Chapter 291: Current Situation (Patreon)

The Talon Sector.

Within the highest chamber of Talon Prime’s primary research spire, Qin Mo stood before an array of arcane-mechanical instruments, devices woven from human science, Necron-level hyper-materials, and the warped geometries he alone could command.

Data streamed before him, detailing the genetic residue extracted from the Talon of Horus, a trophy of the Arch-Traitor’s era of the Imperium, sealed and safeguarded since the war for Cadia

At the same time, he was dealing with a matter even more pressing.

The Dimensional-Anchor Communications Station within his Domain.

Since its construction, the station had been maintained entirely inside his pocket realm, a stable slice of unreal space anchored to Qin Mo’s will. A central master-intelligence and a handful of human attendants oversaw its operations.

But yesterday, that machine-intelligence issued an alarming recommendation: Evacuate all human personnel.

Because the first symptoms of madness had begun.

The reason was obvious. No human, no matter how disciplined, could remain long in a realm composed of impossible non-Euclidean geometries and recursive horizons, where even colors bent away from comprehension.

The station was safe, but the space around it was fundamentally hostile to baseline cognition.

Fortunately, within the Talon Sector, “going mad” was not a terminal condition. The attendants were evacuated and immediately transferred to the medical facilities on Talon-III, where medical researchers were now drafting treatment protocols.

Memory excision. Sensory recalibration. Tailored neural realignment. There were always options.

Still, Qin Mo felt the sting of failure.

“Another failure.” His expression tightened as he tossed the report into a disposal grate.

“What failed?” Shapeshifter, his shapeshifting companion, tilted its head as it perched on the arm of his chair. In its eyes, Qin Mo never said defeatist things.

“There was never a true need to place living personnel inside my Dimensional Pocket.” Qin Mo exhaled. “But I insisted anyway. I hoped that someday the place could expand into a proper habitation zone. A fallback world. A sanctuary for Talon’s population if the galaxy ever deteriorated beyond repair.”

Only now did Shapeshifter fully realize that Qin Mo had always held a final plan. Perhaps gradual migration of the entire Talon Sector into dimensional space, or using it as a last refuge if the stars fell and the galaxy burned.

Either way, that plan was now dead.

“Humans could adapt,” Shapeshifter offered weakly. “Given enough time… millions of years of evolution… new sensory organs… new perception…”

“You’re joking.” Qin Mo waved the idea away. “No. We abandon that line of thought.”

Fortunately, things had not yet deteriorated in the wider galaxy.

Cadia still stood.

The Great Rift had not split reality.

The Imperium had not yet divided into light and dark.

The galaxy, miraculously, was still intact.

For now, the strategic situation remained relatively stable.

But vigilance could never be relaxed.

“I’m initiating construction of the Talon Perimeter Defense Ring.” He tapped Shapeshifter lightly, signaling it to project the star-map.

The chamber transformed into a holographic sphere of starlight, centered on the Talon Sector. Thin lines traced trade routes, warp-lane simulations, and threat-probability vectors, all updating in real time.

Dust-fine motes represented minor outposts; brighter nodes marked fortified systems.

All systems under Talon protection glowed in muted grey, symbolizing the stabilized regions, anchored by Qin Mo’s reality-reinforcing presence.

With his C’tan-forged power slowly recovering, he had long noticed a peculiar effect: His mere existence strengthened the local fabric of realspace.

It did not seal out the Warp entirely, but it blunted its intrusion.

When the Plague of Unbelief attempted to infiltrate the Sector, the closer it came to Talon Prime, the more it devolved into a mundane corpse-rot, its daemonic nature smothered by Qin Mo’s stabilizing field.

Reality simply became too anchored, too orderly, too… intolerant of warp-borne anomalies.

That field expanded over time, and its growth also represented the growth of the Talon Sector. Every ring of systems it engulfed became part of the Talon Protectorate.

But recently the expansion had slowed, perhaps reaching its natural limit.

Qin Mo’s gaze settled on the outer ring of unclaimed, lawless systems. These would become the foundation of the Perimeter Ring.

He intended to fortify them, orbital bastions, autonomous defence bulwarks, interdiction grids, creating a buffer preventing any warfront from reaching Talon proper.

