Another blast of las fire forced Verenth and the others to duck again. Verenth didn't dare try to check how damaged their plasteel parapet was.

He didn't want to know how much ammunition was left among them.

They'd expended so much on that daemon's shield; surely the others were as low as him? Verenth opened his revolver and placed another round of bullets in; he only had two rounds left. He moved a few metres to his left and glanced about. Adelana and Halsin knelt not far away, both firing over the lip with disciplined blasts of lasfire; meanwhile, Kamen sat with her back against the wall, looking like she was nodding in and out of consciousness. Further on knelt Jelket, Helma and Torris. Jelket's and Helma's Hellguns sliced through the enemy far more effectively than the lasguns or Verenth's revolver and autos.

Verenth cursed beneath his breath, wishing he hadn't stuck to his guns and at least brought a lasgun.

His mind wandered back to the underhive of Omnartus, how his pistols were more than enough then. The gang fights he took part in were brutal and brief, some were close fought, some slaughters but on a whole lower level than all of the struggles he'd taken part of as a Throne Agent. Those fights seemed so important, so vital, he remembered how he was the best fighter in his gang, his pistols faster and more accurate than anyone else's and how so many enemy moody hammers died by his bullets. But none of that mattered, what he thought were battles were only tiny skirmishes fought for vain, selfish reasons, this was revealed to him, his brother and his gang when Inquisitor Brutis 'Bones' Tybalt came to them for help. Frigging in hell, later he then realised how he wasn't that great, when Attelus and his crew of nine others began their 'investigation' and slaughtered so many of his friends and allies and enemies like they were nothing. Breaking, or sneaking into hideouts they had thought impossible to find or attack.

Verenth couldn't help roll his eyes at the thought of that strange, strange, strange little man. Could he be an immortal? Attelus seemed frigging sure he was, but that could just be him being insane.

But if it were true, now Verenth wouldn't get his vengeance against the man who killed his brother.

Since the death of Omnartus, Verenth's thirst for revenge had withered his thirst for anything had withered.

Including the idea of him dying, which was going to happen very damn soon.

Verenth frowned and blinked away his exhaustion. He was beginning to regret joining up with Inquisitor Enandra instead of Inquisitor Tybalt, but the belief had driven that choice that he could one day avenge his brother and his planet.

In his arrogance and after all, he'd survived through; he truly believed he would live to finish those goals. That he was just and so the God-Emperor would protect him and guide him until then.

Verenth grimaced, maybe the Emperor wasn't because Verenth wasn't so special, maybe he was just a tiny part of this gigantic scheme? Maybe everything he did, didn't really matter?

Verenth exhaled, and popped out of cover, pistols blazing down into the horde below. The killing field they'd made was beyond ludicrous now and was ever-expanding. That did matter, Verenth supposed, that mattered to him and the others and the enemy.

And before they ran out of ammo and were overrun, Verenth would make damned frigging sure that it would matter even more.


Only a few seconds into Kalakor's sorcery, despite the pumping in his skull Attelus' enhanced hearing caught the clomping of hooves down the corridor, Attelus quickly counted there were at least five pairs.

'F-frig they're coming!' Th-there's no way in f-frigging h-hell I-I-I-I can h-hold th-them off!'

'I am aware of that and you can, you will, you must, Attelus Kaltos. Or all of our effort will be for nought. You only have to face one at a time if you fight well and you need only hold them off. Now might be a good time to use that second injector.'

Attelus swayed, nodded and pulled one from the pocket of his flak jacket with a shaking, sweaty hand.

'I-I ha-hate this sh-shit, K-K-Kalakor.'

'What "shit" do you mean? This situation? Or the drugs coursing through your veins?'

'B-both,' said Attelus as he finally managed to inject the stuff into his neck.

Attelus began to writhe and shake even more. His head raised to ceiling into a silent scream as the pain and strange bubbling exploded through every inch of his musculature. His vision became encircled by a red haze, and his fear dissolved into a killing urge.

The first daemon appeared in the hallway, stepping out of the left side of the T-junction around seven metres away. The Bloodletter could barely fit in the corridor, its tongue wavering and probing from its black maw bordered by razor-sharp teeth. Its long sword the same as all the others before, made from black obsidian-like material and veined with lines of bright magma bright lines of blood. The Bloodletter's black, lidless gaze appraised Attelus with what might've been a curious tilt of its huge, horned skull. It began towards him.

Despite the tightness in his chest, Attelus laughed so loud and hard it shook his frame. Then with a snarl which sent a spray of bloody spittle from his mouth, he exploded into a charge.

The Bloodletter raised its sword, then swiped out at Attelus in a vast downward, diagonal arc. Attelus darted aside it then cut his powersword across the Bloodletter's chest with a horizontal slash. It felt like he was cutting through a tree made out of plasteel with a wooden dummy blade. Even still, the daemon raised its head and roared out in pain. Now within the inside the reach of its sword, Attelus laid in, cutting the monster again and again with no rhyme or reason and the daemon reeled from his onslaught. Eventually, the Bloodletter managed to swipe out its claws which forced Attelus to slide back. In the next split second the Bloodletter cut for Attelus' knees. Attelus jumped over it then went to dash in again, but the daemon had learned, and it reversed its blade into downward vertical bash. Attelus managed to sidestep it before it smashed into the floor, denting in the rockcrete sending up dust and making Attelus stumble. Then it turned its sword into a horizontal cut.

But Attelus wasn't as off-balance as the daemon thought so he lunged forwards onto the daemon's flank and cut into the Bloodletter's right knee, once, twice, it was on the fifth when Attelus finally sliced most of the way through; then he sent a side-kick smashing against it.

