Warhammer: My buddy has too many secrets!

The Holy Blood Angels have set off.

Their movements attracted the attention of the First Legion.

The most recent warp of the Stone Fortress landed near the Limitless Starfield.

Originally, the Stone Fortress was located in the Dark Starfield, Cardia Sector, north of the Eye of Terror, far away from the Ultramarines. However, this time, a slight warp fluctuation, or more precisely, a certain stability phenomenon related to the Dark Angels, caused them to deviate from their original course and arrive at this place.

Because the megalith possesses the ability to teleport across galaxies, although this ability requires a short cooling-off period, the Dark Angels began to operate covertly in this area. They also received the stellar language in the vicinity and began their clandestine activities.

As the loyal First Legion, with a long and distinguished lineage, they possess the most powerful psionic masters. Even if certain traces in the real universe are erased by the most exquisite means, they will still leave an "echo" in the perception of these masters.

This echo is like the ripples that gradually disappear after a stone is thrown into water; it is invisible to the naked eye, but the water itself remembers the disturbance.

Deep within the Great Stone Fortress.

Ezekiel closed his eyes, letting his consciousness sink into that abyss of nothingness.

He is the chief think tank leader of the Dark Angels, the grand mentor of the think tank, the guardian of the Book of Redemption, and the holder of the key.

Each of these titles represented thousands of years of tradition and unspoken responsibility, but at this moment, as he immersed himself in psionic meditation deep within the warp, all those titles lost their meaning. He was simply a perceiver, a listener, perhaps a hunter searching for faint signals in the chaotic waves.

He is known as the most powerful psyker among the Dark Angels since the time of Ryan Aljonsen.

This assessment is not flattery, but a fact.

He was sitting in a meditation room deep within the boulder. The room had no windows, no decorations, only a black marble floor and psionic protective runes engraved on the ceiling.

Around him, the candle flames remained motionless in the still air, casting a dim glow. His sword lay across his lap, its psionic conduits emitting a faint blue light that pulsed in sync with his breathing.

The subspace surged around him like a perpetually restless ocean. He could sense the immense presence of the monolith, this colossal artificial celestial body suspended like a rock in the material universe, its psionic signal casting a long shadow in the chaotic waves like a lighthouse.

But today, he wasn't focused on the giant rock's signal, but on something from further away. He sensed the movements of the Holy Blood Angels, and almost instinctively, he wanted to know the true whereabouts of this allied force.

As if by fate, he intercepted an encrypted star language. He was very familiar with the encryption method of this star language; it was the encrypted star language sent out by those despicable four-armed aliens and gene plunderers.

As the ancient First Legion, they had been clearing out various aliens throughout the galaxy even before the Primarchs returned, and they are doing the same now. Recently, the Dark Angels have been secretly wiping out a group of powerful Gene Raiders in a nearby star system.

The cunning and ruthless were hiding in the hive. Even some of the Dark Angels and Terminator veterans they sent out were injured, but their results were equally fruitful. They destroyed their headquarters and intercepted the aliens' Star Language encryption method.

Ezekiel was meditating on whether there were any cunning people using this encryption method, and coincidentally, he received a message—a message that attracted a lot of attention.

"Pitch black... Astartes, skilled with power swords... Unknown identity... Dark Angel, providing support..."

The message seems to have originated from a Cobra-class cruiser, and appears to be a cunning plea for support from the ship!

Lancelot probably didn't expect that while he was cleaning up the mixed-blood thieves, the star-speakers of those thieves would actually broadcast some of his information!

Even if one tries to hide their tracks, as a member of the First Legion, they will inevitably leave traces. However, Lancelot clearly never expected that these traces would coincidentally attract the attention of the Chief Think Tank!

So Ezekiel cast his gaze toward a certain place.

Something had left its mark on the edge of the extreme star field. He delved into his meditation, letting his consciousness traverse the waves of the warp and extend in that direction.

He could sense the presence of other think tanks—those Dark Angel think tanks scattered throughout the galaxy, their psionic signals twinkling like stars in the darkness.

But he didn't stop to talk to anyone. Instead, he continued forward. Finally, he suddenly sensed that in a place where there shouldn't be any dark angels, a ripple belonging to a dark angel had suddenly appeared.

He instantly became alert.

Then, he found it.

Or rather, he found the traces left after it was erased.

