CHAPTER 2 — A gold armor!
The sun hung high over the horizon, casting its light across the pristine beach. Caelum stirred from his brief repose on the sand, the grains sliding off his golden Primaris armor as he rose to his full towering height. He flexed his fingers around the haft of his power axe, letting the weight settle in his grasp, it felt like an extension of his body, familiar and right. Around him, the world was astonishingly calm. The white sand stretched in clean curves to the water's edge, and the gentle waves lapped rhythmically against the shore. In the distance, a forest of green rose softly from the land, untouched and alive. For the first time in millennia, Caelum sensed a world entirely free from the stench of industry, and the taint of warp energy.
With his left hand, he lifted the Death Mask of Sanguinius from his face and set it carefully at his side. When the mask came off, it revealed his true visage, handsome and solemn, his red pearl eyes reflecting both the fire of countless wars and the calm of long-lived experience. His long hair, a mixture of gold and white, framed a face that bore no softness but no cruelty either; the lines and textures of his features were a testament to his age, nearly a millennium of life compressed into flesh and ceramite. The white strands whispered of years beyond mortal reckoning, yet there was a vitality in his gaze, a clarity that only one who had survived countless centuries could possess.
He drew in a deep breath. The air was clean, sharp, and alive, carrying the subtle scents of salt and distant forests. The force of his inhale caused a small gust to ripple through the sand at his feet. Slowly, he exhaled, a measured release of breath, and muttered to himself, "This world… is clean. No radiation, no waste."
His senses, honed for warfare and survival, swept across the beach and the bordering forests. There was nothing here that suggested danger, yet there was life. He could feel it under the water, hear it in the hum of unseen creatures, feel it vibrate subtly through the sand beneath him. The absence of warp energy was striking, almost surreal. He had been in worlds corrupted by Chaos, consumed by the horrors of tyranids, plagued by the taint of corruption, and yet here, the air and water were pure.
Curious, Caelum approached the water's edge, the tips of his boots sinking slightly into the wet sand. Beneath the calm surface, he sensed movement, the unmistakable signature of something massive. Slowly, his red eyes traced the shifting currents. Then he saw it, a sea creature, massive and sleek, moving through the water with casual grace. Its body was long, muscular, measuring roughly twelve to fifteen meters, scaled in a dark teal that faded into silver along its underbelly. A single, curved horn rose from the center of its head, polished smooth like bone sharpened to perfection.
Caelum assessed it without fear. The creature was enormous, yes, but not threatening in its casual movements. It was a perfect source of nutrition and, more importantly, a living presence in a world untouched by the cruelty of the wars he had known. His lips curled faintly, almost imperceptibly, as he considered it. He flexed his fingers around his axe again, feeling the familiar hum of power coursing through the weapon, and stepped into the water.
With a controlled movement, he activated the jump pack on his back, the small thrusters assisting his movement beneath the waves. The creature noticed him then, its massive body shuddering slightly as it roared, the horn twitching in warning. It lunged forward, aiming to pierce him with deadly precision. Caelum reacted without thought, a lifetime of combat instinct guiding his every motion. He twisted his body mid-thrust, letting the creature's attack graze past him, then surged to its side.
His power axe swung in a smooth, precise arc. The first strike bit into the creature's thick neck, but the sheer mass of it required more. A second blow followed immediately, cleaving through the remaining muscle and vertebrae. The sea king faltered, its massive body slipping beneath the water. Without hesitation, Caelum activated his jump pack again and lifted the corpse, propelling himself back to the shore.
Once on solid ground, he set the creature down gently. The sun glinted off his golden armor, highlighting centuries of victories etched into the ceramite plates. Around him, the beach remained quiet, serene. Caelum surveyed the nearby trees and selected a few with minimal effort, cutting them into long, sturdy sticks with clean swings of his power axe. He prepared a fire in a methodical manner, activating a single nozzle on his jump pack at low output. Sparks flew, heat igniting the dry wood almost instantly, producing a small but controlled blaze.
He skewered the massive chunks of sea meat onto the sticks and arranged them over the fire. Then he stepped back, his posture deliberate, letting the ritual unfold. Cooking was not merely a necessity; it was discipline, a ritual that connected the warrior to life itself, even outside the missions and battles that defined him. For nearly an hour, he tended the fire, turning the meat slowly, ensuring it cooked evenly. When ready, he cut portions into more manageable pieces with the edge of his axe, savoring the smell as much as the taste.
