Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction / Sailor Moon Fan Fiction / Tenchi Muyo Fan Fiction ❯ The Forgotten Primarch of Chaos ❯ Fateful Destiny ( Chapter 21 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Ranma/Warhammer 40K/Sailor Moon/Tenchi Muyo Crossover Fanfiction
Disclaimer: I do not own Ranma ½, Warhammer 40K, Sailor Moon or Tenchi Muyo. Ranma 1/2 belongs to Lady Rumiko Takahashi. Warhammer 40K belong to Games Workshop. Sailor Moon belongs to Naoko Takeuchi. Tenchi Muyo ‘Ry-Ohki’ belongs to Kajishima Masaki. This story was created solely for entertainment purposes and no profits are gained from this.
The Forgotten Primarch of Chaos
By Montymouse
' ' – Thoughts
" " – Speech
[ ] – Communications Device
Chapter Twenty One – Fateful Destiny
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"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."
Quote - (Litany Against Fear, 1965)
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Location: Eye of Terror Region of Space, the Ulthwé Craftworld
Training Grounds - The Ruins of Ulthwé Temple
Eldrad Ulthran, Farseer of Ulthwé stood in silence as the anti gravity platform slowly descended through the many levels of his Craftworld. The powerful Farseer could see a few Eldar Swooping Hawks rising and diving through the dark skies as they continuously trained and refine their skills on the designated training grounds. The Swooping Hawks’ costumes are of black and bone white colours reflecting the proud tradition of the Ulthwé. The Swooping Hawks wore cunningly constructed wings made of vibrating feather plates. The pitch and vibration of these plates turns the wings into a blue of colour which carries the Eldar warriors soaring into the air and swooping down upon their Hololithic images of their enemies as they rain down shots from their Lasblasters or Shuriken pistols with deadly accuracy. These warriors were unnaturally graceful and precise in their movement unlike their cumbersome and sluggish counterparts of the Mon-Keigh.
Due to the raids from the forces of Chaos, most of the zones of Ulthwé were devastated wastelands, hideous blotches of ruin. It was because the Ulthwé Craftworld lies close to the Eye of Terror, a dire realm inhabited by many vile followers and creatures of chaos. Such gloomy wilderness was of use only to the Black Guardians, Harlequins and Aspects as they made excellent training grounds. Abaddon’s thirteenth black crusade on the realm of the Imperium has resulted in sudden increase of Chaos activity around the Eye of Terror including their precious Ulthwé itself, already so often ravaged by the armies of the Chaos Gods. Other zones still retained their sublime elegance, slender pyramids and fluted towers rising from amidst groves of trees which seem sculpted of jade.
"What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and will be immortal." Eldrad whispered a phrase he remembered from his past.
Eldrad was bought out of his thoughts when he felt the slight shift of momentum of the anti gravity platform slowly down as it reached the ground level and prepared to disembark and set out to meet Ketshamine. As soon as the Eldar Farseer set foot on the ground that a slim warrior stepped out from behind a broken marble column that Ulthran search for the Warlock was over before it was started.
“Warlock Ketshamine,” Eldrad addressed the warrior quietly. The Warlock nodded as he strides gracefully across to meet the Eldar Farseer. Half a score of Eldar Harlequins emerged from where they were hiding.
“Farseer Ulthran,” Ketshamine spoke and bowed respectfully. The Eldar Harlequins followed suit and quickly secure the area.
“Were you informed by my arrival here?”
“Aye, Ulthran,” Ketshamine replied. “We have been keeping watch on your presence as soon as you reach the outer perimeter of this zone. My Harlequins warriors have been watching from a respectful distance, I do not mean any offence, one cannot be too careful, Farseer.”
The Farseer accepted Ketshamine answer and nodded. “There is nothing to be taken, Warlock.”
“Aye,” Ketshamine said. “Farseer, I sense that you have a motive for being here.”
Warlock Ketshamine leaned his lofty frame upon the hilt of his Witch Blade. Ketshamine’s mask was a bleached skull, awful and inscrutable unlike the Eldard’s tall and detailed Ghosthelm. The Warlock’s swirl of hair was dark as coal. His flaring black sleeves and tent like skirt displaying huge prints of runes such as were writ on the stones. Ketshamine too had once been a Farseer who studied the shifting flux of probability like Eldrad Ulthran did. Ketshamine had eschewed the study of prophecy in favour of more lethal uses of psychic powers. Ulthwé has many Farseers like Eldrad Ulthran and Ithil Da’al to guide it through the strands of the future but circumstances and dire need to take a more offensive stance on their enemies of the Eldar has resulted in Ketshamine being the first of the many Eldar Farseers of Ulthwé to follow the path of the Warlock.
“Indeed, come with me and I shall explain of what I have found,” Ulthran expressed sternly and turned before Ketshamine has the chance to say anything.
“. . .”Ketshamine wondered for a split moment for this sudden abruptness. He knew the Eldar Farseer long enough that it was important and required his utmost attention. The Warlock saw that Ulthran was waiting on the anti gravity platform, gesturing him to follow. Ketshamine turned to face his Harlequins standing patience for further orders.
“Continue with the training ordeal.” He ordered to his most senior warrior. “I will be going with the Eldar Farseer.”
The Harlequins nodded and slowly disappeared into the ruins and darkness. Warlock Ketshamine tugged his Witch Blade from the ground and strides towards the anti gravity platform where Eldrad Ulthran was waiting for him.
“Where are we going?” Ketshamine asked as he stepped onto the metallic platform and secure the gate as the platform started to move.
Ulthran didn’t immediately reply to the Warlock question and waited till they were a good distance from the ground before answering his question.
“The Council of the Farseers is waiting in the Dome of Seers.”
Ketshamine nodded. He feeling slightly uneasy about the tone that Ulthran used.
‘I have a bad feeling about this,’ Ketshamine thought and immediately dismissed the thought as soon as it came. Just in case Ulthran managed to pick up the strand of thought although Ketshamine’s psyker power were impressive compared to other Farseers.
It was rumoured that Ulthran has the habit of ‘tuning’ into people’s psychic signature by accident.
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Location: Earth Orbit, Blood Angels Battle Barge ‘The Angel of Death’
The Reclusium . . .
The Chapel of the Blood Angels Chapter echoed softly to the sounds of the Space Marines at their prayers. The chamber was wide and high ceiling, easily holding the assembled battle brethren of the first, second and third Battle Companies. A polished, stone flagged nave led towards a glassy back altar and wooden lectern at the far end of the chapel. There was a gothic atmosphere with flickering light from the torches, casting ghostly illumination upon the assembled warriors, loyal and devoted to the Emperor’s cause and to their illustrious Primarch Lord Sanguinius.
Stained glass windows of the wondrous colour and majesty dominated the upper reaches of the chapel. On the right hand side of the chapel were stained glass window depicted a portion of the imperious long history: the Age of Strife, the Age of Apostasy, the Emperor's Defied and the Emperor Victorious. On the left depicted the history of the first founding of the Blood Angels and the many heroes of the Imperium. Battle honours the company had won in dozens of crusades hung below the windows, each testament to a tradition of bravery and courage that stretches back ten thousand years.
The warriors were assembled in full armour and wargear with ranking marks and battle honours. Every single weapon was inspected and checked by the Master of the Forge to make sure that standards were maintained. Every effort is made to ensure that Space Marines especially those in the thickest of battle kept the same set of equipment after their investiture so that they develop a close bond and understanding of the machine spirits. Those who didn't pass were swiftly and harshly disciplined. Sergeant Damson and Captain Garus were standing in front of their respective squads, helmet placed underneath their arm and waited in silence. Eyes were cast down at the smooth marble and granite floor of the chapel. Each warrior chanted a litany of thanks to the Emperor and that the crusade they were undertaking were of vital importance, contemplating their holy duty to the God Emperor.
The winged Blood Angels Primarch was dressed in full ceremony white and red robes with decorative chapter symbols and double gold lining around the edges. His white large wings easily seen protruding from his back and his golden master crafted sword attracted around his waist. A mighty Imperial eagle was on his right shoulder shining like polished gold as Sanguinius’ stern gaze wander over his assembled Honour Guard and Battle Brothers under his command.
Standing behind Sanguinius was two massive warriors of the First Company cladded in red holy suits of Terminator Armour and carrying long bladed polearms. Sanguinius gazed out at the rows of warriors and had almost missed them amongst the Blood Angels Space Marines. Ranma Saotome and Ryoga Hibiki standing in between two gigantic Blood Angels Terminators and thought it quite humorous to see such a sight. Compared to the Space Marines assembled was practically dwarfed by everyone in the chapel. Ranma was trying his best to look dignified as best as he could. His eyes the colour of stormy clouds and his pitch black hair was styled in a tight pigtail. He was dressed in his usual loose black and red clothing. Ryoga was wearing a yellow shirt and pants which he took from his backpack as he normal clothes were kinda inappropriate as they were dirty and most important has so many tears and holes in them that it practically fell apart as he tried to change. He was still wearing his classic yellow with black spots bandanna.
Chaplain Seraph wore midnight black power armour embossed with bleached skulls. Brass and gold trims on his cuirass and greaves winked in the dim light. His grinning, skull faced helmet gazing over the assembled warriors in the chapel as he made sure that the ceremony was performed to his satisfaction. Seraph strides across the entire length of the chapel as he swung a smoking censer, aromatic herbs and scared oils. In his other hand was a carved adamnatium rod surmounted with a glittering grinning golden skull, its eyes jewelled and blood red.
Standing next to Sanguinius’ right, was Captain Garus of the Honour Guard. His golden helmet held underneath his right arm as he stood attentively during the ceremony. Two gold studs were set into his brow above his left eye. His feats of bravery and courageous leadership during the Nerima incident had reinforce his fearsome reputation and added to his long list of heroic deeds. Standing amongst the first row of Space Marines was Veteran Sergeant Damson. He wore his black hair cropped close to his tanned skull and a single black ear ring hung from the lobe of his right ear.
“Warriors of the Imperium!” Sanguinius spoke with authority and command. All the Space Marines snapped attentively as one.
“At ease!” Sanguinius added as his warriors relaxed a fraction as they listened to what their founding father have to say. Sanguinius clasped his hands together and looked up at the massive glass stained portrait of the Emperor. He paused for a moment as he allowed himself to connect with the spiritual well being of his warriors. Ranma and Cypher were eager to hear what he had to say whilst Ryoga was beginning to get tense due to the suspense and gothic atmosphere that Sanguinius and the Chaplain Seraph were creating.
“Brothers, you have known me for centuries and we have fought together over countless worlds. I have taken the Emperor’s light to every corner of this galaxy. I have killed every dreaded unspeakable horrors of Chaos and defeated the twisted ploys of their dark masters. I have fought alongside some of the greatest warriors of the Imperium, so know this . . .”
Sanguinius paused as the suspense grew at a rapid rate.
“As your founding father, I am proud of all of you. As your leader, you have set perfect example of what a Space Marine of the Blood Angels should set out to achieve, honour and death to our enemies.” Sanguinius said with sincere.
“What is it?” Ranma whispered as he felt a slight nudge.
“How long is this going to take?” Ryoga asked.
“Not long . . . I think. Just be quiet, okay.” Ranma answered quietly.
An hour later . . .
‘Not long, he says. Dammit! How long is this going to take? I’m bored witless here,’ thought Ryoga as tried to act like he was paying attention to Sanguinius speech.
‘He is sure enthusiastic about his speeches,’ thought Ranma.
‘He just goes on and on and on . . .’ thought Ryoga as they were standing rigidly upright for hours now.
“Many of our comrades met their deaths on Earth, but we know that they did not die in vain. They will take their place at the side of the Emperor and tell the tales of their bravery and honour until the final days.” Sanguinius continued on with his speech.
Ranma suddenly realised that there was someone not present in the Chapel.
‘Where is Cypher?’ he thought as he turn his head slight from left to right to see if he could spot him but his field of vision was slightly obstructed due the bulk of the two Blood Angels Terminators. ‘Damn . . . can’t see anything!’
‘That’s reminds me, where is Cypher?’ Ryoga thought as he remembered Cypher saying that he was right behind them and now they were here. He was nowhere to be seen.
“We have travelled through the time and space to a world very similar to the holy Terra and have been entrusted by the Emperor’s will with task of bringing and preventing this world from falling into the darkness.”
‘What the hell is the Emperor’s will?’ thought Ryoga as he tried to listen to some of Sanguinius very long speech. ‘Is it some kind of religion or something?’
‘Hmm . . . time and space?’ Ranma was beginning to understand a little of why the Blood Angles were here.
“Brothers, the world of Earth is vulnerable to suffering the evil of heretics within but this is the least of our problems as we are entrusted with an enormous task. It is not the heretical scourge of our old enemies like the cruel dark Eldar, insatiable Tyranids or the green skins the Orks.” Sanguinius paused.
“It is the oldest and hated of our enemies that plotted and planned our downfall . . . our traitorous Space Marines who had turned from the Emperor’s light and now embrace the will of their twisted master! They seek to conquer this new realm of space for their own. Together we show them that they cannot escape the Emperor’s wraith for we are the Emperor’s divine blade and our faith is our shield!”
The Space Marines slammed their clenched fists to their breastplates, a deafening boom that echoed round the chapel. Ranma and Ryoga just looked around and then at each other before following the actions of the Space Marines around them as this seemed the most appropriate to do.
“Know this! I have glimpsed at the future of this galaxy and I do not like what I have witness!” Sanguinius paused allowing it to settle. “The Emperor has shown me that all is not lost, we cannot simply accept our fate, and we have the strength and power to choose our own path!”
“Hostis Hvmani Generis!” Seraph said. “We shall destroy them all!”
“We shall not fail for the price of failure is too great to imagine! We shall be victorious! For the Emperor! For the honour of the Blood Angels!” Sanguinius exclaimed to his assembled warriors. Confidence and a sense of pride filled the soul of the every warrior.
“We are Blood Angels!” Captain Garus shouted. Sanguinius spared a glance towards him and gave a tiny nod. “And no foe can stand against us while we keep our faith in our father and the Emperor!”
“Blessed be Lord Sanguinius!” the Space Marines chanted as one.
“Return to your duties!” Sanguinius dismissed his assembled warriors.
Chaplain Seraph stood proudly in the middle row and raised his Crozius Arcanum high to gather everyone attentions.
“Honour your battle gear that it may protect you in the dark days to come but we shall see the light! The Emperor is with you all! Do not fail him!” Seraph exclaimed.
“The Emperor is with us!” The Blood Angels Space Marines clenched their fist against the armoured chest plate before starting to leave the chapel and attending to their assigned duties elsewhere on the battle barge. Sanguinius then watched as Brother Seraph, Garus, Damson and a few other high ranking officers taking a step forwards and bowed before their Primarch before filing from the Chapel with the rest of the warriors.
Sanguinius then turned towards Ryoga and Ranma who were the only ones apart from him that hadn’t left the chapel.
“Brother Ranma, there is something I wish to discuss with you later,” Sanguinius said to Ranma. “You are free to do as you wish. All that I ask from you and your companions is to respect out rules onboard our ship.”
“No problem.” Ranma said.
Sanguinius smiled a little before leaving the Chapel with Captain Garus and Chaplain Seraph who were waiting at the entrance for their Primarch. Ranma could tell from their slight body language and facial expression from Garus that he had something important to report.
“Ranma, when are we going to get off this ship?” a voice complained. Ranma sighed and turned around to see Ryoga with a slightly chewed off look.
“What is it now?” Ranma asked, it was clear to him that Ryoga was beginning to miss being on Earth and being on this ship was making him was making him tense and agitated. He couldn’t blame him as he was beginning to feel the same way.
“Ranma, we’re been on this ship for hours, can we go home now?”
“Not yet,” a voice interrupted them. Ranma and Ryoga both looked towards the main entrance as a figure stepped out from the shaded area.
“Cypher,” Ryoga growled as he instantly recognised the hooded robe anywhere. Ranma walked up to Cypher and clasp his right hand.
“Hey, where were you?” Ranma asked as Cypher used his left hand to pull back his hood. “I was expecting you to be here because I didn’t see you?”
Cypher shrugged casually. “Let’s say I don’t like ceremonies.”
“Cypher, have you seen yourself in a mirror? The way you are dress, really makes you look like you already been to one. Talk about being deceptive.” Ryoga said in a sarcastic tone.
“You’re the one to talk, P-Chan. Acting as Akane’s little black pig I see everyday.” Cypher smirked as he saw the surprise in Ryoga’s eyes.
“Cypher,” Ranma was surprised by the nickname he just used.
“WHAT!” Ryoga then turned to Ranma and pointing accusingly at him. “You promise not to tell! Damn you Ranma! How could you? You swore on your honour that . . .”
“Hey, Ryoga calmed down,” Ranma took a step back and his hands in a warding gesture. “I didn’t tell him anything . . . honest!”
“Damn you, Ranma!” Ryoga said as he didn’t believe him.
“Ranma has nothing to do with this,” Cypher whispered. Ryoga stopped and levelled a cold glare directly at him.
“What is that suppose to mean?”
“Like I said, P-Chan. Ranma has nothing to do with this nor told me that your curse was to turn into a pig. Anyone with a half a brain could figure that you and that pig were the same. For goodness sakes, at least you could have done something to hide it. You had the same yellow and black spotted bandana in both forms!”
“Stop calling me that name!”
“P-Chan!” Cypher taunted.
Ryoga then took a left swing at him at him, intending to knock him down. Cypher grinned and moved at the very last second, easily seeing the movement of his fist coming towards him. Ryoga watched in slightly surprise as his fist missed his cheek by a inch as Cypher duck and rabbit punched him in the stomach as hard as he could, knocking the wind out of him. Normally in most situations, Ryoga’s superhuman resilience from the side effect of his Bakusai Tenketsu training would allow him to shrug such the hit off with ease.
Unfortunately for him or fortunately for Cypher, he already knew where exactly to hit him as the injuries he sustained during in Nerima hasn’t fully recovered such from a grazing blow from a Khorne's Chainaxe. Cypher then followed up the move with a quick leg sweep that he learnt from Ranma, knocking the feet underneath Ryoga.
Ranma winced in sympathy as he watched in slow motion like a tree being fell as Ryoga landed face first into the hard, unforgiving black granite floor. Cypher rose to his feet in satisfaction and dusted himself off.
‘That’s got to hurt!” Ranma thought at first before thinking it over. ‘Then again, Ryoga is really hard headed so this won’t hurt him at all.”
“That will teach you, P-Chan!” Cypher said and turned to face Ranma. ‘Damn! Ryoga is harder than armour plating,’ he thought as he rubbed his hand to get rid of the slight numbness.
‘Somehow I have a feeling this won’t be the last time I hear of it,’ thought Ranma and shook his head.
“Hmm . . . that’s reminds me, Ranma.” Cypher said. “Does he know . . . you know . . . about . . . it?”
Ranma looked at Cypher, wondering why he was acting a bit out of character; normally he would say it bluntly in a direct fashion rather than beating around the bush.
“Huh?” Ranma said.
Cypher sighed and looked around the chapel to see if they were alone.
“I can’t really say it in this place or anywhere else on this ship, these walls have ears.” Cypher explained and stepped closer towards Ranma. “It’s your curse. If I was you, I would be careful who your reveal your curse to, these people has a low tolerance of anyone who has slightly hint of shape shifting including pig head over there.”
“I can hear you talking about me,” Ryoga interrupted as he picked himself up from the black granite Chapel floor. His acute hearing picked up everything that was said. Deep down, he silently agreed with Cypher that keeping their Jusenkyö curses a top priority as he really didn’t want to be shot at or even eat by those Space Marines.
Ranma blinked and took a step back. He knew that Sanguinius would probably find out especially with his superhuman sense of observation and the ability to detect the slightly hint out of someone.
“To be honest, I’m not sure . . .” Ranma replied. ‘Thank goodness, it didn’t rain while I was still in Nerima otherwise things might have gone . . . err . . . awkward.’
Cypher nodded. “Let’s just hope, no one asks, okay. Just be careful.”
“Come on, Ryoga . . . let’s get out of here.” Ryoga nodded.
“Fine . . . I was about to say the same thing. This place gives me the creeps now that it is empty.”
“Sure, you were.” Cypher said in a slight mocking tone.
“Shut up!” Ryoga snapped back. ‘He is beginning to get as annoying as Ranma ever was!’ he thought.
‘Those two act like a married couple everyday,’ thought Ranma and began to follow his two friends out of the Blood Angels chapel.
As Ranma was leaving the chapel with Ryoga and Cypher, he soon became aware of someone that he hadn’t felt or sensed that had been watching them, more specifically him in particular. Ranma’s instinct suddenly leapt into action whenever magical or energy was used and felt the slight chill running up his spine. It was very faint just bordering on the far reaches of his sensory range.
‘I felt it somewhere before?’ thought Ranma as he tried to remember where he felt it.
The traces of energy was very familiar to him as he had felt it before in Nerima, it kept reappearing and disappearing outside his sensory range making it for to pinpoint where the source was. For some reason the energy he was sensing right now was staying in one place. Like it wanted it to be founded which at the point, realisation started to kick in. Ranma stopped and turned around to see a Space Marine standing on the far side of the empty chapel.
At first glance, Ranma thought he was just Chaplain Seraph coming back to collect something but he was wrong. The Space Marine was different to Seraph, slightly taller and more built than the Chaplain was. He wore a mixture of red and black colour power armour with an intricately designed hood or helmet with wires connected directly to the base of his skull. Attracted all around his armour were numerous purity seals and badges of achievements.
Power palpably radiated from the Space Marine and Ranma knew that this particular warriors not just deserves respect, he demanded it which was clearly detected when he sensed the barely controlled fury he was emitting. His stern, unflinching gaze missed nothing as his left eye focused on the pigtailed Primarch for weaknesses, while his remaining eye collected data regarding his height, weight, bio-stats and other pieces of information through the soulless mechanics of grafted blinking red orb.
‘I wonder who he is. Never met him before?’ thought Ranma and was about to shout something to him when he heard someone calling his name.
“Ranma, come on, we don’t have all day!” shouted Ryoga who was standing at the entrance of the Blood Angels Chapel, arms crossed and waiting impatiently.
Ranma turned his head towards Ryoga.
“Hang on a sec, there someone I want to . . . err . . .”
“He’s gone?” Ranma thought as he looked back and saw that the mysterious Space Marine had disappeared and looked all around the massive chapel until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Ranma nodded.
“Alright, Ryoga,” Ranma said and spared a final glance before leaving the Chapel.
“What was that you were saying? You know back there?” Ryoga asked curiosity as they were now standing in the dark corridor.
“Huh . . .” Ranma started slightly startled as his thoughts were still on the slight chill he was getting from that mysterious Space Marine. “Oh . . . it’s nothing, really.”
Ryoga raised a curious eyebrow at Ranma. “You been acting a little strangely since you came onboard, is there something you aren’t telling me? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I would like to know too?” a familiar voice added as Ranma looked to his right to see a Cypher walking up to him.
Ranma lifted his head confidently and smirked despite his doubts. “Honestly, it’s nothing, really.”
“Hmm . . . how come I feel you aren’t telling the truth? Is something bothering you or happened to you? You can tell us.” Cypher asked inquisitively.
Ryoga gently punched Cypher’s shoulder as he saw that Ranma was looking slightly uncomfortable with the questioning.
“Hey, what’s with the inquisition, Cypher? If he says he’s okay, he’s okay! Got it!”
Cypher glared at the bandanna fanged boy, he felt the punch that he just received and if it was someone else, they would have gotten something broken.
“I was just concerned, that’s all, Ryoga.” Cypher said and stepped towards him, deciding to return the favour.
Luckily, Ranma stepped between the two rivals and raised his hands to calm them down.
“Not now!” Ranma snapped at those two. “I’m fine, honestly.”
Cypher decides to leave at that whilst Ryoga smirked. Ranma sighed, rolling his eyes back.
‘I have a feeling I will be meeting him and very soon indeed,’ thought Ranma and headed towards the upper levels of the battle barge.
The Apothecary Ward . . .
Meanwhile three decks below the Blood Angels chapel was a certain young dark hair woman started to regain conscious.
‘Where am I?’ she thought as she started to regain a state of consciousness.
The woman winched in pain as she recounted the painful moments just before she lost all consciousness. The razor sharp talons slashed across her left leg followed by the agonising pain as she felt the talon puncturing her left lung. She remember seeing in the corner of her eye, the family’s faithful servant, Sasuke Sarugature being pounced upon by three of those demons and torn apart in a bloody melee. The last thing she saw before her consciousness drained into a dim grey oblivion was the lecherous smirk on the demon’s face.
‘Bitch,’ Kodachi thought bitterly but feeling extremely weak. ‘At least I’m not dead . . . yet.”
She then realised that she was currently submerged in some sort of liquid when she tried to move. There was a couple of restrains on her arms and legs. She felt tubes snaking all around her, feeding medicines into her views and relaying information to the monitoring stations she hear thrumming and clicking away around her. She was bathed in light coming lumoglobes arranged in a circle on the ceiling above her. Kodachi was relieved when she opened her eyes slightly that she completely naked as she wore a thin body suit of a thin unknown matter before closing them again. She was still weakened due to the amount of blood that she lost and there wasn’t much she could do right now and decided to wait to see would become of her and closed her eyes.
Brother Sonora was the current Blood Angels Sanguinary Priest on duty and turned his head to see the brass cased cogitators quietly spewing sheet after sheet of paper onto which were scribbled the long, jagged ribbons of her lift signs. The medical facility was located deep within the heart of the battle barge. Brother Sonora checked the healing bay of the woman that Chaplain Seraph has bought in and was specifically asked to be put into a private healing chamber from the rest of the other wounded Space Marines.
XXX START OF FILE XXX
Name of Subject: (Unknown)
Race: Human
Sex: Female
Physical Age: 17 Human Years
XXX Status XXX
Reported Injuries (Physical):
- Left Punctured Lung
- Major Damage to Ribcage
- Fractured Right Arm
- Minor Lacerate
- Possible Internal Bleeding
Biological Tests
- High Quantities of Anti - Toxins and Toxins
[Condition Results]
- Physical: Optimal
- Psychological: Unknown
- Psyker Talent: None
- Overall Condition: Optimal
Medical Note: No abnormal activates. Further Tests required. Full psyker screening recommended.
XXX END OF FILE XXX
Sonora checked the instruments again before then tearing the paper ribbon from the machine, checking the vital signs.
‘She needs work, a lot of work,’ Sonora checked the healing bay for any physical signs on the young woman.
Once he was satisfied that the woman’s condition he then left the healing bay. He then quietly moved between other recovery tanks and auto surgeon tables, checking on the patients like he usually does after a heavy battle. The lumoglobes casting pools of light around the patients, surrounded by the shadows where cogitators and hygiene servitors hummed gently.
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Location: Eye of Terror Region of Space, the Ulthwé Craftworld
Sky Bridge of Ulthwé . . .
Eldrad Ulthran, Farseer of Ulthwé and Warlock Ketshamine were walking down the long silent crystal sky bridge that connected the many domes shaped structures on the Craftworld, directly ahead was the Dome of Seers. Warlock Ketshamine listened closely to what the Farseer has to say, his slender, sleek facial feature revealed nothing except for calm. Warlock Ketshamine was one of the oldest and most formidable of the Eldar Exarchs and the news that Ulthran was telling him troubled him deeply and did not doubt for a second that the Farseer was telling the truth. The war with Abaddon’s black crusade and the armies of the Imperium was taking its toll on the limited resources that Warlock Ketshamine had under his command.
“The runes speak Ketshamine,” said Eldrad, “They speak of terrible things.”
“Do these runes threaten our Craftworld?” Ketshamine asked, stunned by this grim intelligence.
“No,” Eldrad firmly stated, “These runes are difficult to see through even by my abilities, many compounded upon themselves but the message is clear. The Mon-Keigh are aboard and practicing their barbaric work. Others wish to win this galaxy; the Tau will be restrained no longer and seek to expand their empire. The ancients have also sought to reclaim what they see as theirs.”
“It is a trouble galaxy we live in, Eldrad.” The Warlock said, “I don’t understand why this concerns you since we are already drawn into this conflict.”
“Then we have much to do,” said Ketshamine, acknowledging the fact the more troubled times was to fate on their world.
“Aye . . . much to do but there is hope. The runes tell of all possibilities. There are many places we must strike. The future will be altered either by the blood of our enemies or our kin.”
“How are you going to persuade the other Farseers and Warlocks to go along with your plan?” Ketshamine asked, wanting to know what he was going to say to them once they reach the dome.
Eldrad turned his head slightly, noting the hesitation in his voice but he couldn't fault him for his concerns. Ketshamine was worried about what he was going to do as the timing of Eldrad’s proposal to the Seers Council was definitely not the right time. The raids made by the Chaos forces around the Eye of Terror has made it difficult to free up the warriors of Ulthwé to be assigned to other duties unless special permission was granted by the Seers Council to conduct such activities.
“The runes have shown me what I needed to see. I am convinced and so will the council.” Eldrad said sternly and looked up at the crystal dome. Ketshamine didn’t share the Farseer’s confidence but he knew that Eldrad stands a good chance of persuade the council and rarely has he been wrong about matters of this importance.
“Eldrad,” Ketshamine said to gain his attention. Eldrad continued to walk a few steps ahead before stopping. Lifting his head up, Eldrad made no attempt to face the dark hair Warlock.
“Yes, Warlock Ketshamine? Is there something you wish to ask me?” Eldrad asked.
“Forgive me for questioning your motives but I have to ask,” Ketshamine said as he felt that he was missing something out of the big picture. Eldrad nodded for him to continue.
“From my knowledge you have the support of at least half of the Farseers on the council and will not question your authority. Most of the young Warlocks look up to you for guidance and inspiration and will easily rally to your cause,” Ketshamine explained as Eldrad nodded slightly at his points.
“What I am trying to ask is, why did ask me directly for assistant and support? Surely you would have gotten what you want without me?”
“Have not figured it out, Ketshamine?” He said and turned around to face the Warlock.
“. . .” The Warlock was confused momentarily before realising the implications of Eldrad’s actions. Looking directly and slightly accusingly, Ketshamine knew the reason for being here. “Surely you not going to defy the council will?”
“I did not say that . . .”
Ketshamine bowed his head. “Aye, I apologise for inquiry . . .”
“It is good practice for all Farseer to prepare for all sequence consequences in case the available option is undesirable.” Eldrad added and placing his hand on his right shoulder, surprising the Warlock.
Ketshamine thought for a moment before nodding slightly. He knew that Eldrad wouldn’t do so without good reason and couldn’t think of anything solid to oppose Eldrad’s actions.
“Aye, what do you wish for me to do?”
“Assemble a strike force detachment within the hour,” said Ulthran and turned swiftly toward the dome. “Gather as many warriors as you can. I will see to it that the Seers council approves. We shall be in need for Warlocks which I shall request when I announced my intelligences to the other Farseers.”
Ketshamine was concerned with Ulthran’s request. “It will be difficult. Resources and warriors are getting harder to achieve during this dark hour. Do you think that the Seers Council will grant you what you request?”
Ulthran nodded confidently but it didn’t banish Ketshamine’s doubts over his planned proposals.
“The Seers Council has continued to observe the current events. If it appears the Mon - Keigh are going to lose, they will intervene to prevent the planet from falling into the hands of Chaos. After all, the Mon Keigh is the lesser of the two evils.”
Ketshamine nodded. “It will be completed when you have finished your audience with the Seers council, Farseer Ulthran.”
XXXXX
Location: Earth Orbit, Blood Angels Battle Barge ‘The Angel of Death’
Later on the Observation Deck . . .

