Bryan stepped into the grand church at the top of the warship. This was the highest deck on the entire ship. When he looked up, he could see the vastness of the Milky Way galaxy spreading out like an endless ocean of stars. The light from countless bright stars filled the room, creating an unbelievably beautiful sight. The murals adorning the church walls were stunning works of art—each one telling a story of history and heroism.
Every time Bryan gazed at the stars, his heart would race. The stars called to him, offering adventure, discovery, and untapped power. He dreamed that one day he would conquer and explore those distant worlds, just like the great men from his home planet, Macarius. Those who, by the will of the Emperor, had extended humanity's reach to the farthest corners of the galaxy.
In some ways, Bryan had done that. Sure, he wasn't an official naval captain, but as an officer under the jurisdiction of the Imperial Navy, he had great freedom to chart his own course and explore the stars. Well, at least when his superiors weren't getting in the way.
He stopped near one of the benches, staring at the man sitting in the front row. Judge John was reading a book in front of the large icon of the Emperor, a chainsword and a bolt pistol attached to his waist, ready for the next battle.
"Judge John," Bryan said, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the warship.
John briefly looked up, then went back to flipping through the pages of his book. "Trouble, I take it?"
"We're in trouble," Bryan replied, leaning against the back of the bench. "Mr. Highgate sent us an astrological message. He says the Victoria Galaxy needs us. No details, just... something interesting out there."
John raised an eyebrow, closed his book, and gave Bryan a meaningful look. "And you've already set a course, right?"
"Of course," Bryan said with a smile. "I'm not waiting around for another giant green fleet to show up. The last one nearly wrecked my ship."
John laughed, a deep, resonant sound. "Well, we did win, didn't we? And if we hadn't taken down that Orks pirate boss, the Armageddon fleet would have been toast."
Bryan sighed, nodding. "True, but don't remind me. They still damaged my ship."
"Don't forget, we beat them in the end," John said, grinning widely. He patted the book in his hands. "By the way, you should read this. It's not your usual star charts or sailor adventures, but I think you'll find it interesting."
Bryan glanced at the red book with curiosity. "What's this? If it's not about star maps or heroic voyages, I'm not sure I care."
John laughed again. "Trust me, it's worth it. It's by Karel Hindman, a man from long ago. He was part of Expedition Fleet No. 63 during the Great Expedition."
"The Great Expedition? I don't remember a 63rd fleet," Bryan said, scratching his chin.
"That's not surprising," John said, leaning back as his eyes flicked toward the Emperor's icon. "The 63rd Fleet didn't make a lasting impact. But the stories in that book... they might give you a different perspective."
Bryan shook his head with a grin. "You always talk about old stuff. But fine, what's the issue?"
John's expression became serious again. "You're not wrong. We have a mission waiting. Mr. Highgate's message—there's something on the horizon, and it's probably something you'll want to check out."
Bryan crossed his arms, looking around the grand church. "Great. Another mysterious task. I'll handle it. But... don't let those giants mess up my gear while I'm gone."
John's eyes lit up with excitement. "I'll do my best, Captain," he said as he walked toward the door.
Bryan shook his head, watching John disappear down the corridor. "Emperor's blessing," he murmured softly before turning toward the hatch that led out of the church.
The training hall was quiet—too quiet. John stepped into the large steel-walled room and immediately sensed the strange silence in the air. The Mars-class battlecruiser was a fine ship, but its crew size wasn't as large as that of the bigger warships. The corridors were modular, rearranged as needed. However, the training facility should have been active by now. The crew had been ordered to train after the battle with the Orcs some time ago. But there was no one there. No armed sailors, no servitors, nothing.
Curious, John scanned the empty room, and then his sharp ears caught a sound. Loud and clear. Shouting, cursing, and the unmistakable clang of weapons. The sound was coming from the other side of the training hall. He pressed the button to open the hatch. As it slid open, a gust of air greeted him, the smell of sweat, blood, and battle filling his nostrils. Then, a massive hand shot out, holding a battle axe by the handle, the blade glinting dangerously close to his face.
"Were you injured during that time? You damn Devoured One took an axe hit! I told you to retreat, but you didn't listen!"
"In the name of the Emperor and Terra! You two, get out of there right now! I've been trained in Ultramar! I swear, you're going to keep me busy for the rest of the day!"
John stood off to the side with Johnson, watching the scene unfold. A wry smile tugged at his lips.
"How long have they been at it?" he asked.
Johnson glanced over at the chaos in the training ring. "Since I got here, Inquisitor. I'd say it's been almost an hour."
"Perfect," John replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Without further delay, he drew his bolter from his waist and fired. The first shot rang out, hitting Robert's sword dead center and shattering it. The second shot followed, this time destroying Tony's long blade. Both Astartes froze, stunned by the sudden intervention.
The two giants turned their heads slowly, glaring at the smoking muzzle of the boltgun in John's hand. He lowered the weapon and looked at them with exasperation. "If I remember correctly," John began, his voice steady but laced with a touch of annoyance, "each of you swore, under the witness of Lord Rogal Dorn, that there would be no more blood feuds between our brothers. And yet, here you are, cutting each other down with blades?"
Johnson grinned and nudged Tony out of the way with a playful shove. "Sparring, Judge. It's an old tradition between our two Chapters."
"When the Space Wolves and the Dark Angels meet, we send our warriors to settle things," Johnson added with a wink.
"Yeah," Tony chimed in, a smirk spreading across his face. "If I wanted to kill him, I would've done it ages ago."
Robert, ever the boisterous one, laughed loudly, his wild, blond hair falling into his eyes as he wiped it away. He grabbed a second weapon from the rack, a hunting knife. "Really? I'd love to see you try," Robert teased, flashing a grin.
"I'm more than happy to show you," Tony replied, stepping forward.
Another shot rang out. The hunting knife in Robert's hand shattered into pieces. "Enough!" John's voice rang out, his patience clearly wearing thin. "If you must compete, save it for the battlefield where the xenos can reap the consequences of your recklessness! But for now, cease this madness! And by the Emperor's will, stop ruining the sanctity of this training cage—it was reforged by the Tech-Priests only last week!"