The plains of Aten III were filled with as much blood and violence as very few worlds of the Segmentus Obscurus had witnessed in their fateful existence. Mere mortals fell before the maelstrom of battle. The champions faced each other face to face against their opponents and the hundreds of thousands of warriors who walked on such contaminated lands. It was an absolute war. A war worthy of Warhammer 40k. But far from all the massacre, a capricious god watched the battlefield with satisfaction.

Slaanesh, god of excess, looked anxiously at the battlefield, as thousands of lives were lost every second. The god himself had no apparent reason to be contemplating such a crazy war scenario, since the souls of humans were claimed by Nurgle, god of the chaos of rot, and the orks... well... That was something that even the chaos gods themselves wanted to know.

Still, despite there being no elder present whose soul he could claim, Slaanesh enjoyed watching his "toy" blind so many lives in a few minutes of battle, and the sudden appearance of that Black Templar chaplain promised a performance worth appreciating. However, what this powerful entity least expected would be an unexpected visit.

Slannesh: - Well, well. I must say that it is quite a surprise. I never expected someone like you to deign to visit my joyful lands, god of chaos Tzeentch. -

On this occasion, the god of excess had a more masculine bearing, and his voice was that of a powerful Roman gladiator, but he always wore strange elements that, no matter how handsome he appeared, gave that feeling of discomfort to anyone who was in his presence. Your presence.

Tzeentch: - Believe me. It is not my pleasure to come to such shameless materialization of the warp. - As always, the god of chaos of change and knowledge, showed himself with an ostentatious air and an exquisite vocabulary.

Slannesh: - Oh... Did you come to mock my humble abode and want me to tear off your head? Or are you coming for something else? -

Tzeentch: - You can lie peacefully on your throne of lust. Today I have no intention of disturbing your comfort. If there is a reason why I come to such a place far from any source of wisdom, it is out of mere curiosity. -

Slaanesh: - Mmm. And you can know that... it aroused the curiosity of the "great god of the Tzeentch case" in my domains. -

Tzeentch: - Not in your domain exactly. -

It was then that Slaanesh realized it. The sight of the unwanted guest fell on the battlefield of Atem III, more specifically, on the ork with white mane dyed crimson in the heat of battle.

Slaanesh: - So that's it. You're... curious about my little experiment. -

Tzeentch: - It is not so much curiosity about the subject, but curiosity about the motive. -

Slaanesh: - What do you mean? -

Tzeentch: - Why would the god of pleasure create a creature like this? I don't see lust in his actions. Nothing that can satisfy your... twisted tastes. You defied Nurgle by taking this mortal's soul on a whim, and created a being that commands the attention of Khorne himself. What do you propose with all this? -

Slaanesh: - Oh, my dear Tzeentch. I think you're overvaluing me. I just wanna have fun. And really, I don't care what you other chaos gods think about it. But I warn you that if you dare to take one of my... toys... You will have to deal with me. -

Slannesh's face showed a macabre laugh, but his words were very serious. Even so, the god of change did not back down from that, and only sighed deeply at the idea he heard, so much so that he turned around to leave that place that was so unpleasant to him. but not before stopping thoughtfully and looking over his shoulder at Slaanesh.

Tzeetch: - You may be powerful, Slaanesh. But you're still too young to play with the balance of power that way. There are forces that you may not know about. Forces that not even Khorne himself would dare challenge. -

At the words, Slannesh's smile faded from his face. Unlike the other two gods of chaos, Tzeetch was a being shrouded in mystery and each of his words meant more than one thing. Unlike Khorne, whose words were devoid of any lies, or Nurgle, whose voice only showed the dystopia within, Tzeentch was an entity whose words could not be ignored.

Tzeentch: - Just... be careful. Many eyes are on that monster you have created. - And as he arrived without warning, the mysterious god of chaos disappeared.

Slaanesh may have acted like a purposeless lustful entity whose only reason for existing is to indulge its most extravagant excesses, but beyond that mask of lust it wore was a very calculating and dangerous mentality. One who couldn't help but feel some concern at the words of the most enigmatic god of chaos of all. Words that... made him feel somewhat... uneasy.

Meanwhile, far from the supernatural problems and ignorant of the situation of the rest of the battlefield, Commissioner Harrus fought side by side with the black angels who fell to give such a desperate turn to events.

The commissioner's voice was forceful and fearless, despite the hundreds of thousands of heavily armed orks who were barely a hundred meters away from him ready to end his life. The men of the Astra Militarun, most of them from Cantus, listened to his words as if they were those of a hero sent by the Emperor himself. The Krieg soldiers who listened to him felt admiration for the one who earned the respect of their colonel in combat. And even the Astartes who heard him showed some respect. Furthermore, his improvised tactics adapted very well to the advance of the Templars, managing to find the gaps and key points through which to send his men.

