sea?" Geno asked with curiosity. He'd been born on Baal, a world where water was rare, and had only ever known deserts.
Litt nodded. "When I was young, I followed the angels off-world, and saw the sea and grasslands."
"Really?" Geno pressed. "I've only ever read about it in books. They say you can nap right on the grass, on a breezy day, full and relaxed."
"Yes, it's wonderful," Litt smiled. "You smell grass, earth. After a good meal, you've no trouble sleeping, lying there."
"That sounds so nice," Geno said softly. "Master, if you survive, could you do me a favor?"
"What is it?" Litt asked.
"When I'm dead, scatter my ashes over a prairie or the sea," Geno pleaded. "I've never seen either. Maybe I'll see it after dying."
"If I live, I'll do it," Litt promised, looking at Geno.
…
Warp—First Expeditionary Fleet for Baal
Through roaring warp flows, Guilliman's First Expeditionary Fleet advanced towards Baal with blistering speed, throwing away all non-essential tasks and redlining the engines. For some reason, their voyage was exceptionally smooth—whenever the fleet passed, warp turbulence calmed unnaturally.
They crossed the vital Nachmund Sector, the fragile lifeline connecting the Imperium's core and its dark side—the corridor's existence owed itself to two worlds: Vigilus System and Nachmund Gauntlet, both rich in black stone. When the great rift tore the galaxy, the anti-warp field formed by these planets held the rift back, keeping the Imperium together. Guilliman had poured countless orders, armies, and resources into fortifying them.
Emerging on the dark side, the flood of desperate calls overwhelmed Macragge's Honour comms array. Commander after commander sent panicked messages—Niades, in particular, was constantly broadcasting. This world was now a gathering point for many Imperial Navy and civilian ships, offering refuge and resupply for any loyalists.
Just then, a green portal flashed, and the Nameless One jumped out to join the Second Expeditionary Fleet's rescue, supporting Imperial army resistance against the Ork general Bonecrusher and his invasion.
"I've never seen such loyalty! Not even a ten-thousandth as much in myself," awe-struck Imperial officers declared. Yet they failed to understand the Nameless One's temperament—some tasks expected to be accepted were instead rejected, others taken on unexpectedly.
Scholars theorized: the Nameless serves only the interest of all humanity. If a mission benefits mankind, he'll accept it; if not, he refuses, or even sabotages.
After a glance, Guilliman knew never to plan around the Nameless one—he follows no one else's orders.
"We need to send someone to Niades; with so many ships present, we may requisition them for the Indomitus Crusade," the Primarch said.
At that moment, Datch jumped over and asked what he could do, like bringing a pillow to a weary soul.
Guilliman kept it brief: "An Astropathic messages communication came from the Niades world; ships are gathered there in orbit and might join the crusade. Please investigate."
A quest screen appeared before Datch's eyes:
[New Mission: Travel to the world of Niades and investigate the Astropathic messages messages.]
The astral messages from Niades have attracted the Regent's attention. The world hosts many ships and promises support to others in distress. The Regent wants you to investigate.
[Reward: 1,500 XP, 1,500 points, +200 reputation, Unit-01 Summon Card (1 day) x1]
"Unit-01… the Eva world's Unit-01?" Datch's eyes gleamed as he checked the reward's details. With that, facing a Chaos Titan would be trivial!
"I accept this quest," Datch replied at once. The minimap updated, showing the Niades world's coordinates.
He drew his teleport gun and opened a spinning green portal on the deck, diving through it right before the Primarch's eyes.
"Well, that's another issue solved. Now, let's continue the discussion for Baal's rescue," Guilliman told the room, focusing again on the coming campaign—not just to save Sanguinius' sons, but to defeat the Leviathan Hive Fleet and end the Third Tyranid War.
…
World of Niades – Hive City Ruins
A green hole flashed open and Datch stepped out. The air was filthy—thick with rot and chemicals. Shots rang out nearby. Datch rushed towards the sound and found a Blood Angel in Terminator Armor, surrounded by sharp-clawed, hissing Genestealers—creatures whose talons could rend even Terminator plate.
"For Sanguinius! For the Emperor and the Great Angel!" The Blood Angel's cry bristled with agony and resolve. Even as he fired his bolt pistol and swung his power sword, the enemy pressed ever tighter.
Armor scored, movement slowed—he was vastly outnumbered.
"Wait, aren't all the Angels supposed to be on Baal? Why's there one here?" Datch noticed an exclamation mark above the Blood Angel's head. He opened the Room of Requirement's exit and summoned his henchmen.
Mordachi and the Dark Angels appeared, guns at the ready. They were now fully trained and much stronger, having endured all hardships and accepted service under Datch—"We'd rather not lose the Lion's glory… but sorry, we're now Datch's men; no turning back."
They assessed the situation, deployed precisely, and with accurate fire soon annihilated the Genestealers. The remaining hybrids were quickly wiped out.
When the last enemy fell, the Blood Angel finally collapsed, kneeling in exhaustion. Datch walked over, opened his info panel:
[Blood Angels Chapter Captain Orpheo]
"Who are you? And why are you here?" Orpheo asked, looking over Datch and the Dark Angels.
Without a word, Datch took out a golden hammer and tapped the captain. Instantly, a soft golden glow spread, closing his dreadful wounds, stopping the bleeding, healing at a visible speed. Even the poisonous Xenos toxins were purged; the battered Terminator plate restored.
Orpheo stared at his restored hand and immaculate armor in disbelief.
"What can I help you with, Orpheo?" Datch asked.
"I want to know…" Orpheo wanted to inquire about their origin.
"Please, let's not waste time," Datch interrupted. "Is there anything you need?"
The great battle for Baal was at hand; who wants to hear dialogue now? Preparing for the Tyranids Hive Fleet meant knocking out more missions and earning more items and skills.
Players are natural disasters—so are the Tyranids. It's a contest of cataclysms.
Mordachi and the Dark Angels laughed at Orpheo's confusion.
Prompted to skip dialogue, Orpheo stopped questioning and quickly explained his mission: his unit had diverted through this system due to the warp storm and received a coded message with coordinates. With five veterans and some staff, Orpheo landed to investigate, only to learn the message came from a Tech-Priest who'd stayed behind in a secret lab as Genestealers conquered the planet. A request for aid at just the right time.
All his retinue and staff were killed by Genestealers—only Orpheo had survived.