Chapter 275: Methods (Patreon)

“I know what you’re looking for!”

The voice cut through the roaring inferno like a blade through smoke, commanding attention even as the world burned. It was Bellona, the Lord Inquisitor, who had arrived alongside Commander Dante, her ornate power armor scorched and pitted by the heat.

The Burning One, the being of living flame, halted and turned its burning gaze upon her.

A wave of ancient, primal terror surged through Bellona’s mind, striking deeper than any psychic intrusion. It was not merely fear, it was the instinctive horror of a mortal before a cosmic predator, a memory buried deep in the human genome from an age when fire itself was worshipped and feared. Every emotion she had suppressed for decades, fear, awe, insignificance, erupted like magma through the cracks of her discipline, threatening to suffocate her beneath its weight

“To be honest… I don’t actually know,” she managed to whisper, her voice quivering, her throat raw from smoke, adrenaline, and the psychic pressure that radiated from the being. “I just want you to stop… But those warheads, they came from the Talon Sector. They lied to you. They didn’t tell you the truth about them.”

At her words, Chapter Master Phoros of the Lamenters clenched his fists so tightly that for a moment it seemed he might strike her down himself. Betrayal and suspicion burned in his eyes, emotions barely restrained by a lifetime of duty.

But to the Burning One, the statement offered a lead, however faint. The beings of the Talon Sector might have unearthed those weapons… or they might know more. Either way, it was a direction, a point of purpose after endless drifting.

Only one issue remained, what exactly was this “Talon Sector” these mortals spoke of?

The Burning One knew little of such petty territorial designations. Among the Star Gods, stars and worlds were not named but expressed as harmonies of energy and matter, as equations that sang through the fabric of creation. Mortal language, with its clumsy syllables and borders, was nothing more than a child’s map drawn over infinity. So “Talon” meant nothing to it.

“You don’t know where Talon is, do you?” Bellona forced a strained smile despite her terror, her lips trembling. “I can take you there… but I’m trapped on this world. The Tyranids are about to devour us all. So…”

Dante stared at her in disbelief. The notion that an Inquisitor, the Emperor’s unyielding instrument of judgment, would bargain with such an entity was anathema to reason, to faith, to every oath he had ever sworn.

Yet Bellona had not lost her mind. She was acting on precedent, however dark.

Long ago, she had heard of another Inquisitor who had encountered xenos on a doomed world and in desperation, released a mysterious being imprisoned within an ancient device. That being had destroyed the alien infestation and even carried the Inquisitor and his retinue to safety before the planet’s annihilation.

The entity’s description… was disturbingly similar to the one before her now.

That meant it could be reasoned with. Or at least negotiated with, as one might negotiate with a storm.

However, the Burning One was far from patient, and it shared no bond of kinship, loyalty, or pity with these fragile humans. Normally, it had no reason to intervene.

And yet… the C’tan had drifted across the void for ages before arriving here, its mind trapped between hunger and memory. It had not unleashed its purifying fire in a long, long time. Perhaps it desired, if only briefly, to burn again, to remind existence what true power was.

So, though Bellona’s judgment was imperfect, the Burning One chose to remain, to aid these mortals, not out of compassion, but out of curiosity and the faint nostalgia of destruction.

〈“You are a bold little ape,”〉 the Burning One said with a flicker of amusement that rippled through the air like heat distortion. 〈“Do you not have shields or anything? I’d rather not incinerate you all by accident.”〉

“There’s a damaged void shield generator in the fortress…” Bellona replied quickly, glancing toward the broken bastion at the heart of Baal’s defense. Her words trembled with both hope and terror.

The Burning One floated toward the heart of the Arx Angelicum. It spoke no words, yet its voice echoed inside every mind nearby: 〈Take me to your void shield.〉

....

The Fortress-Monasteries of the Angels.

The Arx Angelicum, proud home of the Blood Angels, had once stood as a fortress of faith and marble purity. Now it was a bastion half-buried beneath spore chimneys and Tyranid ichor, its golden halls turned crimson by blood and flame.

