"Is your warship damaged?"
Abaddon's image materialized on the bridge just as Typhons was gripped by deep sorrow.
Typhons stepped aside, allowing Abaddon to observe the devastation wrought by the void mine.
"I am truly sorry," Abaddon lowered his head. "Once this is all over, I will do everything in my power to help restore *Terminus*."
"Save it!" Typhons snapped, brusquely dismissing the offer. He then issued orders to his subordinates, directing *Terminus* and the rest of the fleet in battle.
The skirmish was far from over.
Deploying the void mines was only the beginning. The *Lord of Talon* and the cruisers advancing behind it drove relentlessly toward the Chaos fleet.
The Chaos fleet's ships swiftly dispersed, spinning to bring their broadsides to bear upon the oncoming enemy.
And so, both fleets entered into a brutal bombardment.
Destroyers kept pace with the *Lord of Talon*, deploying all of their void mines within minutes.
This time, however, their target was not the Chaos fleet—it was Blackstone Fortress.
Out of thirty mines, fifteen bypassed Blackstone's shields, slipping directly into its interior and detonating.
Massive though it was, Blackstone Fortress could not be shattered by this assault; yet, its vortex cannon ceased operations due to the blast's impact.
For Abaddon, it was a small mercy that the Celestial Engine had not yet joined the fray; as long as this was a straightforward fleet battle, he had little to fear.
The Chaos fleet, having suffered no losses among its battleships—save the temporarily disabled *Soul of Vengeance* and *Terminus*—still had two active battleships, which assumed the brunt of the fighting.
The *Lord of Talon*, facing fierce counterattacks, was forced to halt and turn broadside to maximize its firepower.
With every passing minute, hundreds upon hundreds of torpedoes soared from the Chaos fleet toward the Talon Navy, only to be intercepted and destroyed by the Talon fleet's close-in defenses.
All this Typhons and Abaddon witnessed closely.
"We could attempt a boarding maneuver," Abaddon suggested suddenly.
Typhons looked warily at him; he sensed Abaddon's ulterior motives, suspecting his foe intended him to commit first.
"Fortunate that I was present when you sent troops to board Ironworld. Otherwise, you might have fooled me." Typhons sneered, gesturing to the enemy ships. "Send your Black Legion warriors on torpedoes to crash through the shield. Once it's down, I'll dispatch my lieutenants to board."
"Thinking is never a wasted effort," Abaddon tapped his temple twice. "Send them in."
Typhons's eyes flared. "Do you think you know our enemy so thoroughly? Are their shields the only obstacle?"
"We'll only know for certain once we try. Let's both deploy teams to board," Abaddon replied.
Typhons, briefly skeptical, recognized the value in Abaddon's plan—some things indeed demanded a trial by fire.
"Very well," Typhons agreed, nodding.
Abaddon dispatched an officer along with twenty Black Legion Space Marines.
Typhons matched him, sending the same force.
These boarding parties were transmitted from *Soul of Vengeance* and *Terminus* onto *Lord of Talon*.
---
"We have intruders within the hull."
"I see them."
Within *Lord of Talon*, Adam lay within the command pod, directing the battle.
His vision extended across the entire star system as well as into the ship's interior.
The two intruding squads emerged in different locations: the rear hangar and the fore munitions bay.
Without any established beacons, some individuals materialized inside walls, trapped.
"How should we deal with them?" A crewman responsible for hull maintenance appeared virtually beside Adam.
In the virtual space between them floated a cross-section of the battleship.
"This is our warship. We have countless means to cleanse it of this filth." Adam's gaze narrowed on the ammunition bay doors, and he extended a finger to tap the location.
The bay's enormous gates slammed shut instantly.
The reeking, depraved intruders found themselves sealed within, helpless in the face of their confinement. In desperation, they searched for any exit, trying in vain to breach the munitions bay's security protocols.
Adam and the maintenance officer heard every muttered word of the invaders.
"Stick that thing on the door."
"Understood."
One of the Space Marines removed a grotesque growth from his neck, plastering it onto the door. At once, fungal veins spread across the gate's surface, forming a network akin to wires and transmitters.
The maintenance officer looked up at Adam, only to see his normally impassive captain clenching his teeth.
*Lord of Talon* was not the fleet's flagship—not in Qin Mo's plans at least, as more formidable vessels would someday assume that role.
But this was the first battleship, a vessel whose name held immense significance to every Talon crew member.
"Purge all ammunition from Bay Eleven. Retain only a single torpedo equipped with an incendiary warhead," Adam commanded.
The ship acted swiftly, as if it shared Adam's will.
Every torpedo was ejected from Bay Eleven save one.
"Calculate blast radius," he ordered.
A crimson circle marked the munitions bay, enclosing a tenth of its space—just enough to include the intruders.
"Detonate it."
Adam issued his third command, and the torpedo exploded in an instant, engulfing the entire bay in flames.
As the first boarding party perished, Adam turned his attention to the remaining intruders.
This group was not within the munitions bay, but eliminating them posed no challenge.
"Seal off that sector."
Adam didn't need to specify the sector; his neural interface translated his intentions seamlessly.
All bulkheads surrounding the boarding party's location locked tight.
Every Talon crew member was stationed at the ship's core, so there was no fear of allies being trapped with the enemy.
"Engage the purge protocol," Adam commanded.
In the ship's storage bay, rows of dormant ironclad automatons awakened, rising with their spines hunched, eyes gleaming a deep red.
The ironclads received their orders: eliminate all hostile organic entities.
They materialized close to the intruders in overwhelming numbers, filling the massive corridors where even tanks could maneuver with ease.
Adam watched as the Marines drew close together, back-to-back, making a desperate stand.
But they could not withstand the relentless advance of the ironclads.
The iron constructs lumbered forward, tearing through the ceramite armor and the blood-and-flesh of those within as though ripping paper.
Adam turned away from the display, his gaze returning to the broader conflict unfolding across the stars.