The Emperor’s Angel of Death

“...God-Emperor... is this Your divine power?”

For the first time, Mikael understood what true megalophobia was. As he struggled to tear his gaze away from the ever-enlarging super-battleship, he noticed other shapes gradually emerging behind it, like the shadows of fortresses half-submerged in the sea, rising piece by piece from the mist.

Finally, upon reaching a certain height, he saw its true color: silver-gray. A silver-gray mountain floating in the void, faint lights flickering deep within its recesses, streams of lumens flowing through colossal canyons and caverns.

Mikael gasped, feeling as though he were enduring the gaze of a colossal beast. His eyes fixed upon a massive turret, so immense it resembled a city, adorned with a carving of crossed double-swords.

What divine power and might could forge such a magnificent and majestic creation?

Was this the power of angels?

Soon, the shuttle glided into a shimmering canyon and plunged into a cavern below.

Red and green lumens flashed constantly on the smooth metal walls. After flying for hundreds of meters, an archway rose ahead, embedded in the wall. The heavy alloy blast doors had already been raised, and the gravity tractors on either side of the archway activated, allowing the engine-less shuttle to silently glide into the designated passage.

After penetrating another hundred meters, the shuttle gently landed on a platform, which then began to ascend.

Mikael had now reached the shuttle's hatch. Behind him stood ten honor guards clad in heavy red greatcoats, wearing black pointed helmets, and wielding long spears. Two of them were standard-bearers, one holding the Aquila banner representing the planetary governor, and the other bearing the Aquila emblem authorized by the High Lords of Terra.

As the hatch opened with a subtle metallic screech, Mikael took a deep breath, his eyes darting across the scene revealed by the descending ramp, his lips tightly pressed together, his fingers resting on the hilt of his sword.

“Calm down.”

He said to himself in a very low voice:

“Calm down.”

Then he repeated it, and gently nodded, removing his hand from the sword, straightening his body, and nodding again.

Here was a bright and spacious landing pad. A welcoming party stood at the bottom of the ramp, but calling it a party wasn't quite accurate, as there were few people, but one presence was particularly striking.

He was a true giant, clad in heavy silver-gray armor, with a gleaming Aquila on his chest, wielding a long spear. The crossed double-swords symbol was emblazoned on his shoulder pads, and some horrific skulls were attached with thin iron chains. They looked like those of some kind of beast. Not only on his shoulder pads, but also on his waist and wrists, he was decorated with huge claws and teeth, conveying a sense of wild ferocity.

As he wasn't wearing a helmet, Mikael could see his face: a broad, hard face with small scars on his chin, short black hair, and black eyes. Beside him stood four monks in brown robes, holding incense burners in their hands. The monks all bore a unique symbol on their backs, resembling a burning black sun.

Mikael strode down the ramp and approached him. “I am Mikael Kolostoi, Lord Commander of the Guard appointed by Governor Yuri Olikov Pechinka. I have received and responded to the summons of Lord Regent Naysen and Chapter Master Soshjan Alexey of the Star Knights.”

As the shuttle hatch closed, a hiss seemed to echo from the darkness, and a cold breath brushed against his skin.

The towering Astartes scrutinized him, then nodded, and said in slightly accented High Gothic:

“I am Sergeant Haurmo of the 1st Company of the Star Knights Chapter. The Chapter Master has sent me to welcome you. Please, follow me.”

A curt response, with no pleasantries, no show of respect, but no contempt either. Then he turned and began to walk.

Mikael said nothing, and followed.

Leaving the landing pad, they entered a chamber where a streamlined train was waiting. They walked inside, and during the process, the Astartes remained silent. Mikael didn't know whether he should speak or not, so he calmly looked out the window.

The high-speed train seemed to be gliding in a vacuum tube, and it took them to their destination in less than thirty seconds. Here was a huge hall, even larger than the Governor's palace Mikael had seen. However, the Governor's palace was always bustling, with the whispers of servants, the ticking of many clocks, and the shouts of messengers.

But here, everything seemed so quiet. Except for the slight rustling of artificial wind passing through the banners, there was no noise to disturb.

Burning candles were placed on silver stands, and the light of the flames rippled on the smooth walls. Mikael smelled some plant fragrances in the smoke. The towering roof was supported by rows of black stone pillars, depicting many scenes of war. Occasionally, he could see mortals in gray robes moving between the pillars.

Then they took another mode of transportation, passing through several halls before reaching their destination: a tall archway leading to a long corridor. Four 1st Company warriors in heavy Terminator armor guarded the archway. Mikael's honor guard had to stop outside, and he entered the corridor with Haurmo alone.

Along both sides of the corridor were many exquisite oil paintings. Mikael carefully examined these images, and they all had one person in common.

A valiant warrior, noticeably taller than the other Astartes, always stood in the center of the picture, either standing on a pile of Ork corpses, holding a long sword high, or wielding a weapon and charging into a crowd of black giants wearing spiked armor, or surrounded by warriors holding weapons and firing outwards, raising his fist high towards the sky, surrounded by swarming, grotesque, and terrifying creatures...

Seeing this, Mikael already had a good idea.

At the end of the corridor, a simple, ancient-looking door, resembling bronze, slowly opened, revealing an even wider hall. It had several levels, each filled with a large number of devices and consoles that Mikael couldn't recognize. At the end was a huge observation window divided into several sections, allowing a view of a blue and green sphere slowly rotating.

And in the most conspicuous place in this magnificent space, there was a silver throne, upon which sat a giant in ornate armor. Mikael could hardly describe this armor in any language, because it was beyond his comprehension. Apart from the power of God, he couldn't imagine what kind of craftsmanship could create such a magnificent thing, especially the helmet, whose bestial shape gave a strong visual impact, coupled with that emotionless mask, as if a truly divine beast was staring at him.

This immense sense of oppression caused him to ignore the heavily armed Terminators standing on both sides, and the few figures standing alone under the candelabra in the distance.