Badab Sector, Palace of Thorns.
On the holographic communication console, Malakim Phoros's projection was somewhat distorted, but his palpable sense of relief came through clearly.
"Greetings, Brother Huron," Phoros's voice was steady and powerful. "The battle here has concluded, and I can responsibly report that the situation is far better than we anticipated. Following a thorough sweep and engagement, we found no signs of Genestealer presence. This planet is clean."
Lufgt Huron, seated upon his throne, raised an eyebrow slightly and leaned forward. "Oh? No trace of the bugs? Then what about those damned Drukhari on the planet?"
"They suffered a devastating blow." Phoros paused, a hint of peculiar fortune in his tone. "Furthermore, I have reason to believe that for a long time to come, the Drukhari within the Maelstrom zone will not dare set foot in this star system again."
"Detail it," Huron said, his interest piqued.
Phoros then recounted the horrific scene that had unfolded at the heart of the battlefield: from the ghost-like, reckless, and frantic assault launched by the Drukhari, to the overstretched spatial fabric that unexpectedly tore open a warp rift, and finally to the Keeper of Secrets that descended alongside profanely shrieking cries.
He described the Greater Daemon's eerie and terrifying form, and how it swept through the Drukhari like an elegant yet cruel hurricane, slaughtering them completely as if enjoying a grand buffet.
Finally, he mentioned how the allied forces of the Lamenters and the Helldivers seized the fleeting tactical window, directing the orbiting warships to execute a precision bombardment that reduced the Greater Daemon and the remaining xenos to a vitrified crater on the planetary surface.
Hearing the report, Huron froze for a moment as if digesting the bizarre tale, before suddenly slamming his hand onto the armrest. He let out a loud, hearty laugh that echoed through the vast throne room.
"Hahaha! Excellent! Talk about evil meeting evil!"
Glints of sharp light danced in Huron's eyes. As the Tyrant of Badab and Watchman of the Maelstrom, he knew the habits of the Drukhari all too well.
"Those xenos are most terrified of Slaanesh. Now that a massive number of their kin have died here, and with the psychic echoes and warp stench of a dying Keeper of Secrets lingering, this place is practically the most terrifying forbidden zone for them. Brother Phoros, you've solved a massive headache for the Maelstrom this time!"
However, after the laughter subsided, Huron's relaxed brow gradually furrowed again. His eyes shifted, betraying a trace of solemnity.
"Yet—for a Keeper of Secrets to manifest its physical form so easily on the fringes of the Maelstrom—" Huron tapped his fingers against the armrest, lost in thought. "This is no good omen. The warp barriers are thinning, which means the activities of the Archenemy in the Maelstrom sector are intensifying."
Phoros nodded on the other end of the transmission. "Yes, that is precisely my concern as well. The Greater Daemon appeared far too suddenly. Though it was eliminated, this could be a signal indicating that the Chaos forces are attempting to launch a counteroffensive."
"Hmph, a pack of rats hiding their heads and showing their tails," Huron scoffed, his body radiating the domineering aura and killing intent of an Astartes Chapter Master. "I was just worrying about not finding an opportunity to thoroughly overhaul the defenses of the Maelstrom. If they do not come, so be it, but if they dare show up, it will be the perfect chance for me to excise this cancer once and for all!"
Though he spoke forcefully, Huron was calculating in his mind: from which direction would these detestable Chaos traitors launch their assault? A large-scale crusade, or small-scale infiltration like this one?
At this moment, Phoros seemed to recall something and brought up another matter on his own initiative.
"Brother Huron, regarding this operation, I must make special mention of a mortal auxiliary regiment—the Helldivers."
"Oh? The mortal troops of the Helldivers?"
"Yes." Phoros's tone was full of admiration. "In this campaign, they displayed incredible courage and tactical proficiency. Not only did they assist us in evacuating civilians, but they also held their ground at critical moments. According to their reports, they had even independently repelled a vanguard invasion by the Drukhari prior to this."
"Without their assistance and intelligence, the Lamenters would likely have paid a tragic price," Phoros said sincerely.
Hearing this, a flash of insight struck Huron's mind.
He finally remembered that not long ago, the mortal troops among the Helldivers had audaciously volunteered, asking to share the defensive burdens of the Maelstrom region by taking the initiative to deal with the troublesome Orks and Eldar pirates.
At the time, he had only given them some equipment and a few ships with the mindset of "not discouraging an ally," never expecting them to achieve any effective results.
"Someone come," Huron suddenly switched off his microphone, commanding the attendant beside him. "Pull up the combat reports around the Maelstrom from recent months. Focus on the activity frequency of the Orks and Eldar pirates."
A few minutes later, the attendant presented a data-slate.
Looking at the data displayed, Huron's pupils contracted slightly. The data indicated that the frequency of Ork and Eldar attacks in several frequently raided star systems on the edge of the Maelstrom had plummeted drastically, bordering on a dead silence.
"Could it be—" Huron looked at the data-slate, then at Phoros on the screen, a sense of unbelievable absurdity rising in his heart. "Is the recent 'good behavior' of these xenos truly the work of this bunch of mortals?"
If true, then the value of these mortal Helldivers needed to be re-evaluated.
Huron switched his microphone back on, his expression softening further, even carrying a touch of warmth toward his ally.
"Brother Phoros, it seems that despite how much importance I placed on them, I still underestimated the potential of these mortals. Since the threat on your end has been neutralized, return immediately."
Huron stood up, his cape billowing without any wind, displaying the majesty of the Maelstrom's master.
"Since someone is sharing the burden of the xenos problem for us, it's time we free up our hands to do real business. Return quickly; we need to convene a Chapter Master council. The brothers of the other Chapters and I need your wisdom. We must properly deliberate on how to serve a grand feast to those restless Chaos filth!"
"With pleasure." Phoros gladly accepted the command, performing an Aquila salute. "The Lamenters are returning immediately."
The communication cut out. Huron looked at the eerie purple glow of the Maelstrom on the star map, a cold smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"No matter who is stirring the waters behind the scenes—this sector is, ultimately, mine to rule."