The void shield of the Angelic Fortress had been all but destroyed by the Tyranid onslaught. Its power generators were crippled beyond repair, and much of the shielding latticework had degraded irreversibly.

The Burning One arrived at the shield chamber, where shattered servitors lay twisted in pools of oil and molten ceramite.

None dared approach, none knew what this being intended.

The being hovered before the wreckage in silence for a few seconds, studying the twisted machinery, before releasing a low, mocking laugh.

〈“Why do you use such fragile shielding? And you don’t even hide the core structure?”〉 it murmured, voice thick with disdain. 〈“Were it not for the lack of any other defenses, I’d think this was bait, placed here just to lure your enemies into destroying it.”〉

The humans, of course, could not comprehend the scorn in the creature’s tone. To them, the void shield generators was buried deep in the Fortress-Monasteries core and heavily guarded. What more concealment could there be?

The Burning One sensed their confusion and quickly lost interest in further explanation. Mortals rarely understood perfection when it was offered.

Then, it began to work.

Broken cables and fragments of machinery tore themselves free, hovering in midair. Material from unrelated systems was stripped away at the molecular level, flowing to reconnect lines or mend ruptured frameworks.

Sparks danced like fireflies as reality bent under the being’s will.

Dante watched in stunned silence.

Bellona, for her part, stared with widening eyes, her awe gradually eclipsing her fear.

“This… this is a miracle,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

〈“A miracle?”〉 The Burning One’s tone was cold but tinged with wry amusement. 〈“This is merely mending a broken trinket.”〉

Yet, despite its disdain, the being was pleased.

For though the Star Gods fed upon the souls of living beings, they also delighted in something else, worship. Faith held no true power over them, yet they relished it nonetheless.

During the ancient War in Heaven, some C’tan who drew too much reverence from the Necrontyr had even been forced to redirect part of that devotion toward their brethren, merely to avoid provoking divine jealousy.

Under Bellona’s awestruck gaze, the void shield flared to life once more.

The Fortress of the Angels was bathed in a shimmering field of energy. The bombardment of the Tyranid bio-ships could no longer strike directly; the pressure on the defenders lessened dramatically.

But the Burning One did not stop there.

It reshaped the internal lattice of the shield, enhancing its endurance and stability without altering its technological principles.

〈“It won’t fail again so easily,”〉 the Burning One declared, its voice echoing like molten thunder. 〈“If anyone wishes to destroy it now, they’ll need an explosion big enough to vaporize the whole fortress.”〉

“Such a wonder… you are truly divine,” Bellona murmured reverently.

Dante frowned. The words cut through him like a knife. An Inquisitor, praising an abomination? It was unthinkable. Yet he remembered Bellona’s earlier words, her doctrine of “By any means necessary. At any cost.”

This, he realized, this was simply another means.

〈“This is no miracle, ape,”〉 the Burning One said as it drifted toward the fortress gates, its form dimming as it ascended through walls of flame and stone without effort. 〈“Stay within your walls. Should the beasts attempt to devour you, call for me, and I will hear it. Until you bring me to the Talon Sector you have no right to die.”〉

When the fiery entity vanished from sight, its heat lingered like an afterimage upon their souls. The worshipful look in Bellona’s face evaporated instantly, replaced once more by her habitual scowl.

“So,” she said, turning to Dante, her tone sharp once more, “with that thing aiding you, I assume you won’t need my psychic contingency plan anymore?”

Dante nodded, though unease flickered beneath his calm.

“You’ve done much for Baal, Inquisitor,” he said quietly. “You have my gratitude. But your plan is… far too dangerous.”

The response was exactly what Bellona expected.

“I was the one who convinced it to fight for you,” she said, locking eyes with him. “If anyone asks about the psychic project, you know nothing.”

It was a bold statement, bordering on arrogance, yet Dante still inclined his head.

“The Blood Angels and all successor Chapters will sign a pact of silence,” he said solemnly.

Bellona allowed herself the faintest smile. The game of survival and secrecy had begun, and in the shadow of gods, even the Inquisition must tread carefully.