The Chaos fleet paused, momentarily confused by the self-inflicted cataclysm. It was the opening Caspian needed.
The Dominus Bellorum limped into Port Maw’s dry-docks, her hull scarred, her crew count reduced by a third. Lord Admiral Caspian walked the main hangar deck, stepping past medicae shuttles and the burned-out husks of fighter craft.
The fleet translated into the Periphery system at the Mandeville Point, a full day’s emergency burn from the primary shipyards. Auspex returns were immediate and chilling.
The shell crossed the void in two seconds. It struck the cruiser’s midsection, just aft of her main bridge. The explosion was a silent, white flower of pure, absolute annihilation. The Righteous Wrath —its sins, its crew, its screaming—vanished. Reduced to a spreading cloud of quarks and regret. battlefleet gothic armada pdf
The Dominus Bellorum ’s immense broadsides spoke. Six macro-cannon shells, each the size of a hab-block, slammed into the Blade ’s bow. For a moment, its corrupted shields flickered. The Righteous Wrath added its own lance batteries—twin beams of focused sun-fire that stabbed into the wound.
The first wave was a frenzy of claws and torpedoes. Chaos Idolators, sleek and predatory, darted ahead, spewing swarms of boarding torpedoes. Caspian’s Sword frigates met them in a brutal knife-fight, their turrets vomiting tracers into the stygian dark. One Sword, the Viper , was caught amidships by a direct hit. It didn't explode. It screamed —a psychic death rattle that echoed through the fleet’s vox-net as its warp-drive imploded, pulling a chunk of reality into the Immaterium.
And that, he decided, was the only prayer worth answering. The Chaos fleet paused, momentarily confused by the
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Without warning, a section of the Righteous Wrath ’s starboard flank shimmered, replaced by a bloody after-image. A Chaos boarding party—half-men, half-warp-spliced wire—materialized directly inside her engineering decks. The Gothic-class cruiser’s engines sputtered and died. She began to drift, a dead hulk bleeding atmosphere and bodies.
Caspian turned to the viewport. Outside, the repair gantries were already swarming over the Dominus Bellorum . But all he could see was the white, silent flower of the Nova Cannon’s mercy. Lord Admiral Caspian walked the main hangar deck,
Then, the first mistake.
“All ahead flank. Form Line of Battle. Gunnery: load void-shield-penetrator shells. Launch fighters,” Caspian ordered, his voice a flat, iron monotone. The silent hunt was over. Now came the slaughter.
