71: Black Holes and Vaults

["sword of truth" - Main Weapon Deck]

N-05's fingers were wiping the firing mechanism of his Bolter.

This was a task that required patience.

The Mars-pattern military-grade Bolter was precisely constructed, every part blessed by the priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

The internal bolt mechanism contained thirty-seven independent moving parts; a failure in any one could lead to a chamber explosion or a jam.

He used a soft cloth soaked in sacred oil to carefully wipe the inner walls of the chamber.

The scent of machine oil drifted into his nostrils—a unique aroma of metal mixed with incense that the Martians called the "Gift of the Omnissiah."

The magazine was already full.

Twenty standard bolt shells, their tips diamond-shaped and shells coated in a layer of dark red rust-proof paint.

The base of every bolt shell was engraved with the inscriptions of the Adeptus Mechanicus, the tiny characters flickering under the cabin lights.

N-05 inserted the magazine into the gun body.

Click.

Locked.

He pulled the charging handle, and the first bolt shell was pushed into the chamber.

A slight vibration traveled through the weapon's body.

Suddenly, the deck beneath his feet shuddered.

N-05's body tensed instinctively.

His knees bent, his center of gravity lowered, and his right hand tightened around the Bolter's grip.

His tactical eyepiece automatically switched to combat mode, and a circle of pale green targeting reticles appeared at the edge of his vision.

The trembling lasted for three seconds.

It was the vibration produced when the engine power changed. The warship was turning.

Immediately after, alarms blared throughout the entire ship.

"Wooo—wooo—wooo—"

Red warning lights rotated and flashed on the ceiling, dyeing the entire weapon deck a blood-red color.

Inside N-05's helmet, an automated mechanical voice broadcasted:

"Level One Combat Alert. Level One Combat Alert. All personnel proceed to combat stations immediately."

N-05 quickly finished his final preparations.

He hung the Bolter on the magnetic hook of his breastplate, checked the ammo pouches and grenades at his waist, and then took his helmet from the rack.

The helmet's lining still bore the sweat stains from the last battle.

He didn't mind, snapping the helmet directly onto his head.

The sealing ring made a soft click, the airtight system activated, and filtered air began to flow into his respirator.

"Fighting again."

A voice came from nearby. It was E-12, a warrior who had undergone transformation in the same batch as N-05.

He was checking his Chainsword, its teeth gleaming under the lights.

"I thought those fishermen were finished," E-12 said. His voice came through the helmet's external speaker, distorted with a metallic quality.

N-05 did not answer. He just looked at his own hands.

They were a pair of modified hands.

Bone reinforcement, tendon strengthening, and neural reaction speed increased by 300%.

These hands could pull a trigger twelve times in a single second, could tear an ordinary human's body apart barehanded, and could maintain perfect flexibility in environments of fifty degrees below zero.

But they were no longer human hands.

"All personnel, First Combat Sequence."

C-19's voice rang out through the communication channel.

N-05 immediately looked up, listening with full concentration.

"Target: Pan-Pacific Empire remnants. Estimated time to engagement: twenty-seven minutes."

C-19's voice paused.

"They hid their final trump card in the deep sea.

And waited until now to bring it out."

"Therefore," he continued, "this will be a war of annihilation. No surrenders accepted, no survivors left."

N-05 felt his heart rate accelerate.

Not because of fear, but because of something more primal.

His gene seed was releasing adrenaline, his black rage gland was secreting combat hormones, and his body was automatically entering its optimal combat state.

He raised his Bolter, bracing the stock against his shoulder. The targeting lines stabilized in his vision.

He was ready.

["sword of truth" - Bridge Observation Window]

The silhouette of Terra appeared outside the porthole.

Blue oceans, white clouds, and the brown continents set between the cloud layers.

Looking down from orbital height, this planet still retained a certain ancient beauty.

—Despite its surface already being covered in the scars of war.

C-19 stood before the observation window.

His power armor had switched to full power mode, the joint servos emitting a faint hum, and the reactor output stabilized at 85%.

He held a Bolter in his hand, muzzle pointed down, his finger resting on the outside of the trigger guard.

"Approaching target area," the navigator's voice came from the back of the bridge.

"Estimated atmospheric entry in three minutes."

C-19 did not respond. His gaze pierced through the porthole, falling upon that deep blue expanse of sea below.

The Pacific Ocean.

The largest ocean on Earth, occupying one-third of the planet's total surface area.

