"How could it be?"
"How is this possible?"
Qin Mo pointed at the holographic image of the Blackstone Fortress, gradually disappearing into the rift. Just moments ago, it had surged toward the rift at a speed akin to a frigate's dash.
Does this seem reasonable? No, it does not.
Everyone present, save Sal, was equally astonished; the fortress they had just infiltrated had not moved with such speed. Sal's gaze fell upon the rift in the star system. Now, with the Chaos fleet either destroyed or withdrawn, the rift's diameter had shrunk to just two kilometers.
"The Sea of Souls," Sal murmured. He couldn't quite explain the fortress's hasty retreat, but he knew the answer lay within the Warp.
"We should have teleported over immediately," Gray said.
"If you had, could you truly have stopped its retreat?" Qin Mo turned to Gray. "Once inside, you would have been swept into the Warp. I would rather you do nothing than face that fate."
Qin Mo glanced at Foros. The thought of sending over a hundred Astartes in Terminator armor into the Warp was unsettling; even if only a fifth were corrupted, it would still empower the forces of Chaos.
"In any case, we have won this battle." With that, Qin Mo shifted his focus from the rift to Cadia below. From the celestial engine's arrival, the swift teleportation of the Tyron Fleet, to the destruction of one Blackstone Fortress and the crippling of the Chaos fleet, all of this had been achieved in less than an hour. Abaddon was unlikely to surrender his Black Crusade so easily, yet, for now, Cadia was secure.
"As long as Cadia is spared from the threat of annihilation, the battles to come will be more manageable."
"Get me Kline," Qin Mo ordered into the air.
The order was directed at a Stonekin. A screen immediately flickered to life before Qin Mo, displaying Kline's face. Kline was currently stationed at Miraclenberg Command, with Creed standing beside him.
"Tai—" Kline began, only to be nudged aside by Creed.
"What's the situation here in the star system?" Creed asked, calm as ever, a cigar in his mouth. Only upon seeing Qin Mo's living-metal visage did a spark of surprise enter his gaze. "The comms array was disrupted earlier. I couldn't reach you."
"The enemy has been driven off; the star system is secure for now," Qin Mo replied.
At this, Creed breathed a sigh of relief.
Moments before, from the ground, he could see the sky intermittently flashing a deep red, with the baleful Eye of Terror briefly obscured from view. Every soldier in every trench on Cadia had gazed skyward, dreading what might come next—an apocalyptic strike or the descent of drop pods. Now, that fear had abated.
Creed was silent for a while, then, unexpectedly, said, "Thank you."
"This war is not yet over. Save your thanks," Qin Mo replied.
"I understand," Creed nodded, "but this battle was never yours to fight. The Tyron Sector lies thousands of light-years from the Cadian Gate. Yet you responded to my call for aid, crossing those thousands of light-years to join a war that was not your own… Thank you."
Qin Mo considered this and thought Creed mistaken. Without the ripple effects of his actions altering the course of events, the Chaos fleet would not have arrived so soon; without the sorcerers opening a mini-Eye of Terror, they would have had to wait for the Imperial Army and Navy to mobilize before striking. Qin Mo felt he bore some responsibility for this sudden assault.
However, he kept these thoughts to himself and simply said, "Do you remember the promise we made in the hive city? You helped me rebuild the army, and I would aid you when you needed it."
"Ah…" Creed took a long drag from his cigar, his gaze drifting as he reminisced about that time. "By the throne… I was so young then, just a fresh white-shield in the Cadian Assault Corps. A blink, and here we are so many years later…"
"Isn't that the First Army Corps' Lord Commander himself?" Suddenly, Kale leaned into view, greeting Qin Mo warmly.
Qin Mo still remembered one of Creed's subordinates, an older soldier who had been his companion when Creed had once gone astray in the Tyron System. That subordinate was Kale.
Hearing their words, Qin Mo felt a pang of disquiet. Lord Commander of the First Army Corps… How long had it been since anyone had called him that? Only now did he feel the passing of time; he realized he hadn't aged—neither in mind nor flesh.
His closest companions were either another Star God or the Stonekin. Foros, whom Kline had once retrieved from a desolate world, was still here. The Astartes did not age, and seeing them kept Qin Mo's sense of time at bay.
"Can I borrow a regiment?"
"The battles ahead may not be fought on Cadia itself. We might need to engage in nearby star systems, and I only have experience commanding ground forces."
Creed's voice pulled Qin Mo from his thoughts.
"The entire Tyron ground force is at your command," Qin Mo replied.
"Really?" Creed could hardly believe it; his usually impassive face broke into a smile. "That's wonderful."
"Yes, truly wonderful." Qin Mo nodded. He had intended to place the Tyron ground forces under Creed's command; this was no mere gift.
For every command Creed issued to the army, a Stonekin would record and learn from it. This Stonekin would become a version of Creed.
"Come to Miraclenberg," Creed invited. "It seems you'll be stationed on Cadia for some time yet."
Qin Mo nodded in agreement.
---
Meanwhile, in the Warp, aboard the ravaged *Vengeful Spirit*, which had now come to a complete halt, the residual damage continued unabated. Explosions sporadically rocked the vessel, forcing crews borrowed from other ships to mitigate the spreading chaos.
Abaddon and his lieutenants gathered on the bridge, joined by Typhus and the newly appointed leader of the Red Corsairs. While the others debated strategy fervently, Abaddon sat on his throne, staring absently at the floor. He seemed lost, adrift in thought.
Abaddon was remembering.
He seemed to recall a lieutenant, a formidable one at that, someone he had assigned to a task—someone who had not returned, whose whereabouts were unknown. Yet… who was this lieutenant? Abaddon found his mind blank, an empty space where a name and a memory should have been. He held only the hollow notion, *I once had a powerful lieutenant*, yet no specific details, not even a name, would surface.
"Is every lieutenant present?" Abaddon suddenly interrupted the discussion, addressing his lieutenants on the bridge.
"Yes, my lord. Every lieutenant is here; no one is missing," one replied.
"Ah…" Abaddon nodded vaguely, "I must have been mistaken."