Forge Era, Year Eighteen. The void beyond Vortex Verge hummed with unease—7,000 Tau ships of the Eastern Strike Force pressed deeper into Crestfall, their hulls glinting like a predator's teeth. Lao Jun paced his flagship's bridge, flat face tight, optics scanning the endless black. "No signals ahead," a tech reported, voice quavering. "Nothing." Lao Jun's gut twisted—silence where his vanguard's triumph should've blared. "Impossible," he growled, claws digging into his console. "Three thousand ships don't vanish." Warp glitches, sure—but this? This reeked wrong.
Then it hit. "Wreckage!" a scout shouted, voice cracking over comms. "Ours!" Lao Jun froze, optics narrowing. "Confirm it," he snapped, voice a whip. "Tau wreckage?" The reply came fast, grim. "Yes—Fire Clan markings, pulse burns—ours." His mind spun, grasping at straws. "Just wrecks," he muttered, forcing calm. "Wars chew both sides—ours hit harder." Confidence clung to him like damp cloth—thin, fraying. The Tau had rolled over galaxies; losses were noise. "They'll have more hulks than us," he insisted, voice rising. "Keep moving."
But the void mocked him. More wrecks drifted into view—Tau hulls, twisted and scorched, their angular grace gutted. "Another!" a tech yelped. "And another—twenty-three now!" Lao Jun's optics darted. "Steelborn wrecks?" he barked. Silence. "None," the tech whispered, voice hollow. Twenty-three Tau ships—zero enemy. His chest tightened, breath shallow. "Forward," he rasped, voice a jagged edge. Retreat wasn't an option—his neck was on the line. Three thousand gone? He'd face the Path's wrath. "We push—for glory."
The fleet crept toward Vortex Verge, and the truth slammed home. A graveyard sprawled before them—hundreds of Tau wrecks, a silent massacre orbiting the planet. A Fire Clan corpse thudded against Lao Jun's bridge window—uniform shredded, short blade dangling, eyes frozen in terror. "No," he breathed, voice trembling, optics locked on the dead soldier. "Fakes—they're fakes!" Denial burned hot—war didn't pause for cleanup. Two truths loomed: Steelborn lost nothing, or they'd already won and swept their scraps. Either way, doom loomed.
"Full advance!" he roared, voice ragged. "Three thousand can't be gone—seven thousand won't fall!" Blind faith drove him—tears wouldn't come until the coffin lid shut. But fate swung fast. Vortex Verge's orbit erupted—Steelborn ships phased in, 10,000 strong, Living Steel hulls gleaming like vipers. "Ten thousand?!" Lao Jun choked, jaw dropping, power armor creaking as his legs buckled. "Not our data—new models!" Shields shimmered, gauss cannons glowed green—numbers and tech crushed Tau pride in one blow.
The battle ignited. Tau pulse cannons fired—blue streaks fizzling against Steelborn shields. A Steelborn death ray answered—green light slicing a Tau frigate stem to stern, crew vaporized in seconds. "How?!" a Tau captain screamed, voice shredding as his ship burned. "Ours can't pierce—theirs kill in one hit!" Double doom—quantity and quality. "Jump gangs!" Lao Jun bellowed, desperation clawing his throat. "Board 'em—take their ships!" Tau pods launched, soldiers clutching pulse rifles, eyes wild with Path-fueled zeal.
Luck was a lie. Most pods exploded mid-flight, shredded by Steelborn drones—chittering swarms of metal teeth. The few that landed met Ribs—gauss rifles spitting green death, Living Steel bodies shrugging off plasma. Unlucky boarders faced Scourgers—tripod horrors, claws rending armor like paper. "Ship 345—gone!" a tech cried, voice breaking. "6535—silent!" Icons blinked out on Lao Jun's screen—one by one, then dozens. His face grayed, ash in his mouth. "Lost," he whispered, optics dim. "Despair."
He'd believed 3,000 couldn't vanish. Now he saw—7,000 followed. The gap was a chasm—Steelborn tech a god to Tau's toys. Reports he'd sent—warnings of "something strange"—were too late, too weak. "Stop this war," he rasped, voice a ghost, imagining Lao-kun's face. "We can't win." Jarek watched from Crestspire, holo-maps alive with Tau ruin. "Seven thousand?" he growled, laugh cold. "Dust." Steelborn surged—eagle over sparrows—leaving the Path in ashes.