Logan Grimnar signaled for Bjorn Sharpblade to lead the way, beginning a thorough inspection of the vessel.
Though he believed Bjorn's account in his heart of hearts, the Great Wolf remained cautious; he needed to see the truth with his own eyes. After all, the Ultramarines would never willingly abandon their Chapter flagship, and Logan found it impossible to believe that Bjorn could have forcibly wrested such a prize from the sons of Guilliman.
A mere hundred men seizing the Macragge's Honour from the Ultramarines? That was more than a jest; it was a myth.
However, it was not long before a smile began to spread across Logan's weathered, scar-seamed face, a smile he could no longer suppress. As they passed through the armories, Logan's lips curled upward at the sight of rows of master-crafted bolters and chainswords, each bearing the unmistakable artistry of Macragge.
In the next chamber, seeing the meticulously arranged ranks of Artificer Power Armor, his grin widened, teeth bared in a feral glint. But when several Dreadnought chassis appeared, Logan's smile vanished instantly. He turned a sharp gaze toward Bjorn.
"These Dreadnoughts?"
Bjorn shrugged with feigned nonchalance, acting as if the matter were of little consequence.
"Great Wolf, the sarcophagi are empty, unused! If you have need of them, they are yours."
The smile returned to Logan's face with renewed vigor, and he delivered a swift kick to Bjorn's backside.
"You young pup."
While being interred in a Dreadnought was a supreme honor, it was seldom a fate one hurried toward. Logan had no desire to enter the iron sarcophagus himself just yet. However, seeing an Ironclad Dreadnought among the collection, Logan felt a sudden surge of sentiment. It reminded him of the ancient Dreadnought brother dwelling within the depths of the Fang, from whom even he had once sought counsel.
Bjorn interrupted Logan's momentary reverie before the Ironclad, leading him instead to the Gene-seed vault.
Confronted by the sheer volume of the Gene-seed tithe, Logan was truly shaken for the first time. Never in his long life had he witnessed such a vast reserve of genetic legacy.
"Has this Gene-seed been screened? What is the count?"
Bjorn understood the gravity behind the Great Wolf's question.
"The Apothecaries have completed their initial rites of inspection. Four thousand, three hundred and seventy-two progenoid glands in total. All are of the highest purity, with no trace of Warp-taint. How those Iron Men conjured them from nothing remains a mystery."
A rare touch of envy touched Logan's heart.
"Four thousand, three hundred and seventy-two... that is a staggering fortune for any Chapter."
Leaving the vault, Bjorn led Logan directly to the Macragge's Honour's reliquary.
"Great Wolf, it is difficult to reconcile... but what of these relics belonging to the Ultramarines?"
Logan read the scriptural inscriptions before each artifact, then took a long, deep breath.
"Seal this chamber. The Gene-seed vault as well. In time, I shall personally command this vessel to Macragge and return these treasures to Marneus Calgar."
Bjorn nodded, then paused, a look of sudden realization crossing his face.
"Great Wolf... you mean to say you will be taking the ship?"
Logan offered a cryptic smile.
"I have my own designs."
Though Bjorn had never truly expected Logan to hand him the keys to such a sovereign vessel, a small flicker of hope had remained. Now, it was extinguished.
Logan sensed Bjorn's thoughts; a ship of this magnitude would be hard for anyone to relinquish. He clapped a hand on Bjorn's shoulder, his expression softening into a grin.
"In the days to come, you and several other Wolf Lords will be permanently stationed aboard this craft. It is a large ship, Bjorn, colossal even. There is more than enough room for all of you."
As Logan and Bjorn exited the reliquary, Gunnar and Berek were already waiting.
"Your first task is to organize the labor," Logan commanded. "Every Ultramarines sigil and every lick of blue paint is to be replaced with our own livery. Once the work is done, we set sail for Ultramar. We have an old friend to visit."
Then, as if struck by a sudden, joyous thought, Logan laughed heartily as he made his way back toward the Fang.
…
While the Space Wolves busied themselves with their feverish preparations, Axion was finally bringing his plans within the Galactic Core to a conclusion.
Before him, four mineral-rich worlds were being processed through the colossal frames of Planetary Refinery. As the planets were filtered into desolate, earthen husks, the fleet finally completed its terminal resource extraction.
What had once been a fleet of fewer than a hundred vessels had swelled to five hundred. Among them were fifty transports laden with ground forces and thirty industrial tenders. The flagship contingent, including the Pectaro, had been expanded to ten command vessels.
Within every ship, Axion had installed a redundant shell for himself, maintaining real-time data synchronization via quantum-conduit. The remainder of the fleet was composed of Strike Cruisers and Vanguard Cruisers in a two-to-one ratio.
Today, Axion's resource gathering reached its zenith.
The four continent-sized Planetary Refinery, carrying mountains of refined mineral wealth, converged at the heart of the fleet. The Iron Man vessels moved in complex, interlocking patterns, surrounding the refineries until they formed a massive, hollow sphere.
Swarms of silver nanites began to pour from every ship, surging toward the central refineries. These nanites constructed bridges of shifting metal, reverse-siphoning every excess gram of material from the fleet and piling it onto the four processing hubs.
As each ship finished its delivery, it drifted back into a defensive picket. Finally, a gargantuan silver orb remained at the center of the formation. Its immense mass began to exert a powerful gravitational pull.
The transformation was swift.
Countless nanites began the deconstruction of the four Planetary Refinery. These massive machines were themselves concentrated assemblies of hyper-density materials. Axion exerted total control over the surrounding space, locking down the sector as he began the construction of the Iron Man fleet's ultimate deterrent.
The Experimental Titan-class Vessel: the Titan's Spear.
The silver sphere shifted and undulated in the void as distinct structural components began to emerge. The gargantuan vessel reached a length of twenty-six thousand kilometers. It grew like a sprawling mechanical necropolis, its form a total subversion of traditional naval architecture.
Countless mechanical parts and structural lattices intertwined and fused in a manner that appeared chaotic but adhered to an unfathomable, higher logic. The hull rose and fell like mountain ranges; massive protrusions extended like the fangs of a steel beast; conduits wound like great serpents; and energy transmission lines pulsed with a mysterious glow, dense as a neural network.
Weapon batteries were embedded like fortresses throughout the mass. The entire vessel radiated an aura of structured entropy and terrifying technological sophistication.
As time passed, its silhouette began to normalize. The complex internal organs were sheathed beneath layers of heavy, reinforced plating.
Suddenly, a massive wave of energy erupted from the rear of the vessel, sweeping across the system. This super-structure, forged from the bones of dozens of worlds, had ignited its reactor core.