The Dawnlight sailed through the Warp toward its destination, the turbulent tides feeling unexpectedly calm.
If soone possessed a death wish and attempted to look outside, they might just see a void completely isolating them from those maddening illusions.
"..."
The Navigator felt entirely useless.
Voyages through the Warp were never supposed to be like this. Inside the ship, one usually had to constantly monitor the instrunts, keep a close eye on colleagues, and even scrutinize every single steel plate just in case it suddenly sprouted flesh and blood to take a bite out of you.
Outside the ship, one had to watch those bizarre and alien worlds, resist their malicious prying eyes, and communicate promptly with the captain to dodge dangers like drifting Empyrean reefs and Space Hulks.
But now...
Led by the Dawnlight, the Expeditionary Fleet navigated nimbly through the tides of the Warp. Like fish swimming freely through a coral reef, they effortlessly dodged Empyrean reefs and grotesque native Warp organisms. The machine spirits humd in joyous tones, and the Geller fields across the entire fleet operated with perfect stability.
She had been navigating her entire life, yet she had never experienced such a relaxing voyage outside of this current expedition.
The Navigator actually found it sowhat boring. There was genuinely nothing that required her to stay on high alert; she only needed to stare straight ahead like a driver of an orbital transport carriage and deliver regular status reports.
And all of this...
The Navigator could not help but think of the four new masters of the ship.
Originally, she was not a devout follower of the Ecclesiarchy. Navigator Houses knew far better than the vast majority of Imperial citizens exactly what the Emperor truly was. Yet now, she felt compelled to believe at least a little bit, if only to bask in the reflected glory of these Ancient Warriors.
"Rases, how much longer until we reach our destination?"
Romulus stared at the combat reports from various fronts in his hands, continuously calculating different tactical scenarios.
This campaign had practically been taken over by the Imperial Fists and their successor Adeptus Astartes Chapters by default, especially since their opponents were the Iron Warriors.
"About two hours, I think. Let divine it."
Rases subconsciously blurted out a random guess, then, feeling a death stare boring into his back, casually tapped a daemon for answers.
"One hour and twenty-one minutes."
Rases quickly reported.
"Hmm, and then what?"
But Rases had not yet finished his divination. His thoughts still drifted through the Empyrean, beginning to capture information about the planet.
The four of them were invisible to the Warp's gaze, aning any prophecy aid directly at them would be inaccurate. However, divining general information was still perfectly feasible.
In the visions revealed by the prophecy, the mont the ship surfaced, it would be exposed to the firepower of a Craftworld Eldar fleet. The Dawnlight would be imdiately classified as an enemy by the Eldar warships and targeted right away.
Rases proceeded to relay these divination results.
"Craftworld Eldar?"
Romulus looked surprised.
"Wasn't it said that Dark Eldar raiders were attacking the Optus System?"
"They're probably rcenaries. Hiss, why is the makeup of forces on this planet so complicated?"
Rases acted as if he had just seen sothing incredibly bizarre.
"Such as?"
"Black and White Eldar, Chaos Traitors, Lone Lions tearing at each other's throats, and a fancy mask."
Rases listed two specific elents and two vague ones.
"We'll have to see the specifics once we exit the Warp. Prophecy isn't omnipotent, otherwise Carlos would have stuck to us forever."
"Understood. Notify all fleets to prepare for combat."
Romulus waved his large hand, prompting the Astropaths to begin making their psychic calls.
The Transmigrators were essentially the fastest among the old guard to adapt to their current reality.
Unlike Drakus and the others—who looked as if their entire worldview had collapsed when they saw the Black Templars successfully perform a correct divination using the Emperor's Tarot—the four Transmigrators possessed an unexpectedly high tolerance for this sort of mysticism that seed completely incompatible with an era of spacefaring technology.
They perford various ritualistic operations with practiced ease, poring over different editions of the Ecclesiarchy holy texts every single day in hopes of one day debating a certain Primarch under the table.
They would also occasionally pay their respects to things like machine spirits. Strangely enough, those machine spirits seed quite terrified of them, growing even more agitated when worshipped. However, this also led to an unexpectedly high level of enthusiasm for their work, so everyone made a habit of paying their respects whenever they had free ti.
Their main philosophy was simply: if it works, use it.
Alas, being immune to the Warp's influence was just like that. They only reaped the benefits, and everything was perfectly wonderful.