The heavily armoured deck was a wide, candlelit chamber with a vaulted ceiling roughly twenty metres high. Humming banks of flowing hololithic displays and ancient, runic blinking screens showing astronomical data were located on the far right wall of the deck. The recycled air was heavy with the fragrance of burning incense and faint smell of perfumed anointed oils.

The winged Primarch of the Blood Angels stared out into the dark empty abyss of space. The armoured protective shutters were lowered allowing a panorama view of open space. The blue planet was clearly seen as soon as the last of the shutters was moved. Tactical plots for the battle barge and the planet they were orbiting were displayed directly in front of him. Sanguinius stood with his hands clasped behind his back and studied the tactical plots with a critical eye. Sanguinius wore a long white ceremonial dress and cloak beneath his master crafted Artificer armour. His hands were hidden within the sleeves of his white dress. He wore a wreath of laurels around his forehead.

Slightly hovering above him was an unusual creature or machine of some sorts. On closer inspection, the thing was made out of brass and created to resemble a grinning human skull. The servo-skull hovered as it carried a long, vellum scroll between two thin clamps whilst a third clamp had a feathered quill attachment. There was a blinking red light into one of the eye sockets as it recorded Sanguinius every word.

An Honour Guard of Blood Angels was lined on the far left hand side of the observation deck. These Space Marines were hand selected by the Primarch himself from exception bravery and courage in battle. The Honour Guard area high elite of the close assault cadres of the Blood Angels and the bodyguard of Lord Sanguinius. Each member of the Honour Guard are denoted by their helmets, marked in shining gold, a sign of hope for their allies and despair for their foes. Each Honour Guard Space Marine had a range of honours from Iron Skulls to the highly prestigious Terminator Honour. Armed and armoured with the best equipment that the Adeptus Astartes had to offer these warriors were fearsome in combat. The Honour Guard stood rigid and upright on the wall like stone statues.

The Primarch reviewed the tactical reports that lay before him, these reports were in the form of encrypted data which were compounded from all of the squad sergeants and verified by the fourth company on the ground. The reports didn’t make pleasant reading as they reported cases of innocent civilians caught up in the attack butchered and indescribable actions committed by the World Eaters Legion. Also there were reports that a small war band led by the notorious Kharn. So far this was still unconfirmed and attempts to hunt down the traitors were hampered by the arrival of planetary forces known as the United Nations forces and JSDF detachments were reported to enter Japan. Sanguinius has recently issue the order to start the redeployment of the entire Fourth Company. In keeping with Ranma’s wish, Sanguinius felt that it was necessary to bring back him loyal brothers without further delay.

The Winged Primarch gripped the decorated golden hilt of his master crafted sword, his angular features somber. The visions of darkness and uncertainty were beginning to cloud his thoughts. Sanguinius shook his head as now wasn’t the time to allow doubt to enter.

‘Damn you wretched beast!’ Sanguinius thought angrily as he remembered being so close to slaying his traitorous brother Angron.

Sanguinius closed his eyes and concentrated, allowing the gloomy surrounding to infuse him with the calm serenity. He took a deep breath as he gently reached out for a distant star on a background of darkness, focusing and channelling his will for he was gifted with the Emperor’s ability to see into future.

‘Almighty Father, I have come before you to see your blessing so you might grant me the courage and wisdom.’ Sanguinius mentally commanded.

He started to tap into the immaterial that binds the parallel universes together, where unspeakable horrors await those who are unprepared but was a means of gaining power to assist those are prepared to accept to consequences.

Sanguinius casts forth his clairvoyant sight, the same power that the Emperor has gifted him. His mind drifts beyond the outer range of the solar system so he might gain an insight of the working of this universe. He crossed through millions of light years into the distant systems. He could see alien wars spread out around him in distant systems. His surrounding blurred around him as he drew more raw energy from the immaterial and focusing through a narrow beam as his clairvoyant sight opened up the universe. He could feel galactic civilisations rose and crumble before him. Nothing significant could be felt that is until he came across something that caught his interest. He felt a immerse source of great power.

Why has the Emperor shown him this? What purpose does this mean? These were his drifting thoughts as Sanguinius searched further into the matter. Tiny waves rippled into tranquillity as they eased their way through his vision of sight, gradual warmth spread through his body. It was the same feeling that Sanguinius felt before recently. Deciding that he had seen enough . . . Sanguinius reeled himself back. Calm sensations flooded through him, memories tumbling over themselves, one in particular reaching up from over thousand centuries ago.

It was the early memory which he fondly remembers. It was during Mount Seraph on the Planet Baal where he was to give a rousing speech in Conclave of Blood where a stranger in a disguise of common warrior came. The humble warrior listened intently from start to finish which at that moment, the stranger revealed himself to be no other than the Emperor of Mankind.

Sanguinius opened his eyes, shaking off the last vestiges of the memory. It took a moment to fully register where he was that he was on the observation bridge of the Angel of Death. Sanguinius looked up into the sky wondering if this was an omen to come, a message gifted to him by the immortal Emperor in his visions, searching for a sign of what to come. Whatever the case, Sanguinius felt the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulder.

“My Lord,” a deep weary voice proclaimed.

Sanguinius slowly turned towards a pale grim faced warrior in red power armour, his golden coloured helmet cradled underneath his arm. He could see on the Space Marine face clear signs of battle fatigue. Also there were four gold service studs on his left temple shining brightly below the darkness of his cropped scalp.

“Brother Captain Garus,” Sanguinius said with familiarity in his tone.

Garus nodded and extended his gauntleted fist then slammed it into his breastplate.

Sanguinius gaze turned toward the black armoured Space Marine standing next to the Captain of the Honour Guards. His grinning, skull face death mask was hooked to his hip belt alongside a voluminous tome containing the names of the fallen and most important those of the damned. His Crozius Arcanum held tightly in his hand. The Chaplain stared into Sanguinius eye for moment as they exchange a silence look between them.

“Brother Chaplain Seraph,” Sanguinius whispered.

“Lord Sanguinius,” the Chaplain said before adding the next line. “Our enemies have fled like the traitors they are, they are without honour or faith. We are victorious.” Seraph said without any hint of pride or arrogance, just stating the fact.

“There is much work we have to do before we truly finish what the Emperor has for us in this world.” Sanguinius said.

“Indeed we have, we have much to do.” Seraph whispered. “Our Battle Brothers await your further orders. Command us and it shall be done!”

Chaplain Seraph knelt silently, gaze fixed on the floor, the black of his ornate power armour glinting where it was revealed beneath his folds of his heavy cloak. He was perfectly motionless, rigid in fierce deference and discipline. Captain Garus did so likewise before the great winged Primarch in utter respect and awe.

Sanguinius considered the hunched figure for a few moments, inspecting the battered black armour.

“I could not prevent their slaughter, My Lord. It was over before we arrived.”

“Explain yourself, Chaplain.” Sanguinius stood impassively.

Seraph looked up and started to explain the events leading up to the retrieving of the young woman, the only survivor from the large estate recently attacked by the evils of chaos. Seraph then recounts in graphical detail about the dozens bodies which were most probably the servants or workers of the Japanese estate found later after a full sweep at the rear of the estate. All were horribly mutilated and there was strong evidence of ritual killing style were found most commonly found on cultist hives. Sanguinius listened carefully to every Seraph’s word.

“My Lord,” Seraph paused. “The female human, I have taken onboard may be some used to us. She may be able to provide with clues or answers to what we are seeking. She seems to have some sort of connection to the young warrior Ranma Saotome.”

“What if she doesn’t provide us with the information we seek?” Sanguinius asked.

“Then we shall return her to where we found her, her memories of what transpired will be erased.” Seraph answered. “She is currently recovering under the supervision of our chief medical staff in secure confinements.”

“See to it that no permanent damage is harmed on her. I do not want to gain bad favour with Ranma at this moment of time. Ensure neither Ranma Saotome nor his companions does not find out about this. I leave this private matter in your hands, Brother Chaplain.” Sanguinius said in stern tone. “Ensure that Brother Calistarius oversees this matter, he is the most capable in this situation.”

“Yes, Lord Sanguinius.” Seraph nodded and pressed his clenched right fist against his breastplate.

Sanguinius paused for a few silent moments.

“Brother Chaplain, I have heard enough for now, you have done well. You may leave now. See to it that my orders are carried out carefully.”

“For Sanguinius and the Emperor,” said Seraph with clinical calm.

Seraph bowed his head lowly before rising to his feet. Gazing up at the Primarch one more time, Seraph swiftly turned around and marched out of the observation deck. Sanguinius watched as the Chaplain left the deck before turning to the remaining Space Marine.

“Brother Garus,” Sanguinius intoned with authority and power.

Garus looked up. “Yes, My Lord.”

“I have placed two squads of our battle brothers from the first company and placed them under your charge. I expect them to be assembled as you see fit and ready to depart within the next twenty four hours. Captain Tarus will take your command and duty here.”

“It shall be so, Lord Sanguinius,” Garus confirmed, knowing the full responsibility that Sanguinius has placed upon his shoulders.

“What is the purpose of this mission you have entrusted me with?” Garus asked.

“You will be informed in due time, all that you know is that you will be going to area in trouble times. I believe that you have ventured there before when we first came.” Sanguinius said.

Garus thought for a split moment before coming with a logical conclusion.

“Mount Phoenix, China.” Sanguinius nodded.

“Go then, Captain Garus,” ordered Sanguinius. “Ready your men.”

Garus rose to his feet and bowed deeply, touching his right fist to his heart. He stood upright and looked straight into Sanguinius eyes for an instant and then turned.

Sanguinius watched his Veteran Captain of the Honour Guard carefully. He had known Garus for many years and had seen him progress through the trials on Baal to become the Space Marine he is. He was glorious in battle and meticulous in his duty to administer the punishment to the cursed and the doomed. Just as Captain Garus was about to pass through the opening adamnatium doors someone stepped through.

Garus and the stranger stopped to exchange a slightest of glances before heading their separate ways. The stranger strode across the observation bridge toward the winged Primarch and as he got closer, his facial details and appearance became more apparent. His dark black hair pulled back slightly fashion into a pigtail, red and black loose clothing and black slippers. A couple of charms and penchants hung around his neck and wrist.

“You asked for me?” He said in such a common casual way.

All the Blood Angels Space Marines in the room would have killed him on the spot for the blatant display of disrespect in front of their founding father if it wasn’t for the prior order that these were his guests and not to be harmed. Sanguinius knew better than to overreact. At least he wasn’t as bad as Leman Russ or Lion El’ Jonson. Sanguinius were his thoughts and could tolerate Ranma behaviour for now . . .

“I have, Brother Ranma Saotome.” Sanguinius replied.

Ranma cocked his head slightly and arms crossed.

“So what do you want?”

Elsewhere on the Battle Barge . . .

The adamnatium door slid close behind him with a solid crunch. He then turned around and quickly started to short circuit the door panel, effectively locking out the opening mechanism. Cypher then looked up to see that the way to the logic arrays and control station was not clear as he could just make out from the dim shadows, two humanoid shaped silhouettes. As Cypher walked along the metal gangway, a small smile ran across his face as the two silhouettes were nothing more than ordinary mindless human servitors rather than Blood Angels Space Marine Guards or in the worse case, close combat gun servitors which in the close confinements of the gangway and the room would offer little room to duck, dodge or cover.

Inside the control room, Cypher dropped to his knees beside the array mechanism and took out a small metallic dagger from a small concealed compartment from the heel of his boot. Ignoring the two mindless servitors hardwired into the ship’s computer core, Cypher started to remove the array panel. After a few moments of carefully removing the necessary screw with the tip of his dagger, he placed the panel on the floor and looked over his shoulder to see if the servitors had reacted to his presence. Cypher expressed a small sigh of relief as the servitors continued to perform their primary functions into the myriad operational systems. Putting the dagger back into its secret compartment, Cypher gazed into the insides of the array control panel system.

Examining the array’s insides, he could see the prerequisite cogs, transistors and wires that relayed instruction to the forward port side teleportation beam used for ship to ship boarding actions. He also notices the relay circuit for the second void shield generator which he guessed was used in parallel with the teleportation beam. It was rare for a teleportation attack to be used as it required the enemy ship to be disabled of its shield and it did risk the chance of the teleportation assault party being lost due to the beam being interrupted by the enemy but was still an effective attack if swiftness was required.

The method of using this boarding technique could not be used whilst the void shields was activated so rather than shut down the entire void shielding used to protect the ship and thus leaving it vulnerable to weapons batteries and lance beams. The system would only shut down only one void shield generator for a few seconds, allowing the attack to continued and then reactivated as soon as the transportation was complete.
He knew enough about internal layout and the working of Adeptus Astartes Battle Barge, having served and commanded one during the Great Crusade and most notoriously during the Black Crusades as the enigmatic Master of the Fallen Angels Space Marines. He is rarely seen and even more rarely commands a Chaos Space Marine fleet, only acting out of sheer necessity.
In his history he has only taken part in two Black Crusades, both of which were stunning victories for Chaos until his mysterious departure from both. The Warmaster Abaddon wasn’t happy for his disappearance. Shortly after his disappearance, both Black Crusades were beaten back by the stalwart Imperium.
“Hmm . . . I don’t have any explosive on me enough to disable the ship array. I probably used it up during the battle,” Cypher sighed quietly to himself and rose to his feet. He mentally wished that he saved one of those Melta bombs during the fighting.

Cypher took out his trusty master crafted plasma pistol which he managed to take with him without being taken off him during the initial search under the orders of Admiral Tabris. There was no way they were going to take this weapon from him.

Cypher aimed his plasma pistol at the open array, and felt the vibrations of the weapon charging up the plasma chamber. Just as he was about the flick the safety mechanism and unleashed a miniature ball of plasma into the array, Cypher had a change of minds and deactivated the weapon.

“No, that won’t do either,” Cypher said quietly and lowered his pistol as there no way he could tell what would happen. The worst case scenario that he could think of right now was the ship’s enormous engines which propelled the battle barge forward going into overdrive into the Earth’s atmosphere and mostly likely take out a few million with it.

Stuck with this small dilemma, Cypher checked his small pan dimensional subspace pocket and was dismayed there wasn’t anything of ‘practical’ use except for a small little cube of black metal with two wires, a red and blue one sticking out and a small LCD display. Cypher picked this particular device during from the black market, the problem is that he forgotten what the device actually did as the translation from the seller was a bit rough. The seller described the device as an Archeotect, a rare and arcane technology dating back to the first colonization’s of Mankind.

For some reason, Cypher felt the need to acquire this device without properly understand what it does. Upon activating the device, the result could range from purely aesthetic to extremely destructive, Cypher was hoping for somewhere in the middle. So far in his life, there wasn’t a situation where he could properly utilize such a device. It would be damn embarrassing if the device simply produce beautiful sounds in front of a trio of Chaos Blastmasters.

“Hmm . . .” Cypher looked up at one of the hardwired servitors and grinned as perhaps a small test was in order.

Walking up to a particular servitor, Cypher checked the control station that the servitor was in charge of. He really didn’t want to disable any of the vital control systems such as the gravity engines or the air recycling systems. Taking a look at the control display, Cypher studied the screen for a few moments. It seemed that the servitor was in charge of a non essential part of the ships maintenance, he guessed but couldn’t determine it specific purpose.

“Oh well, better than nothing, he won’t feel a thing,” Cypher said quietly and started to attract the black cube to the central primary brain function of the servitor core systems. Switching the device on, a small LCD timer appeared and immediately started counting down.

