blogombal Chapter 86 Istvan III
Chapter 86 Istvan III
Chapter 86 Istvan III (2)
two months.
The transport ship cruised low over the gray-black wasteland, its four vector thrust engines whipping up ion streams that left shallow vortices on the volcanic ash surface. As Cohen entered this airspace, he activated the Shadow Field—a microarray embedded in the ship's armor, sharing the same stealth system as the Black Pearl. Thermal signatures, electromagnetic radiation, and radar cross-section instantly dropped to zero; the transport ship became like a silent piece of space junk. Every day, he piloted this armed gunship from one coordinate to another—if that perpetually low-hanging, unmoving, dark yellow star could be considered daytime—searching for entrances to the surface ruins. At night, he used his consciousness to extend deep underground, probing the direction of cavities.
His consciousness extended far beyond the material realm he directly controlled. Within a five-kilometer radius, he could perceive temperature, density, outlines, and anomalous traces that didn't belong to the realm of normal physics. But he couldn't decompose them, couldn't reshape them—
That's something that can only be done within a 25-meter radius around his body.
Only two thousand Casterland mechs were brought down from the Black Pearl. He created food, water, and air directly, and used them as needed.
But what truly consumed him wasn't resources, but the land itself. Within a 25-meter radius of his body, the pollution that had seeped into the rocks and air flowed in like water downhill, being broken down and cleared away. Where he walked, the dark purple hues faded, and the oppressive feeling in the air lessened. But this planet was too vast; all he could do was keep himself and his surroundings clean.
During the first week of the search, he discovered the first wreckage of the Astartes Legion.
A collapsed underground defensive position, its entrance buried under rocks and volcanic ash for countless years. Cohen's consciousness detected a regular metallic structure deep underground. He landed a transport ship nearby, leading a group of Casterland mechs to dig through the debris and enter the underground. The air was thick with corrosive gases, but wherever his power touched, the contamination was broken down.
These remains were buried several meters beneath the soil, pressed into the ground by millennia of tectonic activity, leaving no trace on the surface. If it weren't for his consciousness's ability to penetrate rock layers and distinguish between artificial alloys and natural minerals, they would have remained forever dormant in darkness.
The scale of the position was unexpected. Dozens of Astartes warrior remains lay scattered among the bunkers and passageways, their power armor shattered by millennia of corrosion, yet the sheer number of remains was overwhelming. Cohen crouched before the first set of remains. The power armor was so corroded it was unrecognizable; the insignia on the breastplate was reduced to a blurry geometric outline. He disassembled it, filed it. A new entry appeared in the database—"Suspected Astartes Legion Power Armor Mark II Type Remains."
The Mark I "Expedition Armor." Developed by the Martian Mechanicus during the early stages of the Great Crusade for Space Marines, this was the first fully enclosed standard power armor, marking the Astartes' formal acquisition of interstellar warfare capabilities. Its plates articulated into rings to enhance leg mobility, while a thick coil around the chest integrated a complete fusion reactor and life support system, allowing the wearer to fight independently in vacuum and highly toxic environments. The wide, simple shoulder armor and the tightly sealed chest and abdomen design clearly show the basic outline of power armor used for tens of thousands of years. Although ventilation and heat dissipation were not as good as later models, its overall structure was extremely robust, and many legions were still using it during the Horus Rebellion. The name "Expedition" originated from this; the Astartes wearing this armor were the Emperor's iron fist in conquering the stars during the early stages of the Great Crusade.
It wasn't a complete blueprint; the wreckage was too fragmented. He moved on to the next suit. The shoulder armor of that power armor was slightly better preserved, the outer armor formula was thicker than the Mark I, and the breastplate had a noticeably thicker design. Disassembled, archived. Another entry was added to the database—"Suspected Astartes Legion Power Armor Mark II Type Wreckage".
He didn't stop to determine which legion each piece of remains belonged to. The insignia on the breastplates had long been worn away by millennia of corrosion, losing all discernible details. What he needed were fragments of technology: the alloy formula of the breastplates, the fiber bundle weaving method of the leg armor, and the crystalline structure of the helmet's visor.
