"I am merely a penitent, longing to atone for my mistakes."
The cold glint of the Caliban Greatsword instantly illuminated the dim cabin. The black-robed man slowly raised the greatsword, holding it horizontally before him, reflecting his haggard face, which seemed to have endured ten thousand years of torment and self-torment. His face was covered in stubble, deep and profound like that of a forest knight.
His words were low, hoarse, and calm, yet beneath this tranquility lurked something terrifying, like a mad Lion waiting to hunt, lurking in the dark forest, waiting to fiercely bite into the flesh and blood of its prey.
At the same time, the black robe, seemingly woven from shadows, moved without wind. Beneath the robe, four emotions—cunning, fury, stagnation, and envy—seemed to writhe and twist, penetrating his skin and flesh, piercing into the depths of his soul, blessing him, cursing him, and corrupting his spirit and body.
Reyna had experienced this feeling before, on Ice Moon Krassus, when facing Abaddon. This man before her was simultaneously blessed by the Four Gods; he was a Champion of the Four Gods. This discovery sent shivers down Reyna's spine.
"I am the Deputy Commander of the First Legion Dark Angels, the leader of the Fallen Angels, a despicable traitor, Sir Luther of the Caliban Knights."
He did not move the sword in his hand, but the cold glint of the greatsword pointed at Reyna.
"..Who?" Reyna asked, bewildered.
The title of this knight, this man, this person who might be an Astartes, was very long and sounded very important.
But Reyna couldn't understand. Was there such a position as Deputy Commander in the Astartes? What were the Fallen Angels? And what was the Caliban Knights?
Facing Reyna's questions, Luther also froze. He slightly opened his mouth, and his tongue moved several times before he finally uttered a sentence:
"You are considered a mid-to-high-ranking official of the current Imperium, aren't you?"
"Haven't you read the history of the Great Crusade?"
"I used to be the second-in-command of the Dark Angels! I raised Lion!"
Confronted by Luther's questions, Reyna felt a pang of guilt for a moment.
Actually, Alexander had sent Reyna several historical works on the Great Crusade, recently completed by the Rationalist Order of True History.
But those voluminous historical works gave Reyna too much of a headache.
The simple stories told by the Adeptus Ministorum were more suitable for her.
Of course, a little guilt was just a little guilt; Reyna's hands didn't slow down at all.
She quickly reached for the item she kept hidden at her waist, a bottle of Siegfried Bathing Liquid, which could grant Reyna thirty minutes of invincibility.
Reyna didn't need to defeat this man named Luther; she only needed to hold out until Alexander —
Unbeknownst to her, Luther had already appeared before Reyna, and the Caliban Greatsword in his hand had long since swung out, tearing Reyna's cloak, severing the leather strap that bound the Siegfried Bathing Liquid, and sending the bottle filled with scarlet liquid flying.
The technique was exquisitely masterful, brutal, powerful, terrifying, like the fangs of a cold, wild Lion striking out.
The Siegfried Bathing Liquid shattered in mid-air, and the scarlet liquid spilled uselessly onto the ground, not a drop landing on Reyna's body.
So fast, almost catching up to Lord Guilliman, but how was this possible?
Reyna had no time to think. Her Psyker energy erupted without restraint, slamming heavily into the black-clad knight named Luther.
But Luther stood like a black boulder in a raging storm, unmoving, unwavering, unshifting.
"Your Psyker power is strong."
"But that's all it is."
"I have gained much from the Gods."
Pain shot through Reyna's side. The Caliban Greatsword had swung out again, she knew not when, cutting into Reyna's flank, threatening to cleave her in two.
Reyna let out a savage growl. A powerful Psyker shock impacted reality itself, producing a tremendous recoil that propelled Reyna's body heavily backward, saving her from being cut in half by the Caliban Greatsword.
"Impressive, you actually dodged it."
Luther praised Reyna sincerely:
"Do you know? The Lion's swordsmanship was something I taught him from a young age. I was his first sword instructor."
When he said this, Luther's words carried a hint of pride.
Reyna remained silent. Ignoring the wound in her abdomen, she relentlessly channeled Psyker energy towards Luther.
But Luther merely wielded the blade in his hand with minimal movement, deftly deflecting Reyna's Psyker heavy hammers, which were powerful enough to fell a Greater Daemon.
"Actually, I'm not really an Astartes. I'm too old to undergo all the modifications; I only had some enhancement surgeries."
"But you see, as I said, as long as you can control your desires and not be corrupted by your desires themselves, you can master the blessings of the Four Gods and become incredibly powerful."
"I even caught up to Lion. Before Caliban was destroyed, I was his equal."
"Like a father and his excellent child, like one comrade and another comrade, one kin and another kin."
