[1500PS!]
After giving the order to dispatch additional supplies, Eden continued listening to Tako's report.
Currently—
The Savior's fleet was fully mobilized for Baal, with over a thousand large battleships and even more escort fleets.
Nearly 60,000 Astartes from the Thunderwardens, War Angels, Void Angels, Sons of Mankind, and Xeno Hunters had already arrived.
The Storm Group Army had deployed a large armored force, including 300 Redeemer-class Titans, over 2,000 Imperial Knights, and countless heavy vehicles and artillery units.
But that wasn't all—
The T'au Empire was also sending more than a hundred large warships and numerous Battlesuit teams.
As for the Ork Steelfang Tribe, they had mobilized the entire Fort Rogg combat satellite and a host of warships. It was a near-total deployment.
In addition—
The Savior's domain had dispatched not only military forces, but also vast transport fleets and engineering crews to evacuate civilians and construct fortifications.
There was no choice.
If civilians weren't evacuated, they would become biomass stockpiles for the Tyranids once the war began.
Every single person had to be evacuated.
Thankfully, the affected area wasn't too large—only three planets in the Baal system, plus six or seven small colonial worlds in nearby systems.
The transport fleets and engineering crews should be able to relocate everything in time.
"Savior, sir," Tako reported confidently,
"The evacuation project has been running for some time now. We can guarantee it'll be completed before the Tyranids arrive."
Hummmm—
The left-side viewport armor slowly retracted, and the warm glow of the nearby star poured into the chamber.
Eden walked over to the reinforced glass, gazing outside. In the distance was a planet bathed in pale yellow and light green hues.
It was the nearest colony world to Baal, covered in forests and rivers, teeming with biomass.
It was highly likely to become a target of the Tyranid hive fleet—
Making it a critical evacuation zone.
Right now—
He could see the planet's orbit swarming with dark shadows, blotting out the sky with countless massive transport vessels.
The yellow haze below came from construction dust—
Dozens of engineering Titans and countless construction machines were working around the clock.
The number of engineers alone numbered in the tens of millions.
Eden nodded, pleased with Tako's coordination.
"Good. Be sure to take everything. Don't leave the bugs a single scrap!"
With some time to spare—
The evacuation wasn't limited to people. Even plants, animals, rivers, and soil rich in biomass were being extracted.
They were even pumping out the river water and stripping the surface layer of the land.
Deny the Tyranids any nourishment!
Only the Savior's domain, being relatively small, could manage this.
If they had a larger empire, they could field an even bigger fleet and move faster than the Tyranid swarm itself.
In extreme theory—
If they tracked the hive fleet's targets, they could use the Webway to arrive first and vacuum up all the valuable materials.
And leave behind a barren rock rigged with Whirlwind torpedoes.
Let the bugs starve.
Of course—
If the Savior's forces were powerful enough to outright destroy the hive fleet, they wouldn't need to go through such measures.
This evacuation was simply a necessary compromise.
If Eden's forces hadn't intervened—
The Blood Angels alone wouldn't have been able to evacuate these systems.
Originally—
To counter the approaching Tyranid threat, Dante followed the example of a certain radical Inquisitor and issued Exterminatus orders across multiple star systems.
He carved out a dead zone in the galaxy to isolate the Tyranids.
When the colonists saw the Astartes fleet arrive above their worlds, they looked to the heavens in hope— Only to be answered by total annihilation.
They died under the hands of the very angels meant to protect them.
But what choice was there?
The Tyranids were coming.
These colonies were doomed either way—
Whether by Exterminatus or as fodder for the hive fleet.
And it wasn't just the civilians—
The sons of Sanguinius had an equally tragic fate. Many volunteered for hopeless suicide missions—
All to buy time against the swarm.
Such is the cruel reality of the galaxy.
Between Chaos and xenos, humanity lived in a constant state of despair and sacrifice.
Imperial soldiers had long grown used to it.
But Eden's arrival had changed that.
Just a little.
The Devourer's armies brought a different kind of war—
One of overwhelming force, encirclement, and sustainable logistics.
They crushed their enemies—
And got richer in the process.
Take the Underworld system, for example—
Not only did they crush the Tyranids and protect the population and resources, they also looted the Necron tombs, gaining precious tech.
Which greatly boosted the Savior's technological development.
Even with the upcoming Battle for Baal, the Departmento Militaris and Departmento Civilis had prepared carefully.
They weren't just there to win the war—
They were planning the post-war recovery.
Their goal was to rebuild Baal even better than before—
To improve the lives of its people.
