Bonus chapter in 2hrs for reaching 500 power stones (๑>◡<๑) mwahaha!
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The tension building toward the finals was like a wire pulled tight in every fan's chest.
Medici's Deities short film, combined with the intense worldbuilding of the Archive Declassification Hall, had sent expectations through the roof.
In this atmosphere, Scorchwind's livestream had become ground zero for countless viewers hungry for a glimpse of the new content.
"Alright guys, I think I'm cosmically locked into the Imperium at this point," Scorchwind flexed his fingers, eyeing the matchmaking screen that read [Faction: Imperium (Adeptus Astartes)], his voice carrying its usual mix of confidence and humor.
"Every single time Medici drops something new, my first match lands me on the Imperial side. What do you call that? Destiny, baby."
Chat exploded immediately:
"Wind's the Imperium's chosen one!"
"Get in the game already! We need to see the new stuff!"
"Last time it was Titans, what's it gonna be now? Astartes? Let's GO!"
"Please don't get stuck with potato teammates again."
"Scorchwind: Lone Wolf of the Imperium."
Scorchwind laughed and clicked confirm.
"I've got no idea what new maps, units, or factions Medici's cooked up this time. But knowing him, after holding back for the grand finale, he's gotta bring something even crazier than Titans."
He grinned at the camera. "I'm just hoping for some real 'big boy' energy. The kind that makes you go 'holy shit' right out the gate."
The loading screen flashed, showing deep space and a planet silhouette wrapped in dark red psychic clouds. Text appeared below: [Sisyphus III - Purification Operation].
No immediate cut to battlefield chaos and gunfire.
When the screen stabilized, Scorchwind found himself in a relatively cramped space with metallic surfaces and a deadly serious atmosphere, the interior hold of a transport ship. No noisy troops, no busy servitors. Just a crushing, oppressive silence.
Standing in front of his viewpoint was a "soldier."
Actually, calling him a soldier felt inadequate.
He was a giant.
Easily over seven and a half feet tall, his entire body encased in thick, angular power armor painted deep blue with golden shoulder plates and insignia.
The armor was covered in fine scratches from combat and gleamed with maintenance oil. A prominent "Ω" emblem decorated the chest plate. He wore a helmet, its faceplate eye lenses glowing a cold red.
But the most striking detail was a golden metal stud embedded prominently in the center of his forehead, right where the helmet met the skull, catching the hold's dim light with a cold gleam.
"What's that thing for?" Scorchwind muttered automatically.
His chat instantly flooded with question marks.
"Decoration? Religious thing? Some kind of... port?"
Before anyone could speculate further, the blue-armored giant spoke. His voice came through the helmet's speaker, deep and steady with a metallic resonance, yet somehow filled with undeniable authority and the weight of countless battles.
"Battle-brothers." No preamble, straight to business. "Target planet: Sisyphus III. The planetary governor has openly broken his oath to the Emperor and turned to worship of the Warp's false gods. Evidence confirmed."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"According to intelligence, the traitors have erected four blasphemous altars at key surface locations. They're attempting to tear open the veil between realspace and the Immaterium."
His tone sharpened. "Our mission: board Thunderhawk gunships and drop pods, make planetfall by force, and before the ritual completes, destroy all four altars and eliminate the primary heretics."
Another pause, his eye lenses sweeping across the hold, his voice growing heavier.
"Planetary defense forces and whatever Warp-spawn filth appears are secondary concerns. Remember: speed and precision."
A beat of silence.
"May the Emperor guide your bolts."
Short, direct, packed with information. Betrayal, altars, the Warp, purification, every word painted a picture of a high-stakes surgical strike deep in enemy territory, racing against the clock.
"Understood!" Several equally deep, resolute voices answered from the hold.
Only then did Scorchwind notice three other blue-armored giants standing beside him in identical gear. Including the veteran who'd briefed them, there were five total.
They all stood silent, like steel statues, only the faint hum of servo systems breaking the quiet.
A moment later, the bulkhead slid open, revealing a bank of honeycomb-like drop pod berths.
The veteran with the golden forehead stud clapped Scorchwind's shoulder plate. "Good hunting, battle-brother. For Macragge. For the Emperor."
Then Scorchwind felt his character being guided into a cylindrical drop pod painted blue, far larger than himself. The door sealed in front of him, leaving only the instrument panel's faint red glow and a narrow viewport inside.
The other three giants entered adjacent pods.
Only now did Scorchwind get a chance to really examine himself.
He raised his "hand," a massive gauntlet wrapped in blue power armor, proportions far beyond any normal human's.
He tried walking. His steps were steady and powerful but not as clumsy as he'd expected, the power armor's servo-assist made movement feel natural.
What shocked him more was his vision and perception. He could somehow "feel" the subtle air currents around him, hear distant engine rumbles beyond the pod.
"Holy shit..." Scorchwind breathed into his mic, voice trembling with excitement.
"These aren't regular humans, right? Enhanced? Super soldiers? Why are they all like seven-foot-plus giants?"
He ran his character through a few tactical movements. The power armor responded instantly, every motion crisp and precise, radiating raw power.
"This armor... this texture... these details..."
He tried a few more maneuvers, testing responsiveness.
"Chat, are you seeing this? This control, this feedback... it's completely different! This blue armor is insane!"
Scorchwind couldn't contain himself. "I gotta hand it to Medici, when it comes to aesthetics and game feel, the man delivers."
Chat had been going nuclear for a while:
"SO BADASS!!! Astartes!"
"The presence is OFF THE CHARTS!"
"That power armor detail, you can literally see the threading on the bolts!"
"Wind, throw a punch, let's see the power!"
"The enemy's Chaos? Altars? Drop already! We need combat!"
The drop pod suddenly shuddered, followed by the sound of mechanical locks releasing from the mother ship.
Then came violent acceleration and the roar and vibration of atmospheric entry.
Through the viewport, Scorchwind watched the sky, stained dark crimson by psychic storms, blur past at breakneck speed. The planet's surface rushed up to meet him, covered in alien architecture and profane structures.
His adrenaline spiked.
~ Push the story forward with your Power Stones