Beyond the Forge World, the Conqueror battleship clashed head-on with the largest orbital defense platform.
This was a void battle devoid of finesse. The defense platform launched torpedoes, lances, and macro-cannons, absorbed by the Conqueror's void shields. In response, the battleship retaliated with its own volleys—each shield fending off assault after assault. Yet, this exchange could only end in the Conqueror's defeat after a few more rounds of bombardment. However, the Conqueror did not stand alone; over thirty cruisers in various configurations lurked behind it, ready to unleash their firepower once the platform focused its attention on the battleship.
After two brutal rounds, the Conqueror and its supporting fleet prepared for boarding actions, employing every means to send Chaos Space Marines into the heart of the defense platform. Inside, these warriors stormed weapon stations and command nodes, pushing forward despite their unfamiliarity with the platform's labyrinthine structure. Soon, the void shields were disabled, leaving the platform vulnerable to a relentless onslaught, its armaments destroyed one by one.
Agripinaa's Forge World had more than one defense platform, yet the rest faced an even greater swarm of enemy vessels; each platform was either crippled or en route to the same fate. From the moment this vast armada entered the system, the Forge World's fate was sealed.
— — —
Within the Conqueror's bridge, Solaxx the Oathbreaker sat upon his throne, suppressing the fury of the Butcher's Nails embedded in his skull, struggling to quell his longing to join the boarding skirmish. His gaze fell upon the brass blood-pool before him. Suspended above it by hooks, the dying captives wailed in agony, their blood trickling into the pool, each drop representing a flicker of life—a ship, a fighter, every entity within the battle, mirroring the field of war for all on the bridge.
Solaxx surveyed the pool, drawing the conclusion that victory was inevitable, and he laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. Around him stood fellow warlords of various factions—Thousand Sons, Night Lords, and Death Guard—each faction's leaders similarly pleased.
"This battle is devoid of subtlety," echoed a woman's voice throughout the bridge. A figure in a white naval uniform appeared at Solaxx's side, her presence eliciting a frown. He glared at her, irritated by her condescension yet unable to act, for this woman wielded an eerie control over the Conqueror, surpassing even Solaxx's own authority. Without her, the ship was rendered inert.
"This is my design!" Solaxx asserted, "It was I who forged this alliance, who struck a pact with Huron. This battle should have been far bloodier, but it was I who devised the strategy to ensure its ease."
This invasion of the Agripinaa Forge World had been planned for some time, awaiting only execution. Solaxx's scheme brought several warbands to fight as one, and with the addition of the Red Corsairs, led by Huron, the odds turned decisively in their favor. Huron had initially been unwilling to join, yet, just as Solaxx was ready to abandon his entreaties, the corsair leader offered aid on one condition: the Red Corsairs would blockade the Imperial Navy at the system's edge, allowing the fleet unimpeded entry, asking no part in the Forge World's spoils. Instead, he required Solaxx's aid post-war in seizing a few vessels from a minor faction.
Solaxx attributed the ease of this void war to his own tactical genius.
The woman laughed coldly. "You will learn soon enough how foolish you were to promise Huron your aid." With that, she vanished.
A hint of worry flickered through Solaxx—should this enigmatic woman desert them, the Conqueror would cease to function. Yet his fears proved needless, for the ship continued to unleash devastating fire upon the defense platform, splitting it asunder at last.
"With the final obstacle removed," Solaxx muttered, pressing his fingers against the Butcher's Nails to dull the pain, his gaze turning to the blood-pool in the center of the bridge. Filled now with blood, it continued to receive new drops, yet the level never rose. Within its depths, the scene of the system-wide battle unfolded—warships swarming, orbitals disabled, each faction's vessels converging on the Conqueror, every craft bearing scars of mutation, marks of loyalty to disparate warbands.
Since the Heresy, each warband pursued divergent paths, enflamed by clashing beliefs, resulting in perpetual conflict. But today, these fractured forces fought side by side under Solaxx's plan, a sight that filled him with satisfaction.
Next would come orbital bombardment and decapitation strikes against the Forge World's leaders.
"Shalock," Solaxx addressed his lieutenant. Clad in crimson power armor, wielding a great axe, Shalock stepped forward, awaiting his orders. Tales of Solaxx's lieutenant cadre circulated within the Eye of Terror, each member renowned for unique expertise. Shalock, known as the Master of Decapitation, was, fittingly, the fiercest fighter among them.
"Prepare yourself," Solaxx commanded. "You will lead the first assault."
Shalock nodded in silent obedience, turning to depart the bridge. But before he left, a fellow Chaos Space Marine voiced dissent, "Our spoils are divided by merit. Why should your men alone be granted the honor of the first strike?"
The challenger reeked of decay; his allegiance to the Death Guard was evident even without introduction.
Observing him, Solaxx recognized the fragility of their temporary alliance, the mere semblance of unity amid long-standing grudges.
After a moment's thought, Solaxx offered a more equitable solution: "Select the elite of your warbands. The first wave shall be a shared honor."