In the silent deep space of Aurelian IV's orbit.
The plasma engines of the Light of Dawn strike cruiser spewed ethereal blue exhaust trails as the colossal vessel slowly broke free from the planetary gravity well, sailing toward the system's fringes.
Before the observation window on the Red Tear's bridge, Azkaellon stood in silence.
The Commander of the Sanguinary Guard had now changed into a brand-new suit of artificer power armor. The ulcerated wound on his left cheek had barely healed under the Apothecary's treatments, leaving behind a hideous patch of synthetic skin.
His gaze tracked the cruiser as it grew further and further away.
"Tribune Titus..." Azkaellon murmured softly.
Behind him, the Red Tear's Navigator reported cautiously, "The target vessel has entered its preparatory warp trajectory. It is estimated to exit this vessel's detection range in thirty seconds."
Silence reigned across the Red Tear's bridge.
Several Blood Angels officers exchanged complex glances.
This mysterious force that had appeared out of nowhere—Imperial Custodes Covert Inquisitor-Tribune Demetrian Titus and his legion.
They had descended at the City of the Holy Anthem's most critical hour, purified three massive Warp threats with the force of a thunderbolt, and then assisted in purging a vast number of Corrupted from the upper hive.
And yet, before the Blood Angels Legion even had the chance to formally express their gratitude, they were already leaving.
They claimed no glory, demanded no reward, and didn't even leave behind a single document for casualty compensation.
They were like a beam of light cast down by the glorious Emperor, illuminating the darkness only to quietly vanish.
"This is exactly the demeanor... the Imperium's true elites should possess."
Azkaellon's voice rang out across the bridge, carrying distinct reverence.
"Fighting for nothing, seeking neither fame nor fortune, existing only to execute the Emperor's will."
He turned around, his gaze sweeping over every officer.
"We, the Blood Angels Legion, owe them a debt. This debt must be recorded in the Legion's annals of honor. When we return to Baal, I will personally suggest to our Primarch-Father that the events of today be inscribed into the Legion's martial history, even though we do not even know the official designation of the Tribune's forces."
A young officer couldn't help but speak up, "Commander, who exactly are..."
"The Emperor's absolute secrecy," Azkaellon cut him off. "That is not something we should pry into. What we must do now is complete the task Tribune Titus left behind: completely purify the City of the Holy Anthem, seal the Warp rift, and await the arrival of reinforcements from the Iron Warriors, Ultramarines, and Iron Hands Legions."
"As for that army..."
Azkaellon looked out the observation window as the very last flicker of the Light of Dawn's engine exhaust vanished into the darkness of deep space.
"They have their mission. And we have ours."
"Furthermore, record the deeds of Tribune Titus in assisting the Blood Angels Legion in combat into the Allied Forces Summary section of the Legion's Martial History Archives. Security Clearance: Maximum Secret."
"The Blood Angels shall forever remember this grace."
--
On the bridge of the Light of Dawn.
Paul watched the blip representing the Red Tear on the holographic starmap slowly drift away and let out a soft breath.
"Activate Super Stealth Module."
The instant the command was issued, an eerie change overtook the cruiser's exterior.
The metallic sheen of the hull faded like water, replaced by the profound, pitch-black hue of deep space.
The plasma flames from the engine thrusters shifted from ethereal blue to a dim, dull red, their brightness dropping to three percent of their original intensity.
All emissions were forcibly suppressed below the threshold of planetary-grade augurs.
Within three minutes, the five-kilometer-long strike cruiser simply vanished into the boundless sea of stars.
"Course correction. Target: the dark side of Aurelian IV. Coordinates: 10086-7, Deep Rift Zone."
The Light of Dawn came about, not sailing toward the system's edge, but rather charging back toward Aurelian IV.
It moved like a ghost, slipping past the planetary orbit, entering the planet from the terminator line on Aurelian IV's dark side, and eventually hovering above a massive geological fissure.
The rift, located near the planet's equator, was a product of ancient tectonic shifts.
It was over forty kilometers wide, its depth unplumbable, looking like a hideous scar on the planet's surface from orbit.
The interior of the rift was filled with eternal darkness, illuminated only by the faint blue glow of radioactive minerals deep within.
"Descend altitude. Enter the rift."
The cruiser slowly sank, like a giant whale diving into a trench.
The rock walls on either side of the rift, illuminated by the ship's searchlights, revealed layers upon layers of sedimentary rock structures, still bearing the fossilized traces of marine life from billions of years ago.
Before becoming a mining world, this planet had also possessed a vibrant past.