The entries in the database were increasing. Each one was marked "wreckage" and "very low integrity." However, the cross-referencing of multiple pieces of wreckage allowed him to fill in some gaps. A fragment of the backpack armor from a Mark I completed the information on the expeditionary backpack's heat dissipation structure. The leg armor fragment from a Mark I-class suit revealed the thickness parameters of the steel-type chest armor. A Mark IV...
The helmet visor provides reference parameters for the extreme vision sensor array.
The Mark II "Expedition" model has the most basic backpack design but the most robust structure. The Mark II "Iron" model has the thickest chest armor, suitable for frontal assaults. The Mark IV "Ultimate" model is the most mature model, with balanced performance in all aspects. The fragments accumulate in the database, piecing together the gaps to become more complete.
Several days later, his consciousness detected an unusually dense metallic signal beneath what appeared to be an ordinary wasteland, its structural scale far exceeding that of ordinary warships. As the transport plane turned and flew low over the area, no visible wreckage was visible on the surface. Extending his consciousness to probe deep underground, at the edge of the five-kilometer limit, he touched the fragments of a colossal ship—not a battle barge, but an ancient mechanical ark.
The ark crashed to the ground from its tracks, its hull severely damaged, twisted, and broken. Millennia of tectonic activity completely buried the wreckage, leaving only about one-third of the hull with a relatively intact structure—a section of the stern connecting part of the hangar and several core compartments. The rest has been shattered into unrecognizable metal fragments.
Cohen landed the transport plane on the wasteland directly above the Ark wreckage. Wearing power armor, he descended the gangway and stood on the greyish-black volcanic rock surface, his consciousness locking onto the blurry metallic outline deep underground. A field of perception expanded, extending downwards in a spherical radius of twenty-five meters. The decomposition command was issued, and the rock and soil covering the Ark transformed into an atomic cloud at the atomic level, peeling away layer by layer.
He stood at the bottom of the deepening pit, letting the rocks disappear silently. Twenty Casterland mechs lined up behind him, their optical lenses flashing a dark red light. After digging for nearly an hour, a downward-sloping tunnel stretched from the surface to the edge of the Ark wreckage. Cohen stepped into the tunnel, the field always covering his path. The Ark's hull appeared before him—a broken, twisted section of armored wall, its surface covered with dark purple sediment. The field covered it, stripping away the sediment to reveal the heavily corroded metal beneath.
He found a crack in the armor, dissected the edge fragments of metal to widen the opening, and led the mechs into the wreckage of the Ark.
The internal passageways were narrower, with many collapses, and the air was filled with old metallic dust. As the field swept through, the dust was broken down, and the air became dry. He moved deeper into the ark along the barely passable path, his consciousness probing ahead. The hangar compartments became increasingly clear in his perception—a vast, partially collapsed space with a shattered dome, from which the rock layers burying the ark could be seen.
In the hangar, he scanned several large metallic silhouettes. Not engineering machinery, but Titans. At least three—one Warlord-class and two Marauder-class—were secured to transport docks, as if being prepared for transport to some front line before the Ark crashed. Ten thousand years of slumber had coated their armor with a dark purple deposit, but the sealed hangar protected them from the worst corrosion. The Warlord-class's torso was largely intact, its weapon platforms still hanging on its shoulders; the Marauder-class's leg structures were intact, and its cockpit hatch was tightly closed.
Cohen stood in the center of the hangar, his consciousness scanning each Titan. This was the first time he had come into contact with the wreckage of the Warlord and Marauder classes; there was no relevant data in the database.
He walked to the feet of the General-class Titan, his palm touching the cool armor plates, an aura covering the entire machine. Disassembly. A massive amount of data flooded the database, and a brand new entry appeared—"General-class Titan - Completeness 61%"
The two Marauder-class Titans were subsequently dismantled. Their fragments, cross-referenced with data from the Warlord-class Titans, filled in a wealth of technical details. A new entry was added to the database: "Marauder-class Titan - 68% Completeness".
