My Life as A Death Guard
Chapter 388: Battle in the Sea of Steel
Since the decision to fight had been made, there was no need to consider anything else.
Thus, Hades once again confirmed the distress signals that had been sent out. The good news was that the Iron Hands' homeworld, Medusa, lay to the northwest of the Eye of Terror, and not far from Medusa was the Dark Angels' homeworld, Caliban.
The bad news was that the fleet he was with was positioned on the southeastern edge of the Eye of Terror, separated from Medusa and Caliban by the entire breadth of the Eye itself.
At Hades' strong urging, Ferrus split off a small detachment to head for those two worlds to request reinforcements.
A contingency was necessary and indispensable—of that, Hades was absolutely certain.
As for whether that contingency could arrive in time… Hades thought that this was a matter of doing everything humanly possible and then leaving the rest to fate, even though that fate was most likely the warp and its chaos.
Hades paused, recalling the information the Emperor had entrusted to him above Prospero's orbit.
If the Word Bearers and the Iron Warriors still broadly conformed to the projected iteration patterns, then the total number of ships between the two Legions should be just under twice that of the Iron Hands. Adding in the vessels of the Silent Sisterhood would bring the ratio to around 1.6 to one.
Among them, the Iron Warriors' ships favored heavy armor; the price of their formidable defenses was reduced maneuverability. As for the Word Bearers, they had not yet received additional ships from the Warmaster, so their fleet numbers were comparatively low.
Hades reflected quietly, considering the intelligence from Sor—no, they did not need to face the enemy's full strength, at least not in the early stages.
The Iron Hands were not without their advantages either. Nearly every Iron Hands vessel had been crammed with structures resembling factories or laboratories, often granting them firepower beyond what their class would normally possess. Influenced by the preferences of the Lord of Medusa, the Iron Hands' fleet composition leaned heavily toward battleships and medium-to-large armored cruisers.
The Silent Sisterhood's ships, by contrast, consisted mainly of battleships and medium or light cruisers. They were usually assigned special missions, and as a force that often served in support of other Legions, the Sisters were keenly aware of their role. As such, every ship had been modified in its engines and stealth systems, and fitted with anti-psyker defensive fields.
Hades' ships were better suited for sudden strikes, or, to put it another way, ambushes.
Staring at the augur display where the Word Bearers were guiding them from afar, Hades' left eye flickered red as torrents of data streamed in. The fleets of the Silent Sisterhood and the Iron Hands shifted their formations, quickly consolidating into a wedge.
As before, the Iron Hands' fleet remained in the open. To cover the Silent Sisterhood ships dispersed in the darkness, Hades deliberately ordered the Iron Hands to activate signal emissions and light-source interference.
"They're here," Ferrus said softly.
It was like stepping into a deep forest: branches of twisted steel thrust densely into view, and distant stars cast blurred light and shadow across the heavy, dark-gray hulls. Across the vast void, Hades could clearly see the silver-white symmetrical insignia.
They belonged to the Iron Warriors.
The masters of this star region had arrived. The small Word Bearers squad that had been leading the Iron Hands immediately dipped their ships downward, restlessly waiting for the Iron Hands' attention to shift.
"No need to bother with them," Hades said abruptly.
Ferrus fixed his gaze on the augur display and nodded, continuing to direct the fleet forward. The Word Bearers squad that had finally been spared by the Primarch, after a brief and courteous notification to the Lord of Medusa, immediately pushed their engines to full and decided to leave the area.
Hades murmured a few words under his breath and shook his head. Word Bearer Sor was still in their hands, after all, the decisiveness of that squad's retreat was striking.
That was a good thing.
So Hades thought, while keeping his nerves taut, waiting for the Iron Warriors' ships to fully enter the field. The fleet advanced cautiously, and the outermost flank vessels had already sent back hazy maps of the defensive arrays on the distant planet.
