Chapter 364 – Hiss~ Is That Tyranid Kraken a Traitor?

Zzzzt—

A series of bio-electric pulses crackled through the void.

The Hive Mind finally shook off its stupor and its thoughts came alive again.

The current situation was grim, but not beyond salvation.

The Leviathan Hive Fleet did not rely on a single navigator organism—there were five more Narwhal Vessels scattered across other sectors.

If any one of these navigator organisms succeeded in initiating the compressed-space travel channel, both it and the Hive Ship could escape this perilous region.

The Hive Mind had already decided to flee to another star system—to retreat to the edges of the stars, recover the swarm, and get far, far away from that Savior.

In the vacuum of space, several Narwhal Vessels responded to the bio-electric command.

These Tyranid bio-ships swam through the void like space-whales, surging from different directions toward the area where the Hive Ship was located.

The entire Leviathan Hive Fleet was cooperating in this operation.

They were sacrificing everything to ensure the navigators' safety.

Hiss—

The living bio-ships used their own flesh and bodies to construct new defensive lines, blocking incoming firepower. At every moment, bio-ships were dying.

As time passed…

…the Narwhal Vessels drew closer and closer to the Hive Ship.

—

Aboard the Dreamweaver, on the bridge—

The atmosphere was tense.

A massive holo-projected starmap hovered in midair, displaying the positions of the Narwhal Vessels.

Right now, the entire Redeemer Fleet was executing the Savior's interdiction plan—aimed at completely destroying the Narwhal Vessels and cutting off the Leviathan Hive Fleet's escape route.

Their goal: prevent Leviathan from escaping the Baal System and becoming a future threat.

The one spearheading the operation was Commander Volradi of the Redeemer Third Fleet, who had arrived aboard the Dreamweaver and temporarily taken command of the entire fleet.

"Combat Group Eight of the First Fleet, advance five hundred kilometers to the starboard!"

Volradi's gaze remained locked on the starmap, continuously issuing orders—trying to coordinate the battle groups to punch through the Tyranid lines.

The Third Fleet needed an opening to strike at the Narwhal Vessels.

Volradi felt a trace of anxiety.

Over the past days, the Redeemer Third Fleet had been tracking and studying the Narwhal Vessels, searching for a chance to eliminate them.

This effort had come at a cost—extra casualties and ship losses.

If they failed to destroy the Narwhal Vessels and allowed the Hive Ship to escape, he would have to answer personally to the Savior.

But what truly made him nervous were the gazes behind him.

Behind Volradi stood the Savior himself, along with over a dozen Chapter Masters—personally observing this extermination campaign against the Tyranid navigator organisms.

Under those eyes, especially the Savior's, Volradi was sweating profusely.

Even so, his command never faltered.

Under his tactical arrangements, the Redeemer Fleet predicted the enemy's movements and persistently struck and sliced apart the Tyranid bio-fleet.

Eventually, a breach in their defenses was opened.

The Redeemer Third Fleet seized this moment to destroy another Narwhal Vessel.

This slight success eased the tension aboard the fleet.

It proved Volradi's tactics were working—he could keep breaking through and eliminate the Tyranid navigators.

"We absolutely cannot let that thing escape…" Eden muttered to himself as he stared at the starmap.

The Hive Mind of Leviathan was a fast learner—and it held grudges.

If it escaped this time, the Savior's territory would face a future Tyranid wave far more terrible than anything yet seen.

What's more, the Hive Ship was a prime trophy in Eden's eyes—perhaps the most valuable of the entire campaign. Many of his future projects depended on it.

It wasn't just an alien enemy—it was a walking mountain of protein, a keystone of biological technology.

A treasure trove.

Letting it escape would be a catastrophic loss.

To the wider Imperium, forcing Leviathan to retreat with minimal casualties might be hailed as an unprecedented triumph—worthy of a grand plaza and a full Terran month of parades.

But not to him. Not to Eden Grant.

In any major war, if there's no profit—no massive gain—then it's a straight-up loss.

Especially since he'd already signed joint-development contracts with various merchant factions for exploiting the Tyranid species.

If Leviathan escaped now… how awkward would that be?

Thankfully, everything was proceeding smoothly.

If nothing unexpected happened, they'd catch Leviathan in the next few days—and drag it back in chains.

And give it a proper lesson.

As the battle raged on, more and more Narwhal Vessels were destroyed.

But tension once again filled the Dreamweaver's bridge.

The remaining Narwhal Vessels were drawing too close to the Hive Ship—and Leviathan's bio-fleet had adjusted its strategy, forming tighter and more complex defenses.

The Redeemer Fleet could no longer rely on sudden Nova Cannon strikes to break through.

If the Narwhal Vessels reached the Hive Ship, they would lose their last chance to strike.

In the void—

Both the Redeemer and Tyranid fleets were locked in constant maneuver.

Mechanical firepower and bio-weapons filled every corner of space.

Ships from both sides fell one after another.

From a galactic view, the fleets had broken into dozens of formations, each engaged in combat—brilliant flashes erupting across the black sea of stars.

These combat zones formed spheres around the Narwhal Vessels and moved with them.