"Romulus, we have arrived."
"Good."
Romulus replied swiftly from atop the command throne.
"Fleet, prepare yourselves. Activate the Warp drives, tear through the veil, and prepare to surface. All weapon crews on standby, load ammunition, and be ready to counterattack at a mont's notice."
As the Warp drives released a colossal surge of energy, the veil between reality and illusion was violently torn apart. The turbulent tides of the Warp rapidly expelled the starships into the Optus System.
Just as expected, Eldar forces and the Chaos ships of the Iron Warriors were locked in a chaotic dogfight on the galactic edge.
Currently, the Eldar ships were at a disadvantage. Although these exceptionally nimble vessels—equipped with solar sails and capable of freely manipulating particles—were blazing fast, they were heavily outnumbered and had been forced into a corner of the system by the Iron Warriors' battlegroup.
Aside from that, a small, detached fleet was desperately fending off an assault by Dark Eldar raiders.
"Prioritize the annihilation of the Xenos."
Quickly assessing the situation, Romulus ordered, "Keep your distance from the traitor fleet. We will flank them from the side."
The Expeditionary Fleet was still in the process of translating back into realspace. Because their numbers were so massive, this sequence would take over ten minutes to complete.
"Fire."
The Tech-Priest Enginseer calculated the firing teletry, transmitting the command through the cogitator arrays to various weapon stations. The macro-cannons began to fire one by one.
Even before the results of the bombardnt could be confird, the machinery began working tirelessly amid the roaring of the machine spirits.
chanicus ships did not rely on the various mortal clans who manned the cannons from birth. Conveyor belts retrieved shells from the munitions bays, and within thirty seconds, the automated loading facilities pushed massive shells—dozens of ters in diater—into the still-cooling electromagnetic acceleration chambers.
However, apart from the lances scoring a few sporadic hits, not a single macro-cannon shell found its mark.
"There's an incredibly skilled Farseer on the opposing side."
Rases looked as if he had entirely expected this.
The Eldar were just like that; prophecy was etched into their very bones. No matter what difficulties they faced, they would simply divine the outco. Psychic power had already perated every single aspect of their lives.
It was precisely for this reason that their absolute certainty in prophecies had reached an almost superstitious degree.
Because their divinations were always accurate under normal circumstances, there was no reason to believe calculations predicting their own destruction would be any different.
"Can you counter them?"
Romulus asked, simultaneously barking orders for the warships to redirect their macro-cannon batteries to target the Iron Warriors instead.
"I'd need an Old One to teach how to do that."
Rases shrugged. He was entirely self-taught, having acquired all his skills through sheer hard work and sweat.
"The enemy is boarding us."
The Navigator's voice echoed through the command network.
These beings were not only capable of fulfilling their navigational duties; when it ca to the practical application of psychic power, they far surpassed ordinary psykers.
As prophetic psykers, they were no less formidable than Eldar Farseers.
"Thanks for the heads-up."
Rases's gaze swiftly projected out into the void of space.
It was a squad of Eldar Branch Warriors, being guided through a psychic teleportation by a Farseer.
Judging solely by their attire, Rases could confirm they were Howling Banshees—Branch Warriors who specialized in shock assault tactics.
Naturally, their target was the Dawnlight, a starship that had abruptly intruded upon the battlefield yet remained heavily shielded in the core formation by its surrounding allies.
"Eldar prophecies really are accurate."
Rases sighed in admiration.
Accompanied by a flash of psychic light from the other side of the void, the Howling Banshees completed their teleportation.
Their heads were evenly spaced across the open floor of the bridge deck, while their bodies had fused completely with the thick steel plating. Beneath those shriek masks—designed to strike endless terror into the hearts of their enemies—all that poured forth was the cold stench of death.
This grueso sight made the Invincible Iron Guards escorting Romulus feel mildly uncomfortable.
Back when the Battle of Calth concluded, as they recovered the remains of countless battle-brothers, they had found many corpses in a similarly horrific state.
Because the turbulent tides of the Warp had interfered with teleportation beacons, many warriors attempting to board had died instantly, permanently entombed within the very bulkheads of the warships.
"That's so improper teleportation form."
Rases, who had subtly tampered with the enemy's teleportation coordinates, chuckled before turning to Romulus.
"Lend Arthur to for a mont."
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