The Light of Dawn's descent lasted for seventeen minutes.
When it reached an altitude of eight thousand meters below sea level, the rift suddenly opened up into a massive subterranean cavern.
The cavern was over a hundred kilometers in diameter, its ceiling studded with glowing crystals that cast the entire space into an ethereal blue, mystical realm.
There was no life here, only eternal silence and cold.
"This is the place."
Paul killed the engines, letting the cruiser drift slowly toward the center of the cavern on its own momentum.
"Brothers."
Paul's voice rang out in the regional channel, having now reverted to his own natural cadence.
"You're all going to have to rough it down here for a while."
The channel instantly erupted into chatter.
[Have You Been Loyal Today?]: "Paul, don't even worry about it! We've been fighting non-stop anyway, from the refinery riot, to farming the Greater Daemon in Aru, to hacking birdmen in Holy Anthem... I'm suffering from serious mental fatigue. I'm gonna log off, get a foot massage, and come back a new man!"
[White Scars]: "For real. I feel like throwing up every time I see the color blue-purple now."
Tax Bro yawned. "I'm logging off for now. Being online this long... my real body is about to starve into a mummy. Paul, call me if anything comes up."
The players chatted over each other, the atmosphere relaxed.
This multi-day planetary war, while exhilarating, had been genuinely exhausting for the Fourth Scourge.
It wasn't physical fatigue, but mental exhaustion.
Facing the bizarre abilities of Chaos daemons, enduring the oppressive aura of a Greater Daemon that could fight a Primarch, dealing with life-or-death decisions involving hundreds of thousands of people...
Even gamers felt the pressure.
Paul understood this perfectly.
He chuckled and continued, "Get some good rest during this time. We'll wait for Cogboy, Blood Angel, and the many players in the Kent Hive to officially secure the ruling authority over Aurelian IV from Sanguinius, Guilliman, and Ferrus."
On the hologram, the red hue representing the Crimson Dawn's controlled zones was slowly expanding.
The Kent Hive was completely under their control, the tri-town region was stable, and the Aru Industrial Zone had entered its reconstruction phase after sealing the rift.
The purification of the City of the Holy Anthem was also progressing under the combined efforts of the Blood Angels and the remnant Solar Auxilia.
"Once all the Primarchs withdraw, this planet will truly become the Crimson Dawn's home base."
Paul's voice carried a sense of eager anticipation.
"When that time comes, we can finally take the gloves off and do what we want to do. Using Aurelian IV as our starting point, we'll expand our influence across the entire sub-sector, the sector, and maybe even..."
He paused, voicing the wildly ambitious goal.
"...the entire Ultima Segmentum."
"By then, we will make humanity realize that beyond the rigid dogmas of the Imperial Truth and the depraved madness of Chaos, there is a third path. A path belonging to the Emperor's subjects, belonging to hope, belonging to the dawn."
"The dirge of the Empire's subjects of steel will eventually resound throughout the Imperium of Man."
"It will ultimately force both the High Lords of Terra sitting on high and the chaotic, disorderly Chaos Gods to take notice."
The entire regional channel fell silent for a moment.
"Holy crap, Paul, your ambition is bigger than the High Lords of Terra themselves."
"The Ultima Segmentum? That's Guilliman's turf! Are we really going to try and steal territory from the Five Hundred Worlds?"
"What's there to be afraid of? We have the game shop, we are the Fourth Scourge, and we have Paul, a Champion who can match a Primarch!"
"Honestly, playing a base-building, infrastructure-focused game in the Warhammer universe is way more thrilling than playing a war criminal in Paradox games… After all, in those games you only get to choose multiple-choice options and push blocks around! It's nothing compared to how real this game is."
The players' emotions quickly shifted from shock to pure excitement.
After all, who among them hadn't started as a homeless bum among 5,000 others and scraped their way here?
From stealing ore in the Aru Industrial Zone, to the Purge Day riot, to establishing the Crimson Dawn base, to gene-seed augmentation, to the birth of a Champion, to disguising themselves as Custodes and fighting in a planetary war...
In just a few short months, they had created a miracle on this planet.
So, what was so impossible about expanding that miracle to an entire planet, an entire system, or an entire sector?
The players might all have different motivations—some for the thrill, some for the power, some simply because they loved building stuff.
But in this moment, they were all ignited by the exact same vision.
Forging a new path in this dark, despair-filled Warhammer universe.
What could possibly be cooler than that? Who wouldn't want to become an extraordinary figure whose name would be remembered through the ages?