Harrus: - ¡Let two squadrons reinforce the northern flank! I want a company reinforcing the Templars in the center! Let the Krieg soldiers support the southern flank! And bring those armored vehicles to the front! -

Having heard no other voice give orders, Harrus rose above everyone and began to direct all the forces present. As soon as the Black Templars arrived, they had orders to advance and form a defensive perimeter, but upon seeing how that nameless commissioner moved his units so effectively between their ranks, they also decided to follow his commands. Curiously, the Southern Front, under the improvised command of Commissar Harrus not only stopped the Orks, but also drove them back. Nothing more and nothing less than the meganobles under Kurnet's side.

Harrus was so engrossed in his mission that he couldn't even feel the enormous mass of metal approaching behind him.

?????: - Are you Commissioner Harrus?- Said a voice behind him.

The commissioner turned around, excited by the arrival of the new superior of the Black Templars. No one told him about his arrival, but he would know that he would appear sooner or later, and just in time, because not knowing the true potential of the Astartes, he feared making a mistake when commanding troops whose effectiveness he did not know. But what he saw behind him left him stunned.

The voice came not from any man, or from any man per se, but from a coffin of iron, gears, and death. There was no doubt. That was a Black Templar dreadnought.

Dreadnought: - Are you Commissioner Harrus? - He asked again when he saw that the man did not answer his question.

Harrus: - Y... Yes... I am.-

The commissioner was shocked. He knew of the existence of such avatars of war, but he had never been in the presence of one, much less one as imposing as that one. An imposing mass of imperial steel, fifteen feet high, adorned with the crosses and symbols of its chapter everywhere.

Dreadnought: - Soy brother-in-arms Haragon. And the chaplain has sent me here to support him. What is the situation? -

Harrus: - We have managed to stop the orc advance, and now we are regaining ground. Your men are ready to advance when you decide. -

In anger: -Don't get me wrong, Commissioner. I was sent to support you, not to take command of this sector. -

Harrus: - On... But... -

In anger: -Those are my orders. Commissar. -

Harrus wanted to punch someone for this. They were supposed to send a trained officer to relieve, not one of the chapter's best warriors.

They knew very little about this, but the dreadnoughts were not simple warriors. Being a dreadnought was quite an honor, since its interior was only reserved for those space marines who, in life, were the best Astartes of their chapters. And if this particular dreadnought retained its memories, then it was a warrior whose power was beyond even the commissioner's own imagination. But at least the simple human had something on his mind.

Harrus: - We were informed of the appearance of a huge orc right in front. Five to six meters high. One that apparently the rest of the greenskins follow without hesitation. It is possible that he is the leader of the horde. If we kill him, we may end this war once and for all.-

Haragón: - Understood. I'll go face him then. I will claim his head and we will end this once and for all. -

Harrus: - May the light of the Emperor be with you, brother-in-arms Haragon. -

Haragon:-Same to you. Commissar. -

As soon as the dreadnought turned around and entered the battlefield, Commissar Harrus allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. He was very nervous, and the presence of such a metal monstrosity terrified him to the core. Still, he didn't waste a second before returning to command his soldiers.

Meanwhile, right in the middle of the entire battlefield, both steel and warp energies trembled.

In a unique duel that even caused some of those nearby to stop fighting to witness such a display of strength, Chaplain Heldredd and Kanan fought with a force like few had seen before.

At first glance, anyone would think that Kanan had the superiority, as the white-maned ork attacked again and again without giving his opponent any rest. But nothing further from reality.

Heldredd remained on the defensive, blocking the powerful blows of the ork's axe, but his mind was somewhat clouded.

Why did that ork know his name? Well, it was the only thing he said when he saw him face to face for the first time. Furthermore, for some reason, I felt that I had already experienced this fight somewhere. It was as if deja vu ran through his body, remembering the movements instinctively. Every thrust, every lunge, every thrust, every simple movement, towards that feeling becoming stronger and stronger. But being distracted in combat is a fatal mistake.

Heldredd was a few centimeters away from losing his head, because in a deadly movement, Kanan used both hands to bring down his ax in an attack that would have been decisive, if Heldredd had not reacted at the last moment and managed to stop its edge using his blade of his sword. And after a slight struggle, he managed to push the ork back using a great amount of force.

Heldred: - Quite a surprise. I never thought I would see a dirty xeno with so much martial skill. -

I spoke to him in low gothic, although I assumed that a clumsy ork would never understand it. But to his surprise.

Right:-Humanity will never change. As ignorant as ever. -

Heldredd was stunned upon hearing the ork's words. High Gothic was a language that even very few in the Imperium of Man spoke with such fluency. And this dirty xeno didn't even make a mistake in pronunciation.

Heldred: -Jo. I wasn't expecting that. I must admit, you disgusting creature, you have managed to make me feel surprised. -

Right:-As self-sufficient as ever. There are things that unfortunately will never change. -

Then, Heldredd saw him. The ork in front of him, despite being consumed by his own fury, maintained a serene and calm pose. Kanan moved his right leg back, gripping his huge ax with both hands in a pose as rigid as a mountain. A pose that closely resembled the combat style of the Black Templars themselves.

Heldred: -It can't be. -