Chapter 27 Coup D'état

“A war dance?

That sounds pretty interesting.” Vane’s interest was genuinely piqued.

He wanted to see exactly what kind of performance these oversized space-sharks could put on.

“Brothers, look sharp!

We are performing the Victory Feast War Dance for the Forefather!” Tyberos bellowed across the Chapter vox-net.

Every Space Marine Chapter possessed its own unique culture and traditions.

The Carcharodons were no exception, and their ceremonial war dances were a foundational pillar of their Chapter cult.

They performed them at victory feasts to honor their fallen brethren and forge an unbreakable bond of brotherhood between survivors.

“Are we truly performing this right now?

Right here?

Does this not diminish the dignity of our Chapter?” Chief Librarian Te Kahurangi muttered softly over the command channel.

“Diminish our dignity?

You should be severely reprimanded for harboring such thoughts!” Tyberos snapped back, his voice dripping with righteous disappointment.

“Look at the literal mountain of Tactical Dreadnought Armor beside you!

It is enough to outfit our entire Chapter!” “With this wargear, we can plunge into the darkest depths of the Outer Dark, exterminate the xenos filth, and spread the Emperor’s glory like never before!” “This man has granted us the capacity to serve the Emperor and reap absolute, unparalleled glory, and you claim performing a traditional dance diminishes our dignity?!” Hearing Tyberos’s sharp reprimand, Captains Huri, Akamu, and the other officers all bowed their heads in shame.

Truly, this is why he is the Chapter Master.

His ideological purity and tactical pragmatism are simply superior.

Standing nearby, Dante and Seth watched as Tyberos and the Space Sharks rapidly formed into precise, ceremonial ranks.

With a deafening, unified roar, they began to chant, stamping their boots and violently thrashing their weapons in a terrifying, overwhelmingly oppressive war dance.

The Blood Angel commanders’ mouths violently twitched.

Who would have guessed that these notoriously brutal, bloodthirsty savages were actually this multi-talented?

Vane watched the entire performance and nodded in genuine satisfaction.

The war dance was incredibly impactful, radiating a primal, untamed ferocity.

“Good.

Very good.” The moment he said that, Vane casually tossed out several fully-equipped Leman Russ Battle Tanks and Thunderhawk Gunships.

“Here, these are for you guys too.” Te Kahurangi, who had just been feeling deeply embarrassed about dancing, stared at the brand-new heavy armor and aerial gunships.

He immediately felt a burning urge to suggest they perform an encore.

Personal dignity cannot be exchanged for Tactical Dreadnought Armor, Leman Russ Tanks, and Thunderhawk Gunships!

Unfortunately, Vane didn’t give them the chance.

He ordered them to immediately equip their new gear and place themselves under Dante’s command to assist in the extermination of the Leviathan Fleet.

Tyberos accepted the integration without a single complaint.

Not long ago, the Carcharodons had been returning from the galactic fringe, hauling hard-earned spoils and hunting for a world to enact the Red Tithe.

Instead, they had accidentally collided with the Tyranid vanguard and were forced into a desperate, running battle.

They had been aggressively chased out of their own hunting grounds, and they were absolutely furious about it.

Now, they had the perfect opportunity to vent all that suppressed rage directly onto Hive Fleet Leviathan.

However, the moment the Carcharodons deployed to the frontline, they froze, staring in absolute disbelief at the Astra Militarum regiments fighting alongside them.

“Dante…

are you genuinely telling me these are Imperial Guardsmen?!” Tyberos stared at the fully equipped Cadian Shock Troops, his voice trembling with sheer shock.

These ‘regular’ infantrymen were not only clad in full power armor, but they were also flanked by heavy combat mechs and massive, perfectly synchronized phalanxes of Iron Golems.

Heavy armored columns crushed the Tyranid advance, while swarms of combat drones darkened the sky, providing continuous, localized aerial support.

Any random Guardsman with a vox-caster could casually call down devastating, saturation orbital bombardments on specific coordinates.

The sheer luxury of their wargear was vastly superior to the rusted garbage the Carcharodons had been wearing just an hour ago!

“Yes,” Dante replied calmly over the command vox.

“These men are the remnants of the Cryptus System’s planetary defense forces.” “The Forefather completely overhauled their armory and reorganized their command structure.

This is the result.” Tyberos: “…” He knew the Forefather was wealthy, but he had absolutely no idea the Forefather was this wealthy.

If standard Guardsmen were running around in this kind of elite gear, what kind of utterly miserable, impoverished existence had the Carcharodons been living all these centuries?!

If the Forefather decides to march on Terra right now and completely overthrow the High Lords, I will personally raise both hands in absolute support!

“Perhaps…

we should consider politely suggesting that the Forefather travel to Terra and formally assume command of the Imperium,” Tyberos murmured darkly over a private, encrypted channel.

If the Forefather was in charge of Imperial logistics, the Carcharodons’ standard of living would skyrocket!

“Uh…

I am fairly certain the Forefather would firmly refuse,” Dante replied, recalling Vane’s utter lack of interest in politics or administrative authority.

“It seems you do not truly understand the Forefather, Dante.

A man of his stature cannot simply outright declare his desire for the throne.

He must feign reluctance,” Tyberos shook his head, sounding exactly like a political operative who had seen it all.

“So, what exactly is your proposal?” Dante asked, genuinely curious to hear the ‘Red Wake’s’ brilliant political strategy.

“We first escort the Forefather to Holy Terra.

Once he is standing in the Senatorum Imperialis, we all strike at once!