When he finally began to eat, it was deliberate. He bit into the first piece, chewing thoroughly, letting the nutrients absorb fully into his body. Each motion was measured, elegant, almost ceremonial. Time seemed to stretch, the sun climbing higher as he consumed his meal, bite by bite, without rush, without distraction. Even the simple act of eating became a reflection of the discipline that had defined him for nearly a millennium.
He allowed himself this time because he was not on a mission, no orders, no enemies, no galaxy-wide war demanding action. Centuries of combat had made him precise and ritualistic; even eating followed that discipline. the act of preparing and consuming a meal with care was as much a meditation as any training, a quiet assertion of control in a universe that often offered none.
Smoke from the fire, however, did not go unnoticed. On the horizon, a pirate ship had been circling Jaya Island, heading toward the mock town. Its captain, Grog "Big Talk" Malvin, a man with a stature of more than 2 meters, squinted against the sun. Smoke rose from the beach, and his hungry crew groaned in anticipation.
"There's smoke there! Go there! There's cooking food!" Grog shouted, his voice carrying across the water. The pirates, famished and eager, quickly agreed, steering their wooden vessel toward the source.
As they drew closer, the pirate crew saw him: a figure in radiant golden armor, seated on the sand, bones of a massive sea creature scattered beside him, eating with quiet precision. Captain Grog froze, and then his mouth fell open. "Lo-look… golds! A gold armor!" he stammered, mesmerized by the gleaming plates.
"Hey you! Remove that gold you're wearing, I might spare your life!" Grog called out, drooling, hunger overriding reason.
Caelum paused, chewing thoughtfully. He did not rise, did not react immediately. The pirates murmured among themselves, uncertainty spreading through their ranks.
Finally, Grog's patience snapped. "Kill him! And the golden armor is ours then!" he shouted. His crew, armed with knives and crude swords, surged forward, motivated by greed and hunger.
Caelum rose fully, power axe in hand. The first pirate to reach him was cut down before he could close the distance. The swing was impossibly fast, impossibly precise. Blood splashed against the sand, and the man's upper body collapsed while the lower half remained standing for a moment before succumbing to gravity. The rest of the pirates froze, fear clashing with their instincts.
Grog, wielding a massive metal axe, roared and ran forward, "You bastard! I'll cut your head and play with it!" His men followed him blindly, emboldened by the captain's fury.
Caelum's eyes flicked toward him. The axe swung in a wide arc, aimed at his head. He shifted just enough for the blade to miss by a centimeter, grazing his hair. The humans here are stronger than usual… but astonishingly stupid, he noted calmly in his mind.
With a fluid motion, Caelum extended his free hand like a striking serpent, wrapping it around Grog's neck. The pirate captain froze and stupidity leaves him for a moment, his shouts turning into choked gasps. "Mi-mister… we're sorry! Please… let me go! We'll… we're leaving!"
The crew halted, terror rooting them to the spot as they watched their formidable leader defeated effortlessly.
"Where is this?" Caelum asked calmly.
"This… is Jaya Island," Grog rasped. "We were heading to the mock town… smoke… drew us here… please, let us go."
Caelum analyzed the situation. The ship, made entirely of wood, primitive in design. The world's technology had not yet reached interstellar levels. He wanted more information, more certainty. His fingers tightened around Grog's throat, and with a quiet, inexorable strength, he crushed the pirate captain. Then, with a casual motion, he threw Grog to the sand. The crew trembled violently at the sight, some falling to their knees.
"Bring me to the mock town," Caelum commanded, his voice calm but carrying a weight that resonated beyond the immediate senses. The aura he exuded now, the result of nearly a millennium of battle, wars fought across stars and against horrors beyond comprehension, washed over the pirates like a tidal wave of fear.
"Yes… yes," the navigator rasped, his breath shaky, body trembling. The others followed in silent, terrified obedience. Caelum finally lowered his hand, the aura still pulsing subtly, and prepared to move. The mock town awaited, and he would discover more about this world, and what it might hold for him.
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