[You wrap the cold, heavy links of the pious chain back around your arm, the metal rattling softly. You rest the 'Black Sword' on your shoulder and turn away from the center of the training ground.]
[Behind you, many Astartes of the Black Templars look at each other, their helmets hiding their expressions, but the collective silence in the arena is heavy.]
[Soon after, the daily routine of the fleet resumes. The decks thunder with training drills and the clang of re-armament, as if nothing happened. Everyone in the Chapter continues to train and prepare for the next expedition.]
[The only thing that has truly changed is the attitude of many auxiliary combatants towards you.]
[When you go to the forges to repair the deep gash in your 'Armor of Faith', the Techmarines and the Chaplains overseeing them show you a new, open enthusiasm. They hail you with genuine respect.]
[Not only is your power armor repaired with unprecedented speed, the ceramite perfectly re-fused and the prayer-script repainted...]
[You also receive a gift carefully prepared by the Techmarines: a bolt rifle. It has been blessed by a Chaplain, its casing marked with oils and sigils, and it is equipped with a high-capacity drum magazine.]
[You check the weapon's balance, nod in appreciation, and gladly accept the gift.]
[Just after you return to your quarters and rack the new bolt rifle, the gift from the Librarians is also handed over. Horamir arrives alone.]
[He presents an ancient Iron Halo, its dark metal wrought into an imperial eagle. As the Emperor's Champion, this energy shield means you no longer have to worry about the threat of most enemy long-range firepower.]
[You hesitate for a moment, looking at the potent artifact, but choose to accept the good intentions of the Librarians. You take the heavy Halo from him.]
[In the fourth week, a coded message from a wandering trader, one who has cooperated with the Black Templars for many years, is flagged in the strategy cogitators. It attracts your attention.]
[It speaks of a rebellion, one closely related to uncontrolled psychic energy, that seems to be taking place on an unnamed planet in the Calixis sector of the Hazy Star Region.]
[The expeditionary Marshal Ludoldus, his fleet still undergoing repairs, obtains permission from the High Marshal to investigate and carry out this expedition mission.]
[A single Crusader team is being dispatched to the rebellious planet to quell the incident.]
[You discuss this with Horamir. This feels like the reason you are here. You plan to follow the Crusader team to check it out.]
[You go to Marshal Ludoldus. He approves your request without hesitation.]
[Soon after, a fast strike ship, sleek and dark, detaches from the 'Eternal Crusader'. It carrying you and the team, breaking away from the huge fleet of the Black Templars and heading for the target planet.]
[On the strike ship's bridge, you meet the leader of this Crusader team. It turns out to be the Castellan you fought in the training ground.]
[After seeing you, his posture stiffens slightly, but he does not show any open hostility or special behavior. He just salutes and expresses the necessary, formal respect.]
[He also introduces you, the Emperor's Champion, to the Battle-Brothers in the Crusader team. You see they are all new blood, Initiates who have just joined the Chapter, their armor still relatively clean.]
[In the fifth week, the fast strike ship shudders violently as it quickly rushes out of the Warp, returning to realspace. The viewport fills with the stars of the Calixis sector.]
[However, before you approach the target planet, proximity alarms blare. Several Storm-class frigates from the Imperial Navy quickly approach the strike ship. Without warning, their terrifying laser arrays launch an attack.]
[The Chapter-serfs manning the bridge immediately enter combat status, shouting reports. The ship shudders as the void shields flare, continuously blocking the attack of the laser array.]
[The ship's captain shouts that he cannot raise the frigates on any channel. At the same moment, a terrible scream echoes from the choir chamber. The Astropath responsible for navigation suddenly loses control of his psychic powers.]
[In the chaos, you don't hesitate. You personally lead the Crusader team, storming the Astropath's chamber and ending his life with a single bolt, preventing greater damage to the ship.]
[You return to the bridge and exchange a single, sharp glance with the Castellan. He understands immediately and goes to the lower cabin to prepare the Thunderhawk transport.]
[You temporarily take over command of the entire fast strike ship, invoking your authority as the Emperor's Champion.]