The planetary resource evacuation wasn't meaningless—
These were rare materials. The vegetation, wildlife, purified water, and fertile soil—
All of it would be used to rebuild Baal after the war.
And as for the evacuated colonists—
If Baal couldn't absorb them, they'd be welcomed into the Savior's domain, where life would be far better than what they had before.
After watching the evacuation for a moment—
Eden turned to Tako.
"I've seen enough. No need to check the rest. Let's go straight to Baal—Dante's probably growing anxious."
"Yes, Savior,"
Tako promptly sent launch orders to the captain and continued reporting:
"The Webway Armory's inventory has been tallied.
We have about 20,000 suits of power armor with matching gear, nearly a thousand vehicles, and 2,500 freshly delivered Centurion suits."
"All of it is being loaded now.
It's expected to arrive at Baal before we do."
To ensure rapid resupply for Astartes forces—
The Departmento Militaris and Departmento Logistics had jointly constructed an Armory Hub in the Webway.
This allowed instant deployment of gear and resources via Webway logistics—
So Astartes could fight without hesitation, knowing they'd be resupplied.
A Storm Group Army armory was also under construction—
But due to its sheer size, it would take another year to year and a half to complete.
Building warehouses in the Webway required addressing countless factors—
Everything from storage stability to spatial hazards had to be accounted for.
Thankfully—
Once the Holy Towers were complete, all those issues would be solved.
The current batch was the latest model—
High-consumption types, built for maximum scale and output.
Eden believed the Emperor would be thrilled.
He'd absolutely love these machines.
The Holy Towers would draw massive energy from the Golden Sun, releasing endless holy light to bless the surrounding regions.
Bathed in this sacred light—
Not only would the stored weapons and gear avoid Warp corruption—
They'd be enhanced.
In fact—
All weapons and vehicles produced in the Savior's domain were psychically blessed.
After rolling off the psionic automation assembly lines, their machine spirits would be indoctrinated by the Cult Mechanicus.
Then—
They'd be placed beneath the Golden Sun, where they would be blessed by sacred light and Savior hymns.
Only after 13 days of exposure would they be anointed with holy oils and officially packed for distribution.
In short—
Every weapon and vehicle from the Savior's forge world was a potential relic—
A true guarantee of quality in the galaxy.
"Logistics are moving fast…" Eden nodded, pleased with the speed.
This way—
By the time he arrived at Baal, he could immediately distribute gear to the Blood Angels and supporting Chapters—
Giving them time to adapt to the new equipment.
As they spoke—
The viewport armor began lowering again, sealing the chamber.
That meant the Dreamweaver was about to enter the Warp.
Seeing this—
Tako respectfully saluted and quietly withdrew, knowing the Savior was preparing to rest.
Eden stretched lazily and walked through a side corridor into the micro-garden.
This place had an environment no less pleasant than that of a full-blown paradise world, complete with lighting identical to real sunlight.
He didn't like the feeling of traveling through the Warp, so this was the perfect moment to take a nap under the shade of a tree.
...
Elsewhere in the void—
A Warp tunnel appeared, swirling with deep violet arcs of electricity.
The Dreamweaver slowly approached the tunnel, and in a flash, vanished from realspace…
Nearby Sector
An old cruiser emerged from the Warp, creaking and groaning from the strain.
It was a Tyrant-class cruiser from the Age of Apostasy, about three kilometers long, its hull bearing the grim white symbol of a snarling shark.
That insignia marked the ship's name—White Maw, one of the most treasured possessions of the Carcharodons (Sharkteeth) Chapter.
The Carcharodons were a fleet-based Astartes Chapter, fiercely loyal to the Imperium—
And notoriously savage and brutal.
But what they were best known for…
Was being dirt poor.
The Carcharodons owed allegiance to no Primarch, took no orders from the High Lords of Terra, and acknowledged only the Emperor Himself.
That ideological independence meant they received zero funding or logistical support from the Imperium—
Even less than the infamous Sons of Mankind.
Put the two of them together, and they'd probably collapse in each other's arms in tears.
Because of many historical and political reasons, the Carcharodons had lived in a state of exile for over ten millennia.
They operated primarily in the outer edges of Imperial space, hunting down any enemy of mankind they encountered.
But aside from purging xenos—
Their real priority was gathering resources to "keep the lights on."
For example, they practiced "Grey Tax"—
Recovering tech relics from wild space and bartering them with the Adeptus Mechanicus in exchange for gear and ammunition.
The only problem?
The Tech-Priests always lowballed them.
But the Carcharodons had no choice. The gear was vital, and only the oily Priests were willing to trade for such "scrap."