The Bloodletter let out a roar, lost its balance, and fell like a cut tree. Attelus threw himself away just before it collapsed its sinuous bulk on top of him.

Attelus rolled and spun to face the next Bloodletter as it stepped over its kindred. It roared its hate, its fury at Attelus and Attelus roared back, then burst out into laughter, although he didn't know if it was out of joy for the fight or at the absurdity of it.

The Bloodletter charged and sliced out diagonally upward. Still laughing, Attelus ducked it, and as he did, he noticed the damage in the floor and it gave him an idea which seemed to pierce his hazy mind. The daemon turned the diagonal attack into a downward vertical bash, and as it did, Attelus began slashing into the damaged floor. He managed three before the daemon's sword descended for him. Attelus slipped sidewards and did something anathema to his philosophy as a fighter, he spun, pirouetting into a downward bash of his power-sword that crashed against the back of the daemon's sword with all the strength, weight and momentum he could muster. He clenched his teeth at the impact made shivering pain course from his fingers to the tops of his arms then his whole body, but he still managed to manipulate daemon's sword's trajectory and momentum so it imbedded deep in the damaged floor.

Before the Bloodletter could even begin to tug its sword, Attelus leapt up and slashed the daemon across the eyes. It cried out and spun away, letting go of its sword and clawing at its face. Attelus thanked his luck these daemons felt pain, unlike the things Etuarq commanded back on Omnartus.

Attelus landed and watched while the third Bloodletter didn't hesitate to impale its brethren through the chest then smashed the second daemon against the wall, slinging it off its blade. The second daemon screamed and writhed as it fizzled and broke apart into shards of eldritch purple.

The third daemon came at Attelus with more caution than its predecessors, jabbing a probing stab for the Throne Agent, holding its sword with one hand for maximum reach. Attelus weaved beneath it like a prized pugilist, then slipped aside its short, diagonal upward slice.

Good, Attelus thought. Be careful, it'll make it all the easier to hold you back.

Another idea hit Attelus, which made him glance at the second daemon's sword, still embedded in there. Why hadn't it disappeared with its owner? The third Bloodletter cut again, with a deceptive low diagonal cut which could've been mistaken for being horizontal, but Attelus slipped out its arc.

Attelus gave the flat of the stuck blade an absent kick, but it only wiggled in its perch slightly, which was what he hoped for. Then he cut his sword into the cracked, beaten floor with all the power he could manage.

The Bloodletter seemed to sense he had a plan and it came at him with two massive diagonal, downward blows which sent him skidding backwards in desperation.

Attelus managed a curse through his clenched teeth, by the Emperor he wished he could block or even parry. The Bloodletter kept on advancing, filling the width of the corridor with its constant swings. It came to the sword of its dead comrade and stopped there. It could've tried to keep coming, and Attelus didn't know why it stopped until it tugged out the sword.

Attelus sighed and rolled his eyes, but then he remembered something and his hand shot to his chest holster beneath his flak jacket.

The Bloodletter continued toward him, still laughing as it began to swing its dual swords in a sweeping arc after sweeping arc as its two remaining brethren followed not far behind it.

Attelus smiled back as he took out one of his four krak grenades primed it, dropped it, then kicked it. The anti-tank grenade bounced and skittered across the floor, stopping in the middle of the cracked, craved rockcrete.

The daemons had only enough time to look down before the explosion rocked the corridor and evaporated the third in line Bloodletter's legs from the knees down and, as Attelus hoped, the floor collapsed a good five metres of rockcrete beneath their hooves. They bellowed as they dropped out of sight.

With careful steps, Attelus approached the hole while prepping one of his four frag grenades and glanced down. The Bloodletters had fallen a good ten metres into what seemed to be an old bar, they laid on their backs or sides but they didn't seem stunned as they glared up at him with their black orbed, hate-fuelled eyes.

Attelus tossed in the frag, then another in quick succession, aiming them where he hoped they'd do the most damage.

The Bloodletters roared in pain and rage as they became consumed by explosive shrapnel and disappeared in a haze of rockcrete dust.

The micro-bead beeped in Attelus' ear.

'I heard explosions, how fares your defence?'

Attelus reached for his ear and managed to say through his teeth and hissing breathing. 'I-it's d-d-done, Sp-s-pace M-Marine. I have...m-m-manged to d-d-defeat them...s-somehow.'

There was a long pause. 'I do not understand.'

'N-n-n-neither do-do I. A-although, I-I-I-I did hold my o-own against a Bloodthirster before a-a-a-and I h-h-have d-d-d-d-defeated a Space M-Marine before. Two...N-n-n-no th-three, actually. O-o-one of th-them was a Chaos Space M-Marine named Erdaku...Erdaku-!'

'What are you on about? You are speaking a load of...'

The Space Marine sighed. 'Never mind, just get in here. I am upon the cusp of completing the tear.'

'U-u-u-understood,' said Attelus as he turned and ran back into the meeting room.

Kalakor had his back to him, the tear in reality about half a metre open.

'Do you think you can fit through this? You are quite very tiny, even for a mortal.'

'I-I'm n-n-not m...N-never mind. I d-don't k-k-know, in all honesty, but I-I can try.'

'Good. Tell me, young man. Are you afraid?'

'I-I am. I'm always afraid, Kalakor.'

Kalakor nodded. 'And yet you continue to fight through it all. This is why humanity is worth fighting for, and worth dying for. I wish you luck, Attelus Kaltos! Now go!'

Attelus nodded back, then lunged and dived headfirst through the portal.