“. . .” Cypher stared at the LCD device in mild surprise. “It figures . . .”

Cypher immediately dashed away from the servitor and hid directly behind the control array. He then pulled his hood over his head and as braced himself for anything.

“4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . .” Cypher started to whisper and closed his eyes.

After what seemed like an eternity, Cypher managed to open his eyes and looked around.

“I guess . . . the Emperor’s is truly looking over me . . .” Cypher said and thought about the notion for a bit. “Or perhaps it’s just faulty product?”

He had half expected a huge explosion or some sort, perhaps a tear in the very fabric of space, but nothing. Peering over the control array, Cypher notice that the servitor was limp and restless like someone had cut the strings of that puppet, the control station was shutdown completely. The other servitor didn’t seem or care about the servitor as it continued to perform it primary program.

“That was interesting result,” Cypher said as he walked over towards the servitor for a closer examination. He then grabbed the servitor’s shoulder and pulled it back in an upright position to see that the eyes of the mindless servant were empty, there was no signs of activity. He quickly checked the device and found out there wasn’t any signs of damage. Disconnecting the device, Cypher held in the palm of his hand and examined it closely.

“Well, this is a surprise, a miniature advance electronic magnetic pulse device, haven’t seen one of these for years,” Cypher said and smirked as he recalled a previous incident back then.

‘I wish I knew what this was back then, would have saved me a lot of effort rather than blowing the place to pieces,’ thought Cypher. There was a faint smirk on his face as he mentally thought of a plan to get them off the ship.

Cypher was getting more uncomfortable, the longer he stayed on this ship, the greater the danger and it wasn’t paranoia, well maybe just a little but there was a reason behind his logic. Living for ten thousand years in exile can teach harsh lessons to a man like him. As a result of this, Cypher gets premonitions and it usually happens when events aren’t what they should be, like something was out of place or that a double cross was likely to happen. Normally these premonitions just encourage him to do bad things, earning himself a reputation of a proficient backstabber in both the Imperium and Chaos factions. Playing both sides until his objective was done no matter what the cost was in order accomplish his set task. Yet there was times were these premonitions have warned him of imminent danger, kinda like a sixth sense. These advance premonitions had saved his life on more than one occasion.

Cypher turned towards the open control array panel that was responsible for the short range transportation beam and access to the forward lower void shield generator. A plan of action started to formulate in his mind, he was confident that he was able to hack his way into the Adeptus system to allow the transportation beam to be authorized. The main problem he faced was getting the void shielding down long enough for the transportation beam to be completed if the shields were raised during the middle of the operation. There was a possible chance that the beam would be disrupted and their atoms scattered in the Earth’s atmosphere. Cypher weight the pros and cons in his mind, he knew what he wanted to do, and the important part was to persuade Ranma to go along with it. Reaching into the open array, Cypher started to connect some of the wires to the short range EMP device, hoping that the result was be the same that it would knock off the shield generator long enough for the transportation to be completed before the backup generator and security protocols started to kick in.

Attracting a simple remote control to the EMP device, Cypher carefully placed the access panel back onto the control array and securing it with the proper screws. Satisfied with the job, Cypher glance back at the only entrance to this station which was sealed shut. Looking around, Cypher grinned as he saw alternative exit out of this room,

There was a metal grate which led into the control array ventilation and outside.

He mentally hoped that there wasn’t anything nasty lurking up there.

Meanwhile back at the Observation Deck . . .

“So what do you want?” Ranma asked in casual tone.

Sanguinius considered the pigtailed human for a few moments, inspecting his current attire and the crystal penchant that hung around his neck. He could tell it wasn’t simple jewellery as he could sense within the penchant, strong mystic energy which added to Sanguinius keen curiosity. He then notices a very faint scar just above Ranma’s forehead concealed under his black hair. Perhaps it was an old injury from his training thought Sanguinius but if Ranma was indeed the lost Primarch, his enhanced physique would leave no traces of scar or injury anywhere on his body. Sanguinius pondered with interest.

“You’re late.”

Ranma simply shrugged. “Well, it’s a big ship you know, I got lost a few times just trying to get here. You could at least put a few signs around the ship to show where you are.”

Sanguinius express amusement for a moment.

“I keep that in mind and discuss this matter with Admiral Tabris, well now you are here . . .” Sanguinius coughed in his hand.

“Welcome onboard to my ship, Ranma Saotome.” He said formally.

Ranma lifted his eyes to meet those of the winged Primarch and could see the sincerity in those words. He could sense the genuine welcome in Sanguinius eyes yet Ranma was still cautious of his motives. Despite what everyone had said about him. Ranma was highly intelligent when he puts his mind into it and would like to have shown how intellectual he was. Unfortunately it wasn’t necessary in most situations in Nerima and Japan with the exception of his training trip in China. Otherwise he would have dead and buried in China long ago.

Ranma always treated every situation like he was preparing for a fight, it helped when things goes awry or wrong. Being able to adept and change at a slightest notice was the difference between winning and defeat. Being aware of his surrounding and taking in the every insignificant detail gave him the edge in a situation like during the fight with Prince Herb and Pantyhose Taro. Ranma just wished that he would prefer a place where water wasn’t easily found or flowing nearby. For example, Ranma had already detected at least a dozen hidden surveillance type devices watching him the moment he stepped onto the deck but that wasn’t the thing that was bothering him, it was the automated twin linked Lascannons concealed in the detailed architecture. A brief thought passed through Ranma’s head, on the survival odds.

“Is something wrong, Brother Ranma?” Sanguinius inquired, noticing his slightly shaking his head.

“Huh, oh nothing but . . .” Ranma started to trail off.

“But . . .” Sanguinius said, sensing his hesitation in his tone.

“Err . . . you don’t suppose we could go somewhere private, this place make me uncomfortable.” Ranma said, pointing out the various things that Ranma had noticed.

“Hmm . . . I see,” Sanguinius paused to think. “Would it better if we went somewhere else to talk?”

Ranma nodded. “Sure.”

“Very well then . . .”

Sanguinius turned on his heel and strode towards down a side entrance.

“Follow me, Brother Ranma,”

Sanguinius turned and beckoned him onwards. Ranma followed the winged Primarch through the side entrance, passing the many columned porticos that led to the chamber of the Primarch of the Blood Angels. Gleaming bronze doors swung open as they approached and two massive warriors of the First Company, clad and ancient holy suits of Terminator armour, each one carrying a long bladed polearms and storm bolters stepped through, their weapons held at the ready.

Even Ranma’s well toned physique was dwarfed by the bulk of the Terminators and Ranma nodded respectfully at the veterans as he passed by them. Ranma couldn’t help but feel piecing eyes like if someone was watching him just like the time he was in the Blood Angels Chapel.

Shaking his head of the slight paranoia, Ranma stepped into the Sanguinius chamber was expecting something lavish and . . . well, breathtaking in his opinion as being the Primarch of the Blood Angels but he was in for a shock.

The chamber of the Blood Angel’s Primarch was spartan and clean which the whole appearance seems to resemble a rather large underground cavern. The walls of the chamber were made to resemble underground rock formation and stone appearance. Numerous glass lanterns were imbedded into the wall and were lit with an incandescent light which gave the impression of a slightly creepy and gothic atmosphere yet somehow radiating total serenity and calm. It was an ideal place to come if one wanted to meditate or be alone for awhile, thought Ranma as his gaze wandered around the chamber.

Ranma saw that Sanguinius was waiting for him in the centre of the chamber and without wasting anymore time, started to descend a few steps into the a sunken circular arena, his gaze taking in every detail. Gold and silver stitched battle honours hung from the high ceiling above shadowed cloisters. There was also white marble statues of Blood Angels Heroes from ancient times were lined around the edge of circular arena. None of them rang any bells in his mind except for one.

It was a gurgling fountain was set in the far end of the chamber which was carved in the form of a mighty warrior dressed in heavy Terminator armour, his sword raised to the heavens, his face artfully carved, fully capturing the man’s fierce determination and courage. At first Ranma thought that the man was Sanguinius but on closer inspection, realisation hit him as he recognise who the warrior was . . . the Emperor. Ranma remembered his face clearly and looked up at awe and respect.

Ranma was snapped out of his admiration when he heard a heavy sound of doors closing and glanced over his shoulder to see that the bronze doors were indeed shut and found that they were alone in the chamber.

“The Emperor, our founding father,” said a voice laded with centuries of authority and power. “He was the only man to pacify the entire planet under his command and set in motion events that would ultimately create the galaxy spanning empire known as the Imperium of Mankind. The Emperor became the inspirational leader that Mankind desperately were seeking to lead them to guide them onto their true path. His personal sacrifice was the ultimate price for reuniting mankind as one.”

Ranma turned to face Sanguinius who was sitting down upon a large bench. It was this time that Ranma sense there was no attendants and no surveillance servitors or Honour Guards in this place, they were quite alone.

“Yeah, I know I already met . . . err . . . so he is the Emperor then,” Ranma managed to correct himself in mid sentence, also mentally kicking himself as he didn’t know how he would react if he told him that he already met him and some of his Primarch’s sons.

Sanguinius gave Ranma a suspicious look. Ranma breathed a quite sign of relief as Sanguinius beckoned him to sit.

Ranma nodded and lowered himself to the bench sat opposite him.

“Chaplain Seraph has informed me that you are a warrior of great courage and compassion. His report says that you are a leader of men, leading by example and virtue into the battle in Nerima.”

Ranma couldn’t help but feel his ego rising from the compliment given to him.

“He said all of this?” Ranma said. “I find that hard to believe that I did all of this, I wasn’t there half the time. In fact without you and your support, I guess Nerima would be totally wiped off the face of the Earth, I can’t take the credit for this.”

Sanguinius raised a curious eyebrow, thinking that perhaps he had misjudged him slightly. Appealing to Ranma’s sense of warrior’s vanity seems to have no affect on him, so perhaps his motives were motivated by other factors except from the obvious. His clothing and general appearance suggested that he wasn’t interested in wealth and riches that most people would go for. So perhaps Ranma was motivated by factors clearly hidden.

Ranma on the other hand attempting to deflect some of the complements directed at him before his head exploded which was a surprise as they thought that Ranma craved on this to boost his ego and confident. Ranma knew from experience the hard way not to get carried away. The fights with Prince, Touma and Kirin on that damn floating Island was a good but painful reminder and the various other fights with laughable characters with foresight was a joke but yet it was a ideal learning experience. Then it was endless crappy and sometimes absurdly stupid fighting techniques that his father . . . no, the idiot Genma attempted to teach him. Luckily, Ranma was able to find out all about them eventually.

“I see, you show modesty, which I like to see,” Sanguinius said quietly. “I see that you still have your feet on the ground and still retain your sanity. A warrior less committed or perhaps ignorant would have gone mad long ago the things you been through.”

“Err . . . thanks,” Ranma said wondering if he had been complimented or insulted.

“We were quite fortunately that the battle favored the courageous and the hard strong . . . but this alone will not be enough in the long run. Today, Chaos has been defeated today but this is just a minor setback in the events that are to come.” Sanguinius stood up and walked towards a large marble table where a jug of dark red liquid and two golden goblets placed on a tray. The winged Primarch poured himself a goblet and the poured another goblet for his guest.

Meanwhile Ranma’s expression was grim, if the battle in Nerima was just a taste of what to come in the future. Ranma dismissed the dark thought immediately. All that he could do is to take this one step at a time.

Sanguinius could see in the corner of his eye, a brief glimpse of fear and doubt in Ranma’s expression before it was quickly washing away as soon as he returned back.

“I have heard that you are a sound strategist of sound logic in battle. Yet you are still . . . I think that perhaps you are too fond of the idea of saving everyone you can. There is always a price and it will be paid in the blood of the innocent, sometimes you need to lose the occasional battle to win the war.” Sanguinius paused to take a quiet sip from his goblet, allowing his words to settle in the young Primarch.

Sanguinius was also attempting gauge what was going through Ranma’s mind, he could always tell by a character’s expression and body language certain pieces of information that they would normally never reveal to anyone.

“It has been long time I have tasted the Baal’s Trine,” conceded Sanguinius.

“It is sweet, is it not?” He asked.

Ranma coughed a few times as he was still unaccustomed to very potent Baal’s Trine and in weak voice managed to utter a reply.

“Yeah, indeed,” Ranma coughed again before attempting to gather his thoughts together.

There was a long pause of silence between the two Primarchs of the Emperor.

“Sanguinius,” Ranma whispered.

“I am still here, Ranma Saotome.” Sanguinius said to reassure him but immediately notice the flash of anger in his eyes as soon as he mentioned the family name of who raised him.

“Don’t call me that!” Ranma retorted and bowed his head shamefully when he realized that he shouldn’t have snapped at him for any reason.

“I’m sorry,” Ranma said and looked up. “Ranma would be just fine.”

“As you wish it, Brother Ranma,” Sanguinius said as another moment of silence passed between them.

Sanguinius was silent, waiting patiently. He could sense the heavy emotional burden on his young shoulders. Sanguinius knew that in the best interest of both parties, he would play this one out rather than interrogating him with uneasy personal questions. Playing the waiting game was one he preferred rather than direct confrontation, allowing his opponents to make the first and second moves. Creating a false sense of victory and playing on their strengths before striking with one swift deadly stroke to achieve overwhelming victory. If all else fails, the Blood Angels would make sure of this. This could be applied to the situation they were having but instead of driving him away, he wanted to gain Ranma’s favor, to gain an understanding.

Sanguinius knew what could be bothering him but wanted to be sure. The young pigtailed Primarch desperately need to find his calling which if he had fought under the banner of the Emperor and the mighty Imperium of Mankind. If only that was the case, Ranma being raised on a world similar to ancient Terra with his adoptive father pounding the rather dated idea of becoming the greatest martial artist of his generation. It served no purpose on a world where conflict wasn’t the issue, according to bits and pieces that he managed to get out of Ranma, he had already surpassed Genma in the traditional Anything Goes fighting technique whilst at the same time incorporating various other fighting techniques in his own brand of Anything Goes, always changing, always unpredictable.

In the long harsh centuries that Sanguinius has lived, able to exceed your opponent’s expectations of you was a vital component if you are to overcome your opponents just like Oda Nobunaga or Horus.

Sanguinius immediately dismissed the thought of his name in fear of it tainting his thoughts. Turning his thoughts to the first person he had thought was Oda Nobunaga of Japan. He was certainly impressed by his achievement but his methods were questionable. He had been analysis the information databases and was surprised to have gained such easy access to data network. Most the Imperial worlds would have kept a tight hold on the freedom of information, restriction and high level encryption was a common sight. Sanguinius was surprised as he had a few cogitators and analytics servitors on standby to break into the networks but as soon as he entered the information network, he was surprised to see how much of it was available. Members of the Inquisition would have cried out heretic and tainted now if they were to read out some of the material on the network.

Oda Nobunaga was the first individual to attempt to unify Japan at the end of the Warring States period; his ultimate goal, though he never realized it, was to bring all of Japan tenka-fubu. He rose from an obscure family through ruthless ambition to become one of the most powerful men in Japan. These were the similar qualities of a Primarch and had thought that Nobunaga was the Primarch he was looking for. His rise to power was slow and deliberate and his use of power unforgiving. Sanguinius had thought that maybe Ranma could have turned out to be like Oda Nobunaga if only he was . . . then again. Ranma wouldn’t be the person standing across him if he did so. He subconsciously relieved that he turned out to be who he is right now. He was concerned about what the others might say. The bitter and dark thought of another Horus was an unsettling feeling that chilled Sanguinius straight to the soul.

It was that point that Ranma made the first move. Sighing deeply, he lifted his head up and gazed directly into his eyes. Sanguinius looked at Ranma with directly letting him subconsciously that he had his full attention.

“The Saotome family name has been a curse ever since I could remember, more than my cur . . . err . . . life.”

‘Damn, that was a close one. I almost let slip my Jusenkyö curse.’ Ranma thought and quickly continued on what he was going to say to avoid suspicion.

It was too late as Sanguinius was quick to pick up the subtle hesitation in his voice.

‘He definitely hiding something,’ Sanguinius quietly thought as he listens patiently to his story. He wanted Ranma to trust him, perhaps open up to him more as for some strange reason. He couldn’t help but feel a bond of brotherhood between them.

“As I said when I grew up, I quickly learnt that nothing was to be taken for granted like a loving family, great friends . . . a normal life, all of these I wanted the most, more than anything.”

“So why did you put up with it? Couldn’t you have just left the Saotome name behind and get it on your own life and find your own path.” Sanguinius inquired in a soft tone.

Ranma could help but let out a soft chuckle. Sanguinius just looked at him with a mixture of puzzlement and curiosity.

“I thought about it many times, ditching my idiotic father . . . err . . . I meant Genma Saotome many times whilst we were in China. I thought of leaving in the middle of the night where he would be fast asleep, his belly full from food stolen but something just held me back.”

“And what was that?” Sanguinius inquired. Ranma just stared at his golden goblet for a few moments.

“To be honest, I just don’t know,” Ranma replied and quickly took a sip of liquid down his throat. He was surprised to find that the cool dark liquid was incredibly refreshing and felt revitalized.

‘Damn! This is good stuff,’ Ranma thought excitedly as he was quickly becoming quite used to it. He was about to take another sip of the liquid. That is until; Ranma suddenly froze like his encased in a block of ice. Ranma cast an accusing gaze directed at Sanguinius

Sanguinius smirked as he took a small sip of the liquid, keeping a steady eye on Ranma. He could tell that his mood had improved despite his somber mood.

“Is something wrong?” the Winged Primarch inquired as Ranma lowered the goblet down slowly,

“Sanguinius . . . tell me the truth.”

Sanguinius was slightly surprised not because the sharp edge in his tone but the darkening of his psychic signature which was at one split moment, thought that perhaps Chaos has managed to get to him first but realized that it wasn’t the work of Chaos, it was something else . . . but couldn’t figure it out.

“Did you put anything into this drink?” Ranma asked sharply. The mental image of Cypher’s faces appearing telling him to be careful of his actions and who to place your trust.

Sanguinius simply shook his head and raised his own goblet, indicting to Ranma that he was drinking the same liquid as he just had.

Ranma sighed, relieved that the moment of suspicion was gone. Sanguinius decided it would be wise to change the subject. He decided that perhaps a test was in order, to see how committed he was, it would also show if he had any common bonds to the people of Earth. It was a common occurrence that all the Primarchs were to have shared a common bond of brotherhood with the people of the planet that were raised.

“Brother Ranma.” Sanguinius said.

“Yeah,” Ranma said.

“When I first met you during the battle in Nerima, I asked you who do serve. Do you remember what you said?”

“Err . . . I can’t remember,” Ranma admitted, slightly embarrassed by his answer, a lot of things was going on at the time. Ranma started to scratch the back of his head as he tried in vain, racking his brain for the answer.

Sanguinius expressed amusement, almost on verge of sighing deeply.

"You said, as I quote, I serve no one but myself and I will protect those who I care! So tell me who you are or prepare to fight!" Sanguinius said, placed his goblet on the bench.

“Did you mean it? Would you protect those that you care?”

Ranma nodded. “Yes.”

“Would you do the same for the people of Nerima?” Sanguinius asked.

“Yes, the duty of the martial artist is to protect the weak. It is the honorable thing to do.”

“Ah, yes that would make some sense; unfortunately YOU are not a martial artist. You are a General in the service of the Emperor; you are under no obligation to protect the people.”

Ranma shook his head. “No, it is MY obligation to do what is right as a marital artist and Primarch; no one is going to tell me otherwise.”

Sanguinius admired his bold statement but knew that his ideals were somewhat misplaced in his opinion.

“Brother Ranma, perhaps you are too fond of the idea of saving everyone we can, maybe in an ideal world but we are far from this. Sometimes you need to lose the occasional battle in order to win the war.” Sanguinius paused as he considers his next choice of words.

“We are fortunate that we were able to repel the forces of chaos from your homeworld . . . for now. If the tides of battle were to turn against our favour, I would have no choice but to destroy the source of the chaos, this would mean the complete annihilation of Nerima. Lord Admiral Tabris would have unleashed the full might of the battle barge onto the planet surface upon my order, better to die quickly than in damnation.”

Ranma just stared at Sanguinius in utter shock at what he was saying.

“I cannot accept that option, when there is a will, there will be a way!” Ranma protested, almost dropping his goblet.

Sanguinius grinned at his overreaction. His subtle attempt to provoke Ranma had revealed a lot more information about his personality. It seemed that Ranma held a high honour on the people who could perhaps become his enemy at one time yet was willing to defend them when it was seemed to be not necessary.

“We were indeed fortunate that this did not happen. There was no need for the outburst.” Sanguinius said quietly with a faint smile, toying with the residue of his drink, swirling the liquid into a whirlpool.

Ranma calmed down immediately, realising that there was no need for his moment of anger.

"We cannot always do what is right, Ranma. There is often a misinterpretation between the ways things are and the way we believe they should be, Sometimes we must learn to accept the things we cannot change.” Sanguinius looked up, fixing Ranma’s eyes with his own.

“Is there something you would like to say?”

Ranma opened his mouth but nothing came out. Sanguinius watched as he stood in silence, trying to say something meaningful in their conversation. Sanguinius waited patiently, giving Ranma some time to gather his thoughts, although Ranma lacked the wisdom and experience that he possessed, he made up for it with his determination and youth.

“No, you are wrong. I believe we must endeavor to change things we cannot accept. It is by striving against that which is perceived as wrong that makes a great warrior. It is this ideal that I believe a martial artists should take.” Ranma said quietly. “Brother Sanguinius.”

Sanguinius was silent for a few moments then unexpectedly he raised his hand to his mouth and started to laugh quietly. Ranma was annoyed as he thought that he was laughing at his ideals that he held so dear to him and was about to protest but Sanguinius stopped him as he raised his hand up.

“I was not laughing at your ideals, contrary to what you believe, Brother Ranma. In fact these were the similar ideals that I held too when I was on my homeworld. I had an obligation to protect the pure blooded Baalite tribes of Baal Secundus who had taken me under their care and protection. The Baalite tribes were few compared to the mutants that scour the radioactive wastes of Baal. Despite being outnumbered, I too striving against which I perceived as wrong and thus changed the balance of power.” Sanguinius said, surprised to hear such a bold statement from someone so young and inexperience in total warfare.

“So what did you do to change it?” Ranma asked, having a feeling that he was going to tell him.

Sanguinius didn’t reply immediately to his inquiry. After a couple of seconds, Sanguinius answered in low voice.

“Under my leadership and command, the pure blood wiped out the foul mutants, every mutant was cut down, and no one was spared. No mercy was given as the Baalite Tribes retook what was theirs.”

“You mean you wiped them out just like that! Couldn’t you just have settled together under mutual agreement or something? Why couldn’t you have settled for peaceful way rather than use bloodshed?” Ranma didn’t know why he was so angry at him but everything just seems so wrong with this.

“I had no choice, it was us or them.” Sanguinius said softly.

“That’s bull, there always an alternative way!” Ranma had thought that he was going be anger at him or lash out.

Sanguinius was silent for a moment before replying.

“Would you say that you were shaped by your homeworld?” Sanguinius asked in relaxed tone of voice.

Ranma didn’t reply immediately as he was totally caught off guard by the question. Ranma considered Sanguinius question for a few moments.

“Yes, I guess.” Ranma replied.

“Did you enjoy your life there?” Sanguinius asked.

“I suppose so, it was harsh and difficult but I had to admit it made me the man I am right now, thought I barely remembers my life before I went to China with my idiot father on a supposed martial arts training trip.” Ranma said. “I can’t remember if I came from a family who loved me or hated me.” Ranma looked downcast and Sanguinius watched him for a moment.

