NOVEL WEB Chapter 153: Heartlink
The powerful consciousness of the Primarch enveloped the entirety of the Throne of Shadow's Soveriegnity, touching every critical position aboard.
As a master of the psychic arts far beyond any mere mortal, and leagues above even the most powerful Astartes, his commands were transmitted directly into the minds of the crew in an instant.
The Gloriana-class battleship seemed to transform into an extension of Nareth's body, lunging through the void toward its prey.
The massive black beast "spewed" dazzling lances of light, slamming into the even larger Worldship.
As it swept past the Aeldar Ark's flank, the full broadside of the Throne of Shadow's Soveriegnity roared with fury, its macrocannons thundering at the xenos vessel, saturating its crimson hull with shells.
The battleship then veered sharply, unleashing a second storm of meteor-like fire from its opposite flank, pounding the vast spaceport jutting from the Worldship's exterior.
The High Farseer's expression was cold and composed. He could sense the black beast lunging again and again, biting and tearing relentlessly.
Compared to this war monster, the Worldship moved with a lumbering slowness.
Vast sections lacking in weaponry were ruthlessly exploited by the enemy, forests blazed under the rain of light lance, and the elegant cities were brutally destroyed by explosive shells.
Each Craftworld was a functional microcosm: with self-contained ecosystems of forests and nature zones, and highly urbanized cityscapes.
The natural zones provided renewable resources and breathable air, enabling the Worldship's self-sustaining systems.
In previous wars, these areas were hidden under powerful holofields.
But now, that mon-keigh, this Primarch, had seen and exploited these very zones, launching a ruthless assault on the Worldship.
The High Farseer revealed a smile filled with complex emotions: bitterness, irony, and resignation.
His eyes, deep as the void, scanned the unfolding battlefield for a path, any route to escape this black monster.
He found one.
Yet, the more certain he became of this escape path, the heavier the bitterness and self-mockery on his face grew, eclipsing all other emotions.
The other Farseers, coordinating across the field, sharply sensed the roiling emotions within him and turned their attention toward their leader.
The High Farseer felt their gazes, full of confusion, concern, and doubt.
He entered a meditative trance, forcing himself to detach from negative emotions, and issued his order coldly:
"All vessels and craft that haven't yet returned to the Ark, attack the mon-keigh's flagship. Cover the Worldship's retreat."
A flicker of shock passed through the other Farseers' eyes.
Since the "Fall of the Aeldar," fewer than one in ten Eldar had survived. Abandoning their kin was not only emotionally devastating, but it would also be a severe blow to Saim-Hann's strength.
It would take Saim-Hann an exceedingly long time to recover its current population.
Aeldar reproduction was rare, and emotional extremity often accompanied the process, extremely dangerous for a race constantly hounded by the daemonic entity Slaanesh. Fewer and fewer Aeldar were willing to procreate.
The High Farseers fell into somber silence. They felt the state of the Ark, forests weeping, cities ablaze.
They also noticed that the monkey's warships were forming an encirclement. If they didn't break away soon, Saim-Hann would be annihilated here.
Grim and sorrowful, the Farseers relayed the High Farseer's command to the fleet. The war leaders accepted the brutal order.
They turned and launched suicide attacks on the encroaching black warships.
The Throne of Shadow's Soveriegnity unleashed its full arsenal, shredding the red Eldar ships in swarms.
Aboard the command bridge, Nareth furrowed his brow. He realized that the full operation of the light lance and macrocannons left no surplus power to target the Ark itself. Taking advantage of this, the Ark widened the distance and began to escape at high speed.
The Primarch swept his gaze across the vidscreens and instantly caught a key piece of intel from a damage report submitted by Diana Pauline:
The flagship's auxiliary fighter wing had a loss rate of 54.8%.
All returning aircraft were damaged, and 32.6% were no longer combat-capable.
Astartes gunships had a 20.9% loss rate; again, all returning were damaged, and 17% were incapable of further combat.
The Primarch evaluated the battlefield and made a swift decision: abandon the destruction of the Saim-Hann Ark.
'The cost is too high. Once all Legion ships are fitted with Aether Cannons, I'll divine the Ark's coordinates with the Dice of Prophecy and destroy them in one strike. This time, I won't settle for shards, I want the entire Worldship.'
Although Nareth abandoned the goal of destroying the Saim-Hann Craftworld, he had no intention of letting it escape unscathed.
Divination required a medium; the closer the connection, the higher the probability of success.
And Saim-Hann would pay a price.
Nareth's mind raced, crafting an attack plan.
He immediately issued tactical orders. The Throne of Shadow's Soveriegnity macrocannons and bombardment cannons roared again, saturating the battlefield with a wall of fire.
Few red ships were destroyed, but every Aeldar vessel's trajectory was altered.
The Throne of Shadow's Soveriegnity, shielded by its void barrier, burst out from the crimson sea. Its light lances repeatedly struck at the Saim-Hann Ark's rear.
Each blazing beam struck nearly the exact same point on the red Ark. The margin of error was less than a hundred meters.
The High Farseer felt the Ark quake beneath his feet and checked the vessel's condition, his heart filled with shock. Considering the nature of space warfare, two massive ships moving at different high velocities, the enemy ship being even larger than the Royal Authority's Shadow…
All these variables made such pinpoint accuracy in the void exponentially harder than any precision strike on a stationary target.
It required flawless tracking… and perfect crew coordination.
While still reeling, the High Farseer's pupils contracted. He let out a high-pitched, unwilling roar.
"No!"
With his scream, one-sixth of the Ark's vessels were severed from the main ship, sheared off by the constant "cutting" of the light beams.
Three stellar hours later, all remaining Eldar vessels and craft in the contested system had been destroyed.
The 11th Legion began battlefield cleanup. Nareth led his Honor Guard to the Ark's fragments, now the size of a city.
Macrocannons and light lances had shattered massive sections of the Ark, exposing colossal fractures.
Landing craft flew into one such fissure. Through the viewing port, Nareth saw that this fragment was mostly forested. The systems sustaining its ecosystem remained intact.
Elegant Aeldar structures still stood scattered throughout the thick forest.
Disembarking, he walked up to one such building. With a sweep of his gaze, he noticed vines crawling up its walls.
No one's lived here in a long time.
Nareth knew that certain sections of a Worldship would be abandoned for various reasons, awaiting future reactivation.
Just as he was about to step into the building, his ears twitched. He looked up.
Over a hundred red twin-rider jetbikes suddenly emerged from the trees.
Behind each rider sat a cloaked sniper holding a long-barreled rifle.
Aeldar Rangers, duo formation, stealth path.
Nareth understood that after the Fall of the Aeldar, surviving factions each developed their own methods to resist Slaanesh's eternal hunger for their souls.
The Craftworld Aeldar relied on their "Paths" and soulstones, but soulstones wouldn't be discovered until M31.
At present, the Aeldar mainly used their Paths to restrain themselves.
But young Aeldar often had little interest in discipline. Driven by curiosity, many tasted all the fruits from the Tree of Life, and upon reaching adulthood, chose either the Path of the Exile or the Path of Damnation.
Aeldar Rangers were those who walked the Path of the Outcast. Most wandered far from the Arkships, exploring the galaxy.
As Nareth pondered, his consciousness spread toward the lead bike, and in an instant, he cracked open the thorny gates of their minds.
Ah. They returned to the Ark at the High Farseer's call to arms.
This abandoned region, remote and isolated, had been allocated to the Rangers by the Ark.
When they returned, the battle was already lost. But instead of fleeing again, they chose to stay… waiting for a chance to strike back.