Step by step, they moved into Iron Warriors territory. These massive dark-gray behemoths surged in from all directions—amid brilliant nebulae, through long belts of debris, from the shadows cast by planets' far sides—always maintaining a wary distance from the Iron Hands.
Like a polite distance, and also like… Hades blinked, a pack of wolves trailing their prey from afar.
"They've sent a brief notice requesting a meeting," Ferrus spoke.
"I asked them for an accurate star chart of the Iron Hands' sector, and was brushed off."
Hades' voice followed.
"They want us to go deeper, deeper in means a thicker encirclement, a harder withdrawal, and if the Eye of Terror opens, the impact on us will be stronger."
"But they also don't want us to go too deep."
His voice paused for a moment.
"The deeper we go, the more dangerous it becomes for them as well. They don't know when we might accelerate and punch straight into their precious obelisk corridors."
"This is a game," Hades said, his eyes locked on the augur display. Red dots flickered across it, each one representing an Iron Warriors vessel.
"It depends on how greedy Perturabo wants to be."
Ferrus frowned.
"They know why we're here, and we know why they're here."
"Yes," Hades replied. "A delicate balance. If Perturabo didn't know our purpose, he'd try to draw you in instead of hovering at the very edge of the fleet's maximum strike range; from the very beginning, the Iron Hands have been marked as a target."
Hades fell silent. What he didn't know was whether Perturabo was aware that the Silent Sisterhood was here as well. He was inclined to think Perturabo did know—if he had truly been dragged down by Chaos, then he would certainly know that he himself was present.
But that wasn't the greatest problem. The real issue was that his group still didn't know how far the Eye of Terror had expanded, nor when it would erupt.
That was the most difficult question of all. For Hades, the solution was obvious: reach the anchor point as quickly as possible.
He could command the fleet to lance forward like a cavalry charge, stabbing straight into the enemy formation and trying to disrupt the very core at top speed. But if the first strike failed, they would face encirclement with no path of retreat.
At the same time, the enemy did not know the Iron Hands' intentions either. To Perturabo, it likely seemed that the Iron Hands still had two options: sabotage the extended supply lines, or launch a sudden thrust toward the anchor point—even though both sides knew perfectly well that the first option was doomed to fail.
Yet Perturabo could not be certain whether Hades himself understood that.
Hades' fingers tapped lightly against the command table. The data map given to him by Sor glowed with a soft blue light. The Eye of Terror, rotating slowly like a watery vortex, stared back at him. A sudden fissure tore into the off-white eyeball from the southeast, and at the deepest point of that fissure, Cadia floated silently—the Cadian Gate, the most stable route into the Eye of Terror.
And now, their fleet was advancing along that very fissure.
Hades pondered, measuring every planet along the fleet's current route with a scrutinizing gaze. The extent of Iron Warriors infrastructure clearly marked for him which worlds might host Blackstone Pylon.
The good news was that, in order to garrison the planets that possessed Blackstone Pylon, the Iron Warriors had been stretched into a long defensive line. Although key sectors were heavily guarded, this still diluted their overall strength.
At last, Hades extended a hand and tapped a particular region of space: the Belis Corona Sector. Lying on the unavoidable route toward Cadia, it was the final gate, and also a junction linking several regions that might contain Blackstone Pylon. Here, the fleets of the Word Bearers and the Iron Warriors interlocked like bared fangs.
"Disperse…" Hades murmured softly. His voice carried to Ferrus.
The Lord of Medusa paused for a moment.
"I don't think dispersing is a good idea when the enemy has more ships than we do," Ferrus said.
"Actively dispersing means being cut off and then trapped in an encirclement."
Hades blinked.
"Then what if their encirclement isn't airtight?"
Ferrus slowly raised his head.
"What do you mean?"
"Our opponent—Perturabo—has very little time as well," Hades said. His gaze shifted, and Ferrus saw the Lord of the Underworld's eyes moving across the lights that represented the Word Bearers' Legion.
It seemed the Word Bearers were far from a Pylon.