“Why do you ask?” Ranma said.

Sanguinius smiled. “You have a natural talent for war, Ranma. I can see it in you yet this world does not suffer the constant dangers or wars that have ravaged my galaxy.”

“You are who you are because of where you come from, Brother Ranma. Your ideals and concept are different from what I was bought up to be.” Sanguinius took on a deadly serious expression.

“Do not presume to judge me by your own standards. Your ideals and freedom do not exist on Baal Secundus, only a brutal life of bloodshed and constant fear. I have been through thousand of battles across thousands of worlds. I have killed the enemies of the Emperor but I do not take a joy from the bloodshed. Everything I did was what I perceives was to be wrong and in the name of the Emperor.”

Ranma was silent as he was beginning to gain an understanding.

"A great warrior once said that when a warrior makes peace with his fear and stands against it, he will become a true hero. For if you do not fear a thing, where is the courage in standing against it?" Ranma quoted from a book he happened to remembered awhile ago, hoping it was some use.

Sanguinius rubbed his hand across his forehead, considering his statement before replying.

"You are an idealist, Brother Ranma, and the galaxy can be a cruel place for people like you," said Sanguinius in an uncaring tone. “As I said before sometimes we must learn to accept the things we cannot change.”

Sanguinius raised his hand just as Ranma about to protest against that statement.

“Let me finish,” he said firmly. Ranma nodded, seeing the resolute determination in his blue eyes, calm and collected they were but when he saw them on the battlefield, there was a intense rage of fire, barely held by his willpower which at the moment, Ranma was glad that he was fighting on there side.

"Despite everything I have seen and experienced, I still wish there were more who thought as you do. You have the potential to be a great warrior able to bring swift death your enemies, but you have never lost sight of why you fight. Perhaps courage and determination cannot win alone, but with the loyal supports from your allies. Perhaps those that seem impossible at first glance may not as formidable at closer inspection.” Sanguinius took a slight breather before continuing. “The people of this world needs someone to guide them through troubled times coming ahead, perhaps you are the one that will assume that role?"

“You mean me?” Ranma pointed to himself.

Sanguinius nodded.

Ranma bowed his head to the venerable winged Primarch, pleased to have been complimented but at the same time, trying not to let the comment go straight to his ego. His confidence in battle was one of his greatest abilities. There was another moment of silence as the two Primarch quietly reflected on their thoughts. Ranma was thinking about what Sanguinius had said to him and took a brief glance at his face, his expression was unreadable.

“From what I have understood from your testament of your life on this world, the moment you have arrived on this planet. People have attacked you without reason, blaming you for things that simply aren’t your fault yet you still forgave them. All of this has taken a heavy toll on you mentally, physically and spiritually. Most of them would try to kill the moment they lock eyes on you yet you do not seek out retribution or vengeance.” Sanguinius said in a low tone and lifted his head and turned to look at Ranma.

Ranma looked up into Sanguinius eyes, having a feeling what he was trying to get at but wasn’t fully sure.

“So you’re asking why I didn’t lash out against them.” Ranma inquired, attempting to make sense. “Why didn’t I just give two fingers to the world and screw it. Is that what you are trying to say?”

Sanguinius shook his head. “No, there is no need Ranma, I am starting to understand you.”

“So what are you trying to get at?” Ranma asked.

“I am giving you a choice.”

“A choice,” Ranma repeated.

Sanguinius stern expression softens as he gazed into Ranma’s eyes.

“Yes, Ranma . . . something that you have secretly craved for but never been given to you ever since you were raised on this world.”

“What is this choice you are giving me?” Ranma asked cautiously.

“Before I tell you, you must understand something first. Sanguinius paused. “We have not waited centuries in suspended animation and to venture across dimensions just merely to save this insignificant planet,” Sanguinius expression turned deadly serious. “We came because of you, Ranma Saotome. I believe that you are indeed the last Primarch of the Emperor. I have seen it and felt it in my visions.”

Ranma was starting to feel uneasy.

“Unlike the other Primarch’s you do not seem to share a deep connection with the people of this world, nor are you an influential or significant leader. To be offered a chance to escape all your commitments and worthless honour bound agreements behind without impeding your honour. Many innocent people and their families that are tied to your family name will be able to avoid the shame that it brings if you were to renounce your claim to the Saotome name and join us in the greatest journey that you meant to be.” Sanguinius paused as he was explain the choice he was about to give him.

“I am offering you a chance to leave this world as it is and enter into the divine service of the Emperor like you are destined to be. The Imperium is ravaged by strife and plagued by the enemies of Mankind both within and outside the Empire. Yet, the Imperium has stood the test of time, merely to survive but at a heavy cost. The Emperor has endured pain both his soul and mind beyond your imagination, defied death and time. He has waited countless centuries to see you again, Lord Ranma.”

“What if I refused?” Ranma asked. “What would be the consequences if I decide to stay?”

Sanguinius expression didn’t change but simply he gazed into him like he was seeing into his soul.

“Like I said Brother Ranma, you have a choice.”

“But I must warn you, if you were to take up my offer, there will no going back, no return, this will be a one way ticket.” Sanguinius added, making sure that Ranma understood fully the conditions.

Ranma broke his gaze from Sanguinius and towards the ground. This goes on for a few minutes as Ranma seriously consider the tempting proposal that Sanguinius has given him and most importantly given the choice to chose rather than forced. The opportunity to prove that he was greatest fighter in the galaxy to his enemies and his peers plus to get away from the troubles that has plagued his life was a too good opportunity to give up. Yet a part of him, a deep part of him which has recently emerged in his life wanted him to stay and protect his homeworld more than anything, not because of the people that inhabits this world or his sense of martial arts to protect them, it was something deeper.

“Brother Ranma. The Emperor has given us free will to chose our destiny rather than make us mindless servants to fight against the ruinous powers of Chaos, it is this reason that I chose to side with the Emperor against the eternal struggle.” Sanguinius added. “You have the power to shape your destiny . . . I am merely offering you a choice in your destiny.”

A mixture of thoughts and images passed through his mind, listing the pros and cons of accepting Sanguinius proposals. Ranma had always strived to become the best he is and always wondered why he was created or gifted with these powers, always questioning himself for his existence which up to now everything was unclear and muddled but with recent events it was falling into place. To join the ranks of his brothers in arms against the forces of Chaos, Ranma started to believe until something clicked in his mind.

Sanguinius words were genuine. He couldn’t sense any deceit or deception through manipulation. He has been honest about his opinions and his stance on the conflict, yet could sense a hidden motive behind it all. His thoughts turned to Cypher, it was he who emerged into this dimension without technology or ship and had managed to convince him that he was indeed from the alternative galaxy with just his word of honour. If he had never met Cypher, perhaps events would have gone differently. Ranma wouldn’t have the meeting with the Emperor and his sons in the spiritually world. He wouldn’t be given the chance to meet his old dear friend, Tenchi Masaki and the rest of the gang or the chance meeting with Tsunami or fight alongside with the Sailor Senshi.

So many events leading up to the battle Nerima has changed his perspective of his life. It seemed cleared to Ranma, that Sanguinius did not know about his meeting with the Emperor but how can he? Then again, perhaps all of this was carefully planned or was he not. Ranma dismissed that thought. He had been through a lot and from it has learnt well when he was being manipulated by unseen forces. Everything that he had been through was by his own decision and action. So perhaps this could be . . .

Ranma blinked, now everything was clear to him, he knew what he had to do. Ranma gathered his strength and looked into Sanguinius eyes confidently.

“Sanguinius . . . I want to.”

XXXXX

Location: Eye of Terror, Daemon Held World, Nemesis

The unchanging sky and static sun made it impossible to discern the passenger of time through their surrounding. Time flowed differently in the Eye of Terror working against the laws of nature. Rivers of molten lave snaked thorough the channels of the wastelands and evil clouds of smoke wreathed from constantly active volcanoes. A vast, dark range of mountains towered the horizon landscape. The peaks seemed to scrap the sky itself, the jagged stumps of the mountains a dozen or more times taller than the highest summits of Earth. This was the daemon world of Nemesis, the domain of the Ruinous Powers and playground for armies of the Chaos Gods.

Beyond the treacherous mountainous range of unknown and terrifying evil was the Nemesis Citadel Fortress. The Fortress was a nightmarish black fang against the crimson sky and black clouds, ebony towers of dark, bloodstained stone piercing the clouds of ash and cracking with plasma. The towers and arched halls of the fortress were surrounded by scarred bastions with walls hundreds of metres tall. Outside the vast walls of the citadel were vast expanses of industrials factories spawning across the surface of the world. Thousands of captured slaves and cultists alike ran these work manufactories. Flames burned from blasted refineries, the pounding of mighty hammers and the clangorous screech of iron on stone audible from hundreds of kilometers away. The manufactories churned out thousands of battle tanks, artillery units, and armaments just to supply the constant demands from the Warmaster Abaddon.

The thirteenth Black Crusade against the Imperium forces has stretched the critical supply lines very thinly as Abaddon’s forces poured out from the Eye of Terror. The traitorous Chaos Space Marines legions and cultists allies were finding it difficult to continue their momentum into the Imperium controlled space. Fierce pitched battles were fought on all the planets around the Eye of Terror. The Imperium world of Cadia was to be the decisive battle of the whole crusade, whoever controls this significant planet would be victorious. Loyal Space Marine Chapters and Imperial Guard regiments stood stalwart against the full might of Abaddon’s power.

Currently happening in this realm of unreserved chaos, the only thing that resembles some sort of order was the centuries old conflict that rages between two Daemon Princes.

“BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD, SKULLS FOR KHORNE!” the constant chant could be hundred for miles.

The first was the Daemon Primarch Prince of Khorne, Angron. He currently holds sway of the northern rocky plains. His devoted warband, the Worldeaters continued to battle out their bloodlust and rage against the hatred adversary. The Worldeaters continued and strengthen their blood traditions, tying themselves ever closer to Khorne and his daemons through battle. Allied with the Worldeaters were several of Champions and their warbands who have traveled from all parts in the Eye of Terror just to take part in this battle. They formed the mainstay of Angron’s forces which the Daemon Primarch gladly accepts, he wasn’t going to waste his battle hardened veteran Chaos Berzerkers in the first wave. He was going to use these pathetic mortals as cannon fodder, wearing down his adversary numbers before sending in his elite troops and Daemon packs of Bloodletters and Hounds.

“WE YEARN FOR PUNISHMENT IN THE NAME OF SLAANESH, WE SHALL BE WORTHY OF SLAANESH!” roared the voices of thousands of cultists who had sold their immortal soul to their patron Chaos God in the hopes of a gaining power.

Whilst in the south volcanic region belonged to the cunning and devious Daemon Prince, N’Kari, devoted servants to the Prince of Chaos, Slaanesh. Under his command were thousands of mutated and twisted chaos cultists, many of these damned souls were once human before Slaanesh perverted them into forms no longer recognizable as such. They formed the vast bulk of N’Kari force, crazed human followers of Slaanesh who have driven to the edge of madness and beyond by the terrifying sights they have seen and sweet honey temptations. On the far flanks of the Slaanesh army were his elite units, Daemonettes mounted on Steeds of Slaanesh. A mighty screech from these foul daemons echoed the plains.

Their struggles to outdo one another is one of vanity and pride, with each desiring recognition above all else so they could be worthy of their patron gifts and attentions. The Chaos powers love such contest and will often gamble whole worlds on the outcome of a single conflict between two of their favored pawns.

“CHILDREN AND FOLLOWERS OF SLAANESH, OUR GOD IS WATCHING, DO NOT DISAPPOINT! GIVE IN TO PLEASURE, AND ACCEPT THE PAIN WE ARE TO RECEIVE!” N’Kari psyker wave resonated in the minds of his followers.

“DESTROY THEM!”

Angron waited for N’Kari to send the order to charge towards his position. You could say there was a casual expression on his bestial face. He knew fully well how to control his minions under his control by waiting just a little bit more.

“HOLD THE LINE!” Angron roared. “DO NOT CHARGE UNTIL I GIVE THE ORDER!” The Slaanesh forces were within five hundred yards.

Angron grinned as the seeds of hatred he had sown in them with the Khorne chant of blood were blossoming, and their bloodlust was drowning everything else in their minds. He had to make sure that they were deprived of the joy of facing their enemy in close combat just a bit longer. He could feel their hatred and bloodlust grow stronger by the second. He had to wait a few more moments before the bloodlust reached their peak, for optimal fighting conditions of his forces.

The Slaanesh forces were four hundred yards away . . .

A massive jolt of multitude coloured energy was launched from the daemons of Slaanesh. Angron’s army did not cowered or run as it would be a sign of weakness and cowardice. The massive Doombolt slammed into Angron’s ranks of mortal warriors, vaporizing hundreds and wounded thousands.

“HOLD THE LINE!” Angron repeated in a cold tone, uncaring that many were killed in a single attack. At least none of the Worldeaters Elite troops were harmed in the attack.

Three hundred yards . . .

A few mortal warbands edged forward, unable to contain their bloodlust until they began to rush towards the enemy. They were ruthlessly hacked apart by Angron’s Worldeaters for disobeying his rule. The Worldeaters then returned back to their ranks in prompt fashion.

Angron grinned. He could see some of the rival warbands in his army starting to lash out between each other which were a clear sign that they were almost ready. Many of them were held in check just barely and to be sure that they did not break rank again. Angron’s Worldeaters Chaos Space Marines were lined up behind them, chainswords and axes at the ready.

Two hundred yards . . .

“WELL? WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR! CRUSH THEM ALL BENEATH OUR MIGHTY BATTLE AXES! CHARGE FOR KHORNE!” Angron roared in an inhuman tone.

“BROTHERS OF THE BLOOD GOD, CHARGE! KILL THEM! KILL THEM ALL!” the Worldeaters Berzerkers exclaimed, rushing past the mortals in anticipation of combat.

“BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR KHORNE KILL!”

Angron smirked as he listened patiently for the distinctive sound when two forces clash together in battle. “This is the Blood God’s way, the joys that bloodshed can only bring.”

Watching the battle between the force of Khorne and Slaanesh was a third party whose interest in this particular pitch battle was out of plain curiosity. They were stood on a high, rocky plateau in an ideal position for ring side seats as the battle could be clearly seen below them.

“They seemed to lack much of vocabulary in their war cries,” a Thousand Sons Chaos Sorcerer commented as he leaned against his newly reformed Black Staff, expressing a mild interest in the battle.

He was currently hovering on a daemon which resembles a flattened large circular plate with the addition of vicious teeth and sharp spines. The creature kept the Chaos Sorcerer hovering above the ground at roughly the height of human. The reason why he was hovering so high was that his companion standing next to him was a huge, towering monster of nightmarish proportion with enormous wings.

“Don’t you think?” The Sorcerer turned his head slightly to face his companion.

“Yes, I can see that. Perhaps I should give them a dictionary of war chants for Christmas?” said his companion as he twists his serpent neck so that his hideous vulpine head could look at him.

The Sorcerer shook his head. “Why bother? He probably takes it as insult if you do . . . and then what? You will be drawn into this pointless fight as those two idiots.”

The Daemon Prince of Tzeentch thought about it for a few seconds, one eye firmly focused on the battle below.

“Perhaps . . . but why waste a good opportunity to have some fun, eh, Lord Ahriman?” The Daemon Prince said in a quite disturbing cheerful mood.

Although the Thousand Sons Sorcerer face was hidden behind an ornate helmet, the Daemon Prince could sense him sighing deeply which was visibly seen by the slight shaking of his head.

“M’Kachan, you and your silly games . . . oh, that’s got to hurt!” Ahriman said as the two armies of Khorne and Slaanesh clashed with almighty sound. The optical sensors in his helmet automatically zoomed in whilst adjusting for the light and darkness.

M’Kachan didn’t need to have such arcane equipment to assist him as his daemonic visage enables him to see the battle as clear as day or night.

“I see that Angron and N’Kari are enjoying the battle.” M’Kachan said as his focused on the two leaders.

Ahriman shrugged. “It’s a pity that they can’t get along as we hoped . . .”

“IT IS THE ORDER OF CHAOS! ONLY THE STRONGEST WILL SURIVIVE! LET THEM SLAUGHTER THEMSELVES, THEY ARE INSIGNIFCANT! WE ARE THE STRONGEST OF ALL THE RUINOUS POWERS! OUR FATES ARE INTWINED WITH TZEENTCH!” boomed a heavy voice.

Both Ahriman and M’Kachan turned around slightly to be greeted by gigantic and monstrous giant, roughly over twelve foot. His cyclopean eye focused on them as his baleful eye bore into them. The massively modified and ancient suit of Terminator Armour which has somehow fused and twisted in such a manner that it was hard to determine the material. The armour still retains some of the pre Heresy colours.

Its primary colours were still dark blue and luminous yellow. Tabards, penchants, scrolls of runes, silver chains, and spikes adorned his armour. In his right gauntlet was a huge rune broadsword which the writing along the blade glowed. In his other hand was a much bigger and badass version of a chaos lightning claw but instead of metallic blades, they were pure energy claws.

“Lord Magnus the Red, King of Sorcerers, Primarch of the Thousand Sons. I am humbled by your arrival.” Ahriman knelt down on one knee and bowed his head, resting his staff on the floor.”

‘Don’t mention the Rubric . . . Don’t mention the Rubric . . . Don’ mention the Rubric,’ Ahriman thought repeatedly.

‘Kiss ass,’ thought M’Kachan as he noted the spectacular change in Ahriman’s personality. Ahriman’s ranking in M’Kachan book lost a few points for that act. He then looked up at the towering Primarch.

“I was wondering when you were entering the picture, oh mighty Magnus. It certainly must have been a long trip from the Planet of Sorcerers?” M’Kachan greeted which voided of any sarcasm or wit.

Despite Magnus towering and sheer psychic presence, M’Kachan seemed neither unconcerned nor afraid of him. Ahriman on the other hand seemed a slightly unnerved, perhaps agitated by his Primarch being here.

“So . . . is that a new trick?” M’Kachan pointed. A large sweat drop appeared on Ahriman’s helmet.

Behind the giant Daemon Primarch Prince was a shimmering impossible rectangle of seething red light, a doorway of some sorts. Magnus stare intensified by the second. M’Kachan was unfazed; he didn’t know the human emotion of fear so there was no point in doing so.

“YES!” Magnus boomed. “MY POWERS HAVE QUADRUPTED SINCE WE LAST MET, M'KACHAN! I AM MORE POWERFUL THAN EVER! THIS TRICK IS SIMPLY A MERES CHILDPLAYS TO THE POWER THAT I WIELD!”

“Yes, I suppose you have, considering the amount of time you sent in exile here in the Eye of Terror,” M’Kachan said calmly. “So, Magnus, when are you planning to use your powers to burn the universe like your swore you would do?”

The colour of Magnus Cyclopean Eye turned from white into crimson rage in a matter of seconds. An even large sweat drop appeared on Ahriman’s head. A gathering storm clouds started to form just above them, crackling lightning of blue and yellow energy could just be seen.

“IN DUE TIME, M’KACHAN, I WILL SEE TO THAT!” Magnus boomed. “I AM DESTINED TO ACHIEVE THIS BY FATE DESIRES!”

M’Kachan smiled. “Of course, you would, oh, mighty Magnus the Red.”

Ahriman rolled his eyes back and turned his attention back to the battlefield between Angron and N’Kari forces.

“Oh, look . . . Angron applying his personal touch,” Ahriman whispered.

Both the Daemon Prince and Primarch heard the Chaos Sorcerer’s comment and turned to see what was happening on the battlefield, it had looked like the fighting was at a stalemate, that is until Angron joined in the fighting. The Daemon Primarch of the Worldeaters strode amongst his frenzied Khorne Berzerkers and started doing what he does best. With his massive daemon imprisoned Khaf’yina double headed battleaxe and barbed bullwhip, Angron started dishing out punishment by the bucket load as he butchered anything not possessing the Mark of Khorne within range, taking off heads, limbs, slicing torsos in two, his axe and skin slick with blood.

“Looks like he is getting a thorough workout down there,” M’Kachan grinned as Angron grabbed one of the Children of Slaanesh in his hand and crushed into a bloody pulp with his bestial hands.

“ANGRON IS A FOOLISH YET DEDICATED SERVANT OF KHORNE! HE WILL NOT EASILY BE DEFEATED! HE BELIEVES HIS SALVATION LIES IN THE BLLOOD OF HIS ENEMIES! IT IS THE WAY OF KHORNE!” Magnus boomed.

“Indeed, it looks like Angron’s forces are winning the battle,” Ahriman added. “Wait, I spoke to soon, here comes trouble . . .”

Ahriman pointed his Black Staff towards a massive towering giant stomping his way through the Slaanesh lines.

“N’Kari looks like he going to dish his own brand of punishment,” Ahriman said. “Looks like he going to use one of his offensive spells.”

“His spell casting ability is impressive, no lagging time in setup,” M’Kachan commented.

Magnus watched with mild interest.

The Daemon Prince of Slaanesh unleashed a focused beam of dazzling colours from the palm of his hand which literately tore into the forces of Khorne towards Angron. The result of such a destructive power had decimated all those near the Daemon Primarch but the Primarch himself was unharmed as the gift of Khorne nullifies any sort of magic used against him. N’Kari grinned as his true intention wasn’t to do harm to Angron but to clear a straight path between them.

“DIE FOR KHORNE!” Angron roared.

“I LIVE ONLY TO SERVE SLAANESH!” N’Kari screamed.

The deafening clash of battleaxe and sword echoed in the region.

“Well, I think we have spent enough time watching them . . . back to business I should say.” M’Kachan turned away from the battle. “Lord Magnus, you do know why we have summoned you here?”

“INDEED, OUR MASTER, TZEENTCH HAS SHOWN ME THROUGH HIS SIGHT!” Magnus said.

Ahriman continued to watch the battle as the two giants clashed with one another. His daemonic pets that lay hidden kept a record on the conversation between M’Kachan and Magnus. The mental link between the Chaos Sorcerer and his Chaos familiars enable him to do both things at the same time.

M’Kachan nodded; a croaked smile appeared on his bird like head.

“Then we are in agreement, you will lend us your strength and legion to our invasion cause.” M’Kachan assumed, despite his cool and dark nature, he was slightly relieved that all had turned out fine.

“NO, I WILL NOT!” Magnus boomed.

“What?” M’Kachan said surprised before regaining his composure.

“I WILL NOT AID YOU OR OUR MASTER PLAN! THE THOUSAND SONS ARE NOT GOING TO BE USED AS SIMPLE TROOPS IN YOUR LITTLE GAMES!” Magnus stated firmly.

M’Kachan shook his head in distain.

“My Master has never acts out of altruism. He has summoned you to aid us in our cause as he sees your potential. He has your wellbeing at stake and you will be suitably compensated for your losses and yourself.” M’Kachan was having a hard time penetrating Magnus psyker barriers which prevent him for reading his inner most desires. So he did the next best thing, covering the basics in temptations.

Power beyond your imagination, more wealth than the Gods, thousands of slaves and followers at your command . . .”

“SILENCE!” Magnus boomed even louder. “M’KACHAN, YOU HAVE NOTHING TO OFFER ME THAT WILL EVEN INTRIGUES MY INTEREST! YOU HAVE NOTHING AND AS OF SUCH, YOU WILL NOT HAVE MY COOPERATION IN YOUR LITTLE GAME! WHY WASTE YOUR TIME INVADING ANOTHER UNIVERSE WHERE THERE OTHER KNOWLEDGE YET TO UNCOVER! LIKE THE BLACK LIBRARY OF THE ELDAR! THE THOUSAND SONS WILL WITHDRAW ITS SUPPORT, THIS IS NOT THE TZEENTCH HAS PLANNED!”

