They had barely reached their new position when the ground began to quake fiercely, as if an earthquake had hit.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
On the horizon, a walking mechanical fortress loomed, a black, crushing mass blotting out the sky.
As its shadow rolled over them, the armored troopers seemed as tiny as ants, like a mountain was moving toward them.
Old York felt as if a fist had seized his heart, his breath suddenly constricted.
Yet a heartbeat later, his expression turned fervent. He could not stop himself from snapping into the aquila salute.
"Emperor above… It's His Majesty the Savior…"
The veterans had spotted the colossal golden banner snapping atop the central spire of the fortress.
It was the honor-standard of the Savior.
It burned in the reflection of the shell-fire.
The Savior, the Imperial Emperor, had arrived.
High atop the fortress-class Titan, the Imperial Emperor, in the observation tower.
"How long until we reach the enemy's core?"
Eden stood at the parapet, gazing over the battlefield below. The human fireline was grinding forward, a river of flame hundreds of kilometers long.
Countless Imperial warriors and machines of war fought there in blood and steel.
"At our projected rate of advance, we will reach the daemon palace in… nine hours."
His adjutant, Tarko, hesitated a moment as he read the report, then deliberately repeated the time.
He knew His Majesty the Savior was a bit touchy about that number.
"Nine hours. That's an ill-omened figure."
Eden murmured. He did not know why, but a nameless sense of crisis gnawed at him, a feeling that his own life was under threat.
"Order the army to push as hard as they can. It'd be best if we reach it in less than nine hours."
After giving his orders, Eden walked back to the viewing gallery to survey the front again, and his eyes fell on nine upside-down mountains hanging in the distance.
He stared at them for a moment, then silently returned to his seat.
"This is way too ominous…"
Eden sighed, his unease mounting. A prickling intuition told him that his life was in danger.
"Brother, are you feeling unwell? What happened?"
Guilliman, seeing that his brother did not look right, stepped closer in concern.
"Nothing… just feels off."
As Eden spoke, his gaze slid to the plate of pastries on the table, meant for energy.
There seemed to be nine of them.
Irritated, he picked one up and popped it into his mouth.
He did not actually want to eat. He simply wanted to break that unlucky number. Just looking at it bothered him.
Only after he swallowed did he realize he'd been wrong. There had been ten pastries before.
Now that he'd eaten one, there were nine left.
"???"
Eden stared at the nine pastries on the plate, then glanced at the plates in front of his other Primarch brothers.
They also held nine apiece.
"Hiss…"
He sucked in a sharp breath, sprang to his feet, and strode toward the exit of the observation tower.
"Brother, where are you going?" Guilliman rose as well, even more puzzled now.
"It's fine. I just have something to take care of. I'll be right back."
Eden waved to his brothers, signaling that there was no problem.
Then he headed for a special compartment within the fortress.
This was all far too ominous, downright uncanny. He had to go consult the Emperor, or the Buddha, or God himself to suppress this bad luck.
Time to fix his fortune.
(End of Chapter)
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