This Is Our Warhammer Journey

The group exchanged surprised glances.

Didn’t expect it to be that famously “broke” Chapter.

And weren’t these guys supposed to be operating out beyond the borders? How’d they end up back in the Ultramar system? Lucked out and ran into them just as they were returning to the Imperium for resupply?

“Well, this is gonna be interesting.”

Rameses chuckled lowly.

He hadn’t known in advance that the ones coming to rescue them were the Devourer Shark Chapter. After all, Astropathic messages were all abstract images—you played a game of Pictionary with both sides guessing, and if you could even roughly figure it out, that was already worth thanking the Emperor for.

Devourer Shark—origins unclear, but transmigrators all knew these guys were most likely descended from the Terran-born Raven Guard exiled by Primarch Corax.

First appeared on the Imperium’s radar during the 32nd millennium, and since then maintained a vague, semi-detached relationship with the Imperium.

Say they’re broke? They’ve got a pile of Great Crusade-era equipment—three Contemptor Dreadnoughts just in their main squad, even an ancient relic like an Inferno-class cruiser, plus a battle barge passed down since the Crusade era.

They were a fleet-based Chapter, constantly roaming the darkness beyond Imperial borders with no stable resupply. Every time they returned to Imperial space, it was like a starving gang of bandits raiding a village—descend on a planet, collect a blood tithe, and trade whatever STCs they found in the darkness for weapons and ammo with the Adeptus Mechanicus.

Then they’d disappear again for another hundred years before coming back to restock.

They didn’t think much of the current Imperium, but remained loyal nonetheless. It was said they held a secret edict signed by a Primarch, authorizing them to fight xenos in the unlit fringes of space, defending the Imperium’s farthest borders where the Astronomican could not reach.

The High Lords didn’t care for such unruly Astartes either—just threw them a remote planet to use as a homeworld and left them to rot.

The Sharks? They just packed up the planet’s entire population and resources and took it with them.

Due to the lack of external support and no stable recruitment, the Chapter had to be self-sufficient, which made the Devourer Sharks famously... “pragmatic.”

Judging by their long-documented rogue behavior, this meeting was bound to be interesting.

“Patch it through.”

Once Arabella and Colonel Kovek arrived, Romulus raised a hand to signal the runner to accept the communication.

After half a month, both sides had already adapted to each other's communication protocols.

“Hello, I am Romulus, Deathwatch Kill Team Leader.”

No pleasantries from the other side—straight to the point. High Gothic, which hadn’t been the lingua franca for millennia, came through the comm line.

“By protocol, we will take 50% of your ship’s supplies as compensation for rescuing you.”

Old Terra tradition: split half upon meeting.

The group exchanged subtle looks—finally witnessing firsthand the infamous greed of these harvesters.

But fair enough. Technically, they were just a ragtag group. That fifty percent might not even cover the fuel costs for coming out here.

“Whose protocol?”

Romulus replied with amusement, using the same language.

They didn’t care much about material goods—they could conjure those up at will. Besides, giving the Devourer Sharks some supplies wasn’t a bad thing. They weren’t scumbags like Chaos warbands.

But still, what was with that attitude? Is this how you talk to your future sugar daddies?

The comms went silent briefly. As the sound of heavy metal scraping the floor echoed, another cold voice responded.

“Our protocol!”

“Tyberos?”

Romulus asked tentatively.

“......”

Silence again.

Romulus smirked, having successfully baited the other side.

“If you want it, come get it yourself.”

He said calmly.

“You know the rules well, Lord of Shadows.”

Then Romulus directly cut the comms and turned to Colonel Kovek.

“Colonel Kovek, activate the hangar’s tractor beam. Put all empty vehicles in plain sight. Clear an area large enough to accommodate 200 people. Have the mess crew prepare food—no need to ration the stock.”

“My lord, for everyone?”

Kovek asked instinctively, then immediately realized it was a dumb question.

“Of course everyone.”

Romulus said matter-of-factly.

Just because you had one serving doesn’t mean you can’t have another. It’s not like we’re gonna run out.

“Oh, and once the Devourer Shark Space Marines arrive, keep a respectful distance. Let automated systems handle food distribution. If interaction is necessary, make sure it’s under our personnel’s protection.”

“If any of them ask about our identity or your mission details, just tell them the truth. It’s not some big secret...”

“Understood, my lord.”

After quietly listening to Romulus’ instructions, Kovek promptly went off to handle the setup.

Working with Romulus was easy. You never had to guess what he wanted—he’d lay everything out clearly, no loyalty tests or cryptic orders.

Then Romulus turned to Arthur, who had just stowed away the Codex.

“Arthur, go take care of Ram Two’s stuff.”

Why not send Rameses himself? Because the guy’s way of doing things was totally scatterbrained. He probably didn’t even remember what he had going on. Arthur, who always kept an eye on him, would know it all clearly.

“Understood.”

Arthur nodded and quickly headed toward the elevator leading to the Navigator’s Sanctum.

None of them had ever bothered to hide what they were doing. Or rather, aside from Rameses and Arthur, their identities weren’t anything shameful. Even if exposed, it didn’t matter.

These days, no one recognized the Thousand Sons’ or Dark Angels’ Legion-era colors. What were they gonna do—trace them back to Ultramarines or Blood Angels?

Every Chapter had its secrets. That’s why they didn’t go digging into each other’s.

While Romulus was still going over the details with the others, the elevator reached an area where light and shadow were starkly divided, like a boundary zone.

Lifting his hand, he unlocked a passcode only the four of them knew. A soul-chilling cold swept over him.

Warp Contamination Zone—a special area formed by the constant interaction between realspace and the Warp. Divine power from the High Heavens would naturally accumulate here, like weights sinking deeper into a pit.

After walking a few steps into the environment, Arthur reached out and turned something that looked like a valve.