Under Dante’s orders, the Blood Angels aboard the Blade of Vengeance mustered at lightning speed, boarding Stormraven Gunships for an immediate planetfall.
Aided by heavy orbital bombardment from the fleet, a massive hole was temporarily torn through the thick Tyranid aerial blockade swarming above the spaceport.
The Stormraven squadrons punched through the breach, diving into the atmosphere, bypassing the Tyranid net, and safely touching down at Helios Spaceport.
First Captain Karlaen was already waiting on the landing pad, flanked by his second-in-command, Alpheus, and the newly cured Rafen, ready to receive his Chapter Master and battle-brothers.
With the hiss of depressurizing hydraulics, the assault ramp of the lead Stormraven lowered.
Chapter Master Dante, wearing the majestic Death Mask of Sanguinius, strode down the ramp, closely followed by Chief Librarian Mephiston and Chief Sanguinary Priest Corbulo.
“Chapter Master.” Karlaen and his men offered a crisp salute.
Dante cut straight to the chase.
“Karlaen, is what you reported true?
That man genuinely cured Rafen?” “Are you absolutely certain this isn’t some warp-spawned deception?” Dante had lived for over a millennium.
He had fought in countless wars across the galaxy and witnessed every kind of “miracle” imaginable.
But genuine, uncorrupted miracles were astronomically rare.
The vast majority of them were nothing but the insidious, vile traps laid by demons and heretics.
“Words are pale and inadequate, my Lord.
No matter what I say, it is better for you to witness it yourself.” Karlaen stepped aside, motioning for Rafen to step forward and present himself to Dante and his inner circle.
“Chapter Master.” Rafen offered a respectful salute.
“You look perfectly lucid.
The aura of madness is completely gone.” The last time Dante had laid eyes on Rafen, the battle-brother was completely lost to the Black Rage.
He couldn’t distinguish the present from the past, fully submerged in ancient hallucinations of the Siege of Terra, utterly convinced he was fighting the traitorous hordes of Horus.
But right now?
He easily recognized Dante and was speaking and saluting with perfect clarity.
“Rafen, how do you feel?” Dante stared intensely into Rafen’s eyes, hunting for the slightest hint of deception or warp-taint.
“I have been entirely pulled from the abyss of those lost visions and the all-consuming fury.
The honored Forefather cured me, allowing me to reclaim my sanity.” Rafen met Dante’s piercing gaze without a shred of fear, his heart filled with absolute loyalty to the God-Emperor and Sanguinius, entirely unafraid of any scrutiny.
“The ancient memories remain within my mind—the echoes of the Great Angel’s fury before his fall.
It is a burden every Blood Angel carries in our blood.” “I will forever feel the wrath born from the Great Angel’s death and the traitors’ unforgivable betrayal.
But I will no longer be lost to it.
That fury is now a weapon I can consciously control.” Finding absolutely zero signs of deceit in Rafen, Dante turned to Mephiston.
“Do you detect any trace of Warp corruption?” Mephiston meticulously swept Rafen’s soul and mind with his formidable psychic powers before shaking his head.
“None.
Brother Rafen’s soul and mind are immaculately pure.
There is not a single trace of taint.” “Which means someone truly has cured the Black Rage,” Corbulo stepped forward, his voice tight with suppressed hope.
“I believe rather than wasting time deliberating here, we should seek out this man directly and demand the answers we seek from the source.” “Corbulo is right,” Dante nodded in agreement.
“Seeking an audience with the Forefather is fine, but I must warn you of certain facts before we go,” Karlaen interjected, wanting to aggressively inoculate Dante against the culture shock to prevent any accidental disrespect.
“The Forefather is over forty thousand years old.
He is a direct Chosen of the God-Emperor, bearing His divine blessing and possessing the ability to summon the Legion of the Damned at will.
But most critically…
he appears to directly wield the divine authority of the Machine God.
He can literally—” Hearing Karlaen’s frantic briefing, Dante, Corbulo, and the rest exchanged looks of profound skepticism.
The claims were downright absurd.
According to Karlaen, this man they called “Forefather” wasn’t even human anymore.
He sounded like an omnipotent creator god.
Even during the glorious, unparalleled heights of the Great Crusade, the God-Emperor Himself still relied on mass-production manufactorums to forge the weapons and armor needed for His legions.
Yet this man could allegedly hand-craft complex machinery out of thin air?
The very concept sounded utterly ridiculous—the stuff of wild mythological fables, not a living, breathing person.
But every single shred of their skepticism was instantly vaporized the exact second they watched Vane literally pull a fully functional Leman Russ Battle Tank out of thin air like a parlor trick.
Wait…
this impossible absurdity is actually real?!
The fundamental laws of physics had officially clocked out.
