Spreading their wings like shimmering specters, the Legion warriors darted through the mechanical jungle.
The World Engine was rebooting—energy was being re-injected into various modules, reviving functionality and rendering the internal transformations within its structure increasingly unpredictable.
Iron slid against iron; engine oil flowed like blood through the conduits of hydraulic systems.
Continental-scale iron modules deformed as a single cohesive unit—a process of such staggering complexity that it far outstripped human capacity to control, manageable only by an artificial intelligence with immense computing power.
Nimble as a phantom, Blazkowicz maneuvered through the mechanical geometry, landing with pinpoint accuracy on safe footholds.
Inside the Archon armor, the Void Dragon guided their direction, charting a path forward through the maze of floating iron plates.
For a overlord of the material universe, the deity's mind had long transcended mere "computing power," grasping the very source of cosmic rules. Current artificial intelligences were nothing more than crude imitations of its intellect.
With Blazkowicz leading the way at the head of the formation, the Legion veterans followed closely behind, descending deeper into the steel cage.
According to the Void Dragon's predictions, they needed to descend a full hundred kilometers to pass through the outer armor layers.
"Follow the marked vector," a green route projected onto the visor lenses inside his helmet, outlining a safe path.
The Void Dragon's voice trembled slightly, filled with impatience. It yearned to witness the death of a Warp demigod with its own eyes.
Everyone, stay tight on me, Blazkowicz issued the command silently through the psychic link without uttering a sound.
Synchronizing data through the Archon armor, he relayed the safe route to the boarding party.
SWOOSH! SWOOSH! SWOOSH!
Jump packs erupted with intense blue flames as black lightning shattered the silence of the labyrinth, charging straight toward the vault door at the end of their vision.
Blazkowicz raised his left hand. C'tan fire converged in his palm to form a beam of concentrated, trillion-degree heat, slicing a circular opening through the surface of the iron door.
Nothing in the material realm could withstand the flames of Nyadra'zatha the Ardent; the alloy vault door melted in an instant.
Holding the buzzsaw shield across his chest, Blazkowicz drove power into his legs and launched himself forward like a cannonball, slamming straight through the molten alloy slag.
Molten iron sprayed horizontally as searing sparks showered in all directions.
Magnetic boots locked onto the metal floor with a thunderous impact, gripping firmly and carving two deep trenches into the deck as he slid several dozen meters before coming to a complete halt.
Lowering his shield, he found himself inside the interior of the World Engine.
Looking out, the corridor was entirely deserted, extending in a straight line as far as the eye could see. It measured at least two hundred meters in height and width—spacious enough to accommodate Titans or heavy siege engines.
Viewports lined the hallway, offering a view of the crisscrossing steel hives outside.
"Still over a thousand kilometers to go," the Void Dragon reminded him. They were still far from their target.
Its virtual avatar pointed into the depths of the World Engine, speaking with unmasked contempt: "A flashy, hollow shell."
"Clumsy and empty. Compared to a Necron World Engine, this is several tiers inferior."
"On the whole, it's merely a scaled-up version of an Ork battle moon, stuffed with a few mismatched technologies to stitch together its current form."
Blazkowicz ignored the Void Dragon's commentary. Once the entire Legion force entered the corridor, he pressed forward with long strides.
Internal alarms blared continuously, red warning lights flashing again and again, yet no enemy forces materialized to intercept them.
Just as the Void Dragon had stated, the World Engine was an empty shell; the Rangdan simply lacked the surplus troops to garrison such a colossal war machine.
They made steady progress, pausing only occasionally when met with automated machine sentries and trapped corridors.
Machine sentries were naturally incapable of slowing Blazkowicz and the Legion, while the trapped corridors were neutralized effortlessly by the Void Dragon.
The deity of the material universe accessed the entire database of the World Engine through direct interface links.
"There's a welcoming party waiting for you up ahead," after a long push, the Void Dragon warned once more, its voice making no attempt to hide its disgust.
Blazkowicz raised his shield and notified the Legion veterans: "Prepare for contact."
As the blast door slid open, he took in the layout of the transit hall ahead.
The Void Dragon's disgust stemmed from several hundred slender figures standing in the center of the hall, poised gracefully and prepared for battle.
Aeldari.
They were a motley array of Aeldari whom the Rangdan had enslaved through psychic corruption after razing their Craftworlds.
Banshees, Guardians, Aspect Warriors, along with several staff-wielding Warlocks.
Hovering above the Aeldari line, Shadow Reapers spread their wings, waiting in tight formation.
Flanking the Aeldari were ranks of Rangdan Overlords with weapons loaded—over ten thousand troops layered together, clearly representing every last defensive force deployed to this sector.
Facing each other across a square, coverless hall, the two sides confronted one another in complete silence.
Without a word, Blazkowicz activated his Crucible , lighting its blade and pointing it directly at the Aeldari formation.
"Kill!"
Cruel commands were roared in different tongues and tones.