But… time was also running out for Hades.
Hades spoke abruptly.
"Let's arrange the fleet now. It would be best if the two of us aren't on the same ship."
. . .
Argel Tal was holding that staff, his eyes closed in contemplation.
Lorgar had left them… He had been reassigned, ordered to garrison Cadia, while the Word Bearers' fleet was commanded to distance itself from their Primarch. At least a third of the Legion remained behind with Lorgar, while the rest stayed aboard the fleet.
By Lorgar's own admission, the Word Bearers' fleet was temporarily placed under Perturabo's command, while he himself needed to focus on studying new doctrines on Cadia.
Although Perturabo's orders were usually brief, direct statements, that did not mean the Word Bearers could execute them well. Lorgar himself was absent, and much of the original leadership had been exiled. The newly appointed leadership, meanwhile, had all chosen to follow Lorgar to Cadia.
As a result, the Word Bearers were in a state that could only be described as chaos. Most captains chose to protect themselves, while the temporarily promoted commanders were a complete mess.
Including the Word Bearers' flagship, Fidelitas Lex, they were sent to more peripheral sectors, as if deliberately cut off from their Primarch. If previously the warriors could at least suppress their voices under Primarch Lorgar's guidance, then these sudden reassignment orders now felt far more like a conspiracy with ulterior motives.
The chaplains had once maintained the Legion's morale, but because the Primarch kept frequently revising doctrine and replacing chaplains, the newly appointed ones could not even persuade most of their battle-brothers.
Though things still appeared intact on the surface, internally the Word Bearers were essentially in a state of semi-paralysis.
Their assigned tasks were not many. Perturabo's orders to the Word Bearers were simply to hold the mid-outer sectors and establish defensive systems in key star systems.
Argel Tal let out a quiet sigh. From that day onward, he had quickly left Fidelitas Lex, hitching rides on the ships of the exiled until he reached the Belis Corona Sector. Relying on his former status as a Primarch's bodyguard and his connection to Lorgar's staff, Argel Tal had contacted many Word Bearers stationed there, some of whom strongly supported him.
But just as he was preparing to leave further, Perturabo's orders arrived.
Three hours ago, the Word Bearers received emergency deployment notices. Fleets scattered across various sectors began to assemble and consolidate. Engines roared as the crimson-and-gold vessels rearranged themselves into a fortress, a defensive line. At the very center of it all was the massive ship Fidelitas Lex, though every Word Bearer knew that Lorgar was not currently aboard their Gloriana-class Battleship.
They were positioned on the flank, above even more critical planets, where Iron Warriors ships floated silently.
Among the ships urgently recalled was, naturally, the 34th Grand Company—the unit Argel Tal had been staying with and originally intended to leave. The 34th Grand Company's former captain, Sor, had been reassigned, and after his departure, the remaining company had also been pulled away from Cadia.
Argel Tal leaned against the bulkhead, feeling the faint tremor of the ship. Starlight spilled in through the observation window. He opened his eyes, narrowing them as he stared ahead.
A flash of mechanical cold light passed before him. He saw Iron Hands vessels, their plasma engines at the rear burning with flickering azure flames.
Argel Tal frowned.
The next instant, a piercing shriek exploded across his armor's vox channel—
Electronic attack!
Argel Tal ripped off his helmet, his pupils suddenly constricting, reflecting the distant ships advancing at full speed. Brilliant bright-yellow light flared from the foremost ranks of their gun batteries.
The void swallowed all roars of rage and cries of grief. The clamor of the electronic tidal wave had yet to fade when, without the slightest hesitation, two steel behemoths bared their fangs at one another at the same time. Torpedoes filled the darkness, cutting through the endless black, their blazing tails dragging brilliant flames that painted the void as they surged toward the opposing fleets.
Heavy, colossal iron warhorses trampled light into existence across the void. The Iron Warriors advanced in rigid formation straight toward their enemy, while the Iron Hands' Gloriana-class Battleship—Fist of Iron—began to yaw slowly, exposing her port broadside to the Iron Warriors.