Luther rambled on, his words revealing a slight, yet terrifying, madness.
Reyna remained silent, simply pressing her Psyker energy fiercely towards Luther.
Luther again lightly deflected it: "This won't work on me—"
Suddenly, the steel plate beneath Luther's feet collapsed. Before he could finish speaking, he plunged into the deep pit.
Reyna gasped softly. All her previous attacks had been feints and distractions.
The purpose was to buy time for the machine spirit of this retribution-class battleship, allowing the machine spirit to exert all its strength to create this hole in its own structure, causing Luther to fall directly into the cold, deep void.
"You are very capable."
"Is this the ability to communicate directly with the machine spirit? Is it a gift from that one? Or is it simply that the machine spirit of this battleship is powerful and docile?"
Shadows spread like mist behind Reyna, and Luther slowly emerged from them:
"Impressive. If it were my former self, your plan might have succeeded. Unfortunately, I have received new aid from the Warp."
Reyna's back ached, and blood flowed out. She fell to the ground, all strength seemingly drained from her body.
"This is the Poison of Life," Luther said, clutching a dagger.
Though he called it a dagger, it was clearly designed for an Astartes, almost a short sword in Luther's hand.
"My friend, Typhus of the 14th Legion, gifted this dagger to me—may he be well."
"He claimed this dagger, named the Poison of Life, could kill anything, even a Primarch."
"But I never used it to harm the Lion. I never killed Lion."
Luther rambled on, then re-sheathed the dagger at his waist and drew the Caliban Greatsword once more.
"It won't hurt much, and I won't leave a body for you, not even ashes, for I know that one can resurrect the deceased."
"Do you have any last words?"
"..traitor."
Reyna's body was weak and powerless. A gentle, comforting white glow appeared before her eyes:
"I see the light of the 22nd century. I have done what I could."
"My soul will return to the 22nd century. What about yours?"
"Who will absolve your sins, traitor?"
Luther's expression suddenly turned to fear. The Caliban Greatsword in his hand, imbued with fierce Warp energy, swung down at Reyna.
The ashes were crushed into even smaller fragments, swept into the torrent of the Warp and dissipated.
Luther's face was cold, tinged with madness. He struck the retribution-class battleship with the greatsword in his hand.
The mighty power of the Warp instantly swept through the ship. The powerful corruption directly destroyed the battleship's engines, and combined with the operations of the daemons within the ship, this vessel also began to plummet towards the Steel Ring orbiting Mars, just like the other ships around it.
After completing all this, Luther and the daemons once again vanished into the shadows, as if they had never appeared.
The sky was completely ignited. A section of the Steel Ring was struck, ignited, and shattered by countless flashing fireballs, and flames burned in the void, illuminating more than half of Mars.
Approximately one-sixth of the Steel Ring was directly torn off.
Three sky-ladders, which plunged directly into the earth, could not withstand the immense force and collapsed and disintegrated with it.
The entire Martian sky was covered by a great rain of steel, iron, and fire.
The smaller fragments and damaged void ships were first captured by Mars' gravity, piercing the atmosphere and hurtling towards the crimson land.
Workers, overseers, and Tech-Priests on Mars cried out in terror.
Just then, a figure wearing a cowboy hat, with a revolver tucked into his waistband, and circles of string wrapped around his hands, suddenly appeared on the red-sanded ground.
"Nobi-style String Games... Galaxy."
Countless threads streaked across the sky.
The people on Mars watched in shock and stupor as the threads layered over each other, enveloping the entire Martian sky, catching and entangling every fragment and shattered starship falling into Mars' atmosphere, instantly appearing like a galaxy hanging on the horizon.
At the same time, the broken section of the Steel Ring finally could no longer resist Mars' immense gravity and also began to fall into the atmosphere.
Alexander pushed open a pinkish-red wooden door outside the atmosphere, standing before the fiercely burning Steel Ring.
In his hand, he clutched a scarlet cloak.
He dramatically swung the cloak, and it collided with the Steel Ring that was crashing towards Mars' atmosphere.
The Steel Ring seemed to be repelled by this soft piece of cloth, changing direction and flying into the depths of the void.
The countless beings on Mars who had escaped disaster watched this scene in awe, many already kneeling on the ground, beginning to praise the Omnissiah.
High Fabricator Belisarius Dora Cawl noticed this scene. Draped in a scarlet robe, he quickly stood beneath the metal colossus of Saint Doraemon, and using the amplifier installed in his body, he shouted loudly:
"Praise! All beings on Mars!"
"This is a miracle created by original power, Saint Doraemon!"
"Praise! Chosen of the Omnissiah!"
"Because original power, Saint Doraemon, has descended upon Mars."
"But you should remember, original power is not a god!"