A sector near Kislev.
This typically desolate stretch of space was now a cacophony of light and violence, as the exchange of fire between two massive fleets stirred the void into a frenzy.
Should an outsider observe this duel to the death, they would discern two starkly different forces. One fleet bore the austere, Gothic architecture characteristic of Imperial design, its hulls lacquered in a pure, elegant lunar white. The opposing fleet was its antithesis—a chaotic assembly of scrap metal and salvaged junk.
These were the fleets of the Sixteenth Legion Astartes, the "Luna Wolves"—specifically the renowned 63rd Expeditionary Fleet commanded by the Primarch Horus Lupercal—and an Ork Empire fleet led by a Warboss infamous across the surrounding sectors.
Driven by the survival of their respective species, these two leviathans tore at each other with the conviction of total annihilation.
Bridge of the Vengeful Spirit, Gloriana-class Battleship and Sixteenth Legion Flagship.
"Withdraw! Pull back! There are too many Ork vessels!"
The stern voice of Hastur Sejanus, Captain of the Fourth Company and head of the Luna Wolves' Mournival, cut through the din. As the command hub for the entire Sixteenth Legion and the 63rd Expeditionary Fleet, the bridge was currently the most frantic location on the warship.
"But Sejanus! If we abandon the field now, the Luna Wolves will be branded cowards in the eyes of the Orks! It would ruin our standing!"
"I want to lead the Justaerin and the entire First Company in a decapitation strike against that greenskin Warboss. As long as the warp-translation coordinates are accurate, we can turn this defeat into victory!"
Ezekyle Abaddon, First Captain and another member of the Mournival, slammed his fist onto the command table, shouting with growing frustration.
As a warrior-commander of the Astartes, the tedium of naval coordination did not sit well with him. To Abaddon, staying in the command center instead of leading his Justaerin brothers to slaughter Orks on the front lines was a fate worse than death.
He proposed his plan directly: teleport the Justaerin onto the Ork flagship and carve a path through the greenskins until they reached the Warboss to take its head.
The other Luna Wolves officers present exchanged noncommittal glances. They were hesitant to openly contradict the First Captain, but fortunately, there was one man present whom even Abaddon could not ignore.
"Enough of this nonsense, Abaddon!"
"If it succeeded, fine. But if it failed, Father would lose you and over a hundred of our most elite and courageous brothers forever!"
"In this chaos, no one can guarantee that a warp-jump will land you precisely on the Ork flagship. What if you're diverted to a common greenskin raider instead? What then?"
"Even if the teleportation is successful, can you truly guarantee you'll reach the Warboss? Can you defeat every Ork aboard that flagship?"
As expected, the moment Abaddon voiced his impulsive plan, Sejanus rebuked him with severe authority.
Under any other circumstances, the defiant Abaddon would have used his fluent Cthonian profanity to silence his detractor. But this was Sejanus—one of the few men in the Legion, aside from the Primarch, whom he truly respected.
Legend had it that Sejanus was the one who had dragged Abaddon out of the tunnels of Cthonia and recruited him into the Sixteenth Legion. In certain cultural terms, Sejanus was Abaddon's "Master."
Bowed by the reprimand of his mentor, the usually arrogant First Captain lowered his head like a child who had made a mistake, listening in silence.
"However, Abaddon, your plan isn't entirely unfeasible. But not now."
"Once the battle lines are stabilized, you shall lead the Justaerin in a boarding action against the Ork flagship. And perhaps then, Lord Horus will lead you personally to take the enemy's head."
"Isn't that right, Father?"
Seeing Abaddon fall silent, Sejanus softened his tone to soothe his brother. He then looked toward Horus Lupercal, who sat upon his throne. Horus had watched the entire exchange, choosing to wait for Sejanus to finish before intervening.
"Indeed. Sejanus is correct; the current state of the battle does not favor a blind boarding action. Such tactics are for delivering the final blow. For now, our task is to gradually tilt this unfavorable engagement back in our favor."
Horus rose from his throne and walked down to join his sons, his voice commanding the room.
"Abaddon, when the time comes, you will be my vanguard. You shall be the first to board the enemy flagship. I am giving the honor of the first strike to you. Do not disappoint me, Ezekyle."
Horus looked at Abaddon with a hint of paternal affection. He favored Abaddon's "first-to-the-charge" temperament.
"By your command, My Lord! I will not fail you!" Abaddon's gloom vanished instantly, replaced by a surge of joy.
"Sejanus, has anyone responded to the distress signal I ordered you to transmit?" Horus asked, turning to his advisor.
"No, My Lord. Thus far, no Imperial force has replied," Sejanus answered with visible disappointment.
"Is that so? Then... we must rely on ourselves—"
Horus's expression clouded with disappointment. He looked out through the massive reinforced viewports of the bridge. The void, normally an endless black, was now lit as bright as day by the explosions of the ongoing engagement. The Imperial and Ork fleets were locked in a stalemate, with no clear victor in sight.
"Sixteenth Legion, this is Perturabo Rurik Kislevsky, Primarch of the Fourth Legion. we have received your distress signal. We have arrived and are about to translate out of the Warp!"
Suddenly, Perturabo's voice boomed through the bridge's vox-systems. Simultaneously, his identification codes flashed across the cogitator engines of the Vengeful Spirit, confirming his identity.
"Excellent! A Primarch and his Legion! We are saved!" The mortal officers on the bridge erupted into cheers.
"Perturabo... the newly returned Fourth Son?"
"Good. It is time I met this newly returned brother of mine."
Horus nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. To him, this new brother represented both an opportunity and a challenge.
"Signal them. Tell them we require his full assistance."