[You order the captain to lead the serfs to guard the remaining Astropaths, and to destroy them immediately if they show any signs of losing control.]
[At the same time, you also order the terrified, surviving Astropaths not to use even a trace of psychic power without receiving instructions.]
[Then, you order the ship to return fire. The weapon arrays of the fast strike ship burst into bursts of terrifying flames.]
[The Tempest-class frigates are unable to resist the superior Astartes warship. After being hit repeatedly, they break apart, becoming twisted metal wreckage in the cold void.]
[You lead the Crusader team into the hangar bay and board the waiting Thunderhawk transport.]
[The Thunderhawk, driven by the Castellan himself, launches from the strike ship, enters the void, and quickly flies towards the target planet below.]
[An hour later, the Thunderhawk transport sets down heavily on the surface of the planet.]
[The assault ramp drops. As soon as you step out of the cabin, a blast of cold rain and wet snow hits you in the face.]
[You look up. You see a pillar of light, a faint but distinct golden light, piercing down from the dark, swirling sky where a snowstorm is raging.]
[You can't help but open your eyes wide beneath your helmet.]
[You always thought the legend that the Emperor's Champion could identify high-value targets actually came from Chapter intelligence and the Champion's own tactical understanding of the enemy.]
[You didn't expect it to be so simple and crude. A literal beacon.]
[You once again confirm the enemy's position, marked by the light.]
[You turn and express your concerns to the Castellan in the howling snowstorm.]
[Faced with a rebellion that could sweep the entire planet, the small grudge between you is not worth mentioning at all.]
["The moment the Astropath used his psychic power, he went out of control. This means that the nearby Warp is stirring up a terrifying wave," you say, your voice flat over the vox as you narrow your eyes at the golden light. "We must find a way to behead this psyker, find out the truth of the matter. Do not rule out the possibility that the psyker has already controlled the entire planet."]
[The other party's face, visible in the lights from the Thunderhawk, seems to flash with a hint of deep, zealous hatred for psykers.]
[He tells you without hesitation that the Crusader team will create an opportunity for you to decapitate the target, even if all of them have to sacrifice themselves to do it.]
[You nod heavily to him.]
[You already have your metal helmet on, the one decorated with a crown of thorns. With your right arm wrapped in its pious chains, you un-mag your new bolt rifle from your back.]
[The entire Crusader team quickly follows your steps, fanning out as you begin running towards the target light.]
[As the distance closes, the icy storm surrounding you gradually, unnaturally, increases in intensity. The wind howls louder and the snow bites harder.]
[You suddenly remember the various signs of psychic energy that Horamir had told you, including his statement that a massive use of psychic energy would lower the ambient temperature.]
[You once again glance at the unnatural, icy weather around you.]
[You think this is probably not a cruel weather formed by nature, but a special phenomenon caused by an extremely powerful psyker willfully using psychic energy.]
[Through the blizzard, a huge team gradually appears in front of you. A horde. Countless mortals from the planet, mixed with Astra Militarum troops in their sodden fatigues, have lost their minds. They are shuffling forward, their eyes vacant, becoming flesh and blood puppets of the unknown psyker.]
[You and the Castellan raise your grenade guns without hesitation.]
[However, the dozen or so new bloods following you seem to hesitate. Their guns waver, unwilling to point at the mortals in front of them.]
[The Castellan turns, about to roar at them, but you raise your hand to stop his anger from erupting. "The first lesson of becoming an Astartes is to learn to discard unnecessary mercy when you step onto the battlefield," you say, your voice cutting through the wind. "How long do you think these mortals can survive under such cruel weather conditions?"]
["Once psychic power erodes and controls mortals... it is basically irreversible. In other words, when they encountered that unknown psyker, they had already lost their precious lives."]
[You glance at the silent, shaken new bloods with your bolt rifle, and slowly raise the 'Black Sword' with your other hand.]
["The only thing we can do is to chop off the head of that heretic traitor with our own hands and avenge the humans on this planet!"]
["Astartes, follow me!"]
["For the Emperor!"]