Magnus turned his back against M’Kachan, ending the meeting abruptly. It was that point that Ahriman diverted his attention from the battle towards his Primarch and the servant of Tzeentch. Guiding his disc of Tzeentch towards them, he was hoping to earn favour with the Primarch of the Thousand Sons.

“BY THE WAY, AHRIMAN, YOU ARE STILL BANISHED FROM THE THOUSAND SONS! IF I SEE YOU AGAIN, THERE IS ETERNAL PUNISHMENT THAT AWAITS YOU! I’LL STILL REMEMBER WHAT YOU DID!” Magnus said to his exiled Chaos Sorcerer without turning around. He had sense his psyker signature in the air despite the amount of interference from the sun and the nearby battle.

Ahriman’s head dropped and rest against his chest, slightly disappointed, perhaps another thousand years in exile might make him forget.

“This was a waste of time, M’Kachan.” Ahriman said.

M’Kachan wagered his index finger in front of the Chaos Sorcerer as he wasn’t finished with Magnus as he still had one more ace up his very long robe sleeve.

“Lord Magnus, perhaps the vast knowledge of the Queens of Serenities line might persuade you into joining us.” M’Kachan said in a seductive whisper.

Magnus stopped almost immediately upon hearing the words about the Queen of Serenities line. M’Kachan smiled grew as he managed to hit upon something that he and Ahriman has discussed after his unfortunate event in the chamber of the Time Gate.

Magnus snorted, seemingly disinterested. He knew fully well that this was devious lie that M’Kachan has thought up to lure him in after all he was a creature of the warp. Most probably it was smokescreen or a ruse to cover their true intentions.

“THE MAGIC OF THE SERENITIES IS SIMPLY A FABLE, NEITHER THE TWISTED TONGUES OF THE DAEMON KIN NOR THE RECORDS OF THE ELDAR HAS EVER MENTION ANYTHING ABOUT THE SERENITIES.” Magnus said in deep booming voice.

M’Kachan raised an eyebrow. “Yet, you . . . the King of Sorcerers has heard of the Serenities.”

“OF COURSE, KNOWLEDGE IS MY SPECIALTY. I HAPPENED TO STUMP ON A SMALL FRAGMENT REGARDING THE POWER OF SERENITIES WHEN I WAS GAZING DEEPER INTO THE WARP UPON THE TOWER OF SORROWS, SEARCHING FOR A WAY TO HAVE MY VENGEANCE THAT IS HOW I CAME ACROSS SUCH KNOWLEDGE.”

Magnus looked over his massive broad shoulder.

“YOU ARE JUST GRASPING STRAWS, M’KACHAN. YOU HAVE NOTHING.”

“You would think so, Lord Magnus of the Thousand Sons but I have stumble on a trail that will lead you to finding the knowledge of Serenities.”

Magnus turned around to face the Daemon Prince. “OH?”

M’Kachan bowed slightly, his croaked grin reappearing on his face as he took a step towards the Daemon Primarch.

“For a small price of course,” M’Kachan whispered.

Magnus expression was unclear either he was intrigued by his proposal or he was about to do something nasty. Ahriman swooped in closer, maintaining a respectable distance between his Primarch in case things gone ugly.

“Lord Ahriman,” M’Kachan snapped his finger.

“What is it?” Ahriman said without taking his eyes off the Thousand Sons Primarch.

“Tell him,” M’Kachan said.

Ahriman looked at M’Kachan and could have sworn that he grew another head.

“Tell him what, M’Kachan?”

M’Kachan glared at the Chaos Sorcerer.

“You know what I am talking about, Ahriman.” M’Kachan said with a sharp edge to his tone. A flickering light was seen M’Kachan right eye.

Ahriman nodded. “Just making sure, we were thinking on the same line.”

“Lord Magnus the Red, upon my journey into the universe. I have to discover something that relates to the Serenities. I have found proof that the knowledge of the Serenities exist.”

“I’M LISTENING!” Magnus boomed as he had stopped directly in front of the dimensional gateway portal.

“I have found the location of the Moon Kingdom in which the bloodline of Serenities used to resides. Although there is nothing left out the actually city or silver towers or the vast libraries. I do believe that there is elaborate labyrinth beneath the ruins of the Moon Kingdom.” Ahriman bowed deeply and held his breath.

Magnus Cyclopean Eye glared deeply into Ahriman’s being. The two stared each other for what seemed to an eternity. The Daemon Primarch of the Thousand Sons and one of his most gifted Sorcerer. Suddenly Magnus burst into laughter, confusing Ahriman.

“YOU ALMOST HAD ME THERE, AHRIMAN! YOU ALMOST FOOLED ME INTO BELIEVING THAT YOU OF ALL PEOPLE WOULD DISCOVER THE LOCATION OF THE KINGDON OF SERENITIES BEFORE ME!” Magnus boomed in mist of his laughter. “I SHALL TAKE MY LEAVE NOW! WE HAVE NOTHING TO DISCUSS!”

“But, Lord Magnus . . . there is proof, look!” Ahriman took something out from his robe pouch and offered it to the mighty Primarch.

Magnus glazed focused on the broken half of what seemed to be a dull golden V shaped tiara taken from the battle between M’Kachan and Sailor Moon. At that moment, M’Kachan decided to intervene and brush past the Chaos Sorcerer.

“We will give you time to study our offering, can’t you sense the magic that resides within the object, mighty Magnus.” M’Kachan bowed as his master sternly express that the support of the Thousands Sons was vital to his plans and by his very soul, he would achieve it, no matter what the cost.

“Surely this offering is enough to tempt you to joining us. The opportunity to gain the power of the Serenities is not to be wasted, Lord Magnus.”

Magnus knew that M’Kachan had a point, the opportunity to learn the power of the Serenities was too great to miss. The evidence presented need studied before reaching a conclusion. The tiara fragment was levitated from Ahriman’s hands in his palm as he swiftly turned around and marched into the portal.

“Call us if you’re in!” M’Kachan shouted.

The dimensional portal closed with a sharp crackle.

Both M’Kachan and Ahriman stared blankly at the portal then at each other before simultaneously shrugged.

“What now?” Ahriman asked.

“Now we played the waiting game.” M’Kachan replied.

Ahriman sighed. “You and your games, don’t you ever get tired of playing games?”

M’Kachan grinned in a knowing fashion.

Ahriman sighed deeply, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Untold days passed . . .

M’Kachan and Ahriman were still waiting on the cliff face. The battle between N’Kari and Angron’s forces has come to an end . . . a bloody grueling end.

“Who won?” Ahriman asked.

M’Kachan shrugged, ignoring the Chaos Sorcerer’s question for a moment.

“Thirty seven thousand nine hundred and eighty six,” The Daemon Prince suddenly spouted out.

“Thirty seven thousand nine hundred and eighty six,” Ahriman repeated in utter confusion.

“What are you blabbering about now?” Ahriman asked, slightly confused. “Don’t tell me you counting the body count of the battle?”

M’Kachan feint a hurt expression, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Why would I do such a ridiculous activity as counting the bodies? I have better things to do; after all I am a Daemon Prince of Tzeentch. There are things that will drive the sanest mortal into spiraling madness.”

“Oh . . .” Ahriman said quietly. “So what do those numbers mean anyway?” Ahriman asked, hoping for a straight forward answer.

‘Hmm . . . perhaps he is referring to the Runic Numbers of the Ancients? Lucky Star God Telephone Number or even Eldar webgate coordinates?’ Ahriman thought greedily, perhaps the Daemon Prince of Tzeentch has let slip a tiny piece of forbidden knowledge or some sort.

M’Kachan simply grinned.

“I was just counting the number of human skulls taken by the forces of Khorne, that’s all. Why do you . . .”

A loud thud was heard beside him.

Ahriman had face faulted off his Disc of Tzeentch and onto the unforgiving rocky ground. M’Kachan simply looked down at the fallen Sorcerer. He almost took pity on him, almost.

“At least, he didn’t say it, otherwise that would be a thousand times worse.” Ahriman mumbled as M’Kachan helped him up onto his feet and placed him back on the Daemon flying disc.

At that moment, a shroud of darkness shadowed over them. Both M’Kachan and Ahriman didn’t need to guess who it was that was behind them as they turned around slowly.

“TELL ME MORE OF YOUR PLAN TO INVADE!”

“Certainly,” M’Kachan smirked at the giant cyclopean Daemon Primarch.

“There is one more thing I have to ask?”

“BY ALL MEANS ASK, PUNY SERVANT OF TZEENTCH!”

M’Kachan allowed a few moments to build up a bit of suspense.

“Are you in?” The Daemon Prince asked casually.

Ahriman grew a large sweat drop.

XXXXX

Location: Earth Orbit, Blood Angels Battle Barge

Sanguinius Personal Quarters . . .

Sanguinius picked up his goblet and drained the contents in a single gulp. He started to wonder if his decision was the right one as he gazed into the bottom of the golden goblet. Sanguinius could tell that Ranma was a man of great gifts and a true heart but his ideals about life and the working of the universe seems to be misplaced. He couldn’t blame him for thinking this way, Ranma has yet to experience the full horrors and shocking truths that the four powers of Chaos has to show to him. Sanguinius hoped that he would have enough faith and the mental will to overcome the overwhelming odds that the future laid in store for Ranma Saotome.

Sanguinius already knew his destiny and purpose in life from the moment the Emperor entrusted him with the honour of leading the Blood Angels Legion. He soon learnt that the reason for his existence was for a noble cause, to protect the ordinary faceless masses of humanity, the men and women of the Imperium against the infinite horrors of the universe. So that one day, humanity would go into fulfil humankind’s manifest destiny of ruling the galaxy in the name of the Emperor. Sanguinius felt an overwhelming pride within his soul in truth he had a purpose for his existence. Smiting the enemies of the Emperor where they can be found, he did not care if they were alien or demon, those who oppose the Emperor will pay in blood for there heretic actions. Did Ranma hold the same values and quality as he did? This was question he wanted answered before continuing on with the Emperor’s work.

Sanguinius mentally reminded himself that he and his battle brothers assembled here in this galaxy were not in the empire of the Imperium so the previous rules of engagement and involvement did not apply as strong as it would before. They were sent by the will of the Emperor to bring the light to repel the enshrouding darkness of the four powers of Chaos.

Sanguinius placed down his golden goblet. The winged Primarch walked towards the far side of the chamber and pressed a section of the wall which activated an activation rune. There was a faint humming sound as the small section was opened up and a hololithic device was revealed. Sanguinius looked down at the device for moment as a motorised servo skull appeared from above him and started emitting a red beam of light from one its eye sockets into the device.

“Connect me to Lord Admiral Tabris on the command bridge,” Sanguinius whispered as the servo skull complied with his request as the red beam changed to the colour green.

It only took a few seconds as the device started to rotate in a complex fashion as the full sized hololithic image of the Space Marine Admiral appeared before him. The Admiral turned around, his face was serious and that Sanguinius could easily tell that he had something on his mind.

“My Lord,” Tabris bowed his head as he addressed the Primarch.

“Has my special orders been carried out.” Sanguinius asked.

Tabris nodded. “Indeed, My Lord. Everything has been accomplished as specified.”

“Do they suspect anything?”

Tabris shook his head. “No, My Lord, they do not but I do have my concerned over this.” Scowl of displeasure and unease clearly marked on his face.

“I understand your concerns, Lord Admiral. Everything is as it should be.”

Tabris nodded and bowed despite being slightly unease with the Primarch’s decision to allow them to escape.

“Further orders, My Lord?” Tabris asked.

“Lord Admiral Tabris, continue to monitor them from a distant and inform me of any changes, but allow them to go ahead with their plans. I want to see what move they make before we come to a decision.”

“As you wish, Lord Sanguinius, it shall be done, praise the Emperor.” The hololithic device stopped rotating as the image slowly faded away. Sanguinius was satisfied with the result and watched as the device slowly returned back to the sealed compartment and the servo skull retreating into the darkness.

Just as Sanguinius was about to leave, his acute hearing picked up the rustle of heavy cloths behind him and knew without turning who stood behind him.

“Something on your mind, my lord,” said a robed Space Marine. Sanguinius could feel the strength and powerful authority in the ancient warrior’s voice.

“How long have you been standing there?” Sanguinius asked with a hint of curiosity and turned his head slightly so that he could just see him in the corner of his eye.

The winged Primarch recognise immediately who the Space Marine was. He could see the Space Marine bore the insignia of the Blood Angels Chapter on one shoulder plate and held the ornate force staff of a Librarian in his gauntlet hand. His face was hidden under the folds of his robe hood.

“More than long enough,” The hooded Space marine whispered and bowed slightly.

“Pardon for this intrusion but I have come with dark tiding which I need to share with you in private, My Lord.”

Sanguinius nodded.

“Not at all, Brother Calistarius, you are most welcome.” Sanguinius turned to face the hooded Space Marine.

Calistarius was the most esteemed of his mighty warrior mystics. Although he did not play a direct role in the battle in battle, he was an integral part of the Blood Angles movements and assaults, guiding the will of his battle brothers. Calistarius using the powers of prescience, he was able to sense and predict the movements of the enemy to a fair degree of accuracy whilst remaining out of sight.

“Indeed it appears that we share a common cause because I too need your council on matter that has been troubling me, Brother Calistarius.” Sanguinius said and led the mysterious Space Marine to a suitable place.

The Space Marine gently pushed back his hood with his gauntlet hand, revealing his unshadowed face to the Primarch. His skin was the colour of ebony which resembled a lunar landscape, cratered and ridged with numberless wrinkles. His dark hair was pulled back in long braids and woven with coloured crystals. His dark eyes were sombre as he addressed the Primarch with respect and loyalty. Implants and thin wires were directly connected from the scalp of his head to a device known as a Psychic Hood.

It was impossible to guess the age of the Space Marine due to his appearance and no one with the exception of the winged Primarch himself knew his real age. Calistarius was one of the most powerful of psykers that Sanguinius had under his command and had countless centuries of experience and his considerable psychic powers of premonition made him a trusted advisor. Calistarius currently held the rank of Chief Librarian.

Sanguinius and Calistarius knelt ceremonially, facing each other across a silent space. Sanguinius looked up, fixing Calistarius brooding eyes with his own.

“What dark tiding do you bring?” Sanguinius was the first to speak.

Calistarius was silent for a moment before replying.

“The omens are not good, Lord Sanguinius of the Blood Angels. There is growing darkness that shrouds the paths which I am so far unable to determine nor able to predict. I fear that we could stray from the path the Emperor has set up upon.”

“Does this threaten this world, Brother Calistarius,” Sanguinius inquired.

“It does, My Lord,” replied the Librarian.

There was a long silence which even Sanguinius seemed reluctant to break. Finally after several long minutes had passed, Sanguinius spoke, but his voice did not carry the ring of confidence or the power of authority he usually carries.

“Are we able to overcome this before this happens,” Sanguinius asked.

Calistarius shook his head. “We cannot.”

“How can you be so sure,” Sanguinius demanded, the clenching of his fist revealed the unease by the blunt answer he was given.

“I have seen it, seen the grave portents that the Emperor has gifted me.” Calistarius closed his eyes as he entered into a semi meditative state of mind. “Death and destruction lay ahead. The shadow tendrils of the Ruinous Powers are moving towards this galaxy and they will attack soon. Upon your return, our Astropaths detected several psychic disturbance, minor in comparison in Nerima but significant across the planet. I cannot determine if this was related to the key destruction of the Chaos Gate but . . .” Calistarius paused slightly before continuing on. “The taint of chaos is here, my Lord. Of this I am sure.”

“Brother Calistarius, the Emperor’s Tarot. What has the cards revealed?” Sanguinius inquired.

A skilled psyker with the proper training and discipline such as Calistarius were taught to read the Emperor’s tarot and to sense the subtle movements of daemons and other extra entities through warp space. A Librarian can feel the psychic shock waves that herald the arrival of a spacecraft, or the turmoil that ships leave in their wake as they depart. In a sense they were the ultimate warrior mystics of the Adeptus Astartes.

“Indeed, My Lord, I have consulted with the cards and . . .” Calistarius held his breath for a slight moment. “The cards revealed the same but there is hope, we do not have to stand alone in the universe, praise the Emperor.”

“Show me,” Sanguinius demanded. “Show the signs that have led you to your conclusion.”

Calistarius was silent as he rose to his feet. “I cannot perform the task that you request here. The Emperor’s Tarot is a powerful but dangerous thing.”

“Come with me, my Lord. It is better that she shows you what I have seen.” Calistarius beckoned him.

Sanguinius nodded, knowing fully who the Chief Librarian was referring to. She was one of the few that had mastered the Emperor’s Tarot, taken centuries to learn every combination of cards, every subtle nuance of meaning, read every play of warp light on the psycho plastic impressed images that the cards revealed. One of the very few sanctioned actions the Adeptus Astartes Chapters could employ to gain an insight into the very working of Chaos.

“The Astropath,” Sanguinius whispered.

XXXXX

Location: Japan, Nerima District

JSDF (Japanese Self Defense Force) controlled area (Southern Nerima) . . .

The morning sun rose further in the sky above Nerima, bathing the ruined streets with his relentless heat. The streets were deserted as the citizens of Nerima were earlier evacuated from the area due to the upsurge of violence caused for unidentified foreign invaders. Only JSDF military personnel were currently allowed in this particular area of Nerima as they sweeped the streets thoroughly before of deeming the area safe for non military personnel's access.

Earlier the Prime Minister of Japan had appeared on television and radio, proclaiming officially what members of foreign terrorist groups was responsible of the incidents as a cover up of what actually happened. The International audience wouldn’t believe or were not prepared to believe that daemons and monsters from another dimension had came to destroy and enslave the human race or the arrival of genetically enhanced superhumans known as Space Marines. Perhaps there was a darker and sinister motive for the cover up in Nerima considering what the weapons used by the Japanese military were relatively ineffective against those warriors or their daemon counterparts.

Also the presences of the red armored warriors what identified themselves as the Blood Angels simply vanished of the map. The higher ups in the chain of command simply assumed what the reports of these warriors were clearly exaggerated or had fled as soon as large reinforcements of troops and vehicles poured into the district, afraid of their military might. In reality, the Blood Angels were simply retreating back to their redeployment zone at the heart of Nerima for immediate extraction as soon as JSDF seemed strong enough to main control of this troubled district.

Currently roaming through the Nerima streets was a small convoy of vehicles consisting of two armored military reconnaissance humvees and between them was a large black car with blackened bullet proof windows and additional armour plating. A little flag of Japan fluttered in the wind as the convoy drove through the militarized zone. Circling above the black car and the humvees were two multi support RAH-66 "Comanche", although the streets were deemed safe by the military authority, they weren’t taking any chances especially due to presence of the VIP sitting in the back of the modified black car.

The VIP was a female dressed in very expensive and elegant traditional Japanese style attire, a violet kimono with light coloured press images of arranged orchid flowers. Her scarlet hair was fashioned in a way that belied a traditional upbringing perhaps suggesting her importance in society. Also the VIP was never seen in private or public without carrying her master crafted Oborozukiyo (Hazy Moon Night), a decorative katana rumored to have magical properties which simply sheathed in a midnight black sheath with gold trim along the edges.

“Ma’am, our authorization has been cleared by the relevant military command. Preparations for our arrival are almost complete, estimated time of arrival ten minutes,” said a dark haired man in his early thirties sitting directly opposite the female VIP after finishing his lengthy conversation on his mobile phone.

The VIP nodded slightly before turning to stare out of the window, seeing many homes destroyed, deserted or burnt out due to violence here.

The man that has just spoken to her was Shingen Matsudaira, her security chief and bodyguard. His expression was fixed, always conveying a dead seriousness in his work. Sitting quietly next to him was a young Japanese man recently employed by the Imperial Family after graduating from Tokyo University and working in a few years in the legal department before being transferred here. His appearance definitely defined him as a shrewd lawyer type person, yet he was a good person at heart. His name was Hideyoshi Niwa, her legal advisor. She could see that he was definitely trying to make a good impression on her as he was constantly complimenting her and waiting hand on foot for her. He was currently reading a handful of papers currently received through the fax machine inside the car.

“Is everything okay, ma’am,” said a man sitting right next to her. The VIP broke her gaze from the window and turned towards him with a gentle smile.

“Nothing,” she said.

The man nodded, accepting her answer and leaned back against the leather seats.

“I was only concerned for you,” he said. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

The VIP smiled at her royal advisor and close friend, Toshiie Yoshinari. He was roughly ten years older than her. He wore glasses which made him looked like a scholar or teacher in her opinion, despite his age, he still maintained his youthful looks but deep in his eyes held great wisdom and experience.

“It is appreciated, Yoshinari” she said in quiet tone.

“Only do my duties, Lady Mikasa,” He replied in a quiet tone.

The VIP was Crown Princess Mikasa of the Imperial Royal Family and was currently performing her PR duties.

Mikasa then looked out of the window again and sighed.

“Where do we have to go now?” she asked her royal advisor.

“Just two more places to go,” Yoshinari replied as he checked their schedule.

There was a moment silence before Matsudaira spoke up.

“Ma’am, you are a royal member of the Imperial Family, and it is my duty to ensure that your safety is my top priority, if you feel unease, please informs me and we be out of this danger zone as soon as . . .”

“That won’t be necessary,” Mikasa said and looked towards her security chief. “We shall soon be finished, besides the necessary precautions has been made, am I correct?”

“Yes, ma’am, it has,” he said and quickly checked the security protocols and schedule.

Yoshinari was in deep thought. Niwa was too busy sorting out the legal work to notice anything. Mikasa resumed her staring out the window in quiet contemplation.

Earlier she and her entourage of bodyguards and advisors visited the civilian evacuation camp located in the southern district of Nerima. Once there, she saw doctors, nurses and military personnel moving through the camp, tending to the wounded or preparing the dead so that relatives of that person would be informed as soon as possible so that funeral arrangement could be set.

She offered a prayer for the souls of the departed and took a deep breath. She was a descendant to the Imperial Royal Family and as such had to keep control. But it was difficult when everything kept slipping out from her grasp, no matter how hard she tried to hold on. No matter what she had her royal duties to show that the Royal Family show deep sympathy to the working families in Nerima, it was important part that public relations were maintain and strengthen during this dark day.

She slumped into the dark leather seats of the car, scanning dozens of reports and images of the violence and unrest that has happened here. She smoothed down her damp scarlet red hair and rubbed the corners of her blue eyes dry. Her face was careworn and lined and she felt every one of her years bearing down heavily upon her.

She looked over to her royal advisors, who were sat directly opposite her, busy with their mobile phones and laptop computers as gathered in as much of the current situation before they reached their destination. The scarlet haired woman rubbed her forehand with fingers as she tried to regain her composure. She then gathered a couple of papers in front of her and placed them in a pile next to her. She would read them later. She had more pressing business to take care that is until she noticed something in the pile.

Amongst the pile of reports, documents, newspaper articles and several of photographic pictures, there was one particular that caught her interest. Angling her head slightly so that she could just see what the picture might be. Her curiosity got the better of her as the photograph was rather fuzzy and out of focus. She really didn’t know what it perked her interest but for some reason she felt that it was important. She could just make out a young man wielding some sort of weapon bathed of what seemed to dark electrically energy or some sorts or perhaps it was her eyes playing tricks on her. Deciding that she wanted more information about the picture, she picked out the photograph from the pile and handled to Yoshinari.

