Chapter 42: Post-War Debriefing

With the capture of the raider fleet’s Archon, the outcome of the battle was sealed. The remaining xenos were nothing more than scattered stragglers struggling in vain under a gaze that could pierce through them. Once the Archon’s flight and probing attacks had exhausted their most powerful individuals, the common Kabalite warriors were simply no match for the Sharks, who had already seized numerical superiority. The aliens’ only remaining desperate act was to gather their remnants and huddle together, attempting to break through the blockade along the main corridors to reach their cruisers. Unfortunately, they were intercepted and hemmed in by a relentless barrage of bolter fire and laser volleys before they could even consolidate.

Karna listened to the ceaseless roar of gunfire and chainblades, watching as one enraged Shark after another charged forward to tear the last of the enemies to shreds. He made no move to claim the glory, merely resting his spear—now missing half its blade—upon the deck. He looked toward Arthur with a touch of envy; despite Arthur having taken his fair share of hits from splinter cannons while cornering the Archon, not even the paint on his shield had been scratched.

"Want a look?" Seeing Karna staring fixedly at his sword and shield, Arthur gripped the hilt with his backhand.

"Sure." Karna’s eyes lit up. Just looking at this impeccably cool signature gear made his collector’s instinct flare.

"Then take a look." Arthur interlocked the sword and shield, slammed them into the deck, and struck a dramatic pose.

"...Do you think you’re being humorous?"

"Shouldn't we relax after the fighting is done?"

"The joke was fine. Don't tell it again." Karna sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Ugh—" Arthur dropped the pose and held out the hilt. "Want to take it?" He, in truth, didn't mind.

"No, no. I’m just envious of how Old Man Huang enchants his gear. I’ll try to get one for myself when I have the chance." Karna waved a hand dismissively. He wouldn't dream of pilfering his brother’s equipment; if he really wanted to, he could just replicate a set using materialized soul matter, though it would lack the enchantments. "Though, clearly, there’s no chance of that this time."

"No chance is a good thing." Arthur nodded sincerely, his spirits clearly high.

"Indeed. No chance is a good thing." Karna looked up. Around them, in the compartments that remained relatively intact, hundreds of corpses were piled high, their weight squeezing blood out to seep across the floor. The remaining bodies could no longer be gathered; especially in the chambers where Tyberos and Karna had passed, they would have to wait for the servitors dispatched by Archmagos Cawl to perform the cleanup.

The Carcarodons’ Apothecary and Librarians were busy tallying the spoils from the xenos. In any other situation, he would have been busy recovering his brothers’ bodies, retrieving their gene-seeds, and checking on the wounded, rather than acting like a miser counting gains. But he was indeed only counting gains here. Because not a single battle-brother had perished.

"We won." They had won, and the victory was absolute. Every enemy had been annihilated, and their record was zero casualties.

"Thank you for your command, Lord Romulus." After tallying the troops, Tyberos’s voice carried a tone of genuine admiration; he had never fought such an effortless battle. "Whether it is your tactical skill or the vast battlefield experience of you and your lords, I am—fortunate—to have fought alongside such warriors." Although such complimentary words had never formed in his mind since he could remember, Tyberos spoke them with complete sincerity.

Not a single soul lost. Without the help of these ancient warriors, let alone a hundred men, the entire Chapter would have been unable to achieve such a result. With only thirty-odd ancient warriors, they had led one hundred and thirty men to this glorious victory. If there were ten thousand such warriors—no, in that era when the Astartes still existed in Legions, such warriors must have been countless. Tyberos could not help but feel a longing in his eyes. What kind of epoch-spanning tidal wave must have been required to forge such warriors in the era when the Emperor still walked among men?

Romulus sensed that yearning, but he did not respond. He knew his own limitations; if he couldn't win even with wall-hacks in an RTS, he might as well find a place to bury himself. A poet who couldn't win even while cheating?

"You flatter us," Romulus replied modestly. "The courage of the Sharks is equally impressive. Compared to you, we are far more callow."

Tyberos’s gaze swept over the Imperial Fists. Their pristine power armor bore many scars; some were severe, including blood-stained puncture wounds. Facing the Chapter Master’s gaze, the Sharks standing nearby could not help but feel a sense of internal shame. Especially the three Sharks who had been ambushed while hunting the Incubi; seeing the scars on their elder’s armor, even the joy of victory vanished. They had stepped onto a glorious battlefield alongside their elder, yet he had been wounded to protect them, risking his life on a dangerous front. They were warriors tempered by countless wars, yet on this field, they had felt like children sheltered in a cradle.

"The Carcharodons reward and punish clearly," Tyberos said coldly. The Sharks nodded solemnly, one and all. Once they returned to the Chapter, they would subject themselves to new trials to prove they were still fit to remain in the company.

Romulus moved his lips, unsure of how to intervene. He wasn't certain what the internal culture of a Chapter meant to them, and he feared that making a rash decision might lead to an outcome that left everyone unhappy. Of course, he did understand Shark culture; for special reasons, they cherished the combat power already formed within the Chapter. Even Chief Librarian Kahurangi, the brother who had lost the Void Glass, had been spared after providing a reasonable explanation and sent on a quest to recover the Emperor’s relic. There was no need to worry about them doing anything abstract like decimation.

At least no one died. Romulus shook his head, thinking optimistically, and returned to his post-battle summary. He had essentially gauged his own capacity for handling real-world battlefields; the only downside was that this battle had involved a bit of "wall-hacking," so its value as a reference was slightly lacking.

Of course, cheating was also a part of one's strength. The Four Gods cheated, so there was no reason they couldn't. Regardless of how absurd he seemed, he wouldn't hide things while a group of people was risking their lives for him; that would be unworthy of the trust the Sharks placed in him by entrusting him with their lives.

Next was the battlefield data recorded this time. Romulus integrated the combat data of all participants and packaged it into his interface, which he had already modified beyond recognition.