Chapter 27 Shark: Hiss, can we make peace?

Inside the room, one twisted and deformed creation after another appeared—things as distorted and fractured as the Warp itself.

They resembled vicious beasts yet remained cloaked in the skin of the material world. Some were mechanical, their flesh proliferating rapidly once the suppression was lifted; others were human-like, mutating at a pace visible to the naked eye the moment they were freed from their shackles.

"Ramses truly lives up to his medical background."

Even though Arthur knew that creating soulless vessels for experimentation via materialization was theoretically as mundane as medical students dissecting lab mice in his past life—merely becoming abnormally dark and twisted due to the outrageous nature of the Warhammer 40k setting—he still felt a sense of physiological discomfort.

Those vessels, created by materialization and now possessed by daemons, triggered a profound uncanny valley effect.

It was clearly a sacred act—they were sacrificing their own souls and crafting "silent teachers" to conduct research for the future of humanity. Yet, Chaos had twisted it into the image of a mad scientist’s evil laboratory. Indeed, anything tainted by Chaos inevitably became distorted.

Research into Warp-spirit construct structures, research into castrated-version enchanted warriors based on the Legio Custodes, research into the construction of "Yellow Skin" communication channels, research into daemon personality correction, research into the utilization rate of safe-house shielding functions, and so on...

Squinting his eyes, Arthur let a series of experimental projects flash through his mind. That Ramses could conduct research with such a straight face in this environment, churning out so much work in less than fifteen days—medical students really were built differently.

*Skree—*

The black sword flared with a brilliant azure power field, annihilating the nearest Chaos creation.

Arthur searched his memory and began to methodically erase the traces within this sector. Researching Chaos and engaging with daemons were, in any era of the Imperium, unforgivable high crimes. This was the secret they had to guard at all costs.

***

On the *Nicoho*, Tyberos and the chapter's various captains gathered around a massive holographic sand table.

At this moment, everyone's gaze was fixed on a warrior standing at the edge of the table, wearing a skull mask and cradling a slender, refined gold staff.

Te Kahurangi, the Chief Librarian of the Carcharodons, was an ancient warrior who had served the chapter for over a thousand years.

After terminating the unusual communication, the skeptical group had to seek necessary guidance from this Chief Librarian, who had led them through countless threats. The other party’s knowledge of them was terrifying; not only did he know the Chapter Master’s name, but even titles that had never been made public. He seemed intimately familiar with their modus operandi.

"While cruising through the Warp, I glimpsed the scene ahead. It was a blank void of mist. No figures remained in the void, only fragments of shattered death lingering in the periphery. Intense fear gathered there, filled with disbelief and the despair of encroaching death."

"That sounds ominous."

Third Captain Akia looked at the two ships locked together in the sand table. Due to the influence of the unceasing, source-less rage within his bloodline, he was not adept at contemplation, but even he could sense the danger. This was not a good omen.

"But I also glimpsed a ray of hope. A concentration of intense emotion—an uplifting, soaring sentiment. An invisible bond dragged souls that should have perished back from the abyss of death. The gaze of the Father of the Void has rested here."

"How could you see such contradictory visions?"

As the Chapter Master who had worked with Te Kahurangi for a long time, Tyberos’s cold tone carried a hint of surprise. For a master of prophecy like Kahurangi, there was rarely a need for the obscure, cryptic language used by other psykers; he could usually speak of past and future fragments directly. It had never been like this before.

"Because of that invisible thing?"

"Yes. It seems the librarian on the other side is highly skilled; they have blocked my probing."

Kahurangi replied honestly. After all, he couldn't imagine any other reason for the massive blank spots in his prophecy. It wasn't as if those people lacked a Warp projection, right?

"Then, what is our answer?"

Through the porthole, Tyberos could see the lights beginning to flicker on the side of the heavily damaged strike cruiser. It was an invitation.

"The answer remains the same."

Kahurangi opened his eyes.

"We shall return with a full cargo."

"That is enough."

Without paying further heed to the others, the hunger of the lightning claws *Hunger* and *Slaughter* flared with light as Tyberos issued his orders.

"Prepare the boarding torpedoes. The First Company will remain on the flagship; the Third Company will come with me."

Tyberos had not abandoned the idea of scavenging—at most, if the other party was truly in dire straits, he would take a little less. He knew well that every choice carried its risks, but such was the fate of the Carcharodons. Even if it meant conflict, they had to move forward and tear off a piece of flesh. Because they never knew if they would survive until the next meal arrived.

The sharks knew this world was never kind. Heretics, xenos, and even the Imperium they protected never gave them a friendly look. Thus, they could only fight and seize, casting aside honor and reputation to become the scavengers most despised by other humans.

Inside the boarding craft, all the Carcharodons remained in startling silence. They gripped their notched chain-axes and jammed bolter rounds into chambers worn nearly smooth.

If what followed was to be a challenge, then let it come.

But when the craft's melta-beams tore through the not-yet-fully-opened bulkhead, and the silent warriors charged out, they were stunned by the scene before them.

Before them, fully armed Ironclad Dreadnoughts stood in neat formation. The walls ahead were illuminated by the lights of several massive vehicles, casting shadows of one ancient and powerful war machine after another.

In the air that rushed to meet them, Tyberos did not smell danger—only the fragrance of food.

These were the "remnants and defeated soldiers" that needed rescue, as mentioned in the communication?

This wasn't right, was it?

"..."

Watching the mortals, who had lost their balance when the bulkhead was breached, being shielded behind the Ironclad Dreadnoughts, Tyberos expressionlessly retracted his lightning claws.

"Kahurangi!"

The voice carried a note of reproach.

"I only said we would return with a full cargo."

Shifting the blame quite naturally, the accompanying Kahurangi looked at the dazzling array of vehicles in the chamber. He raised his staff to stabilize the following boarding craft as they attempted to dock, guiding them in while using his psychic powers to seal the bulkhead, which was still leaking air.

A sense of awe emerged in his gaze toward the Deathwatch Librarian, born of the latter's exquisite skill. Even now, he could not see a single shred of the future regarding these warriors.

"?"

Ramses, still recalling his research projects, noticed the look of awe directed at him and tilted his head in confusion.

"Welcome, brothers of the Carcharodons. I am Romulus, Captain of the Deathwatch Kill Team."

Releasing the hand he had used to help Kovek maintain his balance, Romulus introduced himself in fluent High Gothic, seemingly unbothered by the aggressive posture of the Carcharodons.

The Carcharodons, who had looked like bandits just moments ago, instantly became restrained.

"..."

Looking at Romulus, who was as unusually tall as he was, Tyberos’s mindset was as complex as someone who had intended to rob a down-on-his-luck wretch, only to find they had tried to rob an armored transport.

Well, this was embarrassing.