As Adam gazed impassively at the shattered husk of the enemy vessel drifting amidst the void, a hololithic projection flickered to life before him, Qin Mo's image appearing at the center of his tactical display.
Qin Mo's expression was one of calm satisfaction, his eyes gleaming with unmistakable approval.
For a fleeting moment, Adam allowed himself the slightest of smiles before replying in his usual measured tone:
"I am unworthy of your praise, my lord. I allowed the situation to spiral beyond ideal parameters. The enemy warship managed to reach ramming distance before we neutralized it."
"That is to be expected." Qin Mo's voice carried nothing but genuine, unflinching admiration. "This was your first real engagement, your first time commanding during actual void warfare. Even I have never participated in a true fleet battle. Your discipline and poise were exemplary."
His gaze lingered on Adam through the flickering hololith, unwavering and almost paternal.
"Your opponent was a seasoned commander. Using his prow ram like that? A classic maneuver. He had experience, you did not. But that is simply a matter of time. You will learn, and you will grow."
Qin Mo spoke not as a superior offering comfort, but because he genuinely believed it.
Instead, they had not only functioned, they had triumphed.
"Your leniency is appreciated." Adam bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment.
"Maintain your composure. Continue the orbital bombardment."
Then, as if remembering something, he added:
"None of our ships have been named. I had planned to assign names myself, but given your outstanding performance, you and your fellow captains shall have the honor of naming them."
Adam's eyebrows twitched in mild surprise, but he quickly nodded.
"We will require some time to deliberate."
"No rush," Qin Mo said. The hololith dimmed and vanished, leaving only silence.
For a moment, Adam stood motionless, staring at the empty space where the hololithic projection had been.
Then, despite himself, his lips curled into an uncontrollable smile.
He knew, as a devoted servant of the Angel, he was not supposed to indulge in emotions.
But he could not help it.
This was, without question, the most significant day of his life.
He had led his forces to annihilate the enemy fleet. He had executed his orders flawlessly.
And most importantly, he had received direct praise from Him.
Adam quickly schooled his expression back to neutrality and issued his next order in his usual even tone:
"Resume orbital bombardment."
The battle was all but decided.
What remained was the inevitable purge of the defeated.
While the Imperial fleet continued scouring the planet's major cities from orbit, the Imperial Guard regiments were moving in to cleanse the remaining strongholds.
Among them was the newly-formed 44th Regiment.
Though composed almost entirely of fresh recruits, they placed immense faith in their regiment's designation. The legendary Lord Commander Qin Mo had once served in the 44th. Surely, that number was a sign of fortune.
Their objective was a fortified city, ensconced in a valley along the planet's equator. Its towering bulwark-style defenses, reinforced by the naturally treacherous terrain, made it a formidable stronghold.
The 44th Regiment had already launched a direct assault on its weakest defenses, but had been repelled.
At that moment, the regiment's only experienced soldier, Grot stepped forward.
His plan was simple. He would infiltrate the city's outskirts, contact an old friend among the Thunderborns, and coordinate a precision bombardment on the walls.
As de facto leader of the regiment, Grot's request was granted without hesitation.
Wearing his scarred but immaculately maintained Praetorian-pattern power armor, Grot moved swiftly through the rocky terrain. Within moments, he reached a large boulder overlooking the city's walls.
He did not, however, activate his communicator.
Instead, he stepped out into the open.
Immediately, the city's defenders spotted him.
The walls erupted with furious gunfire, heavy weapons zeroing in on his form, while lascannons and macro-cannons thundered overhead, saturating the air with lethal ordnance.
Grot closed his eyes and murmured.
But the impact never came.
Instead, a resplendent, golden figure descended from above with a thunderclap of displaced air and light.
With practiced ease, the towering warrior raised his weapon. His shoulder-mounted cannons reconfigured, cycling through various modes.
Three plasma spheres launched. Three las-beams seared through the walls.
Each shot rivaled an entire artillery barrage.
The fortress walls shattered under the relentless bombardment. Enemy soldiers were torn apart by the precision fire.
Then, the Thunderborn deactivated his gravity shield, grabbed Grot by the head, and flung him back behind cover.
The Thunderborn followed, stepping into the shelter of the boulder before removing his helmet.
"Are you insane?" the warrior snarled. "If I hadn't been assigned nearby, you'd be a corpse right now!"
Grot's eyes widened. He recognized the voice.
"You don't understand what I've been through." Grot muttered, his voice strained.
Grey shoved him hard.
"You were discharged. You think I don't know that?"
Grot hesitated. He wanted to explain.
To explain how Adam, a devoted Servant of the Angel, had tried to help him, but ultimately abandoned him as unsalvageable.
But Grey did not know that. If he did, he would have reported it to Qin Mo immediately.
"Save it for after the battle." Grey donned his helmet once more.
He stepped forward, preparing to engage the remaining forces within the city.
Then, a disquieting anomaly caught Grey's keen eye.
The defenders were not reinforcing the walls.
They were not retaliating against the advancing Imperial forces.
Instead, they were firing into their own city.
From behind the shattered battlements, something immense stirred.
A colossal, golden war machine stepped into view behind the walls.
Its massive chainblade cleaved through entire squadrons of enemy troops.
Another Knight-class war engine burst through a section of the wall, sending debris flying as it crashed through the enemy defenses.
Grey had seen Knights before.
During the Hive War, a traitor Knight had fought for the opposition.
But these machines were not firing on the First Legion.
They were attacking the defenders of Talon II.
"Throne of Terra, those are Knights!"
The commander of the 44th Regiment leaned out of his command tank, shouting in disbelief as his vehicle rumbled past Grot and Grey.
Seeing the Knights breach the walls, the 44th Regiment surged forward.
Infantry squads charged. Tanks rolled into the city.
The two Knights acknowledged their presence, but did not turn to attack. Instead, they focused on eradicating the remaining enemy strongholds.
Moments later, a battered transport vehicle emerged from the ruins.
A figure stood atop it, scanning the battlefield.
Upon spotting Grey, he slammed his hand against the vehicle's frame, signaling for it to move forward.
As the transport slowed, two figures disembarked:
A middle-aged soldier, clad in a ragged uniform bearing the faded insignia of his regiment.
And a figure with elongated, pointed ears whose very features betrayed an unmistakable xenos heritage.
He did not recognize this xenos.
Perhaps an abhuman mutant? Perhaps something far worse?
The alien wasted no time.
"No time to explain. Take me to your commander. Now."
Grey's first instinct was to snap the intruder's neck.
Instead, he activated his vox-link to Qin Mo.
The response was immediate.
"Let the Aeldari wait. I am sending a transport."