“Where was this picture taken?”

Yoshinari was rather surprised by her question and closely examined the picture.

“Hmm . . . hang on second,” Yoshinari started to rifle through a couple of reports files to determine the source.

“Well?” She asked, slightly impatient.

“Ah, yes, the photo was taken by a high school student from a distant; her name wasn’t recorded that’s all we have on the matter which is slightly odd.” Yoshinari shocked his head. “Is there something of importance to you?”

“No,” she whispered and smiled softly. “It’s nothing, just curious.”

It was at that point that the car came to a halt. They had reached their destination. Mikasa could hear the whirling sound of helicopter blades circling around them. Her advisors started to gather the necessary papers whilst her bodyguard stepped out of the car and change that the area was secure. The scarlet haired woman started to straighten out the small folds of her delicate violet kimono whilst making sure that she had her wrapped katana in her hand. As soon as the right passenger door to her private car, she stepped out to be immediately greeted by four men in black suits, each with a dragon style pin in their lapels. A familiar face was at the head and he bowed deeply to her.

“Well, gentlemen,” she began in a stern demanding tone. “How bad is it?”

She notice that the men appeared to uncomfortable with her question, none of them were willing to volunteer an answer.

She suddenly snapped them. “When I ask a question I expect an answer, do I make myself clear.”

She emphasizes her point to the men by slowly unsheathing the katana ever so slightly, revealing the gleaming shines of the blade.

Her advisors simply stood in silence behind her, knowing her temperamental nature especially that traditional Katana she carries with her all the time. They were smart enough not to intervene when she was in one of those moods, not to cross or upset her at any cost. What they didn’t know was if she was actually proficient with the weapon or not. They weren’t prepared to find out if she was.

“The fighting between the JSDF units and the foreign invaders has subsided for now . . .” said the youngest of the group. His thin face was earnest and full of youthful exuberance.

“The JSDF is the Japanese Self Defense Force, ma’am,” added the dark short hair man. He smiled, exposing a row of perfect teeth. This was the first time that she met the man but already did not like him. She could sense the arrogance and confident in his eyes and decided that something must be done.

She shot the man with the most withering look she could muster and smiled as she saw the smirk wiped off his face.

“Yes, I’m perfectly aware of what he is referring to, I have been briefed along the way, please refrain yourself from interrupting again.” She said in an icy cold tone, the men could feel the place getting somewhat colder even thought they were out in the open.

She then unsheathed the Katana a few more inches more which immediately caught their attention.

“It will never happen again, ma’am,” He said and bowed apologetically, sweating deeply due to the withering look received from her. Princess Mikasa glared at him for a few seconds more before turning her attention towards the young man again.

“Continue on,” She said in a softer tone as she turned to the man she had spoken before rudely interrupted. The young man nodded and straightened out his dark coat.

“The fighting wasn’t the worse, ma’am. Raging fires, pocket resistance and unchecked fighting has made efforts to bring aid and support to the people has made it almost impossible.”

“How many are dead?” Mikasa stated sternly. “Give me numbers on the wounded and dead, young man.”

The young man started to consult the men on his left and right before giving her an answer.

“It’s too early for firm numbers, ma’am, but it looks like over four hundred dead and perhaps over a thousand wounded and that’s just the civilian count. No word has been received yet from the military command on their numbers.”

Mikasa sheathed her sword back, much to relief of the men present. She started to rub her forehead as she tried to put together a few estimates and numbers together for the public relation speech she has to give when the all clear have been given.

“Gentlemen, we need to stay on top of this situation. This infortunate event and the aftereffects have proven that we need to be more careful in how we are perceived by our people and the international audience,” Mikasa said, pointy staring at them. “We lost face today, but not so much that we can’t repair the damage. We can always shift the blame if things are beyond our control.”

“I’ll get right on it, ma’am,”

“See that it does,” Mikasa and turned to the rest of the group. “Now then, like I said we have . . .”

“We got trouble, ma’am,” Yoshinari said.

Just then, in corner of her eyes, she spotted a huge crowd of news reporters closely followed by a dozen of so television live media vans. Everyone was trying to get past the military blockade for the exclusive scoop. It was mainly due to the media blackout that was setup on the outbreak was beginning to expire in this area of Nerima. The damage and cost of this upsurge in violence had attracted the attention of the whole country and quite possibly the world. The rumours of giant warriors, science fictional weapons and nightmarish creatures have attracted the attention of the people as they seek to uncover what had happened here in this troubled district of Japan.

Although this district of Japan has already achieved a status of high abnormal activities due to constants disputes between highly trained martial artists and warriors, never had the fighting escalated to a point where countless lives were lost and what the full involvement of JSDF forces in the fighting was heard of. Mikasa has hoped that they would be able to leave without being spotted by the news reporters but this was not to be as the news people’s high powered cameras spotted the Royal Princess and her entourage.

Mikasa immediately dismissed the four men in black suits as she did not want to be with them when the media arrives.

“Where do these reporters come from? This is the least of my concerns right now,” Mikasa sighed, her face clearly expressing annoyance and stress.

“Ma’am, it’s recommended that we should leave the area as soon as possible,” suggested Matsudaira, her security chief. “I have immediately organized my men and cars to leave the area. We await your further decision.”

Toshiie Yoshinari coughed, shaking his head.

“You, disagree, Yoshinari?” asked Mikasa.

“Yes, ma’am, as your royal advisor, it would not be wise to leave now, questions might arise due to your sudden departure. The media is a flick thing and can draw the wrong conclusions which may favour against us.”

“I agree with Yoshinari,” Niwa agreed, earning a sharp glare from Matsudaira.

Mikasa thought about her options from her advisors. Yoshinari was correct, it would be a negative image on their public relations of the Imperial Royal Family it they were to flee the scene. The only counter productive way was to face the media with a firm clear statement on their position and stance.

“Yes, you are right, Yoshinari,” Mikasa said. “A public stance is required.”

“Gentlemen, see to that preparation for a short press conference, hopefully we turn this situation into our favour.

“Yes, ma’am,” her advisors and bodyguard chorused at the same time. They then immediately departed to tend to their own specific tasks on hand in order to carry her orders.

Mikasa simply felt the slight onset of a migraine. She really didn’t feel she was up to the task considering what she seen earlier. Her thoughts drifted towards a memory of happier times when it was just the two of them. Mikasa tightened her grip around the hilt of the Katana. She would have her revenge one way or another, which she swore on her honour she would hunt down till the end of time.

“Ma’am, Is something wrong?” Yoshinari asked, when she did not reply.

“I’m fine,” she snapped. Realising what she just did, she turned her head around for a moment. She then looked toward him and smiled weakly at her chief bodyguard.

“I’m sorry, Toshiie. I’m just . . .”

“No need to apologies ma’am, it has been a sad and terrible day for you. I understand what you were going through, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Toshiie Yoshinari said and bowed.

“Toshiie,” Mikasa whispered.

“Yes, ma’am,” He said. “Is there something you require?”

“I wish to be alone for a few moments,” Mikasa requested.

“As you wish, ma’am,” nodded Yoshinari as he led her toward the car. “I will personally ensure that your privacy is kept, please make yourself comfortable, I will call you when preparation are complete.

Mikasa smiled at her chief Royal advisor.

“Is there anything else you require?” Yoshinari asked.

“No . . . not right now,” she shook her head.

Yoshinari opened the passenger door to the black car and indicated to her to enter. Just as Mikasa was about to enter the car, she stopped and looked at him for a split moment.

“Yes, ma’am, the warrants for him are still in circulations and delivered to our ‘connections’.” Yoshinari said in a hush whisper.

Mikasa smiled.

Half an hour later . . .

She took a deep breath as she turned around to face the crowd of photographers and reporters. She carefully concealed her Katana by handing it to one of her royal advisors. She gave to the crowd her most sincere smile and expression which was warmly accepted by the audience she was about to face.

‘Amaterasu give me patience with this bunch of sheep,’ she thought as she recognized some of the people in crowd that she did not like at all.

She was raised and trained in the public eye and knew exactly how to handle the situation. She slowly took out a small delicate fan from her kimono and started to flutter to create an image of serenity and calmness as questions poured in.

“Princess Mikasa, what is your royal stance on what has been happening here?” asked by a taller dark hair man.

“Can you confirm the total dead caused in this sudden uprising in violence, ma’am?” said a woman reporter.

“Is it true that the Royal Imperial Family did nothing to prepare such an upsurge in violence and that you are here out of duty and self imaged rather than genuine concern?”

Mikasa refrained herself from glaring at the snot nose reporter who had questioned her. She knew well enough not to give them any ammunition despite them provoking her into doing so. She knew exactly what to do in this type of situation. She smiled softly and placed her left hand over right hand and bowed forward slightly in such a way that it caused the pitch and volume of the Japanese crowd to drop significantly, slightly awed by her beauty that demanded respect. Once she got her audience attention she raised her head and spoke in a gentle way.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of Japan, I will now officially give a brief statement . . .” Princess Mikasa smiled.

XXXXX
Location: Japan, Juuban District
Hikawa Shrine, Fire Shrine . . .
Rei Hino kneeled in front of the Great Fire in the centre of the shrine grounds. Her dark purple nearly eyes focused into the flame. Over the last few days, she had been feeling a nagging sense of dread wherever she thought of the others. Rei hoped that it would reveal to her some clues to the early premonitions she had been receiving. The Princess, Usagi Tsukino hadn’t said one word about what was said between her and that strange cat that appeared out of nowhere. Nor did she say anything about what took place between her and the mysterious (and annoying in Rei’s opinion) Sailor Pluto. For some reason, Rei just couldn’t bring herself to trust her completely; it was like she had an interior motive or something.
Although Sailor Pluto had warned them of imminent danger to their future, so couldn’t help but feel a sense of helplessness. They were fighting an enemy that had very little information or experience about them, they were unlike the opponents they had fought before. What also bothered her was the look on Usagi’s face when she finally finished talking with the green haired Senshi, so many questions left unanswered.
Rei sighed heavily; the events over the few days had taken a heavy strain on her, both mentally and physically. Yet she knew that if she didn’t find out what they would be facing in the future, it would most probably distract her and constantly nagging her until she did something. Perhaps the fire spirits would show her a glimpse; anything would do if it helped their cause.
Focusing her mind into the flames, Rei’s irises widened, making her eyes appear completely black as she entered a trance like state. Within the flames, she could now see images forming, and what she saw nearly shocked her out of the trance.
She saw images of worlds whose skies burn with fire, of planets seething with seas and rives of boiling blood. Iron cities of darkness, disc shaped worlds. A nightmarish region where nature and physics are forgotten, and madness and confusion reign. Normally anyone who had an ounce of common sense would immediate broken off their trance as soon as the first image appeared. Yet Rei’s curiosity into what the fire spirits were showing drew her more rather than scaring her. She firmly believed in her mind that she was safe on this side of the fire shrine that she was just at images like a spyglass . . . she was wrong, fundamental wrong as this was the dimensional region, where entity beyond human understanding prowl this region like fierce predators.
The flame spirits abruptly changed as they revealed to her a new image of vast empty black landscape, the skies were heavy with black clouds. At first, there was nothing wrong with the image that is until she came closer. The whole surface was a forest of torture racks, crosses and squares and stars of bloodstained broken glass shards which were broken hundreds of thousands of bodies were impaled upon them. Rei almost threw up upon seeing such as terrifying image.
The fire swirls and writhes with great intensity, spitting gouts of liquid orange flame in all direction, much to Rei’s surprise.

Warning bells started to rang in her head but she ignored them as she hoped that it would reveal to her the ring leaders of the unknown enemies they had thought, perhaps give them an advantage. Strangely enough, none of the flames burnt the raven hair shrine maiden nor catch anything on fire. Rei peered close into the wild fire, her heart stopped as she came across in the darkness. A huge pair of monstrous eyes appeared. They were slanted, in human eyes. They are closed; their penumbral grey lids a vague, tinted outline.

It was at that moment, Rei suddenly realized that she was imminent danger, as she had somehow managed to be in the presence of a unknown powerfully entity and if she didn’t break off her concentration, it could quite possibly cost her soul.

Unfortunately her presence had not gone unnoticed as the entity has sensed the scent of a human psyker in the area. These creatures of the warp thrive on the thoughts and emotions of those who dwell in the material universe, through possession of the weak minded, they would be able to do their foul ambitions of power and conquest.

“Oh No!” Rei gasped as she raised her hands to her mouth in shock. Slowly, lazily, as if awakening from a deep sleep they open revealing two great pools of impenetrable darkness; vast, eddying whorls of eternal shadows.

The eyes beckon with hypnotic stare, a cloaked welcome to hell’s darkness dimension. Rei stagger back as a blast of colossal psychic power, a will of great violence and malice makes her head reel and her thoughts tumbles. Rei struggled to break her concentration as she felt herself being drawn into the portal of fire. A burning beam of thought is thrust painfully into her delicate mind, searching, probing, searing.

“WHO IS THERE?” the voice demanded. The desolate eyes tinged with red. Savage cruel laughter rings in her ears.

“CAN THIS BE? A HUMAN HOST, IS IT NOT? UPON THE ERRAND OF FOOLS, TREADING THE PATH OF FOOLISH?” The daemonic entity probing has read her mind like a book, gathering information about her identity, her life, her darkness secrets, everything about her.

“A HUMAN PSYKER, CAN THIS BE! OH! BUT THIS IS THE SWEETEST, THE RICHEST OF IRONIES, OUT A BILLION OF HUMANS, TO COME ACROSS A PSYKER WHICH TO FEAST UPON YOUR SOUL IS A RARITY.” The daemonic entity said with glee. The entity had sensed the psyker energy within her as she was one of the Sailor Senshi.

Naturally all the Sailor Senshi had psyker talents and with the right training, could have made their lives much easier especially in difficult and grueling out and out fights. Unfortunately there total reliance upon magically based attack has caused their talents to be severe undeveloped compared to their magical attacks.

As the inhuman voice mocks, the power over her increased as the daemon starts to be drawn into the material world. In the back of Rei’s mind, she knows that she must resist now before her mind be enslaved forever to this daemon.

“Who are you? What are you?” Rei demanded as she held her resolve.

“I HAVE WAITED SO . . . SO VERY LONG TO FIND A FOOLISH HUMAN WILLING TO BECOME MY HOST. I AM POWERFUL, I AM MIGHTY! I AM THE GREATEST OF ALL KIND UNDER MY MASTER’S COMMAND!”

A bead of sweat ran down her forehead as a dozen thoughts ran through her mind. She tried to form some sort of mental buffer or barrier against the entity psyker probing.

“YOU CANNOT RESIST, HUMAN,” THE VOICE SPITS. “YOU KNOW NOT WHO YOU DEFY. YOU CANNOT STAND AGAINST ME. COME, COME TO ME, EMBRACE ME, AND ACCEPT ME!”

The daemonic entity mentally forced Rei into continuing with the fire mediation, knowing that it would bridge the path between the material world and the immaterial dimension. Soon the entity would be free from its eternal prison to do its master bidding.

Rei felt the force of this daemonic creature will once again. It’s mental strength mightier than any she has ever known. Wave of psychic power lashed against her as she tried valiantly to resist the darkness that threatens to consume her immortal soul.

“NEVER! I WILL NEVER GIVE INTO YOU, BE GONE!” Rei screamed as she fought back with ever ounce of inner strength, holding onto her sanity with fierce resolve.

The malice of the daemonic entity fills her body and tears at her soul. The mental assault would have broken a normal human being the moment contact was made, their body and soul lost to the daemonic entity. Yet Rei was no ordinary human, years of preparation and training at the shrine maiden has sharpened her mind and even though she didn’t know it, she has develop what some could say minor psychic abilities which prevented her from falling to the daemonic creature immediately.

Rei tried to move her body in attempt to break free and quite possibly escape from this nightmarish creature but as soon as she tried to move her arm, it felt like a lead weight. The creature had immobile her with its hypnotic glare, preventing its host from moving. Rei tries to utter some words to combat the entity or perhaps scream for help but as soon as she opened her mouth, not even a whisper escaped her lips.

“YOU ARE MINE!” the daemon exclaimed gleefully. “YOUR BODY BELONGS TO ME! YOUR IMMORTAL SOUL BELONGS TO MY MASTER, HUMAN!”

The flames intensified, burning with white hot intensity and the eyes of the daemonic entity burns deep into her soul.

Rei snapped her head back, trying desperately to shake thousands of images of unspeakable horror and dread that filled it. She felt her mental barriers to resist, crumbling away piece by piece. She felt her body being levitated into the air as tendrils strands of orange flames from the fire swirled around her, consuming her.

Unable to reach for her transformation pen nor able to scream for help, her situation looked ever increasingly dire. Rei felt the darkness rising in her mind as she started to lose all consciousness to this powerful daemonic creature of the warp. It was a matter of time before she completely submitted to the creature, Rei didn’t even want to contemplate what was to be of her, and all that she could do was to resist the daemon intrusive possession of her body.

“THERE IS NO ONE WHO CAN HELP YOU, HUMAN!” the voice mocked again. All that Rei could was the cruel laughter ringing in her ear.

XXXXX

Location: Earth Orbit, Blood Angels Battle Barge

Forward Teleportarium Chamber . . .

Ranma Saotome stood at the entrance to what seemed to be a spherical chamber. After making his decision about Sanguinius’ offer, he decides to find his two companions to see what they were up. Ryoga Hibiki was also there too as he learned against the wall, arms crossed, seeming totally annoyed at a certain Fallen Angel. It was that point that Ryoga notice Ranma standing at the entrance and started to make his way towards him.

“What you been doing while I’m gone?” Ranma asked quietly.

Ryoga took a quick glance over his shoulder and shrugged.

“Beats me, he just dragged me here when you were gone,” replied Ryoga. “Whatever it is, it has nothing to do with me.”

Ranma nodded at his brief explanations and looked past Ryoga to see what Cypher was doing.

“You don’t suppose you know . . .” Ranma started to ask.

Ryoga beat him to the question and shrugged. “Like I said before . . . I have no idea at all.”

“Oh . . .” Ranma started to walk toward the centre of the spherical chamber after seeing that he wasn’t going to get anything useful out of Ryoga. He decides to ask him directly.

Cypher was busy examining a circular adamnatium dais in the centre of the chamber. It was roughly five metres high projecting from the flat concrete floor. Without intruding too much, Ranma looked over Cypher’s shoulder and notices on dais were four sets of carved marking on central dais. Close to the edge of the dais there stood a bank of brass finished consoles. Ranma then looked up ahead to see at the far end of the spherical chamber was a large metallic floor about five by five metres square. At each of the corners were four tall points which resembled gigantic capacitor spikes that were roughly twenty metres of so from a nest of cabling and conglomeration of esoteric equipment. Suspended from the concave ceiling of the strange spherical chamber was a thick disc of metal linked to yet more heavy cables and wiring.

“It’s a teleportarium,” Cypher said as he continued to examining the runic skull seals of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

“Huh,” Ranma said as he looked down at Cypher. “Say that again?”

“A teleportarium,” Cypher repeated.

“Oh . . .” Ranma said, trying to looking like he knew what a teleportarium was but failing miserably.

Cypher paused and looked up at Ranma. “You don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Ranma nodded in a vain attempt to be seemed to know what it was.

Cypher sighed quietly. He couldn’t blame him as the technology was as advanced as he hoped it to be as the technology base was much lower than any Imperial world. The teleportarium was an extremely rare piece of archeotechnology where members the Mechanicus Cult would sell their souls to get there hands on a piece of lost technology. Cypher had seen such devices before, of course he had used them on several occasions himself when escaping the Emperor’s forces or boarding unsuspecting ships in order to gather information or simply to snatch an artifacts from beneath their noses. He was busy trying to break the Imperial codes in order to gain access to the teleportarium.

‘Just a few minutes,’ thought Cypher as he continued to bypass the Adeptus Mechanicus initiation sequence.

“What does it do?” Ranma inquired, glancing over Cypher’s shoulder.

“It depends . . . usually it used for taking the Emperor’s Wraith to the enemies of mankind in the heat of planetary assaults or ship to shop boarding actions . . .” Cypher started to trail off as he notice Ryoga standing behind Ranma with a confused look on his face. Ranma looked like he was about to do the same, and quickly changed his explanation.

“To put it simply, it’s a means of quick transportation without detection within a certain range for example, us wanting to get off this ship and back on Earth.”

“I see,” Ranma said.

“Really,” Ryoga said in a hopeful mood as he was getting a bit sick and tired doing nothing but wander this huge ship. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get off this ship.”

Cypher was about to say something but Ranma quickly cut in.

“No,” Ranma said firmly.

Ryoga quickly grabbed Ranma by his shoulder and spun him around to face him.

“What do you mean no?”

Ranma shook his head. “I made a promise on my honour to Sanguinius that I would accompany him here until he decides to dismiss me.”

Cypher decided not to say anything as he was afraid of this might happen. Luckily for him, he always planned ahead for such things and continued to examine the dais whilst Ryoga and Ranma argued over this small matter. Cypher then took out the small remote control from his pocket and carefully placed it on top of the control console in front of him. For a moment he did nothing more than stuffy the panel arrayed before him. Most of his implants as a Space Marines were still fully operational since his change of appearance most importantly his cognitive implant which helped him interpret some of the more eldritch of the Cult Mechanicus techno glyphs adorning the buttons and switches. The cognitive implant would usually be given to Space Marines on succession of the teaching and study of the Machine Cult on Mars. These Space Marines would then be given the equivalent rank of Techmarine.

Luckily for him, he was given the implant by a fellow Fallen Angel who served as a Techmarine before the destruction of their homeworld and Luther’s betrayal. Cypher then looked over his shoulder to where Ranma and Ryoga were auguring and wondered what he was going to do. The answer that Ranma had given that he wasn’t going to leave this ship was a deep concern for him for two reasons. The first was that Sanguinius has the opportunity to take Ranma by force and head back to Imperial universe. The prospect of facing the trials of the Dark Angels Legions was an unnerving thought especially with Admiral Tiberius watching him like a hawk. This wasn’t his main concern; it was the fact that Sanguinius had hidden agendas. For example if Sanguinius had deemed the planet below them to be heretic and beyond salvation then following usual policy, exterminatus measures would be deployed, cleansing the Earth in flame. He figured that if Ranma was firmly on Earth then Sanguinius wouldn’t consider such options. Then was another reason why Cypher was that Ranma consider this world as his home planet which he shared the same feeling even thought he wasn’t an indigenous of this world. As long as Ranma still has strong feeling for his homeworld, then it was up to him to safeguard the planet as memories of Caliban destruction still echoed in his mind.

“I won’t allow the same fate happened here,” Cypher whispered under his breath as he clenched his fist tightly, remembering the betrayal of Luther and the eternal exile from the Dark Angels.

It took a few moments for Cypher to regain his composure, the bitter experience he had learnt as he traveled from world to world, wandering the nightmarish planets near the Eye of Terror as he tries to find a sense of meaning whilst under the heavy pursuit of the Ravenwing and Deathwing Space Marine Chapters. He should had killed Azrael the first time but something held him back, perhaps it was a sense of loyalty or more likely, if he killed him . . . the consequences would be dire as his successor would stop at nothing until he was caught dead or alive. Many of his Fallen Angels Battle Brothers were gone, either killed or worse, taken back to Tower of Angels in High Gothic, more commonly called The Rock. The Dark Angels Interrogator Chaplains would strive at nothing to get confession from the Fallen Angels Brothers and would not stop until all have been made to repent or killed. Cypher sighed and glanced at his bandaged hand before deciding to continue onto his next plan.

