Chapter 56: The Convergence in the Conor System

Chapter 56: The Convergence in the Conor System

Sicarius strode into his lord’s reception chamber with the distinctive gait of a swordmaster. He was the captain of the 2nd Company of the Extremis Warriors, the Watchful Lord, the Champion Knight of Makurag, a high-ranking overlord of Ultramar, and one of the foremost swordmasters of the Human Empire.

His hand instinctively rested on the hilt of his sword—a subconscious reflex born of his battle-hardened instincts. Even in the safest places, he remained tense and ready for combat at a moment’s notice.

“My lord,” Sicarius spoke.

“Any updates?” Kiliman settled back into his chair.

“Saint Celestin has arrived first in the Conor System and has already engaged the enemy there.”

“How is the battle progressing? And what is the status of the Conor System?” Kiliman asked.

“The fighting is intense and deadlocked. The enemy forces are complex, comprising Whisperers, Iron Warriors, part of the Black Legion’s traitors, and other renegade factions driven from the major expedition fleets. They have converged in the Conor System, with the Black Legion being the strongest faction among them. The system’s primary star remains unconquered. The Emperor’s Scythe Legion and a segment of the Sky Blue Knights are still valiantly resisting the forces of Chaos.”

The Black Legion was founded by Abaddon, the warlord chosen by the Four Gods. After Horus’s death, his sons splintered into countless small warbands. They even failed to protect Horus’s corpse and flagship, which were seized by other factions. It was only after Abaddon’s rise that the tide turned. He united Horus’s remnants and some traitors thirsting for revenge against the Empire to form the infamous Black Legion, which relentlessly launched expeditions against the Empire.

Empowered by the Eye of Terror, the Black Legion stood invincible; they always attacked while the Empire was forced to defend.

“It seems they refuse to give up, aiming to leave a thorn in Ultramar’s side and bleed us steadily,” Kiliman said grimly. “But they have underestimated my resolve. Order the fleet to proceed at full speed. We will support the Saint and the Conor System. Once we cleanse these traitors, the expedition can enter a new phase.”

“As you command, my lord. The fleet will advance at full speed.”

As time passed and the loyalists continually expelled the traitors and Chaos forces, the turbulent warp storms began to abate, allowing swifter navigation.

After three weeks of travel, Kiliman’s fleet emerged from the warp at a safe distance beyond the stellar gravity well of the Conor System. Ripples of spatial distortion burst forth, and countless warships appeared bathed in etheric light. The twisting tendrils of energy clung to the reinforced hulls until the ships were safely beyond, then dissipated.

A robed servant hurried along a corridor illuminated by luminescent lamps. His legs had been replaced with mechanical limbs, allowing him to cling tightly to the steel walkway, unaffected by fluctuating gravity or the vibrations of the Makurag’s Radiance.

A hovering servo-skull trailed behind him, its red electronic eyes humming as they scanned for warp-spawned demons attempting to slip past the guardians unnoticed.

One of the servant’s hands, gaunt and claw-like, gripped a freshly recorded parchment containing critical data, intended for the most important person aboard the ship.

He passed other crew members and servants who were engrossed in their tasks—loading artillery, tending to Space Marines’ gear, or carrying the injured for treatment. Warp instability inevitably caused some damage during travel.

The servant arrived at the bridge control room of the Makurag’s Radiance, guarded by Terminator-armored members of the Honor Guard. They scrutinized every individual seeking entrance, their massive bolters fixed to their armored chests.

To the servant, these towering warriors were demigods. Their fully enclosed blue power armor emitted a faint glow, intricately integrated with mechanical and techno-religious technologies. Their noble helmets and the humming power packs mounted on their backs filled the servant with near-reverent awe.

“This is the latest warp observation data, presented to the Primarch,” the servant respectfully offered the parchment, declaring his purpose.

“Enter,” came the deep voice from the communicator on one Honor Guard’s helmet.

With the grinding of machinery, the heavy door slid open, and the servant stepped inside.

The bridge ceiling soared above, adorned with marble sculptures on all sides. Around the central command console sat the power chief, intelligence chief, and energy chief, connected via neural cables to the consoles, sharing data. Behind each was a contemplator machine assisting their work.

Rows of strategic divination shrines lined the walls, awaiting activation by battlefield analysts.

Captain Brech occupied his seat, surrounded by numerous holographic projections, each displaying extensive battlefield data. The battle in the Conor System raged on, the clashes growing ever more fierce.

Kilimian’s fleet was closing in on the battlefield, and Brech needed to find the optimal strategic entry point.

Ignoring the others, the servant proceeded directly to the Primarch seated upon a massive throne inscribed with runes.

“My lord,” the servant said respectfully.

Kilimian took the data record from the servant’s hands. The document was thick—three centimeters in depth.

Yet the Primarch’s reading was swift; within seconds, Kiliman had reviewed the entire record and handed it back, signaling the servant to seal it away.

Having digested the information, Kiliman turned his gaze toward Brech.

“How are things, Captain?”

“The enemy still possesses sixteen battleships and a considerable number of cruiser strike vessels. Lady Celestin is gaining the upper hand; her victory is inevitable. Our fleet will intercept and endeavor to trap all enemy ships in this starfield, my lord.”

Kilimian remained silent, tacitly approving Brech’s tactical plan.

Victory in space combat was assured.

The traitor fleet, already on the brink, collapsed outright as Kiliman’s forces joined the fray. Battleships swarmed alongside the Makurag’s Radiance, beams of searing light striking the traitor fleet’s rear and flanks.

Countless torpedoes carved lethal trajectories through space. Intense bursts of flame erupted within the rebel fleet.

Delayed nuclear warheads incinerated ship after ship into ashes.

Radiant beams sliced through traitor warships as if cutting through butter.

Disorganized and scattered, the traitor fleet was powerless against the loyalists’ disciplined and overwhelming assault. One by one, vessels exploded into oblivion.

Remaining traitor ships attempted to flee but were swiftly surrounded and torn apart by the loyalist fleet, which descended like ravenous wolves.

Within an hour of Kiliman’s arrival, the traitor fleet was reduced to a vast cloud of drifting debris in the cold void. Their frozen corpses became ice sculptures in the vacuum of space.

As the war concluded, a voice communication echoed through the bridge of the Makurag’s Radiance.

“My lord, Saint Celestin requests boarding.”

(The chapters owed will be uploaded after the book is released.)

I will continue to provide three to four updates daily.

Please support by recommending the work; otherwise, it may fade away.

I wish I could update seven or eight times a day to quickly see how the story performs.

But at this starting point, the follower count does not increase.

Currently, I owe three chapters in recommendations, one in monthly votes, and one in rewards.

A total of five chapters owed.

All accounted for, boss.

(The chapter ends.)