Warhammer: Echoes of Divinity

In less than a month since the war had begun, the enemy forces in the Upper Hive had been crushed. Yet, the conflict was far from over.

The remnants of the defeated forces, those who had broken and fled, found themselves trapped. With no means of escaping the Hive World, they had no choice but to hide in the vast, labyrinthine, and foul-smelling sewer systems beneath the Upper Hive.

Upon hearing or witnessing how their comrades who had chosen to stand and fight were summarily executed, these fugitives realized that surrender was not an option. Left with no alternatives, they turned to guerrilla warfare in the sewers.

But they were not the masters of those depths.

The sewers were already home to other factions.

Some were disgraced noble families, once powerful in the Upper Hive, now driven underground by political struggles. Refusing to descend further into the Underhive, they had settled in the sewers, carving out hidden, baroque enclaves amid crumbling masonry and rusting pipes over generations.

Others were isolated loyalists, Upper Hive citizens who had refused to follow Venomfang when he seized control. Along with their servants and family members, they had formed resistance cells, waging a desperate battle in the depths, completely cut off, their vox-lines long dead, unaware that the First Legion had already reclaimed the Upper Hive and that Venomfang’s reign was over.

With three different factions fighting for survival, violent skirmishes erupted constantly.

And now, the Thunderborns and the First Legion had begun their own incursions into the sewer networks, adding yet another deadly force to the chaos. Plasma bursts and lasgun fire lit up the tunnels like mock daylight, while promethium flames roared through narrow passageways, purging anything that moved.

Over thousands of years, as the original sewer systems fell into disrepair, new tunnels had been haphazardly added.

Many of these ancient sewage lines had even become linked with the massive, decaying pipeways of the Underhive, effectively forming an entire hidden city wedged between the Upper and Lower Hives. Collapsed sections, forgotten vaults, and ancient service tunnels honeycombed the area, making navigation a nightmare even for those who lived there.

While every force was focused on the ongoing purge of the sewers, no one had yet realized that a new threat had just arrived outside the Hive World.

....

Beyond the atmosphere of Talon I, a Lunar-class cruiser drifted silently in orbit.

This warship had taken minor damage during the orbital bombardment of Talon III, its hull scorched by surface-to-orbit defense weapons. But the damage was negligible; if its captain willed it, the cruiser’s macro batteries and lance arrays could still reduce the Hive below to ashes from orbit, vaporizing entire districts in one decisive strike.

On the bridge, the ship’s captain sat upon his golden throne, gazing out at the planet before him.

The Hive Spire was clearly visible against the barren landscape. Aside from this monolithic city, the rest of the planet was a desolate wasteland, either lifeless deserts or frozen tundra. Pale sunlight barely kissed the planet’s surface, reflecting weakly off the ice fields that ringed the equator.

"We’ve lost contact with the Lord Marshal," reported the communications officer, stepping forward with a grim expression.

The captain did not turn his gaze from the planet.

"He has three minutes to respond," he said coldly. "If he fails to do so… I will throw every soldier aboard this ship onto the surface myself."

The officer gave a silent nod and hurried away to continue attempting contact with Venomfang.

At that moment, none aboard the cruiser knew the truth, that Venomfang had been transformed into a Chaos Spawn by his own servant and subsequently obliterated.

This warship had only been assigned a logistical role, a duty far beneath its power. It was merely here to transport regiments of PDF forces assigned to Venomfang by the Planetary Governor.

Time passed.

....

Half a day later, there was still no response. The communications officer was forced to return to the captain to deliver the bad news.

But as he approached, he noticed something strange. The bridge lights were dimmed, casting long shadows over the cogitator banks, and the captain was staring, wide-eyed, through the massive viewing window, utterly transfixed.

The officer turned to look.

His reaction mirrored the captain’s exactly.

The cruiser had now moved into the planet’s dark side, and there, suspended in orbit, was a black satellite.

"Something’s in the void," the captain murmured. "I was born on Talon I. I know its skies. And there has never been a second moon."

"Perhaps… it isn’t a moon?" the officer suggested hesitantly.

The crew began to gather around the viewing windows, staring in silent awe.

The object was colossal, yet smaller than the planet’s natural satellite. Its surface was metallic, not dust-covered, and under the dim glow of the distant star, it shimmered faintly.

At first, many assumed it was some kind of space station.

But as they continued to observe it, they realized the truth.

This was no natural formation.

It was an engineering miracle.

It was majestic, almost holy, as if some divine architect had crafted it and placed it in the heavens, a structure meant to inspire awe in those who looked upon it. Its profile invoked something ancient, something primal, as if it had been waiting there, patient, for millennia.

There was no doubt now, this was an artificial construct.

But what was its purpose?

Was it a space station? A fortress? Something else entirely?

"Fire upon it," the captain ordered, his voice tight.

"Sir, why?" the officer inquired, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"It doesn’t appear to be hostile."

Doubt filled the bridge.

To them, the station was a monument, a colossal relic of an unknown age. It radiated power and mystery. It could belong to anyone.

"Attack it," the captain repeated, his knuckles white on the armrests. "We may not be able to destroy it, but we must test it. We must know what it is."

Though many were reluctant, they obeyed.

The cruiser adjusted its trajectory, rotating so that its broadside macrocannons could be brought to bear.

Meanwhile, from the prow, two plasma warhead torpedoes were fired, streaking toward the silent behemoth.

Inside the ship, the gunners manually loaded the macrocannons, adjusting their sights. The decks rumbled as the weapons powered up, the machine-spirits within growling with anticipation.

The ship finished its turn.

Then, fire.

The captain stood, stepping toward the window, his breath fogging faintly on the armored glass, tension crackling in the air.

All eyes were on the torpedoes, streaking toward their target.

Then—

One torpedo’s flight path abruptly twisted.

It spun wildly in the void, looping three times before vanishing into nothingness, as if it had ceased to exist.

No explosion, no wreckage, simply gone, as if plucked from reality.

"What in the Emperor’s name—?" the captain whispered.

Before they could process what had just happened, the second torpedo struck, or rather, detonated ten kilometers away from the satellite, as if repelled by an unseen force.

For a brief moment, a vast energy barrier flickered into visibility, shielding the station.

And it was not a void shield.

Then, the macrocannon rounds arrived, only to suffer the same fate.

Two shells vanished mid-flight, inexplicably erased from existence.

The rest struck the shield, explosions blossomed, but the barrier remained intact.

The captain’s gut twisted.

"It has more than just shields," he muttered. "There’s something else… something interfering with our weapons. But it’s unstable. Flawed. That system is barely functional."

Then, the station reacted.

It stopped spinning and began rotating in the opposite direction, aligning its surface weapon emplacements.

A massive cannon locked onto the cruiser.

Then, as suddenly as it had moved, it came to a complete standstill.

A glowing crimson energy sphere began to coalesce within its enormous barrel.

At first, it seemed small.

But considering the distance, its proportions were nothing short of monstrous.

The void around it rippled and bent, unnatural gravities warping space itself.

"Full retreat! Hard turn! Get us out of here!" the captain bellowed, his voice cutting through the stunned silence like a blade.