The broadside weapon arrays fixed their gaze upon the enemy, restless heat surging within the dark gun barrels.
Not yet.
The distance between the two forces was still far too great, this was not the time to waste ammunition.
The first spark blossomed on the outer edge of the Iron Warriors' fleet: the first torpedo, detonated by the gun batteries of Cobra-class destroyers screening a capital ship.
In the next instant, countless points of light ignited along the peripheries of both forces. A silent rain of explosions bloomed. Cruiser prows emerged from the luminous curtain, their rams plowing straight through the blasts. Small escort ships clustered around them like schools of sardines, the shockwaves from the detonations making their keels shudder.
The smoke slowly settled. Battleships, immense and implacable, continued their advance amid the swarm of smaller vessels surrounding them.
That initial torpedo barrage was nothing more than a substitute for a war cry on both sides.
The Iron Hands' iron steeds shifted their stride, charging straight into the gaps between the Iron Warriors and Word Bearers fleets.
As if anticipating the maneuver, the Iron Warriors' second salvo thundered forth—torpedoes far denser than before streaked toward the Iron Hands, the barrage packed tight with numerous specialized munitions.
At the same time, the entire Iron Warriors fleet surged forward to meet them. The ocean of electromagnetic signals boiled, roaring commands into the void.
The Word Bearers fleet—momentarily stunned by the first clash between the two forces—seemed to awaken from a dream. Formations shifted, gun batteries rotated, and overseers bellowed orders as crews rushed to load ammunition.
"Stand by. The second wave of torpedoes is about to arrive."
Hades' voice rang out like that of an inorganic machine lifeform, static crackling across the channel. His expression was emotionless as he stared at the augur display, his left eye glowing red.
"Zero-zero-three, zero-zero-two—"
He counted down, warning every captain to prepare for contact. Unlike the initial probing attack, this second torpedo barrage carried an unmistakable purpose: to slow the Iron Hands' advance. The data gathered from the first exchange was more than enough for the Iron Warriors to calculate a more optimal attack trajectory.
But Perturabo was not the only one who understood calculation.
Hades and Ferrus were masters of it as well. Data within the flagship roared like a mountain flood. Every movement on the macroscopic battlefield was marked, past and future alike. Sudden flares erupted as cascades of countless lights poured down from iron-gray bastions, illuminating the Iron Hands' sigils amid the explosions.
Detonations overlapped again and again. Torpedo swarms scattered, then re-formed. The capital ships pressed forward fearlessly, punching straight through the explosive waves. Within the brilliant, hazy light-fog, a strange flash of black-scaled shapes flickered—then vanished once more into the iron-gray reefs of steel.
By the time the Iron Hands emerged almost unscathed from the Iron Warriors' second barrage, the Word Bearers' gun muzzles were only just beginning to flash.
Hades did not blink. The countless flares of light sank into his pitch-black, empty pupils as if swallowed by a black hole. It seemed his judgment had been correct.
The Iron Warriors' Gloriana-class Battleship was not here.
Perturabo had dispatched only half of his fleet, while two-thirds of the Word Bearers' fleet was present, including their own Gloriana-class Battleship, Fidelitas Lex.
"Plan A."
Hades spoke as he opened the communication channel. Word Bearer Sor stood beside him, looking at Hades with hesitation.
At this very moment, the Iron Hands' ships were about to enter close engagement range with the Word Bearers' fleet, and on the other side, the Iron Warriors' fleet was rapidly closing in as well.
The electromagnetic spectrum suddenly jolted. For Hades, once he already had a Word Bearer in hand, forcibly intruding into the Word Bearers' channels was not particularly difficult.
Black mist unfurled. From beneath the Iron Halo, a pitch-black cloak fell, while pale green arcs of electricity coiled around Hades' throat.
"I—Head of the Silent Sisterhood, the Lord of the Underworld, the Anathema, the Silent One—address the Seventeenth Legion, the Word Bearers."
