"Come out," Grey commanded the three remaining Astartes, who were concealed in the room to his right, one clutching an EMP grenade while the other two prepared melta bombs.
"My objective isn't to kill you all; you can see I haven't slaughtered your battle-brothers," he continued, casting a glance over the fallen Astartes around him.
Every one of them still clung to life, though some lay unconscious or missing limbs. Their resilience was remarkable—those who'd lost arms or legs still gripped their weapons, though each shot was intercepted by the reactivated gravity shield.
Perhaps sensing the futility of a fight to the death, the three Astartes emerged from the room, though they did not surrender.
"I'll remember you, Custodian," one of them growled. "It was you who attacked us."
"Don't waste your memory on this," Grey replied with a shake of his head. "If your Chapter Master decides to spare you, you'll likely have any memory of this mission erased. So, do you wish to die fighting for this planet's petty governor, or be rid of his disgraceful influence altogether?"
The Astartes exchanged silent glances before Grey issued an order through his communicator: "Send down ten teleportation protection devices."
Moments later, the devices descended from a cruiser in orbit. Grey fitted each Astartes with one, then commanded, "Teleport them to the prison."
With that, Grey turned and proceeded down the passageway.
…
Meanwhile, on the third sublevel, Ode and Ellen had already seen what had unfolded above through the security feeds. Surprisingly, it was Ode who seemed calmest. Having resigned himself to his fate, he sat sipping fine wine, awaiting his end with a stoic acceptance.
Ellen, on the other hand, was pacing in panic, uncertain whether the Custodian would spare his life.
"If a man like Tyron's Governor existed in more peaceful times, he'd surely have been purged outright by now, wouldn't he?" Ode remarked languidly, as if he were not the governor but Ellen.
"Absolutely," Ellen nodded vehemently. "But he seized his chance in a time of chaos, when nothing could be done."
Ode took another sip, sighing, "The Emperor may be far away, my friend, but the heavens are higher."
Ellen opened his mouth to reply when a light beam suddenly appeared, cutting a breach into the heavy doors. Through the opening, a Custodian stepped in.
"In the name of the Lord of Tyron, I…"
"Spare the formalities. Execute me now," Ode said with tranquil resolve, staring directly at Grey. The Custodian hesitated momentarily before, with a cold determination, he fired a blast of scatter lasers, ending Ode's life instantly.
Grey then turned to Ellen, noting that he bore no visible marks of authority.
"I'm an Inquisitor here investigating a plague… none of this concerns me," Ellen stammered nervously.
"Very well." Grey lowered his weapon and commanded, "Teleport us to the cruiser, and prepare for immediate return."
"Teleport detected: the individual in front of you lacks a protection device. Do you wish to proceed?" the cruiser's system queried.
"Yes. Proceed."
…
An hour later, aboard a cruiser stationed in Tyron's star port.
"The Hive World had no orbital defenses or warships, so I arrived without interference," Grey reported as he strode alongside Qin Mo toward the prison block, recounting the details of his mission. "I engaged with ten Astartes but refrained from killing them; they're imprisoned here. There's also an Inquisitor onboard, who I spared due to his potentially valuable physical assets, though I subjected him to an unprotected teleport."
Captain Foros of the Mourner Chapter walked beside them, his face somber as he listened to Grey's account.
"When I was detected inside the compound, my instinct was to kill the Astartes," Grey explained. "Yet I refrained. After all, they're Astartes, warriors of humanity—much like Captain Foros here. It seemed wasteful to see them perish over such a trivial matter."
Foros rolled his eyes at Grey's justification, while Qin Mo simply shook his head, stating, "They are Minotaurs, not Mourners."
"Minotaurs?" Grey queried.
"The Astartes of the Minotaur Chapter—their emblem is a bull's head," Qin Mo explained.
Grey glanced at Foros, sensing an unspoken history between the Mourner and Minotaur Chapters.
They reached the prison, where ten Astartes, already treated for their injuries, sat dejectedly within a laser-sealed cell. At the sound of approaching footsteps, the Minotaurs looked up, their faces shifting from shock to scorn.
"Foros…"
"What are you doing here? Have you allied with these heretics?"
"What did they offer you, Foros, you damned traitor?!"
"Why are you even on Tyron? I thought your cursed Chapter was extinct!"
Foros said nothing, memories of the Badab War flickering through his mind. It was nearly eighty years ago that the Mourners, entangled by Huron's machinations, had clashed with the Minotaurs. And the Minotaurs had emerged victorious.
As he recalled that bitter defeat, a dark fury swelled within Foros, yet he could not bring himself to curse his foes; after all, it was the Mourners who had been in the wrong.
One Minotaur sneered, flashing a vicious grin. "We stripped you wretched, cursed misfits of every weapon, every scrap of tech, and every ship after that war. They still serve us well. Worry not—they've found a far better home."