The mark was extremely faint, like the ink residue left on a piece of parchment that had been repeatedly wiped clean. He would almost certainly have missed it if he hadn't been looking for it, but now, it was there.

Ezekiel frowned.

The feeling was that someone had deliberately erased some sign of existence in the subspace. Not a simple cover-up, but with a precision that could almost be described as surgical.

A certain signal was extracted from the memory of the subspace, leaving only ripples...

This is a method of erasing memories. Even a master of psychic powers like him cannot perceive the specific situation across the distant galaxy. However, his intuition tells him that a dark angel that should not have appeared has appeared in that place!

He opened his eyes and stared at the flickering candlelight in the meditation room.

Fallen angel.

The word was hammered into his mind like a red-hot nail.

For ten thousand years, the Dark Angels and their minions have been hunting down the traitors who were scattered throughout time and space when Caliban was destroyed—those beings known as the "Fallen Angels."

This is a mission that never ends, a duty that defines the meaning of the Dark Angels' existence. The loyal First Legion must never tell anyone that half of the Legion once betrayed them, leading to the destruction of their home planet.

To this end, the dark angels established an organization called the "Unforgiven." Instead of following the Astartes Codex, they maintained a legionary structure to concentrate their forces to arrest fallen angels in any sense.

Their existence is an eternal stain on their honor, a disgrace they must wash away with eternal pursuit.

Now that he has tracked down the trail, the answer is quite obvious.

Ezekiel stood up, walked out of the meditation room, through the long corridor, and toward the command center of the monolith.

The command center of the giant stone is a huge domed space, with murals depicting the Dark Angels' army conquering the galaxy.

But these murals are quite different from the typical murals in Space Marine chapter fortresses that celebrate victory—they depict not victory, but repentance.

In the image, the monks kneel before the shattered ruins of Caliban, their heads bowed, their shoulders trembling with the weight of their guilt.

In the very center, Ryan Aljonson rested his hands on a sword stuck upside down in the ground, his face hidden in shadow, his expression obscured.

This is the eternal secret of the dark angels, and also their eternal burden.

The High Master, Azrael, the current Chapter Master of the Dark Angels, stood before a massive holographic star map, his Terminator armor gleaming a deep green in the candlelight. He had his back to the doorway, seemingly already knowing who had arrived.

Ezekiel.

His voice was calm and deep, like a stone thrown into deep water. "What did you sense?"

"A trace that has been erased."

Ezekiel walked to the star map and imported the psionic data into the system. Immediately, a patch of blue dots appeared on the holographic star map, and between these dots, a blurry, almost invisible shadow area began to flicker.

"Near the edge of the extreme star field, a trace was erased using extremely sophisticated methods, but I am certain that there is activity of dark angels that should not exist there."

Azrael's eyes were fixed on the shimmering shadowy area on the star map, remaining unmoved for a long time.

"The Blood Angels' fleet is also heading towards that area."

Ezekiel spoke slowly, as if savoring the weight of each word: "Led by Dante himself. Two men went together; perhaps they have discovered something."

"What are the characteristics of a signal?"

Azrael asked.

"The traces were too faint. They were wiped off too cleanly."

Ezekiel shook his head, and an uneasy tremor came again from the eye socket covered by the psychic seal.

"But that's precisely why I'm even more certain. Ordinary warp interference won't leave such a trace; it will leave chaos, noise, and a mess like ruins after a storm."

"And this mark, it has been cleaned up. Every fragment has been picked up, every speck of dust has been swept away. This isn't a cover-up, this is... destruction."

Azrael remained silent for a long time.

"Fallen angel." He finally uttered the word, his voice as low as a sigh, yet it sounded unusually heavy in the empty hall.

"I can't be 100% sure," Ezekiel said. "The traces are too faint. But even a one in ten thousand chance is worth pursuing."

"I'm willing to give everything for that one in ten thousand chance."

Azrael nodded without refuting.

This is the creed of the Dark Angels.

There is no such thing as "the probability is too low" or "it is not worth investing resources in" when it comes to fallen angels.

Every clue, no matter how insignificant, must be pursued to the end. Every suspicious trace, no matter how faint, must be thoroughly investigated.

As long as one fallen angel remains at large, the shame of the Dark Angels can never be washed away.

"Summon the unforgivable," Azrael said.

"I need the best of the best. Ravenwing, Deathwing. The inquisitor must come along too."