We physically force the crown of the Imperial Regent onto his head, drop to our knees, and loudly beg him to rule the Imperium and save humanity from the brink of annihilation!

He literally will not be able to refuse!” Dante’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

By Sanguinius…

how does this brutal savage actually have such a terrifyingly devious mind?!

Execute a literal coup d’état in front of the entire High Lords council by weaponizing the mandate of the masses to force the Forefather onto the throne!

Dante could instantly visualize exactly how that scenario would play out in his head.

“No, I could never!

I lack the virtue to bear such a heavy burden!” the Forefather would adamantly refuse.

Then, they would all rush forward and physically pin him to the Imperial Regent’s throne.

“Forefather, you are the absolute Savior of Humanity, the Herald of the God-Emperor, and the living Avatar of the Omnissiah!

You are the only candidate!

Please, do not refuse us!

To save the countless trillions of innocent souls, we beseech you to accept the Regency and pull humanity back from the abyss!” “No, we cannot do this…” the Forefather would weakly protest.

“Forefather, the deed is done!

You must accept!” And then, the entire room would drop to their knees in perfect unison, roaring at the top of their lungs, “We beg the Forefather to rule the Imperium and save humanity from the abyss!” Faced with a scene like that…

who could possibly refuse?!

The Forefather would look down at them, sigh deeply, and say, “You younger generations have truly forced my hand.” “This plan requires meticulous, long-term preparation,” Dante whispered back, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush.

“Ensure this does not leak.” Tyberos offered a terrifying, shark-toothed grin.

“Naturally.” The Carcharodons Astra swore absolute loyalty to the God-Emperor alone.

They held absolutely zero allegiance to the rotting, corrupt bureaucracy of the modern Imperium, and they certainly didn’t care about the High Lords of Terra.

Tyberos deeply despised the incompetence and corruption of the Imperial nobility, viewing them as the primary reason humanity was sliding into the abyss.

Before, he had no viable solution, so he simply chose to stay in the Outer Dark where he didn’t have to look at them.

But now?

With the Forefather, they finally possessed the absolute power required to completely shatter the rotting Imperium and reforge it anew.

— The sheer scale of the Tyranid Hive Mind was mathematically incomprehensible.

Hive Fleet Leviathan invading the Cryptus System was nothing more than a single, microscopic tendril of a much larger cosmic horror.

Across the galaxy, countless other Hive Fleets of equal or greater magnitude were systematically devouring Imperial space.

The planet Devlan was currently enduring a full-scale planetary invasion by Hive Fleet Kraken.

The sky was completely blackened by a torrential downpour of Mycetic Spores, crashing into the earth with deafening, apocalyptic roars.

An endless, chitinous ocean of Tyranid bio-forms surged forward, violently crashing against the final, desperate Imperial defense line anchoring the spaceport.

“For those we cherish, we die in glory!” “For Sanguinius and the Emperor!” Clad in bright yellow power armor, their pauldrons bearing the tragic heraldry of a bleeding heart, the Lamenters fought with desperate, heartbreaking ferocity.

They threw their bodies into the meat grinder, desperately trying to bleed the swarm to buy the civilian populace just a few more seconds to evacuate.

Yet, staring at the endless, horizon-spanning tide of Tyranids, every single defender knew the grim truth: no force in the galaxy could hold this line.

“Angels of the Emperor, you must leave.

This world is already dead, but you must not perish with it.” The Planetary Governor stood on the command parapet, speaking directly to Malakim Phoros, the Chapter Master of the Lamenters.

“You have already saved so many.

Now, you must think of your own survival.” “No.

We will hold the line until the bitter end,” Phoros shook his head, adamantly refusing the suggestion.

“We will save everyone.” “We too possess absolute loyalty to the God-Emperor, honored Angel.” The old Governor offered a soft, deeply wrinkled smile.

“No!

Get back!” A panicked shout suddenly echoed from the barricades.

Phoros looked down.

A group of ragged, bloodied Imperial nobles, their fine clothes torn to shreds, were charging wildly past the barricades, directly into the surging Tyranid swarm.

Strapped tightly to their chests were massive clusters of high-yield krak explosives.

They were launching a suicide charge.

“Stop this foolishness!

Fall back!

We will protect you!” Phoros screamed, his voice tearing raw.

The nobles didn’t even look back.

Just like their ancestors, they screamed the name of the God-Emperor at the top of their lungs, willingly embracing a glorious, violent death.

The moment the Tyranids pounced on them, the explosives detonated.

Catastrophic blasts of thermal energy vaporized the vanguard of the swarm, forcibly blowing small, temporary craters in the chitinous tide.

One.

Two.

Three…

Phoros watched the sacrifice, his eyes burning a furious red.

He whipped his head toward the old Governor.

“Why?!

Why are they doing this?!” “This is our home.

I am an old man.

I am tired of running.” “Leave this place, Angels of the Emperor.

Survive.

For the Emperor, and so that you may save others in the future.” The old Governor raised a hand.

Two loyal, battered retainers stepped forward and began meticulously strapping explosive charges to his chest.

Phoros watched in absolute silence as the frail old man hobbled away, walking slowly but steadily alongside his servants directly into the Tyranid swarm.

“Chapter Master?” Chaplain Andeler’s voice crackled over the vox, heavy with grief.

“The remaining civilians have refused to board the transports.

They have armed themselves and charged out alongside the PDF.

What are your orders?” An endless, suffocating sorrow threatened to crush Phoros’s hearts.

But he also understood this was the ultimate, defiant choice of the people of Devlan.

“Order all battle-brothers to fall back.

We will escort the transports and ensure the survivors who have already boarded live to see another dawn.”