Cohen continued delving into the wreckage of the Ark—the remains of a production line compartment, several half-destroyed Thinker terminals, and a collapsed warehouse. Most of the equipment was old and damaged, but still readable at the atomic level. He disassembled the remains of several Thinker mainframes, obtaining several software architecture logs from the Great Crusade era. Not complete technical blueprints, but enough to glimpse the design logic of the mechanical Ark's internal industrial system.
When he finally exited the Ark wreckage, hundreds of new entries appeared in the database. The Ark wreckage itself was also completely disassembled and archived—the core architecture of the power system, the design logic of the hangar, and the layout principles of the built-in production lines were all converted into data. A new entry appeared—"Mechanical Ark Wreckage · Completeness 31% · Core Architecture Readable".
In the third month, his consciousness detected another unusual signal deep within the wasteland. It wasn't a heat source, nor an energy fluctuation, but an anomalous metallic density—a region deep underground with a density far exceeding that of the surrounding rock layers, stretching for kilometers. He steered the transport plane, flying low in the direction of the signal. The cracks in the ground widened, and radiation readings soared.
On the edge of a massive sinkhole, consciousness pierced through the rock layers and reached the signal—a World War I-class Titan. Not just one, but at least five.
Their remains lay scattered at the bottom of the sinkhole, buried under rocks and volcanic ash deposited over millennia. Some lay face up, some on their sides, some half-kneeling, their weapon arms pointing in different directions, as if they had been destroyed simultaneously in battle. The terracotta armor plates were corroded and pitted, covered with layers of dark purple sediment. Cohen descended to the bottom of the pit and began dissecting the first piece of wreckage.
There was no prior data on Warhound-class Titans in the database—this was the first time we had encountered them.
The first wreckage turned into an atomic cloud. "Warhound-class Reconnaissance Titan - Wreckage - 23% Integrity" - Fragments flooded into the database, and a new entry appeared.
The second entry shows a "completeness rate of 31%". Data under the same entry is beginning to accumulate.
The third one, "47% completeness".
The wreckage of each unit preserved different parts. The left arm weapon platform of the first unit was relatively intact, providing reference parameters for the weapon interface and ammunition feeding mechanism. The torso core and reactor cavity of the second unit were well preserved, filling in critical blind spots in the power system. The remains of the dual-leg drive structure and hydraulic system of the third unit revealed the design logic of the walking mechanism for the first time. Although the head sensor array of the fourth unit was shattered, the lattice structure of the optical lenses and fragments of the target locking algorithm were extracted one by one. The shoulder armor of the fifth unit provided the mounting architecture for the void shield generator and the stacking method of multi-layered protection.
As the last piece of wreckage disintegrated, the Warhound-class Titan entry in the database pieced together from fragments into an incomplete but clearly defined blueprint—"Warhound-class Reconnaissance Titan, 91% Completeness." Not 100%, but enough.
In the third month of his search, his consciousness caught a glimpse of an unusual, regular metallic structure above a buried underground tunnel system—the direction of man-made tunnels, the density distribution of alloy materials, standing out out of place amidst the vast rock formations.
The tunnel entrance was completely sealed off by millennia of sediment, but the structure was surprisingly well preserved. This was a supply tunnel used by the loyalists when they moved underground to fight after the bombing. Ammunition boxes, medical kits, communication equipment debris, and the remains of many more Astartes warriors were scattered on both sides.
Deep inside the tunnel, the wreckage of a Land Raider lay across the center of the passage. The vehicle had been directly hit by a volcanic cannon, its armor melted, and its internal structure exposed.
The wreckage in front of Cohen is the earliest Phobos model. This model was used as the standard model after being standardized and modified, and was used until the M41. Its main armament consists of twin laser cannons on both sides of the vehicle and a heavy explosive gun at the front.