“Ranma, there something I need you to do?”

Ranma turned around to face him, ignoring Ryoga for a moment.

“Yeah, what is it?” Ranma asked.

“HEY!” Ryoga protested. “I’m still talking to you!”

Ranma waved a dismissive hand and took a few steps towards Cypher. Trying to get through to the Ryoga was like trying to get water out of stone Ranma thought to himself.

“So what is it you want me to do?” Ranma asked, glancing down at the dais console.

Cypher paused as he lifted his head to look at Ranma.

“It seems that the teleportarium seems to be out of operation,” Cypher pointed at the console to emphasize his point. “Normally this chamber was be filled with static energy .but as you can see . . . nothing.”

“Oh, I see . . . well there that is unfortunate,” Ranma replied. “So what do you want me to do about it?”

Cypher leaned in closer and whispered into his ear. “I want you to take an energy transfer circuit boards from one of the energy spikes.”

Ranma looked at Cypher with an odd expression. “What is it for?”

“It’s a rare piece of archeotechnology,” Cypher indicated to where the circuit board was located. “I suppose that if this isn’t going to be used, better to get something out of it just for being here. I suppose the Admiral won’t mind.”

Ranma gave another odd look. “How come I don’t believe you?”

Cypher sighed a little. “Alright, it’s something I’ve wanted to get hands on for awhile and it’s damn difficult to find on the black market. Besides it will make a good bartering tool with Washu when I meet up with her. Don’t worry everything will be just fine . . .”

Cypher gave a small smile to reassure him. Ranma eventually nodded and step out onto the teleportarium floor. Cypher glanced over his shoulder.

“You too, Ryoga, go help him.”

“Why are you ordering me about?” Ryoga complained. “I’m not your slave!”

Cypher sighed and started to wonder as sometimes there was no used getting through to the pigheaded boy. Placing both hands firmly the dais, Cypher quietly said in a low tone.

“The sooner we do this, the sooner we call all get off this ship, okay?”

Ryoga for once decided to do what Cypher said . . . grudgingly.

“Whatever you say,” Ryoga said in a sarcastic tone of voice and casually walked over towards the teleportarium.

Cypher waited for a few moments before executing his plan.

“Hey, Cypher what exactly are we looking at?” Ranma asked as he crouched down to examine one of the four spikes.

Ryoga was checked out the one opposite Ranma. Cypher watched in silence as they were in a good enough position to execute his plan. He knew that Ranma was agile enough to get out of the teleportarium so he had to be sure that he was right position.

“I’m sorry Ranma but it’s for your own good,” Cypher whispered under his breath as he activated the force field around the teleportarium before activating the successive order of sequences on the adamnatium dais.

‘If you won’t get off this ship willing, then I will,’ thought Cypher as the entire chamber was lit by an eldritch luminescence as the curved wall and concave ceiling reflected back the light from the band of energy now climbing the gigantic capacitor spikes in rapid succession.

As soon as the teleportarium was activated, both of them jumped back away from the giant capacitor spikes and looked up to see that the nest of cabling surrounding them, and the other pieces of esoteric equipment in the chamber glowed with the same blue white luminosity.

“What the . . .” Ryoga said in astonishment. He immediately turned towards Cypher with an accusing eye.

“What the hell did you just do?” Ryoga shouted. Ranma had the same thoughts as he also turned his attention towards him.

“Cypher, you said it was inactive,” Ranma shouted.

Cypher bowed his head and pulled down another brass level towards him. An insistent hum filled the chamber and was rising painfully in both pitch and volume, Ranma and Ryoga rushed towards Cypher. The hairs on the back of the heads picked up as the static energy danced over them. Ryoga started to clutch his ears as the sound was rising painfully in both pitch and volume.

“Bloody Hell! Damn you Cypher, what the hell are you doing!” Ryoga cursed loudly as he started to bang on the invisible force field.

“Cypher, shut it down now!” Ranma demanded as the rising sound was deafening, blocking some of his martial arts senses.

Cypher looked down at the dais and grinned. The teleportarium was fully charged to fully operational capability. Cypher then looked up towards Ranma as they exchange a brief looks of some understanding whilst Ryoga continued to bang on the invisible force field and shouting demands into why he was doing this. It was no use as the force field was directly connected to the ship engine core and would take something special to break such a field. Cypher ignored him as he entered the final sequence before pushing a brass lever forward.

“Have a nice trip, Ranma . . .” Cypher grinned as he activated the remote control that was placed on top of the dais.

Four bolts of lightning tore from the tips of the pylon spikes in a dazzling blaze of ice white light, and the world, as they saw it, was lost in white oblivion. Ryoga crouched down in a natural instinct to protect himself whilst Ranma simply stood still and gave a small nod of acknowledgment toward Cypher. He realized what he was trying to do and braced for the shock. Ranma clutched his stomach as abrupt sensation of dislocation, that made Ranma’s stomach turnover, and then they were gone.

Cypher grinned as he checked that the teleportation has worked successfully. It would be a minute before Ranma and Ryoga arrived to the destination. The alarm systems were online and ringing in his ear. Space Marines were probably on route towards the teleportarium. Cypher calmly turned around to face the entrance and calmly took a shot with his trusty plasma pistol and fired at the control panel near the entrance.

The adamnatium doors slammed shut as the control circuits were fried by the super hot plasma. Cypher then took out a small communicator from his waist and flicked the panel open . . .

“Better let him know that they are on their way.” Cypher whispered as he stepped towards teleportarium platform. Despite the alarm sirens ringing, Cypher could just faintly hear the heavy footsteps of Space Marines and was then confirmed by the thuds on the entrance as they tried to get in.

Cypher smirked. “Beside, I don’t want to scary the boy.”

Meanwhile . . .

Sanguinius did not know why he had come here, to this place on the ship. He gazed out at the infinite vista of deep space in a contemplative mood. He and his loyal Space Marines were on the verge of commencing which could possible their true quest, the one that the Emperor has really sent them to this universe to accomplish. The cards that the Astropath revealed were unsettling. Perhaps the reason why he was this place was the most truly quietest place on the ship where he could meditate whilst simply staring out at the unknown universe.

The Emperor’s Tarot, she had shown to him revealing infinite possibilities and paths. The cards revealed to him a message of death and destruction, a creed contrary to the will of the Emperor. Traitors both old and new would emerge in the race for domination. Sanguinius knew their meaning and found the card of the Arcana Discordia to be unsettling to put it at least. Without the Emperor and the Imperium to stand in the way of the Ruinous Powers and their vile minions, Sanguinius did not bare contemplate what would happen as in fear of the mere thought tainting his very soul.

Yet there during the whole time, the Astropath revealed a card that ran against the pattern of the card. The card brought a sense of relief to Sanguinius mood; there was hope that the Emperor had not abandoned them. It was man’s greatest hope and yet also his gravest peril. Second to the most potent card in the Tarot, the immortal Emperor himself, the card that the Astropath revealed was the wild card of the Emperor’s Tarot. The moment that the significant card was revealed, Sanguinius felt at the moment unlike anything else. It was like time had stopped as the Primarch felt a powerful premonition of a person crowned in light just like the Emperor in the days of the Great Crusade bestriding the galaxy in the name of Mankind.

Even Chief Librarian Calistarius was mildly surprised when he too felt the surge of psychic energy emitting from the card yet he did not share the same hope as Sanguinius had. He was unconvinced that this card had any significant with Ranma Saotome or his companions. Sanguinius took what little comfort the meaning of the Emperor’s Tarot had revealed to him. As Sanguinius stared out into deep space, his thoughts turned the apocalyptic events of the galaxy dividing Horus Heresy.

Sanguinius subconsciously moved his right hand beneath layered robes and traced a deep scar which had never fully healed despite his superhuman healing abilities. The deep scar ran down his neck and chest, the wound has both physically and mentally scarred the winged Primarch. What caused the horrific wound was the traitorous Warmaster Horus during the peak of the betrayal where Sanguinius sought to slain the Warmaster in combat, he failed yet with a odd twist of fate or perhaps it was the divine timing of the Emperor that the final death blow did not befall on Sanguinius. The ultimate price of Horus Heresy was not the death of the Blood Angels Primarch but the Emperor himself. Horus was defeated.

Sanguinius cursed bitterly when half of his brothers turned from the path of the Emperor’s light in those dark days. Some had even dies, whether they were traitors, like the snake tongued deceiver Alpharius of the Alpha Legion or Rogal Dorn of the Imperial Fist, died in the line of duty. The rest, who had remained loyal to the Emperor, continued their crusade against the Chaos elsewhere.

It is said that the Emperor had foreseen this but was unable to change or avoid the fate that awaited him. Yet despite this, the Emperor had to try. In the aftermath of Horus Heresy, under his last remaining breath, the Emperor has entrusted his following loyal sons to carry out the final assignment of his will of great importance before he lapsing into eternal silence on the Golden Throne on Ancient Terra.

The loyal sons that were to carry out such a task were the following . . .

The White Scars, the Great Jaghatai Khan.

Wolf King, Leman Russ of the Sons of Fenris.

The Angelic Winged Primarch, Sanguinius of the Blood Angels.

He and the other Primarchs had vowed on that very day that they would return one day, to fight for the Emperor once again at the hour of the Imperium’s direst. Sanguinius shook his head again as now . . . now wasn’t the time to reflect so far into the future. Everything needs to handle with absolute care and precise. All that matters was the present and what to do with the situation that has presented itself to him.

Sanguinius was on a mission, blessed by the Emperor, the outcome which could not only turn the balance of power but herald a return to the golden age of the Emperor’s Great Crusade and unite the Imperium again as it was, thousands of years ago. Perhaps Ranma was right; maybe they could make a difference.

Sanguinius heard the hiss of a bulkhead door opening, but did not turn around until the clumping steps ringing on the metal floor of the promenade were almost right behind him.

“I thought I might find you here, Lord Sanguinius,” he said.

“How did you find me so easily, Brother Tabris?” Sanguinius asked with a hint of curiosity.

“This is my ship after all. I know it like the back of my hand. This is the quiet place you go without interference.” He said.

“Lord Sanguinius, it is as you have predicted. Ranma Saotome, Cypher Kazeno and Ryoga Hibiki are . . .”

“Have left the ship, I know,” Sanguinius broke off Tabris in mid sentence. “Did they suspect anything?”

Tabris shook his head. “Indeed they did not. There was a moment that Cypher was suspicious of gaining access so easily. Apart from that, it went as you have ordered.”

There was a moment’s silence, heavy with the expectation of something waiting to be said. Sanguinius stood with his hands clasped behind his back as he continued to gaze out into open space.

Admiral Tabris simply stood behind Sanguinius in quiet contemplation. The Angel of Death and its crew of Blood Angel’s officers, and countless servitors, hardwired directly into the myriad operational systems of the ship, Tabris overwhelming presence on the command bridge was not needed right now, no signs of turbulent warp signatures were detected plus the Angel of Death had practically reached high orbit above the Earth, out of the range of most of the ground based weapons that the nations of the Earth except perhaps the long range ballistic missiles. Tabris doubt that even if they managed to reach the Battle Barge, he highly doubted that it would penetrate its powerful void shields. Surveillance reports indicated there were no signs of weapons platforms or orbital docks.

Tabris looked up at Sanguinius.

“Tell me, Lord Sanguinius,” Tabris said at last. “Do you know for certain that Ranma Saotome is the Primarch that were seeking?”

The winged Primarch did not reply immediately to the Admiral’s question, he simply looked down the end of the promenade where a transparent, painted image of the Immortal Emperor in all his glory during the height of the Great Crusade.

Tabris wondered if he was going to get a direct answer from Sanguinius, he did not dare break the silence between him and the Primarch. He had absolute faith in his Primarch yet he needed assurance from him that what they were doing was the Emperor’s will.

“Brother Tabris,” Sanguinius whispered.

“Yes, Lord Sanguinius,” Tabris straightened himself attentively.

“I only know what I have seen and what the Emperor have seen fit to reveal to me. Ranma Saotome has display the prowess and strength of a Primarch of the Emperor. However what I believe is my concern.” Sanguinius said.

Tabris allowed his head dropped a little. Sanguinius turned around to face the giant dark skinned Space Marine of the commander of the Battle Barge with a faint smile.

Sanguinius then placed his hand on Tabris shoulder. The Space Marine Admiral looked up.

“Have faith, Brother Kaorus Tabris. The Emperor has plans for me, and it was my honour to serve. For the Emperor,” Sanguinius chided, his voice developing a sharper edge whilst staring intently into his Tabris’ eyes.

Tabris nodded slowly, his doubts slowly fading away as his faith was renewed. He saw that Sanguinius as their saviour from the evils of Chaos and the warp. They have crossed the very dimensions of the universe, so far from the Emperor and their homeworld yet the reassurance from his Lord was comforting.

“Yes, My Lord, and the Immortal Emperor guidance that we owe him.” Tabris said in a more confident tone of voice. “Yes I can see that now.”

“Brother Tabris, has all the preparations been achieved?” Sanguinius inquired.

“It has, my Lord. I have been monitoring the situation even since they have left. The co - ordinances they have left have been stored and set.”

Sanguinius nodded in acknowledgement. “You are dismissed, Brother Tabris, we will convene on the command bridge.”

Tabris bowed deeply and touched his right hand to his heart. He looked straight into Sanguinius’ eyes for an instant and then turned to leave.

The winged Primarch watched Tabris left the promenade deck and took a few steps across the deck. Sanguinius paused and gazed at another transparent, painted landscape of Baal Secundus.

“Have you tested him, Brother Calistarius?” Sanguinius said.

The presence of Blood Angels Chief Librarian was revealed as he gently pushed back his hood.

“Indeed I have, My Lord.”

“And how is our young Primarch, Ranma Saotome?”

“I have merely probed his mental defences from a distance. I could detect neither the taints of Chaos or telling signs of corruption within him. He is still a shadow of what he might become.” Calistarius reported.

“Does Ranma have the faith and determination to become what he was born to do?”

Calistarius nodded.

“Given time he could, with the proper conditioning and training although I do not know if he will ever displays the kind of abilities that we expect from him.”

“I am sure that Ranma Saotome will do his best not to let us down.” Sanguinius smiled. He was satisfied with the answer he was given. “Walk with me, Brother Calistarius.”

The Primarch and the Chief Librarian walked along the deck with nothing but silence between them.

“Has Ranma given his answer?”

Sanguinius nodded. “He has.”

“He has turned down the offer,” Calistarius said as a statement rather than a question. He did not expect a reply as the answer was clearly written across Sanguinius face.

“Then there is much at stake here,” Calistarius whispered in a low tone of voice.

“I understand what we are gambling and the stakes are high. I am honour bound to the Emperor to defend these realms out of the clutches of chaos. Our faith in the Emperor and valiant warriors by our side, we would stand a much greater chance of victory.” Sanguinius said.

Calistarius lifted his eyes to meet those of the Primarch and could see the sincerity and confidence in those words. There was more than hope in Sanguinius eyes but couldn’t make out what.

“That remains to be seen,” Calistarius said.

Sanguinius smiled and nodded.

“You are still the optimist I see. I can see that you still have doubts but are you willing to see this through, Brother Calistarius.”

Calistarius titled his head and looked up. “My path is clear to me. My service is to the Emperor and to you, my Lord. Our Battle Brothers has been through the proper rituals of battle; their spiritual well being has been checked. WE will be ready to fight.”

The Librarian bowed his head, reaffirming his oath of allegiance and absolute loyalty.

“Then we have a lot of work for us to do, all in the name of the Emperor.” Sanguinius said.

The Librarian watched Sanguinius with a careful eye as rose to his feet before deciding to reveal something that has been on his mind.

“My Lord, there is also something else you must know about.” Calistarius whispered. “As I was scanning the world for the taints of chaos, I detected various spikes of concentration across the world. These are most commonly associated with psi talents. I believe that the Emperor has led us to this world for another specific reason.”

Sanguinius stopped and gazed down at the Librarian. This piece of information caught his interests and resumed his seating position.

“Continue, Brother Calistarius.” Sanguinius returned the Librarian gaze with a casual undertone of curiosity.

The Chief Librarian nodded slightly.

“Despite all of this, only one has caught my interest recently. It has to do with the company that Ranma Saotome keeps specifically the human known as Ryoga Hibiki.” Calistarius said.

Sanguinius nodded. “Yes, I have heard of him, he is a hot headed young warrior who has the warrior spirit within who cannot wait to prove himself in battle . . .”

“My Lord, there is more to him than meets the eye. I have observed him from afar as soon as they arrived onboard with you.” Calistarius paused for moment before continuing.

“What are you implying, Chief Librarian?” Sanguinius inquired.

“I fully believe him to be . . .”

XXXXX
Location: Japan, Okayama Region
The large vegetable field near the Masaki Residence . . .
Tenchi Masaki was working hard as normal in the large field, wiping the small beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand as he continued raking and planting the seeds of the carrot field. Looking up at the clear blue sky and leaning on his rake, Tenchi sighed, the memories of what occurred in Nerima would always stay with him. Flashbacks of the mindless slaughter and chaos were becoming less and less occurrence but still, never in his life would he expect to experience of what happened in Nerima.
“It’s been three days, where are they?” Tenchi wondered, increasingly concerned about Ranma which he consider a brother and the strangely enigmatic Cypher.
To be honest was wary of him, there was something about him that didn’t fit in but over the passing days he had known him. Those feeling of distrust and suspicions ebbed away, there was nothing dangerous about him except his ability to handle weapons was alarming, he wasn’t even fazed by Washu’s vast collection of exotic and strangely painful weapons collected in a sub dimensional museum of some sorts. What surprised him was when Washu actually asked if Cypher had returned yet, he had expected the red haired slightly eccentric brilliant scientist to be asking about Ranma constantly. Although she clearly states that she is only interested in them purely for scientific reasons, there was something glinting in her eyes that weren’t present every time Washu asked him for help in her experiments. Currently Washu was busy locked up in her medical ward in her sub space lab looking after Ryoko and their ‘guest’.
“Cypher . . . I do hope you know what you getting yourself into,” Tenchi chuckled and tilted his head back, enjoying the sunlight.
It was times like these that Tenchi was glad he was doing his regular chorus out on the empty fields. It gave him the opportunity to something to be preoccupied his mind rather than staying at the Masaki home. Although he really didn’t mind, the company of Ayeka, he thought that by working on the filed would do him some good and plus he really needed some moments of quiet reflection to himself. Speaking of the purple haired Juraian Princess, Ayeka seemed to have made a full recovery, her powers were almost tested to it’s limits, not even her log guardians seems to have fazed the crazed Worldeaters Assault Marines not had any real impact against the Thousands Sons Space Marines. For some reason, Ayeka seemed to be preoccupied with something on her mind, she wasn’t acting she normally does even with Ryoko out of the picture temporarily.
Tenchi smiled as he received the good news that Ryoko was going to make a full recovery and that she going to be sore in the morning. Washu had asked for him to be there when she wakes up for reasons, he could really work out but he happily agreed to do so. Despite Ryoko’s rather bold affections for him, he was beginning to tolerate her, perhaps even starting to like her as he thought over some words that Ranma had told him. He was right, that’s for sure, no matter what ever happens, he swore that he would do all in his powers to protect those he care the most, even if it cost him his life.
A flock of birds flew overhead which reminded him of their ‘guest’ back at the residence. He had only seen her a few times when they were returning back home.
‘Hmm . . . what was her name again . . . Karinka? Karen? Kara?” Tenchi racked his head for the answer. “Kiima, yeah that’s it!”
Kiima was the name of the white haired female with those exceptional large wings though not as big as Sanguinius, it still created a mythical image of Angels. Both Tenchi and Katsuhito knew that Washu would honour her agreement with Sanguinius. At least he had good news that to give to the Lord of the Blood Angels, that her condition has turned from critical to recovering. His thoughts then turned towards a certain young Princess and ‘housekeeper’ of the household.
Tenchi sighed, shaking his head in slight frustration. He didn’t know why or how, but he suspects it had something to do with Ranma. Although he didn’t know how Ranma felt about her, what he did know was that Sasami was beginning to see the pigtailed martial artist as something more than an older brother, she seems to be treating him differently, and he couldn’t quite place his finger on it.
Sasami had been awfully acting weird over the past days, from what he had heard, she been avoiding practically everyone including her sister and himself and even they managed to get corner her, she made some sort of excuse or explanation that she had to do something urgent before rushing past them. The only person that was always with her was Ry-Ohki and none of them with the exception of Ryoko and Washu understood what she was saying. Sasami was always a cheerful and bright girl, and growing up, she was fast becoming more mature (if that’s possible) and aware of things than when she first arrived on Earth. She was almost beginning to act the same way when she was afraid of telling her sister and everyone else that she ‘died’ when Ryoko attacked and that she had merged with the spiritual Goddess, Tsunami.
“Ranma, as soon as come back, the sooner everything goes back to normal,’ Tenchi hoped but had a strange feeling that this wasn’t going to be.
His thoughts were quickly interrupted when he heard a low beeping sound.
“What is it now?” Tenchi lowered his rake and listened again to determine the source.
Slightly startled by the unknown sound, Tenchi immediately started to look around the large field. He was hoping it wasn’t one of those inventions that Washu created to seek and drag him back as he was really up for a chase right now. It only took a few seconds to realise that the beeping sound was coming from his bag that was lying on the edge of the filed. Cautiously, Tenchi investigate walking over towards the bag. As soon as he got closer towards the bag, the beeping sound started getting louder and faster in pitch and tempo.
Tenchi swallowed as he carefully opened the bag with the wooden shaft of his rake. Tenchi immediately looked in and quickly fished out the source of the beeping sound. He quickly realised that it was the device that Cypher had given to hum just before Ranma, Ryoga and Cypher left with Sanguinius. At first, Cypher hadn’t thought twice about the device that he given him, assuming that it was a mere parting gift but now, at closer inspection. The runic symbols and weird etching along the edges started to glow and appear on the circular device. Tenchi examine the device closer and was surprised to see a miniature image of Cypher’s face appearing in the centre of the device.
“Oh, hi, Cypher. Where are you right now? Is everyone okay . . .” Tenchi began to say. He knew that everyone was getting worried as no word was heard from them since.
“Tenchi, I don’t mean to rush but . . . you got five seconds to get as far as you can.” Tenchi simply blinked.
“NOW!” exclaimed Cypher, his face almost leaping out of the device.
Tenchi immediately dropped his rake and turned on his heels, running as fast as his legs could take him. Tenchi knew that when Cypher said something, it was to be taken lightly. It was good thing that Tenchi did what hew as told rather than standing like an idiot as three seconds later . . .
Flicking arcs of blue and white energy suddenly appeared from nowhere as the arcs of lightning leapt and danced around the filed. Tenchi took a step back at the blinding display whilst shielding his eyes with the back of his hand, waiting as the fierce energy arcs continued to dance for a few more seconds. Then with a crack of displace air, the lightning arcs vanished and in its centre stood were . . .
‘It can’t be . . . Ranma!’ Tenchi could believe it as he thought he was seeing things. Tenchi then quickly rushed toward them in order to greet them.

Meanwhile Ranma was the first to recover from the orbital teleportation from the Blood Angels Battle Barge. Ranma blinked, feeling the knot of tension in his guy relaxes and his acute martial arts senses which were slightly out of focus and disorientated were beginning to return back to normal levels.