Enemies were another kind of resource.
Kill them—
Then strip their gear.
New recruits and serfs came from the "Red Tax"—
Which essentially meant snatching up children from whatever planet they happened to be near.
But because of the constant, high-intensity combat and unstable supply chains—
The Sharkteeth were always running low on equipment.
To the point where each bolter was treated as a sacred relic, passed down across generations.
Some had been rebuilt so many times over the centuries, they had zero original parts.
But to a Carcharodons warrior—
"It's still the same relic bolter!"
Whether that's true is a philosophical question.
But they believed it, with absolute conviction.
That a loyalist Astartes Chapter—Emperor's own angels—had fallen this far…
It was enough to bring tears to anyone's eyes.
Inside the battle barge's hangar—
Carcharodon warriors moved carefully.
While fearsome in battle, they treated their gear with reverent care, tiptoeing through corridors so their patchwork armor—spray-painted gray to look unified—wouldn't get scratched.
Within the captain's chamber, Chapter Master Tyberos stood clad in ancient Terminator armor.
His pale skin glowed under the room's lighting, and his pitch-black eyes were fixed on the relic before him:
Two ancient power fists named "Hunger" and "Thirst."
Each one was fitted with reverse-hooked power blades and serrated internal cutters, forming truly lethal close-combat weapons.
Their craftsmanship and design were so rare that even the Adeptus Mechanicus were left speechless.
These weapons were Tyberos' lifeblood—irreplaceable.
He dabbed a cloth in sacred oil and gently polished the fists, carefully tending to each blade and joint with extreme precision.
Caring for one's wargear was a daily ritual among the Carcharodons—
It was also their greatest joy.
His movements were tender—
No one watching would believe this man had personally torn his way through a Tyranid hive ship, slaying every beast within.
Legend said his eyes contained no soul—
Only bottomless darkness.
Some called him a blood-drenched executioner, a silent killer so fast that only shredded corpses marked his passage.
What made it even more terrifying—
Was the calculated precision with which he fought.
There was no berserker rage.
Every kill was surgical—deliberate.
But really—
Tyberos simply didn't want to damage his precious gear.
The faster and cleaner he killed, the less wear and tear on his relics.
Once he finished cleaning the fists and wrapped them reverently in oiled cloth—
Chief Librarian Te Kahurangi stepped inside.
He'd been waiting politely outside.
Interrupting a Sharkteeth Marine in the middle of gear maintenance was considered very rude.
This time, the Librarian had come to report the Chapter's finances and recent recoveries.
They had taken heavy losses lately, and their supply situation was dire.
At this rate, they'd be going into battle shirtless.
Of course—
The Sharkteeth had petitioned the Imperium for support.
Which usually went like this:
Sharkteeth: "Requesting material and manpower aid from Holy Terra!"
Imperium: "The treasury is tight. Tighten your belts."
Sharkteeth: "Then… please send us a belt…"
Imperium: "Consider looting one. Thank you."
There was no help to be had.
Astartes wargear was incredibly expensive, and the High Lords didn't want to fund a Chapter like the Sharkteeth.
To stay afloat—
Tyberos had even sent the Captain of the 3rd Company and Te Kahurangi himself to meet with renegade Astartes pirates:
The Ashen Claws.
They arranged a few "gray-market" deals.
"Chapter Master, our last expedition into the fringe was very fruitful…"
The Librarian began the finance report.
Tyberos' lifeless eyes lit up.
According to the report, they had recovered:
A partially functioning void-data conduit (70% operational)
A rare ship fragment from the Third Dawn Expedition
And the highly valuable Red Talisman.
With those relics—
They were able to barter for:
Enough bolters to arm a full company
Tons of ammunition
Two Land Raider Predators, their silver plating gleaming
But most important of all—
Six suits of Terminator armor!
Granted, the original deal had been for twelve—
But this was already a major win.
The Tech-Priests hadn't even lowballed them too hard.
Te Kahurangi had spent an entire day overseeing the transfer—
Checking every piece of gear, especially the Terminator suits, to ensure they were flawless.
Tyberos listened with a broad smile.
Then came even better news:
During the trade, the 3rd Company Captain accepted a challenge from the Ashen Claws.
He won three duels in a row—
And brought back a batch of child recruits!
This was excellent news.
After that—
The Librarian mentioned the Baal deployment. The Tyranids would not be easy prey.
Tyberos gritted his teeth.
"That Dante bastard better give me some supplies.
Forget regular gear—
I want at least twelve… no, twenty-four Terminator suits.
Brand new."
(End of Chapter)
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