The Predator was once faster and lighter, the Rhino was once cheaper and more versatile, but no vehicle achieved the balance that the Land Raider achieved by integrating heavy armor, heavy firepower, troop transport capacity, and extreme environment adaptability. The Land Raider's propulsion system employed a special design adapted for all-terrain warfare, maintaining battlefield mobility while maintaining heavy armor and firepower. Its internal combat transport pod could carry ten fully armed Astartes warriors or five Astartes in Terminator armor. This meant that this steel behemoth could deliver a complete Space Marine tactical squad to the heart of enemy defenses.
Cohen crouched before the wreckage, disassembling it. He archived the energy conduits of the power system, the specifications of the weapon interfaces, and fragments of the armor's interlayer structure. At the end of the tunnel was a large compartment completely blocked by the collapsed debris. Cohen disassembled the debris and went inside. Scattered within were the remains of dozens of Terminator armors. The Hades-type Terminator armor was one of the most elite models from the Great Expedition. They lay in different positions, some kneeling behind cover, others lying in the center of the compartment, as if they had held out until the very last moment. Cohen disassembled several relatively intact remains—"Hades-type Terminator Armor - Remains - Extremely Low Integrity."
Over three months, he discovered more than a dozen similar sites—equipment supply depots, defensive positions, and underground bunkers. Each disassembly added new fragments to the database, and each cross-referencing refined his understanding of military technology from the Great Expedition era. The blueprints for the Warhound-class Titan were pieced together from the fragments to form a complete outline. The core parameters of the Warlord-class and Marauder-class Titans appeared in the database for the first time. The blueprints for the mechanical Ark wreckage were also archived.
But he knew there were bigger goals.
In the third month of his search, his consciousness, at the bottom of a massive sinkhole, detected a completely different signal. It wasn't an anomaly in metal density, nor an echo of a regular structure. Rather, it was some subtler, almost dissolved-in-the-background periodic disturbance—like a pulse emitted by a life support system at its lowest power, extremely low in frequency and so weak in amplitude that conventional sensors couldn't distinguish it from psionic burn marks and crustal noise. Ten thousand years had eroded it to almost imperceptible; only his consciousness, extending its ability to perceive deep disturbances in matter without relying on electromagnetic waves or thermal radiation, could detect it five kilometers below the bedrock.
It wasn't an armory. It was a single, massive, sealed metal container. If it weren't for layers of millennia of sediment and psionic burns, if its signal hadn't weakened to almost nothing, it couldn't have survived for millennia on this planet coveted by Chaos, monitored by the Inquisition, and occasionally visited by explorers. No conventional detection method could find it—only a consciousness that disregards all interference and reaches the very essence of matter could discern that faint pulse amidst the psionic noise of this dead planet.
He stood at the edge of the sinkhole, staring at the dark purple psionic burn marks at the bottom. His consciousness pierced through the rock layers, repeatedly confirming the existence of the signal. He didn't go down immediately. He didn't know what it was. But his consciousness told him that it wasn't a Titan, not equipment, not an armory—it was something sealed away for ten thousand years.
He memorized the coordinates but did not go there immediately.
The Black Pearl's stealth field continued to operate in orbit, and Marcus sent a signal once a day at a fixed time without interruption.
Cohen leaned against the bulkhead of the transport plane, looking at the topographic map on the data panel. The map marked more than twenty explored coordinates: equipment storage sites, Titan wreckage, Terminator armor clusters—each with dismantling and archiving records. The database contained thousands of fragment entries, each marked "To be completed."
But the signal is still there.
The life-sustaining pulse, buried deep at the bottom of the sinkhole and protected by sealed prayers and millennia-old rock layers, was so faint as to be almost nonexistent, yet it never truly ceased. Each time his consciousness swept across that area, he had to carefully discern it amidst the noise of the psychic burn marks—but it was not an illusion.
He stowed away the data panel and returned to the transport plane's cockpit. The four vector thrust engines reignited, and the aircraft continued its low-altitude patrol along the wasteland. Twenty Casteran mechs stood silently in the cargo hold, awaiting orders. At the seams of each mech's armor, the energy channels of the atomic deflection shields emitted a barely perceptible glow in low-power mode.