After all, this was a space battle—the battlefield was three-dimensional, where every direction was vulnerable to attack.

Any lapse in awareness, from any angle, could be fatal.

The Hive Fleet spared no cost in defending every spatial node, protecting the Narwhal Vessels—even if it meant sacrificing every bio-ship.

The Redeemer Fleet pushed on, struggling to break through and strike down the Tyranid navigator organisms.

This was the tipping point.

Any mistake would bring ruin.

Both sides raced against time—with very different goals.

Leviathan sought one last chance to flee this star system and regroup.

The Redeemer Fleet sought to corner it and deliver the Imperium's greatest victory against the Tyranids.

BOOM—

Macro-cannons, las-lances, and torpedoes tore through the ranks of protective bio-ships.

Tyranid shrieks—silent in vacuum—echoed through the zone.

In a fleeting moment between defense lines reforming, a cruiser burst forward at full speed, charging straight toward a Narwhal Vessel.

Inside the cruiser's bridge—

The Savior's sacred hymns blared.

Not just here—throughout the ship, the same song played.

This was their final act of loyalty.

Moments ago, the commander had issued the final order:

Ramming attack.

Full speed ahead.

All hands were now aboard a vessel doomed to die.

Some crew members trembled. Others knelt to pray. Some stayed at their posts.

But none panicked.

There was a serene calm.

This was war.

They had vowed to live and die with this ship.

When they joined this campaign, each of them had already prepared their farewells.

The ship rocked violently.

One technician braced against the wall, staggering to a porthole.

Outside—massive tendrils of flesh writhed, reaching toward the cruiser.

Every fleshy tumor and spike on those tentacles was larger than any industrial vehicle he'd ever worked with.

"Savior above…"

Terror shone in the tech's eyes.

It was his first time seeing these alien beasts up close—and he couldn't imagine the horror they'd bring to his home world if left unchecked.

Thankfully, the Savior had protected them. He had prevented such horrors from descending upon them.

Beyond the writhing limbs, he saw the massive, whale-like body of the Tyranid horror.

That was the target.

The monster loomed so large, he could no longer see it in full.

But he could see its grotesque eye.

That one eye alone was dozens of meters wide.

And then—

He saw fear in it.

In the monster's eye.

"…Heh. So these damn bugs can feel fear," he laughed bitterly.

He had always thought these creatures were emotionless killing machines.

But even as he laughed, his gaze turned solemn.

He knew full well—

At this range, the ship would strike the beast in ten seconds.

He was going to die.

But he would die loyal.

His soul would return to the Eden described in the Savior's Gospel—a paradise of eternal peace.

A place without daemons, without aliens, without hunger or war.

Their souls would not be disturbed.

The technician had always believed himself to be the most devout follower—one who would face death unflinchingly, who could bravely stand before Chaos and the xenos, and offer everything to the Savior without hesitation.

But when death truly came, he was still afraid.

He gripped the handle on the wall even tighter, but his body trembled uncontrollably.

He felt ashamed—ashamed that he had betrayed his faith.

The technician closed his eyes tightly and began loudly reciting verses from the Savior's Scriptures to calm the fear in his heart.

Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind—and with it, a sense of relief.

This cruiser was about to destroy an extremely critical target. If they succeeded, they would earn tremendous glory and merit.

It would be a collective honor.

Unlike the clueless masses of the Imperium, the citizens of the Savior's domain lived with purpose. They were allowed to know much more—they understood clearly what they were doing and why they would sacrifice.

They would not die confused or in despair, never knowing why they had perished.

This was one of the key reasons for the cohesion within the Savior's domain.

"Savior above… my name might be carved on the memorial monument of Eden on Baal Secundus. Now that's a miracle…"

The technician thought to himself.

It was an unimaginable honor. Only heroes had their names engraved upon the kilometers-long, sky-piercing monument—a legacy passed down through eternity.

He too was now a hero.

As for posthumous pensions and family glory—he didn't think about them. He had no family left; they had been lost to a Tyranid invasion long ago. It was the Savior who had given him a new life.

Fighting off the headache caused by the psychic shadow of the Tyranids, he forced his eyes open—he wanted to witness the death of that alien beast with his own eyes.

The cruiser hurtled toward the Tyranid creature at full speed.

In its massive eye, he saw fear—raw and clear.

That sticky chitinous skin looked grotesque.

"For the Savior…"

At the moment of death, his eyes held no fear, no regret.

The impact came.

The porthole shattered, and blinding fire erupted—engulfing every part of the ship.

BOOM!!!

The cruiser fulfilled its sacred mission.

The explosion consumed the Narwhal Vessel.

That Tyranid navigator shrieked like a dying whale, struggling amidst the flames—then finally went still.

—

"No!!!"

Inside the core chamber of the void-beast, the Hive Mind let out a cry of anguish, eyes full of dread and worry.

Another Narwhal Vessel had perished under the onslaught of the human fleet.

It was a devastating blow.

The Leviathan Hive Fleet had now lost five of its six Narwhal Vessels. Only one remained, desperately rushing toward the Hive Ship.