The emotionless voice rang out. At the same time, amid cascading curtains of light, black scythes emerged. Previously hidden beneath layers of heavy steel, they now revealed their lethal edges.
"In the name of the God-Emperor and the Lord of the Underworld, Perturabo has deceived and betrayed the Imperium and conspired to frame your Primarch, Lorgar. By the God-Emperor's command, I have come here to reap the souls of traitors and to redeem the fate of the innocent."
"Word Bearers, do not resist. Do not resist. Do not resist."
"Defiance carries the sentence of death."
The icy proclamation echoed through every Word Bearer channel. In the next instant, brilliant azure plasma flames erupted from the sterns of every black vessel. Helms swung, titans of steel turned to port, and black monstrosities surged from the starboard flank—
Charging straight into the heart of the Word Bearers' formation, toward Fidelitas Lex.
At the same time, the Iron Hands—suddenly altering course and driving straight at the Iron Warriors—smashed the two steel giants together.
Cobra-class destroyers and Sword-class frigates locked into vicious dogfights. Cruisers exchanged fire. Strike craft launched from carrier bays, screaming toward the enemy. Iron Hands battleships exploited their slight edge in maneuverability to unleash macrocannon broadsides at their foes. After a dazzling, warped cascade of light, the first wail of a void shield overload rang out.
The captain who had successfully overloaded an enemy's void shields seized the opening at once. Lances, long prepared, flared to life. A straight beam of coherent light pierced the junction of the ship's hull frame. On the scale of the void, the smoke looked thin and pale as it vented outward along with the ship's internal atmosphere—air, the lifeblood of the vessel, spraying violently into space.
Shattered construction materials and unlucky crewmen were hurled into the freezing void by the chaotic airflow, solidifying into the first casualties.
Raging flames erupted from the ship's aft section. Seventeen seconds later, an unstable detonation in the power systems tore the battleship apart completely.
Beside the corpse of the Magnificence of Steel, countless similar scenes replayed themselves. Wreckage of iron against iron drifted through the void, indistinguishable from one another.
The Iron Warriors' fleet lacked its Gloriana-class Battleship, and their long defensive line had dispersed their strength. Hades had no hesitation in believing that Ferrus, commanding the Iron Hands, would prevail.
Perturabo's original plan had been to use the Word Bearers to pin them down, but he had overestimated the Word Bearers, and he had not anticipated that his opponent would choose to deal with them using only the Silent Sisterhood.
A foolish mistake, Hades thought. The Word Bearers' reaction was even slower than he had expected. It seemed Lorgar's condition was not very good after all.
The Silent Sisterhood fleet stabbed smoothly into the Word Bearers' formation, and a strange tableau unfolded. Neither side attacked the other. Gun batteries tracked movement paths continuously, yet an unbroken, glacial silence persisted.
Hades watched the status of every Word Bearer ship with caution. His voice echoed across the channel once more:
"Do not resist."
Far away, in the subterranean trenches of Cadia, Perturabo let out a furious roar and angrily opened a communication channel—
"Uriah Olathaire!"
A command barked without hesitation.
"Order the Word Bearers to attack!"
Beside the Lord of Iron, Vashtorr hunched forward and hissed,
+You should give that poor daemon a little more time. It is being violently rejected by the Primarch's body.+
"I gave it enough time! I gave it enough time for any Iron Warrior to have deployed everything perfectly!"
The furnace-fire in Vashtorr's eye sockets flared.
+You should not judge the Word Bearers by the efficiency and methods of your own Legion.+
Perturabo sneered coldly and returned his attention to the countless battlefields—the collisions of ship against ship, the research and activation beneath the Blackstone Pylon.
"It doesn't matter. All I need is to delay them for a short while."
The Lord of Iron spoke icily as he "watched" the steady progress of the final Blackstone Pylon' polarity-reversal procedures.
"They are already too late."
<+>
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