Warhammer: Empire Reboot

"Isn't it just that there are fallen angels inside?"

At the edge of the storm, the array of dark angels suddenly fell silent.

Like a blade suddenly stopping its friction.

Several interrogating priests simultaneously placed their fingers on weapons.

Deathwing Terminator's shoulder armor dipped slightly, and his heavy weapons entered a ready-to-go stance.

The commander stared intently at Xiong Da.

"Do you know what you're saying?"

Xiong Da looked down at him, his voice gradually becoming lower.

"I know that you deserted the front line last time and almost caused the White Scars to be surrounded and killed by the Greens."

“I also know about those guys inside; they're the dirty debts you've been chasing for ten thousand years.”

"And we know that Abaddon's men have already gone in."

Upon hearing this, the Dark Angel finally stopped raising his gun.

Xiong Da sneered.

"Listen carefully."

"The Master of the Seal has no interest in cleaning up your messes."

"He asked me to give him the way because that broken thing inside could blow up the Vigilant Star's low-orbit defenses."

"If you want to arrest someone, follow me."

"If you want to keep it a secret, then shut up."

"Trying to block the way..."

Big Bear patted the metal ram of the Flying Bear Motorcycle.

"This thing of mine weighs sixty tons."

"The brakes are faulty."

The Dark Angel Commander's mask was expressionless.

The interrogating pastor whispered, "They know too much."

Big Bear heard it.

He leaned forward, his helmet almost pointing at the interrogating priest.

"My hearing is excellent too!!!"

The air felt tighter.

A sandstorm swept between the two teams, the fine sand grains striking the shields and power armor with a pattering sound like raindrops.

A few seconds later, the Dark Angel Commander raised his hand and pressed down on the team's weapons.

"We will follow."

The interrogating pastor turned his head.

"brother."

The commander didn't look at him; he kept his eyes fixed on the storm.

"The Fallen Ones are inside."

That's enough.

The goal of the unforgivable has never changed.

Their hatred for the traitor has been burning for ten thousand years.

If fallen angels are truly at the eye of the storm, they would step into the meat grinder even if they were walking into it.

Xiong Da turned his motorcycle around.

"Flying Bears, into the Storm."

Five hundred heavy anti-gravity motorcycles accelerated again, heading straight for the first low-pressure gravitational gap in the sandstorm vortex.

The Dark Angel paused for only a few seconds.

The commander then gave the order.

"The whole team follows."

A ghostly blue trail of flame and dark green armor surged one after the other into the wall of sand and dust.

Gravitational turbulence pulled the machine body from all sides.

Guided by the swarm of bees, the Flying Bear motorcycle traversed a winding path, sometimes close to the ground, sometimes rising hundreds of meters high, avoiding turbulent eddies that would tear armored vehicles apart.

The Dark Angels followed closely behind.

Ahead of them, deep within the vortex of the sandstorm, the black outline of the watchtower, buried for countless generations, was gradually emerging from the sandstorm.

……

The center of the sandstorm vortex was quieter than outsiders imagined.

The outer storm was like a spinning hell, powerful enough to lift tanks into the sky and grind mortal flesh into mist.

However, once inside the inner ring, the sound of the wind is actually suppressed by some kind of gravitational field.

The grains of sand are suspended in the air.

No one will be left behind.

It did not scatter.

They were as if pressed onto a fixed track by an invisible hand, slowly rotating around the watchtower.

The watchtower stands at the heart of the storm.

It was a black fortress.

The exterior walls are so high that the top is almost invisible. The material is not the ceramic steel and plastic steel commonly found on Vigilant Star, but an ancient alloy mixed with black stone.

The surface is covered with fine marks etched by wind and sand, many of which have existed for thousands of years.

Above the fortress, a massive weapon is embedded in the main tower.

The cannon body consists of a ring-shaped gravity coil, black support arms, and a multi-layered enclosed core. Each structure carries the cold, hard logic unique to the dark ages of technology, unlike the crude modifications made by the Imperial Mechanicus later, which treated decoration as prayer and gears as icons.

Void Claw.

It was asleep.

Even in its slumber, the surrounding space was subtly distorted.

Inside the main control hall of the fortress, the old light strips lit up section by section.

The ground sinks in a ring shape, with the Void Claw's control altar in the center.

Seven gravity-stabilized pillars stand around the altar, each bearing inscriptions of long-lost techniques.

A group of Astartes, clad in dark green and black mixed armor, stood around the hall.

Their armor was ancient.

Many of the armor plates date back to the Age of Great Expeditions.

The coats of arms on the shoulder armor were scraped off and replaced with personal insignia. Some people still retained the old First Legion insignia, only to have them torn apart with knife marks.

Fallen angel.

They've been hiding here for too long.

So long that the imperial regime on the planet Vigilant has changed hands several times, noble families have risen and fallen in many cycles, and the Mechanicus has dug through countless mineral layers, yet no one has truly touched this storm-swept fortress.

Their leader stood before the altar of control.

That person is a think tank member.

He wore a dark robe over his armor, the hood obscuring half his face, and held a staff engraved with ancient symbols. A dull crystal was embedded in the staff's head, from which a low, spiritual light flowed slowly.

His name was Seraphim.

They once belonged to the First Legion.

Now, no one calls him a loyalist anymore.

The fallen angels wait.

Not long ago, the outer beacon of the watchtower responded to another signal.

The signal came from the orbit.

From the Soul of Vengeance.

Abaddon finally sent men.

At the far end of the hall, the teleportation array lit up.

Black and red lightning crawled across the ground, and the air smelled of a mixture of rust, blood, ozone, and subspace dust.

A dozen or so Black Legion Terminators were the first to appear.

They were clad in black armor, with the eight-pointed star of chaos and the eye of the Black Legion etched on their shoulder armor. Explosive weapons hung at their sides, and chain fists and power claws gleamed in the afterglow of teleportation.

The last person to appear was taller than a regular Terminator.

He wore black and gold armor, with a broken Eye of Horus badge hanging on his chest.

Abaddon's second-in-command. Margras, the Black Legion's Oathkeeper.

He replaced the war commander at the watchtower.

Margrass stepped off the teleportation platform, looked at the altar, and then at the Void Claw control core that lay dormant in the center of the hall.

"really."

"The commander's judgment is correct."

"The watchtower is real."