"Protect," a voice murmured in the Words of Creation as a transparent shield enveloped the Doom Marines—Tarasca bestowing protection upon his brothers.
The Aeldari Warlocks chanted incantations, channeling ancient sorcery to empower their warriors. Knowing full well that the human warriors possessed anti-psyker traits, they wisely refrained from direct psychic attacks.
Yet the scene that followed caught the Rangdan interceptors completely off guard.
"Frost, Flame, Lightning, Storm, Mind Burst!"
Over a hundred Doom Marines recited the Words of Creation in unison, invoking primordial forces to unleash a devastating barrage.
This was deep inside the underground of the World Engine, far removed from the primary human battlefield. The Legion veterans had no need for restraint, unleashing the full power of their incantations against the enemy barring their path.
Strange, haunting cadence filled the air as a single word commanded the fundamental laws of the universe to strike. It was faster than psychic magic, and far more terrifying in power.
Storms howled, lightning crackled, searing flames roared, and frost bit down with fury.
In an instant, thunderous detonations merged into a continuous roar across the transit hall. The Aeldari Warlocks stared in stunned horror before being swallowed by the elemental spells.
Their heads exploded violently as the Mind Bursts severed their psychic incantations; the resulting warp backlash echoed inside their skulls, triggering catastrophic explosions.
Amidst the utter chaos, the black tide of Legion warriors charged straight into their broken ranks.
With shimmering light-blades, the five hundred elite Doom Marines—whose combat prowess stood only a breath away from shield-captains of the Custodes—struck forward.
Their strength far exceeded the ordinary, their wills tempered like steel.
Without furious roars, their light-blades swung in silent, deadly intent, cleaving through every alien in their path.
Dimensional light-blades excelled on flat battlefields.
In a thousandth of a second, the blades projected hundred-meter beams of light, swung effortlessly in the hands of the Doom Marines.
As arc-shaped flashes of light flared and vanished, top halves of countless alien warriors slid slowly from their legs.
The Doom Marines were like tigers pouncing upon a flock of sheep; shadows flickered past, and only after the blow had fallen did the Aeldari and Rangdan realize they were already dead.
Shadow Reapers plummeted from the sky as shoulder-mounted cannons on the Doom Marines unleashed overlapping firepower, vaporizing their chitinous armor in an instant.
The one-sided slaughter lasted a mere twenty seconds, leaving not a single alien standing in the hall.
Blood of every hue blended into a macabre oil painting as the Doom Marines systematically executed sweeps to ensure no survivors remained.
Blazkowicz himself had not needed to strike. Stepping over corpses and pooled blood, he traversed the hall.
Before stepping through the far blast door, he raised his hand toward the security camera in the corner of the hall, giving it a nonchalant wave.
---
In the core command center of the World Engine, the Wise One remained silent, though the frantic ripples across its cerebral cortex betrayed its inner turmoil.
It had witnessed the start and end of the interception battle, unable to accept the reality before its eyes.
The hybrid force it had placed such high hopes in had not even lasted thirty seconds from contact to total annihilation.
After a long silence, the Wise One asked the AI helplessly: "Can the Supreme Overlord's sanctuary be relocated?"
It simply could not conceive of a way to stop this human boarding party. The combat effectiveness they displayed far outstripped the internal defense forces of the World Engine.
Relocating the Overlord's sanctuary to play a game of hide-and-seek with the intruders was the sole viable strategy remaining.
What did it matter how strong the intruders were? They still moved on two legs; even with jump packs, if they could not catch a moving target, they posed no threat.
"It is possible," the AI answered swiftly.
Before the Wise One could issue the order, the synthetic voice dragged it back into the abyss: "However, it lacks operational feasibility."
"If the Overlord's sanctuary is placed in motion, the humans can immediately alter course to attack the World Engine's power core."
"The engine core cannot be relocated. Deprived of power, the sanctuary will cease movement, exposing it to high threat once more."
"At that point, we will also lose track of the humans' exact location."
Listening to the report, the tentacles beneath the Wise One slumped limply—before it lay an insurmountable dead end.
The ever-resourceful Rangdan Overlord let out a long, helpless sigh: "Then let it be."
It ceased paying attention to the movements of the boarding party, a look of grim relief flashing in its crimson eyes.
"All core guard warriors, hear my command," through psychic channels, the Wise One showed none of the detachment it displayed on the surface: "I grant you authorization to board fast transports, depart the World Engine, and flee the Conquest Corridor."
At the final hour, the Wise One chose to let its tribe's warriors escape, preserving a spark of hope for the Rangdan.
Receiving the secret order from the Rangdan Overlord, the designated personnel quietly departed the command core, slipping away toward the docks.
Having arranged everything, the Wise One led its final honor guard out of the command center.
As the curtain fell, it wished to meet its end in plain view.
"Notify the fleet to act at their own discretion. Save yourselves."
Before the heavy doors of the command center sealed shut, the Rangdan Overlord's final command drifted back along the pristine corridor.