Its average depth exceeded four thousand meters, with the deepest part, the Mariana Trench, reaching nearly eleven thousand meters.

Before the Unification War, this sea had been the core territory of the Pan-Pacific Empire.

They had built countless undersea cities, mining facilities, and military bases here.

They developed materials and technologies capable of withstanding extreme water pressure.

They bred an elite force specifically for deep-sea combat.

Then, the Unification War broke out.

The Emperor's Legions set out from the Himalayan Mountains, heading east all the way, destroying all Pan-Pacific Empire strongholds on the Asian continent.

Their army was annihilated, their air force was shot down, and their coastal fleets were sent to the bottom of the sea.

But their core—those facilities hidden in the ten-thousand-meter abyss—had remained untouched.

Because The Emperor had more important enemies to deal with.

"Now," C-19's voice spread throughout the ship via the communication channel.

"We come to finish the job."

The "sword of truth" began its descent.

Atmospheric friction produced an orange-red halo on the warship's armor surface, the temperature rose sharply, and the airflow let out a piercing howl.

The hull experienced slight vibrations, and the gravity sensor readings began to jump.

Thirty seconds later, the warship broke through the clouds.

Below was the boundless blue surface of the sea.

The sunlight shone on the waves, reflecting light like crushed diamonds.

The sea breeze whipped up white foam, drawing curved tracks across the water's surface.

Everything looked very peaceful.

Then, the sea split open.

That wasn't a metaphor. It was "split open" in the literal sense.

About five kilometers away from the "sword of truth," the seawater suddenly parted to both sides.

A massive rift appeared on the sea surface, over three hundred meters wide and more than two kilometers long.

White foam and steam surged at the edges of the rift as seawater poured outward at an alarming speed.

Then, something rose from the rift.

First to appear was a tower.

It was over three hundred meters high, its surface covered in heavy armor plating and dense weapon arrays.

At the top of the tower was a massive radar antenna, rotating at a slow speed.

Then a second tower.

A third.

A fourth.

Beneath the towers was a massive platform.

No, it was a mobile fortress.

Its main body was a flat hexagon, with each side exceeding one kilometer in length.

The platform's surface was covered with landing pads, weapon towers, and armored hatches, with a pyramid-shaped command center standing in the center.

Beneath the platform were six sets of giant thrusters, each composed of twelve independent engine units, ejecting blue-white high-temperature plasma streams.

Hatches began to open on the sides of the fortress.

Small vessels poured out one after another—frigates, destroyers, torpedo boats.

They arranged themselves in a defensive formation around the fortress, weapon systems all coming online, targeting the approaching "sword of truth."

C-19's tactical eyepiece automatically began scanning and tagging.

[Target Identification: Pan-Pacific Empire - "abyssal overlord" Class Mobile Fortress]

[Length: 2400 meters]

[Width: 1800 meters]

[Weapon Systems: 128 Plasma Main Cannons, 256 Torpedo Tubes, 64 Anti-Air Arrays]

[Escort Vessels: 47]

But none of these were C-19's focus.

His gaze fell upon the figures on the fortress deck.

They were lining up.

Hundreds of figures, arranged neatly on the fortress's main deck.

They wore golden power armor, held energy halberds, and had circular energy shields hanging behind them.

Their armor style was starkly different from the Astartes—more ornate, more exquisite, with surfaces carved with totems of waves, sea beasts, and the sun.

C-19's scanning module locked onto one of the targets and began a detailed analysis.

[Scan Results: Pan-Pacific Royal Guard (Gene-Enhanced Type)]

[Individual Energy Level: T2 (Elite)]

[Gene Modification Level: 67% (Below Astartes Standard)]

[Weaponry: Plasma Halberd (Penetration: Medium); Energy Shield (Protection Rating: B+)]

[Warning: High-energy weapon charging reaction detected. Recommended to maintain alert distance.]

A string of data flashed through C-19's eyepiece.

They were not Astartes. Their gene modification was not as thorough as the First Legion's, their equipment not as advanced as the First Legion's, and their training not as rigorous as the First Legion's.

But they had the advantage of numbers.

And, they were fighting for their home.

"All units," C-19's voice rang through the communication channel, calm and clear.

"Prepare for boarding operations."

The fortress's main guns began to rotate, aiming in the direction of the "sword of truth."

The air was thick with the ozone smell characteristic of plasma weapons charging.