Garan Crowe stood by the central control console, his gaze fixed on one of the holographic screens displaying the battlefield. The footage showed the Grey Knights executing swift and efficient maneuvers to annihilate traitorous heretics.
The Fallen Knights, corrupted by Hell, possessed strength comparable to young Astartes. Yet against the Grey Knights, they were utterly outclassed, unable to mount any meaningful resistance.
As a company captain, Garan had access to classified information about the Grey Knights. However, this was his first time witnessing their prowess firsthand.
By rank, the Grey Knights could be considered the "uncles" of the Astartes. After all, their gene-seed came directly from the Emperor of Mankind himself, granting them strength far surpassing standard Astartes.
While this supremacy was logical, Garan represented the Dark Angels and their Primarch, Lion El'Jonson.
If the glory of conquering the 13th Universe fell entirely to the Inquisition and the Grey Knights, Garan's reputation—and that of the First Company—would suffer.
Though Lion might not reprimand him for such a "minor" failure, Garan's pride wouldn't allow him to continue leading the First Company.
He needed to claim the "first victory" to secure recognition.
However, this had to be done without disrupting the overall operation or incurring unnecessary casualties. Thus, it needed to appear as a rational and "friendly" effort to steal the glory.
Garan decided to lead a preemptive reconnaissance mission under the guise of preparing for the main forces. With a small detachment of elite troops and his company champion, Aldemo, he would make a direct strike at the Hellgate, scouting the area and possibly engaging its defenders.
If they "accidentally" breached the Hellgate or "happened" to slay a Hell Lord or Archdemon during reconnaissance, it would all be deemed reasonable and beneficial to the mission.
Turning to the communications officer, Garan ordered:
"Prepare two Thunderhawk gunships. Notify the company guard and Aldemo to assemble in the designated hangar in ten minutes."
"Understood, Captain."
The communications officer promptly transmitted the orders. Garan then addressed his deputy, standing nearby in Titan VII power armor with a red-painted helmet:
"You'll take command of the company fleet while I'm away. Ensure the ground forces remain secure."
"Yes, sir," the deputy replied, saluting with a raised fist across his chest.
Satisfied, Garan left the bridge, his armored footsteps echoing heavily as he made his way to the hangar via the ship's rail transit system.
But on his way, he encountered an unexpected guest—Selene, a high-level AI clad in a sleek combat suit with her helmet retracted.
"Selene," Garan said, surprised. "I wasn't expecting you to visit our flagship."
Selene smiled and gestured toward the open tram doors.
"Let's head to the hangar together. I believe your strike on the Hellgate could benefit from the assistance of an AI like me."
Garan's expression shifted to cautious skepticism. Though he didn't reply immediately, he entered the tram alongside her.
Inside the tram car, Garan stood in the center, towering over Selene, who sat on the left-side bench. His sharp, scrutinizing gaze betrayed his wariness.
Selene broke the silence, addressing his concerns directly:
"I'm not as shallow as you think, Captain. I didn't eavesdrop on your communications. Instead, I deduced that the Lion's progeny—proud as you are—might take decisive action to outshine the Grey Knights after their spectacular display."
Garan remained silent but clearly understood that Selene had seen through his intentions.
"I'm here," Selene continued, "not only to support your mission but to ensure your safety. As an AI serving both the Empire and its corporations, I cannot allow one of the Emperor's sons to fall.
"Trust me, Captain. You won't want me to write a report on the loss of Dark Angels during our return to the primary universe."
Garan's expression darkened, his voice sharp with irritation:
"This low-tier universe poses no real threat to us."
Selene shrugged nonchalantly. "You're absolutely right."
However, she quickly added, "I also need firsthand samples from the Hell dimension. This will help the Empire and its research divisions better understand the biological and technological phenomena in this universe."
Hearing her true objective, Garan's mood softened slightly. He nodded in agreement, recognizing the strategic value of her presence.
Selene, created from the cloned brain of Alexia, inherited her creator's maternal instincts toward the Astartes. This subconscious attachment drove her to join Garan's mission, ensuring they avoided traps or underestimating their foes.
Additionally, she sought answers to mysteries the Empire had yet to unravel, such as the whereabouts of the "Heaven Dimension." Perhaps the Hellgate held clues.
The tram soon arrived at the hangar.
Exiting the car, Selene saw two Thunderhawk gunships stationed nearby, their sleek forms gleaming under the hangar's lights.
The Thunderhawk, designed specifically for Astartes by the Atlas Research Division with the Emperor's guidance, featured oversized compartments tailored for their enhanced physiques.
Capable of aerial combat, ground support, and carrying six tactical squads for boarding actions, it was far more versatile—and expensive—than the standard Stormbird.
Before the Thunderhawks stood forty members of the company guard and Aldemo, the company champion.
The guards, clad in the advanced Titan VII power armor, sported knightly helmet designs and white capes attached to their backpack modules. Each carried a variety of heavy weapons, from bolters to plasma guns, alongside melee weapons like power swords and chainswords.
Aldemo, in a similarly upgraded armor variant, bore a golden laurel crest on his helmet, marking him as the champion.
When Garan and Selene arrived, the troops saluted silently before boarding the Thunderhawks.
Moments later, the Thunderhawks took off, guided by the ship's bridge and ground crews.
As they exited the hangar into a clear sky cleansed by tactical hydrogen missiles, the pilots accelerated, leaving the fleet and ground forces far behind.
Once the gunships entered a thick layer of murky clouds, they disappeared from view.
Inside the cabin, Selene sat on the second level near the cockpit, her feet dangling as her petite frame didn't quite reach the floor. Her violet eyes flickered as she used the gunship's pulse scanners and radar to map Jerusalem's terrain.
In minutes, she shared a preliminary map with the squad.
Garan and his troops reviewed the data on their helmet displays. The map revealed an area teeming with heat signatures—living structures corrupted by Hell's influence.
At the center lay a zone glowing red-orange, indicating extreme heat. According to reports, this was the Hellgate itself.
Selene's scans confirmed their suspicions, adding credibility to their plan.
Just then, a metallic voice echoed in the comms:
"Captain, we've detected a large number of unidentified flying entities five kilometers ahead. Requesting permission to engage and secure the airspace."
"Permission granted."
"Understood."
Whoosh—BANG-BANG!
Missiles and plasma cannons fired, their reverberations shaking the cabin.
Soon, the comms reported back:
"Threats neutralized. ETA forty-five seconds. Prepare for a hot landing."
Garan and his guards rose, securing their power armor and readying their weapons.
"Captain," Selene interjected. "The Hellgate's temperature is spiking—it appears a weapon is charging."
"Pilots, evasive maneuvers!" Garan ordered immediately.
"Yes, sir."
A moment later—
WHOOSH—!
A massive energy beam, comparable to the firepower of a Forerunner cruiser's secondary cannon, shot toward them.
Anticipating the attack, the Thunderhawk pilots executed a series of rapid maneuvers, narrowly avoiding destruction.
BOOM—CRASH!
The gunships landed roughly, their treads skidding against the cracked ground. As the hatches opened, the chaos outside greeted the squad.
The murky skies glowed with unnatural pink and red hues, and massive, twisted living structures and mountains of flesh loomed around them, pulsating with grotesque life.
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