“I’ve surveyed them,” Shapeshifter said. “Most of their populations want protection. They’re tired of raiders, Eldar corsairs, human renegades, xenos slavers…”

“Most,” Qin Mo echoed. “Not all. A few will resist. We’ll need to exert some pressure.”

He recalled a recent briefing. A week ago, Anruida reported an incident: Thirty light-years beyond the Talon border, an entire world had been raided.

The survivors described sharp-eared xenos, swift as shadows.

Aeldari. No doubt.

But the details were unclear. Saal, the Craftworlder who once helped in the Cadia campaign by neutralizing a Blackstone Fortress, had long since departed, leaving Qin Mo without an expert to consult.

“My bet is Drukhari,” Qin Mo said. “Dark Eldar.”

“Dark… Eldar?” Shapeshifter frowned. “A sub-species of the Aeldari?”

To the Shapeshifter, knowledge of Aeldari lore ended with the War in Heaven, long before the Fall.

Qin Mo summarized the tragedy of the Eldar, their decline from unmatched brilliance into decadence, their excesses, the birth of She Who Thirsts and the creation of the Eye of Terror, the shattering of their empire, the splitting into Craftworlders, Corsairs, Exodites… and the Drukhari lurking within the Webway like carrion spiders.

Shapeshifter nodded solemnly. There was little anyone could do about creatures who hid in the labyrinthine Webway.

The Webway had entrances that even Necron dynasties at their peak struggled to pin down, and Qin Mo had no desire to wage a campaign in that incomprehensible network of tunnels.

Qin Mo shifted topics. There were more critical concerns.

“Any deposits of Blackstone within our borders?” he asked.

“None,” Shapeshifter shook its head.

“Then we’ll need to acquire it elsewhere.” A Blackstone Array would be essential to the Perimeter Ring’s defenses.

Options flashed through his mind:

Agripinaa: contact Magos Vick and requisition Mechanicus-mined Blackstone.

Stygies VIII: rich deposits, currently in enemy hands. Could be seized with a decisive strike.

After finishing that chain of thought, he looked at Shapeshifter.

“…What?” Shapeshifter raised an eyebrow.

“Change your form,” Qin Mo said.

Shapeshifter stood, arms spread. “Describe it.”

Qin Mo considered carefully. A total overhaul of Shapeshifter’s human-female template.

It meant nothing to Shapeshifter itself, but it was a nice aesthetic change for Qin Mo.

“White hair to gold.”

“You mean just the hair, or… everything?”

“Ahem… everything.”

“…”

But before Shapeshifter could begin the transformation.

“Governor.” Anruida’s hologram flickered into existence, interrupting them.

“If it’s another call for fleet deployment to reinforce the Perimeter systems, just send the detachments Adam left behind.” Qin Mo replied automatically.

For weeks, every holographic call was a reinforcement request. The Perimeter, also known as the Gate of Talon, needed constant patrols.

But this time, Anruida shook his head.

“A transmission from Baal.” He raised a hand, projecting a video feed. “A… flaming entity is requesting an audience with you.”

Qin Mo and Shapeshifter looked casually at first, then both froze.

The figure stood outside a voidship, wrapped in sun-bright fire, its form unmistakably non-human.

A C’tan Shard.

More accurately, Nyadra’zatha. The Burning One.

“A shard of the Burning One…” Qin Mo murmured. “Very well. I will travel to Baal personally. I have matters to discuss with it as well.”

“Don’t!” Shapeshifter grabbed his arm immediately, tension spiking.

Its memories of Nyadra’zatha were nothing but stories of cruelty, of a volatile tyrant who delighted in tormenting the weak.

“I’ll go after the Celestial Engine is completed,” Qin Mo reassured.

This shard was powerful, perhaps stronger than the Nightbringer-fragment that once hunted Shapeshifter.

But still manageable. Especially with Qin Mo, Shapeshifter, and the Celestial Engine together.

Yet Qin Mo was not planning to repeat last time’s strategy.

No, once he reached Baal, if the Burning One was hostile, he intended to beat Nyadra’zatha down, bind it, and shove it into the Celestial Engine’s core, turning the shard into a living power source.

That would solve the engine’s energy problem and allow him to construct a second planetary megastructure.

The temptation of “Celestial Engine: Unit Two” was simply too great.

And so, plans were set.