NCCnovel Chapter 303 Cato Cicarius's Invitation
Chapter 303 Cato Cicarius's Invitation
Ripples appeared on the Void Shield of the Grey Knights' secret base as three Ultramarines Thunderhawk gunships tore through the poisonous cloud and landed.
As Cato Sicarius stepped out of the hatch, the powerful footsteps of the Ever Victorious Guard shattered the corrosive crystal on the ground. His twin swords remained unsheathed, yet he struck his breastplate with the hilts, producing a crisp sound—a customary greeting among the Macurac nobles.
Astram's silver sword was stuck in the center of the platform, the exorcism runes on the hilt scorching the Nurgle spores in the air: "Lost? There are no gilded toilets here for you to recite poetry."
Cato's boots rolled over the sword's projection, the corrupted ground covered in cobalt blue paint: "I've come to borrow two things—the Grey Knight's psionic matrix, and that mortal's golden lightning." His gaze passed over Astran and locked onto Russell, who was wiping his entrenching tool behind him.
Russell frowned slightly but said nothing.
A holographic sand table unfolded before everyone, and Cato's fingertips traced the decaying planet model: "Lord Grox of the Death Guard is rebuilding the fleet; his plague engines can submerge the entire sector in a sea of pus."
“Wouldn’t that be even better? We could take a green bath!” Russell said half-jokingly.
“Brother, this joke isn’t funny!” Astran said.
When the projection switched to the image of the Nurgle Archdemon Krugas, even the black stone walls seeped out a yellowish-green liquid. Cato's twin swords suddenly crossed and plunged into the sand table, pinning Krugas's demonic insignia: "This guy brought seven Plague Cauldrons, each of which requires a psionic sacrifice to activate."
Astram's silver sword suddenly rested on Cato's shoulder armor: "So the proud Second Company Commander needs a Grey Knight as a sacrifice?"
Cato pushed the silver sword away with his fingertips, the energy field colliding with the exorcism runes to create blue and white sparks: "What I need is his psionic power—" the hilt pointed at Russell, "—and the warp anchor you hid in the Blackrock Spire."
Russell's golden arc of electricity suddenly entangled Kugas's projection in the sand table: "You know my price is high, sir."
“The psionic ancient texts in the Macurag Archives,” Cato tossed out a data crystal, “including fragments of the ‘Subspace Topology’ with the Emperor’s own annotations.”
Astram's prosthetic eye flashed with a stream of data: "That's a heretical text!"
“That’s why you need it even more.” Cato’s smile was more unsettling than Nurgle’s pus.
Arya's psionic tentacles suddenly pierced the sand table, causing the decaying planet model to crack open and reveal a hidden psionic vortex: "He's lying. Grox's fleet has already entered the real universe!"
Cato's twin swords were suddenly drawn, shattering the demonic projection that was about to materialize: "Now you have two choices—come with me and destroy them on orbit, or wait for the Plague Cauldron to turn this place into a Nurgle swimming pool."
Russell's entrenching tool cleaved through the data crystal, golden arcs of electricity engulfing the forbidden knowledge flowing from it: "Let me tell you a secret, sir..." The afterimage of Guilliman's hologram appeared in his pupils, "I hate being used as a pawn, but I hate the Green Bathhouse even more."
Although the conversation didn't seem very pleasant, Russell agreed for the sake of the bigger picture.
As the Ever Victorious Guard began its deployment, Cato suddenly pressed down on Russell's shoulder armor: "Do you know why I put up with that silver can?" He pointed to Astram adjusting the anchor in the distance, "Because they are the Emperor's... safety catch for the Primarchs."
Russell's golden arc of electricity scorched the handprint on the shoulder armor: "Tell Lord Guilliman—mortals don't need insurance; we will turn the valve of fate ourselves."
Cato's laughter faded with the roar of the Thunderhawk's engine, while Astran's silver sword etched a new rune into the ground—this time the joint insignia of the Grey Knights and Ultramarines, albeit deliberately etched three degrees off-center.
…………
Cato Sicarius's twin swords drew two chilling silver arcs in the void. As the blades cleaved through the corrosive acid mist of the Deathguard fleet, blue-green sparks from the collision of the energy field and the Blessing of Nurgle scattered like stardust. Four Ultramarines Strike Cruisers advanced in a textbook pincer formation, their main guns firing beams that tore a crack in the Void Shield of the "Rotten Glory." But the real killing move was hidden behind that crack—Russell's modified Thunderhawk gunboat sped close to the shadow of the flagship's belly, the Guilliman quote painted on its wings, "Reason is the sharpest sword the Emperor has given mankind," flickering in the gunfire.
"Blue Can, your feint was too deliberate!" Lord Grox's roar boomed through the full-band communication. The Plague Warship's tentacle-like cannons spewed out viscous corrosive liquid, but it was intercepted by the Grey Knight Blackrock Destroyer, which suddenly turned just before hitting Cato's flagship. Astram's silver sword was stuck in the ship's psionic amplifier, and the exorcism runes eroded along the cannon's grooves, transforming Nurgle's blessing into pure warp flames.
Russell's fingers traced a trail of golden arcs across the control panel, and the Thunderhawk's engine roared abnormally under overload. He heard Cato's cold laugh on the channel: "Mortal, you have 120 seconds to prove Lord Guilliman's words aren't toilet paper."
“Enough to gild the toilet.” Russell yanked the control stick, and the gunboat squeezed through the gaps in the closing armor layer into the flagship hangar. Sparks from the friction between the tires and the corroded deck ignited the piled-up plague barrels.
In the shockwave of the explosion, he tumbled to the ground, his entrenching tool slicing through the onrushing corrupted machine servants. Golden electric netting surged along the pipes toward the engine room—this was the psionic beacon he and Astran had agreed upon.
Cato's twin swords were now blooming with deathly flowers in space. Two Deathguard assault ships attempted to flank him, but he lured them into a minefield by tapping the bridge control console with the hilts of his swords at a specific frequency. As the Plagueship disintegrated in a series of explosions, he whispered into the communicator: "Tell Lord Guilliman, Macragge's sword is always one step ahead of Nurgle's pus."
Inside the engine room, Russell wedged the molten bomb into the Plague engine's artery, then looked up to see a fragment of the Emperor's icon on the bulkhead—or rather, a corner of Guilliman's portrait. He instinctively ran his hand over a replica of Guilliman's tactics manual, hidden inside his breastplate, found three years ago on the corpse of an Ultramariner recruit. "For the light of Guilliman's reason," he murmured, pressing the detonator, his voice swallowed by a burst of light brighter than the birth of a star.
As the escape pod ejected into space, Russell saw Cato's flagship ramming the last Deathguard warship, its twin swords emblem resembling a blood-stained moon against the backdrop of the explosion. Suddenly, Astran's voice came through the channel: "Your detonation point was 0.3 meters off-target."
“But the Emperor’s sword,” Russell said, gazing at the collapsing Plague flagship, golden arcs of electricity crackling at his fingertips in Guilliman’s tactical symbol, “always lands where it should cleave.”