As twenty full Imperial Guard regiments withdrew to the orbital shipyards above Talon II for rest and resupply, Qin Mo was already laying the groundwork for the next campaign: Talon III.
His preparations were simple: consulting a shard of an ancient C'tan and asking it about the current state of the planet.
Although Qin Mo didn't fully trust the entity known as the Shapeshifter, it had thus far proven that its prophecies were accurate.
More importantly, the being seemed to possess a vested interest in his success.
It seemed genuinely eager to have another C'tan free it from its prison.
That night, Qin Mo entered the dream-realm that Shapeshifter had woven.
The scene was the same luxurious, opulent chamber as before, drenched in velvety shadows and lined with impossible architecture, but the ever-shifting form of the Shapeshifter was nowhere to be seen.
Qin Mo knew that Shapeshifter was capable of changing form, but this was its own domain.
So why was it absent?
A whisper cut through the stillness.
A face slid up from within the folds of the grand, silken bed, lips pursed in warning.
"The Nightbringer is here. Don't let it find us. Hide. Quickly."
"What? You're joking, right?"
Without waiting for an answer, Qin Mo dove beneath the Shapeshifter-turned-bed, and scanned his surroundings with heightened vigilance.
TheNightbringer, Aza'gorod.
A C'tan that embodies death, darkness, and destruction itself within the Materium.
The first reaper. The black scythe of cosmic finality.
The oldest and most powerful among the Star Gods.
The grim reaper of the cosmos, whose very presence eroded mortal sanity.
It was the first reaper, the shadow from which all myths of death were born. Entire civilizations had perished beneath its scythe-like will.
Even in shattered form, it remained an existential terror beyond reckoning.
If even a splinter of the Nightbringer had come seeking something here, that could only mean trouble.
Then, Shapeshifter suddenly whispered, but its words made no sense.
"My brother… why did you help the Necrontyr forge weapons?"
Its voice wavered, not in fear, but in something else. Betrayal.
We had an agreement," the C'tan continued, voice shifting like a thousand echoes colliding in empty space. "After the War in Heaven, we would leave together. To the void, beyond the reach of this cursed galaxy."
Qin Mo's brow furrowed. He blinked, unsure if the words were meant for him or for a phantom memory.
He crawled out from under the bed and stared at the Shapeshifter in confusion.
Shapeshifter continued rambling, its form shifting chaotically.
First, into a glowing orb.
Then, into a holographic star chart.
"We were to create a paradise… a haven for us lesser C'tan. The entire galaxy was to be our canvas, where every star was a brushstroke, every planet a sculptor's stone…"
It shifted again, morphing into an image of a vast, radiant nebula, unreal and beautiful, yet tinged with something…hollow.
"And I… I was to be its muse. Shifting into countless forms, providing inspiration for the artisans… That is why we refused to fight by your side, Deceiver."
Its voice faltered, as if drowning in the gravity well of its own regret.
It shimmered, warping erratically between spectral hues, slipping through a thousand forms, caught in the riptide of its own fractured memories.
Qin Mo had heard enough.
He summoned lightning, a bolt of raw force crackling from his fingertips, and struck the Shapeshifter squarely.
The C'tan shard spasmed, its form collapsing into a smooth, featureless sphere of cold light.
The shock seemed to jolt it out of its reverie.
"Thank you," it whispered, subdued.
Qin Mo scowled. "What the hell was that?"
"Nothing important,"the Shapeshifter replied, though its form trembled withuneasily, as if it itself was uncertain.
Qin Mo got straight to the point. "Show me the current state of Talon III."
As before, the entire planet materialized before Qin Mo's eyes.
He studied it carefully.
It was still a desolate wasteland.
The Ork infestation had not been contained; if anything, their numbers had grown.
However, their main activity appeared to be underground.
Talon III had been a mining world. Its infrastructure, its cities, its entire civilization had been built below the surface.
Meanwhile, the Slanneshi cultists had descended into even greater depravity.
Qin Mo found their depravity overwhelming, as if the very sight of them was an assault on his psyche.
They sought nothing but the fulfillment of their desires: through combat, through art, through bodily modification.
None of these things were inherently unnatural, but the extreme to which they pursued them was deeply disturbing.
By comparison, the surface of the world was eerily peaceful.
Especially at the north and south poles, where few dared to tread.
Regions untouched by human presence.
"I see…" As Qin Mo observed, the Shapeshifter began to prophesize.
"I see you victorious. And when the dust settles… this star system will be yours."
"Not a bad prophecy," Qin Mo chuckled. "I hope you're not just flattering me so I'll come rescue you."
The Shapeshifter remained silent, its sphere dimming slightly, but Qin Mo could sense its displeasure.
Then, after a long pause.
"You don't actually believe I think you'll march into the Necron dynasties, destroy their war machines, break through their Tesseract Labyrinths, and set me free… do you? I AM trying to help you!"
Its voice wavered, tinged with something dangerously close to desperation.
"We once cowered in the dark corners of the galaxy, fearing our stronger kin. But now they are shattered, and you remain whole. You have no need to fear anymore. Yet you have merged with a human... and now, you cannot even summon your Forge. I know it's your human mind speaking to me right now... I still sense something familiar within you… So please…"
Perhaps his distrust of the Shapeshifter was justified. But there was no need to be openly hostile.
"Thank you." He nodded. He genuinely meant it.
The Shapeshifter's amorphous mass rippled, coalescing into a vaguely humanoid shape. A faint, wry smile formed upon its shifting visage.
"Don't mention it. Just… try not to break me into smaller pieces next time we meet."
And witht hat, the Shapeshifter withdrew, unwilling to prolong their meeting in the illusion.
The vision dissolved.
Qin Mo was forcibly ejected from the realm of dreams, his consciousness snapping back to his physical body.
Everything that needed investigating had been investigated. Now, it was time to act.
Qin Mo swiftly issued a series of commands.
Massive amounts of supplies were teleported to Talon II.
Regiments not assigned to Talon III remained behind, assisting the Thunderbornsin fully securing the planet.
The fleet and shipyard prepared for a full-scale transmission to Talon III's orbit.
Upon arrival, ground forces would deploy to the north and south poles, constructing fortified facilities, with all forces focused on protecting the construction efforts.
After finalizing and relaying his orders, Qin Mo activated the teleportation matrix, initiating a long-range solo teleportation.
He moved from Talon II's orbit…
To the underhive of Talon I.
The 47th Regiment's former stronghold.
Now, it lay silent, its corridors emptied as every soldier had been deployed to the warfront.
Qin Mo strode down the corridor, heading straight for his research lab, his subterranean vault.
Then, he stopped before a solid steel wall.
He extended his hand and twisted reality itself.
The wall rippled, and he phased through it.
Beyond the wall, was asecret room, its walls lined with polished adamantium plates, spanning over two thousand square meters.
At its center, athrone-like seat.
And before it amassive, obsidian containment unit.
Qin Mo walked up to it and entered the access code with his power into a hidden panel embedded within the chamber's floor.
With a hiss, the containment unit unlocked.
Revealing a smooth, black sphere.
It rose into the air, expanding outward, until it filled the chamber, stretching like a liquid firmament.
Qin Mo allowed himself the faintest smile.
"What a masterpiece."
This was a weapon of annihilation.
Qin Mo had begun developing it long ago, when he first realized that Talon III was beyond salvation.
The project had been completed for some time, but until now it had remained unused.
His very own Exterminatus-tier weapon.
He placed his hand upon its surface and whispered its name.
"The Nexus Firmament."