All remaining forces were redirected to protect this final vessel.

It was the Hive Mind's only hope of escape.

Yet, it held little confidence.

The Savior's assault was simply too ferocious. There might even be hidden tricks still in reserve. That last Narwhal Vessel was in grave danger.

"Perhaps… I could seek a truce with the Savior?"

The ancient Hive Mind suddenly produced such a ridiculous idea.

It knew that the Savior was not like other Imperial humans—those who showed extreme hostility toward all alien races.

More importantly—

The Hive Fleet still possessed significant strength. If it fought to the death, it could inflict grievous losses on the Savior's forces.

There might be room for negotiation—even at a price.

Such as offering some Tyranid bio-technologies.

Even if the odds were slim, it had to try!

Leviathan's survival instinct flared. It wanted to live—to evolve further.

And more than that, the Hive Mind had to spread word of this terrifying enemy—the Savior.

The other Hive Fleets had to know.

This ancient intelligence believed that it alone truly understood the Savior. Only it could lead the Tyranid vanguard to destroy him.

And help the Great Devourer feast more deeply on the galaxy.

So it had to survive.

But in a battlefield like this, contacting the Savior was no easy task. Human fleet communication channels were shielded by some unknown force—direct messages could not get through.

So the Hive Mind dispatched several stealth bio-ships carrying synapse nodes—brain-beasts—toward the Savior's flagship.

If even one of them got close, it could use the brain-beast as a node to establish contact—to initiate communication.

It was willing to withdraw, and offer some bio-tech in return.

—

On the Dreamweaver's bridge—

On the starmap, the red blips representing the Narwhal Vessels were disappearing—only one remained, its blinking mark stabbing the holographic field like a warning.

That red dot now represented the heart of the battlefield.

The space around it was filled with layers of Tyranid and Savior ships—so thick they blocked all starlight. The inner ships couldn't even see the void anymore.

Only the shadow of warships and the invisible bulwark of firepower remained.

"Good thing I noticed that alien trick in time…"

Volradi let out a subtle breath of relief.

Not long ago, the Tyranid formation had begun shifting—redirecting fire and clearing a strange path.

A suspicious move—likely an attempt to strike at their command flagship: the Dreamweaver.

He'd caught on.

Even though the radar showed nothing, he took no chances.

Volradi rearranged their formation and concentrated fire on the suspicious sectors.

As it turned out—he had been right.

The cunning Tyranids had sent several stealth bio-ships from different directions to launch a surprise attack!

Fortunately, he did not fail the Savior.

Every infiltrator had been destroyed.

"How did they notice?

Those stealth bio-ships should've been undetectable!"

The Hive Mind's multi-faceted eye constricted in disbelief.

"Did the Savior… predict my actions?"

It sank deeper into anxiety.

Then, it tried once more.

It directed a Tyranid Kraken to leave the battlefield and move to a safer zone.

Using information it had gathered, the Hive Mind instructed the bio-ship to wave its tentacles in a gesture that could be interpreted by humans as non-threatening.

Then it began slowly approaching the Savior's flagship.

Inside the Dreamweaver—

Monitoring equipment picked up a strange Tyranid Kraken and projected the image.

Its bizarre behavior baffled everyone.

It was too strange.

The Kraken had raised half its body upright. Its gaze looked… clear, almost innocent. It didn't seem threatening at all.

Its tentacles twisted into the shape of human hands—then raised them high.

As if it were surrendering.

If it could talk, it would probably say, "Don't shoot, Captain! I'm on your side!"

Eden and the Chapter Masters gathered around the projection, trying to analyze what they were seeing.

"That Tyranid is… weird."

Dante stated the obvious, then fell silent—just to prove he was paying attention.

"By the Emperor… is that xenos trying to surrender?"

Tyberos scratched his head with his lightning claw, uttering a theory that defied everything they knew about Tyranids.

Even he didn't quite believe it.

After all, to the Imperium, Tyranids were mindless devourers—emotionless machines of consumption.

Only within the Savior's domain, and among the researchers on Baal, did anyone even suggest that Tyranids might have emotions. That they might feel fear, hatred, or a will to survive.

In truth, higher Tyranid units were intelligent lifeforms.

This aligned with basic evolutionary logic—even wild animals possessed survival instincts and intelligence.

They knew not to charge flamethrower-wielding humans, knew the difference between feast and famine, and the clever ones even learned to choose snacks wisely.

Let alone a vast alien civilization like this one.

They evolved with purpose, adapted to enemies, calculated advantages—they had intelligence, and desires.

Eden stroked his chin and frowned slightly, setting aside traditional thinking and boldly guessing:

"This might be a mutated Tyranid… one with independent thought. A turncoat among the xenos?"

A defector emerging from the Tyranids? Not entirely impossible.

He did have a daemon as a best friend, after all.

It was an outlandish conclusion—but he couldn't have guessed the truth.

Who would imagine the enemy's commander was the one leading them to the Savior?

Either way—

That Tyranid was worth engaging. It held significant research value.

Under Eden's orders, several warships slowly advanced toward the strange Tyranid Kraken…

(End of Chapter)

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