The natural sciences, already heavily battered by the Warp, had officially flatlined the moment they met this man.
There was zero need to question whether the tank was a genuine Imperial vehicle or a warp-construct.
Because surrounding Vane was a massive gaggle of red-robed tech-priests.
They were violently slamming their heads into the dirt in frantic reverence, desperately trying to appease the tank’s Machine Spirit while screaming praises to the Omnissiah.
If a bunch of Tech-Priests were throwing an impromptu religious festival around it, there was absolutely zero chance it was a fake.
If there was even a microscopic flaw in the machinery, those tech-priests would have instantly used their cybernetic augments to vaporize the fraud on the spot.
Everyone in the Imperium knew the Cult Mechanicus were the pettiest, most violently vindictive faction in the galaxy.
Anyone stupid enough to play them for fools had better be prepared for their entire bloodline to be exterminated and their ancestors’ graves aggressively “excavated.” After sending a messenger to request an audience and receiving approval, Karlaen finally led Dante and Mephiston to stand before Vane.
“Wearing the Mask of Sanguinius…
I take it you must be the Ninth Legion’s little Dante.” Vane lounged comfortably on his anti-grav mechanical throne, sipping a sweet and sour iced drink while casually sizing Dante and his entourage up.
Dante: “…” I’ve lived for over a millennium, and someone just called me “Little Dante”?!
This is the most surreal experience of my entire life!
Karlaen quickly stepped forward to formally introduce the Chapter Master and his officers.
“Yes, honored Forefather.
This is our Chapter Master, Dante.
This is our Chief Librarian, Mephiston, and our Chief Sanguinary Priest, Corbulo.
They have come to seek your guidance regarding the cure for the Black Rage.” Vane nodded.
“I’m aware.
Once I’ve completely wiped out the Leviathan Fleet, I’ll build you guys a machine that cures the Black Rage.” “If you have any Death Company Marines currently out of control, you can bring them to me for immediate treatment.
As for the rest of your questions?
I won’t bother answering them.” “Your current plane of existence is far too low to comprehend the power I wield.
Even if I explained it, it would be utterly meaningless to you.” I cure the Black Rage by abusing broken Minecraft mechanics and mod items.
You guys cannot replicate it, so explaining it is a complete waste of time.
“Wipe out the Leviathan Fleet?” Vane’s casual phrasing instantly caught Dante’s full attention.
“My Lord, where exactly do you plan to confront this Tyranid armada?” “Right here in the Cryptus System, obviously,” Vane replied as if it were the most natural thing in the universe.
“Where else would I do it?” “The military infrastructure of the Cryptus System has entirely collapsed,” Dante pointed out as diplomatically as possible.
“Defeating a Hive Fleet requires an astronomically massive armada.
Even wielding the miraculous power of the Machine God, it is strategically impossible for a single man to combat an entire Tyranid swarm.” Vane sighed dramatically, shaking his head.
“It’s just a single, insignificant tendril of a Hive Fleet, and yet you’re all quaking in your boots.” “Just sit tight and be patient.
I’ll show you exactly what the true power of humanity’s Golden Age of Technology looks like.” “For now, go assist General Dhrost in fortifying the spaceport’s defenses.
We need to delay the Tyranids’ consumption of the planet for as long as possible.” — After concluding their audience with Vane, Dante led Mephiston and Corbulo toward the spaceport’s strategic command center to link up with General Dhrost and coordinate their defense plan.
“Is there something wrong with him?” Dante asked Mephiston quietly as they walked.
Mephiston was arguably one of the most powerful psykers in the entire Imperium; he could pierce through almost any Warp deception.
“I cannot read him.
His entire being is shrouded in an impenetrable fog.
His past, his future…
it’s completely obscured.
I can see absolutely nothing,” Mephiston shook his head.
“Nothing?” Dante hadn’t expected that answer.
He turned to his Sanguinary Priest.
“Corbulo, your thoughts?” Corbulo considered the question carefully.
“Regardless of his origins, his actions thus far prove he is our ally.” “Furthermore, his power is undeniably immense.
It is entirely possible he might actually possess the means to destroy the Leviathan Fleet, which would spare Baal from the invasion.” “We can observe him closely during the defense.
We will send a few of our lost brothers to him for treatment.
If we discover any anomalies or taint, we simply will not use the machine he promised to build us.” “That is our best course of action for now,” Dante nodded, accepting Corbulo’s pragmatic assessment.
At that exact moment, a high-priority encrypted vox-ping hit Dante’s personal databank.
Opening it, he saw it was a direct transmission from the Blade of Vengeance holding high orbit.
[URGENT: An unidentified Necron Fleet is currently breaking orbit and entering the Phodia system.] —
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