…
Abaddon did not flee; he entered an expansive metallic chamber, positioning himself while Typhus and the minions of Sorak set up defensive arrangements, then waited in silence. To Abaddon, this sector appeared far more strange than any other place on the Iron Planet.
This vast area seemed to be a colossal warehouse with two platforms spaced two kilometers apart. It was as though the Iron Planet siphoned minerals from other worlds in the Cadia system to repair another wounded Iron Planet.
When a flow of ores streamed in through pipes along the left wall, the platforms would inexplicably shift until they nearly touched. At that point, an immense number of transport drones would materialize on the opposite platform, ferrying the ores across. Once the transfer was complete, the platform drifted away again, reestablishing the two-kilometer divide.
The entire space seemed manipulated, as though someone were constantly altering the gap. Abaddon struggled to put the surreal sight into words, casting his gaze ten kilometers above to where a glowing apparatus hung from the metal ceiling. This device would illuminate when the platforms drew closer and dim again once they parted.
"They're using this spatial technology to bypass the need for roads… Quite the revelation," Sorak remarked thoughtfully.
Hearing this analysis, Abaddon turned first to Typhus, then in surprise to Sorak, realizing it was the oathbreaker leader who had spoken.
"Is it a Butcher's Nail you have in your head, or a Scholar's Spike?" Abaddon asked.
"This has nothing to do with the implant," Sorak replied, gesturing to his head. "The Butcher's Nail is merely a tool; the wise master it, while fools succumb to it."
A scoff escaped Abaddon as he turned away, eyes returning to the direction where the enemy might appear. In Abaddon's view, Sorak was talking nonsense; after all, the Butcher's Nail replaces parts of the brain. Whether wise or foolish, anyone with it ends up the same. Yet it was indeed curious why Sorak, despite bearing the Nail, did not seem controlled by it.
"They're coming," Typhus muttered, gripping his scythe and alerting the group.
Abaddon looked to the opposite platform where a legion of ancient Space Marines, an Inquisitor, an Imperial Guard, and a company of mortal soldiers had gathered. The apparatus above remained unlit, the platforms still separated by two kilometers.
Sorak's breathing grew heavy, his grip on his chain axe tightening. The Butcher's Nail in his head activated, his bloodlust surging. His followers reacted even more intensely, restlessly clawing at the ground with their axes, unable to unleash their fury without a command to fight.
One among Sorak's followers, armed with a boltgun, fired across the chasm, but the round merely spun aimlessly, unable to close even a hundred meters before its fuel ran out, revealing that the space between the platforms was highly unstable. The apparatus not only compressed the space periodically but also rendered it chaotic, susceptible to alteration.
Without ordering an attack, Abaddon turned to his adjutant and commanded, "Place the beacon."
The choice to fight on this spacious platform was no accident. Abaddon had chosen this location to summon reinforcements. That was why Sorak held back, awaiting Abaddon's strategy.
After the beacon was placed, bursts of light flared behind Abaddon as over five hundred Space Marines and Sorak's mortal henchmen teleported in. These mortal followers bore mutated limbs resembling axes, designated by the Imperium as "Rippers."
"Prepare for battle!" Abaddon raised his sword and roared.
A thunderous cry rose from the Chaos Space Marines and mortal minions behind him, their bloodlust ignited.
…
"We need reinforcements," Greyfax observed, eyeing the enemy ranks across the gap.
Grey immediately established communication with Creed on Cadia, requesting additional Space Marines. He refrained from summoning Iron Men due to Greyfax's presence.
Creed broadcast the request across all Space Marine chapters and quickly received responses.
"The Mourners are ready to teleport, and the Space Wolves are prepared as well," Creed reported. "Other chapters have declined to use Talon's teleportation tech but are dispatching support via assault cruisers."
Grey relayed Creed's response to the others with a touch of embarrassment.
"Strange, isn't it?" Captain Gaius muttered in confusion. "Your teleportation tech seems quite scientific; why wouldn't they use it?"
"I wouldn't use teleportation technology of unclear origin either," Greyfax replied. "One misstep, and an entire chapter is lost with no trace of their remains."
"Unclear origin? How could there be teleportation tech without a known source? Why hasn't such advanced technology been widely adopted?" Gaius's curiosity deepened.
Grey could no longer hold back. "Times have changed…" he remarked.
Rifts unfolded behind Gaius as Captain Foros arrived with the Mourners who were able to break from combat—a total of seventy-two warriors. Battles raged across Cadia and its moons, leaving the Mourners spread thin.
Then Sweyn arrived with fifty Space Wolves. They looked almost feral, like wolves from a horror tale, with blood-stained claws still bearing shreds of metal and flesh, the remnants of a recent skirmish.
Greyfax observed the Space Wolves intently, sensing an unholy aura. The fact that they had used Talon's teleportation tech suggested they had come to trust the Talon people through previous battles.
Besides the Mourners and Space Wolves, an Eldar also materialized—Saar, assigned by an Eldar Farseer to the Blackstone Fortress, now disguised in a specially tailored Talon power armor.
"Vengeance!" Saar cried, drawing his wraithbone blade, though he quickly realized he had spoken in the Eldar tongue, glancing back nervously at the Space Marines. The Space Marines gave Saar a brief, puzzled look but turned their focus back to the imminent battle.
"Can someone tell me what era this is?" Sweyn eyed Gaius and his men curiously. "Did you get caught in a warp storm and end up here?"
"A long story," Gaius replied, intending to explain after the fight.
A hum resonated from the spatial apparatus, and in an instant, the two platforms connected.
With both sides poised for battle, the skirmish erupted.
Grey surged forward, weaving through the storm of bolter rounds, seeking an opening to strike at Abaddon or crush him with his gravity shield. But someone outpaced him—just as Grey maneuvered through the whizzing projectiles, he saw a group of flaming Space Marines materialize ahead, appearing as if ghosts summoned from thin air.