Inside the palace of the Hordem family, a man clad in a black robe hurried toward a specific wing. He paused before a door at the end of the corridor to steady his breathing, then knocked softly nine times.
Upon receiving a response from the master within, he slowly pushed the door open.
"My Lord, the situation in the Lower Hive seems to be slipping out of control. Do we need to deploy reinforcements?" the robed man reported, prostrate on the floor. His body trembled slightly, as if the man sitting just a few paces away were a monster.
Isaac Hordem sat quietly at a solid wood desk with his back to the sunlight, his head lowered in thought. He listened to the servant's report without a single change in expression, seemingly indifferent to the disastrous military situation in the Lower Hive.
Isaac unhurriedly picked up a wine glass, sipped the warm liquid, and ate a piece of fresh fruit—grown in his personal plantation. In the Lower Hive, such a piece of fruit would be enough to buy a large factory.
"Seal all passages leading to the Upper Spire. Order the armies from all other secondary Hives to fall back for defense," Isaac Hordem's calm voice reached the robed man's ears. "Also, notify all residents of the Upper Hive that travel restrictions are in effect immediately. Blockade all starports and prepare to activate all altars in the Spire."
"Yes, my Lord." Upon hearing the commands, the robed man carefully backed out of the room, never once raising his head.
Once the room was completely silent, Isaac stood up from his comfortable leather chair and walked to a bookshelf. He began chanting under his breath as a surge of psionic energy flowed from his body into the shelf.
Click. The sound of gears turning echoed behind the shelf, and a pitch-black entrance slowly appeared. Isaac stepped inside without hesitation. Once he had disappeared, the bookshelf slid back together as if nothing had ever happened.
In the darkness, Isaac's vision remained unimpaired as he descended a spiral staircase. As he went deeper, the surrounding shadows seemed to come alive, whispering to him—tales of heroic epics from distant lands, and laws of truth from the vast cosmos.
The depth of this staircase had long exceeded the limits of reality. After walking for what felt like an eternity, a light finally appeared before him.
He stepped into a massive library filled with countless books. At the end of the library stood a giant statue whose form shifted constantly—one moment a kind old man, the next a curious child, then an intellectual woman with long hair. Finally, the statue's form stabilized into a demon with massive wings and two heads.
If Alexei were here, he would surely recognize this avian horror: Kairos Fateweaver, the Greater Demon of Tzeentch. Legend had it that one of its heads could see the past, while the other could foresee the future.
Isaac reached the feet of the statue and knelt devoutly. "Great Master, please grant me supreme power. I shall punish the arrogant and ignorant enemies in your name. I shall offer everything to you."
He prostrated himself, his voice filled with endless fanaticism and desperation. As if hearing his plea, a brilliant blue light shot from the statue's staff, plunging into Isaac's body.
In the next moment, he felt a pain capable of tearing his soul apart. His body writhed on the floor, his soul repeatedly shattered and reconstructed. His screams echoed through the chamber.
After an unknown amount of time, Isaac woke from his coma. His appearance had become utterly bizarre, twisted, and insane. He resembled a monstrous bird with sparse feathers, his wings dotted with scattered gray plumage. Deformed talons replaced his limbs, and eyeballs scattered across various parts of his body rolled incessantly. A raspy, low growl issued from his bloated beak.
Feeling the infinite power within him, Isaac threw himself to the ground again. A trembling voice came from his twisted body: "Thank you for your grace, Master. I shall fulfill my promise."
Simultaneously, blue lights began to glow one after another in the shadowy corners of the Upper Hive.
Lower Hive, Frontline Factory Zone
After only two more bell tolls, the fighting here had mostly subsided. Only a few remaining PDF units and Enforcers were still putting up a stubborn resistance. The elite squads in CMC power armor were busy clearing them out.
Alexei stood on the high wall, watching the gang members clean up the aftermath, calculating his losses. Zagara had reported the Swarm's casualties—nearly half of the Zerg had been reduced to biomass and recycled.
His gaze fell on a shattered set of CMC-400 power armor nearby. That was the result of a direct hit from a Baneblade; an entire elite fireteam had been pulverized instantly. Even with the Swarm drawing away most of the heavy vehicles, the remainder had inflicted serious casualties on his personnel.
"Estimated one-third of the elites lost, 40% casualties among regular gang members."
He sighed quietly. If the enemy hadn't been overconfident, it would have been extremely difficult to take this beachhead. However, the Barracks in the Underhive were still churning out "50-mineral" Good Ol' Boys. He had lowered the requirements for wearing power armor, so even regular members could be outfitted now.
His losses would be replaced soon, but what puzzled him was that the enemy showed no intention of sending reinforcements. They hadn't even deployed a single aircraft. Zagara had prepared half of the Hydralisks to counter aerial targets, but they weren't needed at all.
It was as if they had simply handed the entire Lower Hive to him. "What the hell are they planning?" Alexei mused. Why not crush him while he was weak? Were they waiting for him to reach full strength? By then, tens of thousands of armored soldiers would be unstoppable, even for a Space Marine Chapter.
Suddenly, he felt a heat at his waist. Frowning, he pulled out the dagger. The dagger seemed wrong—every time he blinked, the positions of the gems on it shifted.
Alexei realized something. "Crap... they wouldn't be insane enough to summon a demon army in the Upper Hive, would they?"
As he thought this, a familiar voice came from behind. "My Lord."
Alexei turned to see Lutheca dragging an old man in a high-ranking officer's uniform. The old man was writhing in fury, his cybernetic eye glaring at Alexei with pure hatred.