‘That was unusual,’ Ranma immediately thought as he started to perform a couple of mild stretching exercises to loosen up his muscles. Ranma looked to left then to his right. Ryoga seemed a little pale, almost turning a little green but unharmed by the teleportation.

“I’m going to feel sick,” Ryoga thought as he was feeling slightly nauseous. “Damn you, Cypher!”

Ranma shook his head at hearing his declaration.

“Ryoga, are you feeling all right?” Ranma tilted his head slightly to look at old friend.

Ryoga lifted his head and glower at him.

“Oh,” Ranma smirked, despite the cold front he was feeling. “Well, at least you are in one piece, right?”

“Ranma,” Ryoga whispered under his breath.

“Yeah,” Ranma said in innocent fashion, it didn’t take a psychic to tell what was about to come.

“Just shut up!” Ryoga snapped. “I got enough problems with him, so don’t even start with me . . . hey?”

Ryoga realized when he didn’t hear any sarcastic or mocking words from the robed guy.

“What’s wrong, Ryoga?”

“Where is the hell is Cypher?” Ryoga stood up fully and looked around the field for any signs of him.

“Huh?” Ranma started to search for his friend and was immediately concerned for his safety when he couldn’t see any trace or sign.

‘Damn, where is he?’ thought Ranma and saw Tenchi rushing up to them.

“Hi guys!” Tenchi greeted them and shook Ranma’s and Ryoga’s hand.

“Err . . . where Cypher?” asked Tenchi when he notice there only just the two of them that had materialized out from nowhere. Also there was no way he couldn’t have missed him considering that there was standing in an open field which made it almost to hide.

“We were thinking the same,” Ryoga said and turned towards Ranma.

“Wait till I get my hands around his neck and start to choke the life out of him, two timing son of a . . .”

Ranma shook his head. “Cypher has his reasons.”

“Oh really, his reckless and stupid actions is going to give up a whole load of trouble when the big guy finds out about this!” Ryoga said and folded his arms across his chest.

“We dealt with it when it comes,” Ranma replied. “We’re safe and back on Earth, there nothing to worry about.”

“What do meant by, we as in us? It’s your damn problem, you sort it out yourself!” Ryoga snapped, feeling the onset of a migraine from hell.

“What are you two talking about? Where is Cypher?” Tenchi inquired, not really understanding the situation.

“Oh, sorry, Tenchi,” Ranma said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

“It’s okay, just warn me the next time in advance, you guys almost gave me a heart attack,” Tenchi said and knelt down to pick up the device, unscathed by the lightning display.

“What do you mean warning?” Ryoga asked.

Tenchi blinked. “He told me, well, shouted to me that you were coming.”

Ryoga was fluming slightly. “That asshole planned this from the beginning!”

“Ranma, what is this device?” Tenchi asked as he held the device carefully in both hands.

“Hmm . . .” Ranma scratched the back of his head again. “Some sort of homing device, I think?”

“I think he said something like that,” Ryoga said. “Something about producing a signal, I wasn’t particularly listening to what he was on about.”

“So it’s a teleportation homer,” Tenchi said and looked at the device again, the runes along the rim had dulled a bit and wasn’t as clear when it was activated.

‘Washu is going to love this,’ thought Tenchi and smirked. ‘Perhaps I could get her divert her attention on this rather than using me for her experiments.’

Tenchi looked at Ranma and Ryoga and shook his head in dismay.

‘Probably not . . . now that Ranma and Ryoga are back.’

“I’m not sure where Cypher is, he suppose to arrive here with us.” Ranma said.

[Ranma, save your concerns for someone else, I’m fine!] A distinctive voice was heard.

‘CYPHER!’ Ryoga, Ranma and Tenchi thought at the same time and looked over around to see where he was hiding.

[Down here.] Cypher’s voice said as everyone looked down at the device that Tenchi was holding to see an image of his face in the centre.

“Dammit, Cypher, why won’t you crawl over and die!” Ryoga shouted.

Cypher ignored the fanged bandanna boy.

[Ranma, are you okay?]

“Yeah, I’m okay so is Ryoga. Tenchi is also with us.” Ranma said.

[Yeah, I know, I can just see him. How is everyone, Tenchi?]

“Fine, just fine . . . Ryoko is doing recovering well.”

[That’s good to hear. To be honest, I was glad that everyone made it.] Cypher said.

“Stop ignoring me!” Ryoga yelled, feeling his temper rising to peak levels. Not even Ranma could get him so worked up so quickly without resorting to taunts or technique. Just his mere presence was enough to annoy him. His indifference towards him was infuriating and had not forgotten what happened in the Chapel.

[So . . . I suppose you all want an explanation?] Cypher assumed just by looking at anxious faces.

[Well . . . without going into too much technical difficulties, it was a simple decision. I see that nothing awkward has happened to you or ‘him’, Ranma.]

“What’s that suppose to mean by decision! It wasn’t yours to make!” Ryoga shouted and finally had enough of tried of Cypher’s mind games and turned around walked towards the grass patch to set down for a bit. Letting his frustration drained away.

[Anyway, as you can see, I’m fine.] Ranma could see Cypher grinning slightly and just sighed.

“Where are you exactly?” Tenchi asked as he was thinking that they could get Ry–Okhi to pick him up and had a large sack of freshly picked carrots handy in case she was being stubborn.

[Somewhere in Japan . . . and don’t even think about it, Tenchi] Cypher spoke sternly.

“What? Are you in trouble or some sorts?” Tenchi asked, slightly taken back.

[Don’t try to pick me up using Ry-Ohki. It’s too dangerous especially around the skies of Juuban, the Japanese has constant air patrols and although Ry-Okhi can outrun them, we don’t want to cause up more trouble. We don’t want her to be spotted. I can make my way over there easily enough.] Cypher explained the situation.

“Oh . . .” Tenchi nodded.

“Cypher, are you sure you can handle it?”

[Trust me, Ranma. I’ll be fine.]

“It’s not that.” Ranma shook his head.

[What is it? Wait, what did you do in Juuban, you haven’t told me about?] Cypher gave a very suspicious look.

Ranma started to sweat. “It’s nothing . . . really.”

Cypher sighed. [What is it then?]

Ranma smirked confidently. “Just don’t draw too much attention to yourself while you are over there like blowing up stuff.”

[Ha, very funny . . . considering that you’re the one that does the demolishing first. Okay . . . I see you there soon.] Cypher said as the image started to fade away.

Tenchi looked at Ranma. “Well, then . . . that answers that question.”

“Yeah, I guess it does.” Ranma said and turned towards where Ryoga was slimming down his anger.

“Hey, Ryoga . . . are you coming?”

“Huh, what did you say?”

“I said are you coming with us,” Ranma repeated what he said.

“Yeah, I guess . . . got nowhere to go right now.” Ryoga answered calmly and placed his hands in his pockets. He then felt something in his left pocket and fished it to find it was a small photograph. Memories start to flood in as Ryoga stared at the picture.

“Hey Ryoga, what you got there?” Ryoga was startled by Ranma’s voice and immediately hid the picture away from his view as he realized that Ranma and Tenchi were standing behind him.

“It’s none of your damn business, Ranma!” Ryoga snapped as he placed the picture in his pocket.

Ranma took a step back and raised his hands up in warding gestures.

“Okay, okay, no need to bite my head off.”

Ryoga glared at Ranma before stomping away.

“Erm . . . Ryoga,” Tenchi called.

“WHAT!”

“The Masaki’s Residence is THAT way,” Tenchi pointed.

Ryoga growled and swiftly turned around and stomped in the direction that Tenchi has just indicated.

‘Hmm . . . Ryoga seems to be worked up too easily these days, I wonder what’s bugging him so much?’ thought Ranma and looked towards Tenchi.

“Come on, Ranma, let’s go and I’ll tell you what been happening around here.”

Ranma nodded. “How is Sasami?”

“She is fine, see for yourself,” Tenchi tried not to hesitate or pause in his reply but Ranma easily notice it enough. There something in Tenchi’s tone that concerned him but pushed the thought to the back of his mind as he was looking forward to see how the rest of gang was doing.

“Oh . . . that’s good to hear.” Ranma said.

XXXXX

Location: Japan . . .

“Well, at least Ranma and that idiot are okay,” Cypher whispered and put away his communicator he had used to contact them.

“Hmm . . . this looks awfully familiar like I been here before,” Cypher said as he looked around, noticing various signs and places of interest.

‘This isn’t Nerima, that’s for sure,’ he thought and started to figure out what had gone wrong in the teleportarium.

He was sure that he had input the right coordinates into the central dais and that the device he planted into the computers system should have worked but still there, Cypher knew there could be other factors that he hadn’t considered. As he was walking through the streets, deep in thought, he happened to walk past a small grocery store. Something caught his watchful eye as he stopped and looked at the various newspapers laid out in front of the grocery store.

CHAOS IN NERIMA!

TERROR STRIKES, DEMONS FROM HELL!

THE END OF THE WORLD IS NEAR!

Cypher smirked and could help but chuckle at the bold headlines, causing some unwanted looks from passersby. He wondered if this world was prepared fro what laid in store for them; the Ruinous Powers was a powerful force to be reckoned with and he doubt that the armies of the worlds could handle it. Then again, the amount of people displaying psyker talents he had seen was quite a surprise because if this was an Imperial held world, those displaying even a tiny amount of psyker powers would draw the attention of the Inquisition agents or ruthlessly suppressed by the Ordo Hereticus.

“Are you going to buy something or are you just going to stand there?” annoyed voice said.

Cypher snapped himself of this deep thought and looked slightly to his right to see an old man which he presumed to be the shop keeper. The shop keeper had a tired expression on his face as he stared at him; arms crossed but before Cypher had the chance to say anything . . .

“You are one of those bad youths that’s been hanging around here aren’t you? Why aren’t you at school? Leave now!” the man pointed an accusing finger as he notices Cypher’s state of attire, which gave the wrong impression.

Cypher was wearing a dark robe like outfit, his facial expression partially hidden beneath his hood, his right wrapped in bandages didn’t paint a good image of Cypher.

“. . .” Cypher gave a hard glare at the accusing shop keeper, one of those looks that meant that he was serious and could snap him in two if he wanted to. His dark eyes piercing into the shop keeper like he was searching for his soul.

The shop keeper face paled significantly whiter as he took a few steps back into his shop.

“Leave now or I’ll call the police!” the shop keeper said, his voice sounding a little weaker, frail perhaps, as he was severe intimidated by Cypher’s presence.

Cypher was aware that he was drawing a crowd of people, wondering what was happening. With a small breath, Cypher broke his glare and swiftly walked down the street, hands in his pockets. Cypher sighed; he couldn’t be bother dealing with this right now, it was the same everywhere he goes. People always seem to be intimidated just merely his presence, where ever he goes with no fault of his own. People always seem to behavior differently, suspicion and distrusts are increased by ten folds depending on the person’s personality. He could hear them whispering in background but he ignored them.

His presence seems to act like a catalyst brings out the worse aspects of human beings fermenting discord and animosity like the time when he was ‘allied’ with the Chaos Space Marines Legion of the Worldeaters and the Emperor’s Children who were trying to storm a fortress to retrieve of great significant. Cypher smirked as it didn’t take long for them to start turning in one another in blind frustration and rage after repeated failed attempts to storm the fortress. Whilst the defenders of the fortress were distracted by the Chaos Legions besieging them, Cypher and a group of trusted Fallen Angels managed to penetrate the fortress and steal the artifact without anyone noticing it was gone. The artifact itself had a fetched a handsome price on the black market eventually the Fortress was breached and by the time they realized it was gone, Cypher and his men were long gone. For the Worldeaters and Emperor’s Children troubles, at least three Adeptus Astartes Chapters waited for them around orbit.

It was at that point that he happened to notice the yellow blood stained bandage wrapped around his hand. A thought appeared in his head and turned right into a dark alleyway. He checked that he was alone before starting to unwrapped the blood stained cloth slowly.

“Just as I thought,” Cypher smiled as he looked at his unscathed hand.

There were no signs of scars or cuts anywhere. He still retained most of his Space Marines abilities including their superhuman healing abilities. The only thing that he didn’t seem to have was the ability to interface with standard Adeptus Astartes power armour which he notices at the Masaki residence. Due to the fact he didn’t wear the thin mesh cloth plug suit known as the black carapace wasn’t a big worry as he ability to evade and dodge most attacks made up for this slight disadvantage. Apart from that, he seemed to have most of his implants and abilities despite his youthful age and appearance.

Cypher peered around the corner of the alleyway, checking for signs before stepping along the quiet streets. For what he could see, there were no signs of attacks so far. Perhaps he should go and ask someone where he was, but if they reacted the same way as the old shop keeper, it was going to a bothersome. Just then, Cypher felt something in the air that was very distinctive to those who have attuned to certain waves and feeling. Wandering around the Eye of Terror has increased his psyker awareness, enhancing his superhuman sense yet he was one of lucky ones. The rest would have been driven insane or warped horribly by warp.

It took Cypher a few moments to get a bearing of where these waves he was picking were coming from and eventually it led him outside a rather large place.

‘Hmm . . . this seems to be the place, Hikawa Shrine,’ thought Cypher as he looked at the sign near the entrance.

Normally, he would usually avoid these religious places of other worlds like the plague. Mainly because in his vast experience wandering the universe in exile, those that were not part of the Ecclesiarchy or the Ministorum circles were most likely worshipping a particular chaos deity of the Immaterial or in simple terms, cultist organization. A nasty piece of work those cultists were, which didn’t bear a second thought. In this case, he didn’t know why but there was something about this place that needs investigation.

‘There is someone here with strong empathy talents but that’s impossible unless . . .” thought Cypher and decided against drawing a conclusion until he finds out the source. He guessed that the source was located somewhere in the Temple grounds.

Cypher had learned that he was able to develop and hone in of minor psyker ability. He had the ability to sense strong emotions and feelings enabling him to tell if someone was lying to him or not. Unfortunately the side effect of this minor psyker power was that it significantly agitates ordinary people around him into doing bad things like starting a riot or killing spree if he remained in place for long periods of time.

As he was climbing up the steps that led up to the temple, Cypher suddenly stopped as his instincts were telling him that he was being watched. Without making any sudden movements, he lifted his head and looked to his right to see two black crows perched on the branch of a large tree.

Cypher exchanged brief glances with the two black crows before they flew away. Cypher turned his attentions towards the temple and continued walking up the steps.

‘Why do I suddenly have a bad feeling about this,’ thought Cypher as soon as he reached the top of the steps.

“Is anyone here?” Cypher called out as he stood at the top of the steps. “I want just want to know something.”

Silence greeted him.

‘Strange, there seem to be no one here?’ Cypher thought and started to take a few steps into the temple, peering into a few windows along the way to see if anyone was here.

“Is anyone here?” Cypher shouted again but all he was getting was silence.

‘Hmm . . . I guess they gone to lunch or something,’ Cypher thought as he hadn’t any further psyker waves upon entering the Temple grounds.

‘It must have been my imagination,’ Cypher thought, he was sure that he felt something here, but then again, his senses were a bit off today. Shaking his head, he decided that enough time had been wasted and should be making the trek back to the Masaki residence, besides Ranma and Ryoga were sure to demand an answer for his action.

Just as he was about to turn to leave, his empathy senses were suddenly hit by a wave of mixture of position and negative emotions. So suddenly was the wave, his psyker sense went into overload at the power of the wave, almost knocking him off balanced. Cypher clutched his head in pain, his mental defense held as the wave washed over him. It was that point that he realized that the wave was not a direct attack at him, more like random fire of emotions.

“Whoa! What the hell was that?” Cypher shook his head to clear his mind. It took a few moments to regain his orientation and balance before he could pinpoint the direction of the psyker wave.

He looked across at the main shrine; there on the far right hand side was a small enclosed building, bellowing out heavy black smoke and the orange flame.

“Now, how come I didn’t notice that?” Cypher guessed, well it was pretty obvious that the psyker wave he felt came from the building. Something was definitely not right, as he could feel the dark presence of a daemon entity which always indicated bad news.

Deciding to investigate rather than charge head on, he made his way towards the small building, his trusty plasma pistol flashed in his hand, loaded and charged. Cypher quickly leaned against the wall and shuffled towards the entrance, taking a deep breath, Cypher peeked through the gap of the wooden doors for a split second.

Cypher sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead with his free hand before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It figures, I really should have expected this, considering what’s been going on over the past few days.” Cypher muttered quietly. His mind racing through various ways of handling the situation, so far all of them resorted to leveling the whole place with high explosive.

Cypher closed his eyes, remembering what he saw inside the building. His photographic memory enables him to know what was inside by just one glance. Inside, was a dark raven haired shrine girl, completely surrounded by swirling flames, she was currently levitated in mid air, roughly about a metre from the ceiling. Also directly behind her was a fierce fire at the far end of the room. The way that the fire burnt suggested that it wasn’t a nature fire but something more sinister. His experience told him to take extreme caution as there was no way of knowing what forces were at work here.

‘Hmm . . . I’m not sure if she a cultist worshipper, there no marking on her body and her clothes suggest otherwise, and why do I get a sense that we met somewhere before?’ Cypher thought seriously. ‘What’s the big deal with that oversized fireplace anyway? Hmm . . . there something about this place that doesn’t add up, something unnatural.’

“Oh well, better go and ask then.” Cypher thought, and just as he was about to enter the building, a thought occurred.

‘Why do I get the strangest feeling that this situation would be best suited for Ranma?’ Cypher could help but shake off a nauseous feeling of dread and apprehension.

Cypher slowly slid back the door and took a step into the fire shrine. He was warmly greeted by roaring flaming blast of fire, shot straight out of the fire shrine.

“ . . .” Cypher’s eyes widened slightly and without thinking, dived forward, ducking just inches beneath the flame shot.

A backwash of heat singed Cypher’s hair and almost caught alight his robe too. The fire blast flickered into tree. Foliage ignited and the true burned. He immediately had to roll to his right as another blast of fire shot at towards him which if it wasn’t for his sharp senses and awareness, he would have been roasted alive. Realising that he was a sitting duck in this barely empty building, Cypher leapt to his feet and headed straight through the entrance, taking refugee outside whilst regaining his breath. Sweat ran down his forehead due to the intensity of the fire and temperature inside the building.

Cypher leaned against the wall, taking another glance inside the building in an attempt to find where the sources of this fire blasts were coming from. As soon as he did, another flame shot out, passing nearby him and impacting harmless against the now burnt out tree.

Cypher contemplated leaving her to face her fate as it wasn’t his problem, he just happened to be here at the wrong place at the wrong time. She caused it so she has to deal with this mess herself, and besides the heavy smoke from the burning tree would have attracted attention from nearby, let the local authorities deal with it. There no need for him to get implicated into this mess further and beside, they going to ask questions, questions that he would be better off not answering.

Cypher took another glance inside, this time checking on the girl suspended in midair. Just as he happened to look at, the shrine girl opened her eyes and connected with his, with a desperate pleading look. Her mouth opened but no words came out yet he knew what she was saying as he could easily lip read her.

“Damn!” Cypher said as soon as he conducted his quick survey. Sighing deeply, his chin touched his chest, mixed emotion clearly seen in his eyes as a conflict of interests swirled chaotically. Cypher was at a loss.

Normally in any other situation before arriving on this planet, Cypher would have left her so easily and without a care in the world as the overriding factor of personal survival was the main driving force behind his motives. No need to rely on others as they would just screw you over the moment the opportunity arise, dog eat dog kind of situation. Now that he was on this backwater, but charming and entertaining world where morals and beliefs were lighter and unrestricted, the factor of personal survival was becoming less of an issue, perhaps some of Ranma’s personality was rubbing off on him.

A little voice which he was definitely sure that he wasn’t possessed told him to do something before things got out of hand. His renewed sense of purpose and honour was beginning to cloud his ice cold principals and had done so ever since meeting the young Primarch. He realized that since then it was getting harder to be his old self and what was starting to startle him was that he might not want to go back to his old self.

‘Okay, now I realize why I don’t go into this heroic stuff,’ Cypher thought and immediately started to take off his heavy robe, mobility was the key as he couldn’t afford to set alight by those flame attacks.

It took a few moments before he made his decision . . . there was no alternative, no clean way of sorting this out . . . no choice.

Leaning against the thin wall of the building, Cypher took a quick glance inside the shrine before another of those flame blasts was launched against him. He couldn’t see the source of those attacks but had a feeling where it was. He had mentally timed the intervals between the delays of each blast. His master crafted plasma pistol made chimed indicated that a full charge was present and ready to use. Cypher held the pistol at his side, closed his eyes and counted a silent countdown of three seconds.

A flame blast hurled out of the entrance of the building and set alight a nearby tree.

Upon hearing the impact of the flame, it was time to act. Keeping a cool head, Cypher moved and stood at the entrance of the fire shrine, he had one clear shot before another flame blast was launched towards him and he doubt he would be lucky to escape injury this time.

In slow motion, he raising the full charged plasma pistol, Cypher realigns the sight on the pistol so that the suspended young girl and the fire shrine where within vision.

“My aim is true,” He said, almost whispering some sort of pray.

Cypher held his breath for split second and pulled the trigger. The recoil of the plasma pistol was felt as an incandescent ball of highly volatile plasma raced across the floor towards her. The girl opened her mouth but no words came out, her eyes widening as she tracked the miniature fireball heading towards her.

‘He has no choice, it’s my fault, I deserve this,’ Rei thought, understanding that to prevent the daemon from entering the material plane she had to die.

In her head, cruel laughter echoed in her head, her fate sealed, mocking her. She had hoped that her death was swift and painless but that wasn’t to be as she braced as much as she could.

Cypher simply smirked.

TBC . . .

XXXXX
Author Note: Yes, I know it’s been awhile since I last worked on this and the excuses are the same as always . . . thanks for waiting and enjoy.
On a funny note, I suddenly realized that I was using the name ‘Cherry Hill Temple’ which I used to refer to Rei Hino shrine instead of ‘Hikawa Shrine’. I never notice it until now. (Sighs . . .)
Character Profile: Cypher, Fallen Dark Angel Champion
Cypher is an enigmatic and deeply sinister character. He appears as if from nowhere, bring death and destruction with him, and then vanishes as abruptly as he appeared. Strangely, it is rare that Cypher himself instigates the violent acts that invariably occur when he is present, it is rather than he seems to act as a catalyst that fans any feeling of hatred or mistrust into a raging, uncontrollable fire.
Cypher rarely speaks, and no one knows his real name. However occasional glimpse of dark green power armour beneath his long robes means there can be no doubt that Cypher is one of the Fallen. In many ways he epitomizes the fate of the Fallen, being cursed to wander through time and space, never able to return home.
Some whisper that Cypher may represent the Fallen Angels’ only chance of redemption and that his seemingly random appearances hide a pattern which reveals that he is slowly moving across the galaxy towards Earth and the Emperor’s himself. They also point to the fact that Cypher carries a sword which he never draws or uses in combat, and that this could be the fabled Lion Sword, wielded by Lion El’ Jonson himself, thought lost forever following the Primarch’s final confrontation with the arch heretic Luther. Whatever the truth of this, it is certainly the case that if he Is ever in one place for any amount of time then his presence seems to attract others of The Fallen, thought none know how they able to find him or why they gather.
Probably because of this, the members of the Dark Angels Inner Circle hate and fear Cypher more than any Fallen Angel, and would willing perform almost any act, no matter how vile, in order to capture or kill him. Cypher’s continued existence bears testament to his almost supernatural prowess and ability to escape capture.
(Source: Games Workshop® 1996 Chaos Codex 2nd Edition)
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The Inquisition will purge all flames with righteous fury.
Version 1.0 30/05/05