The cadian awoke to see a darkened sky and plumes of smoke and to hear the sound of lasguns, stubbers, and bolt guns. The mission that his regiment was assigned to was to liberate the garden world of Umia, which had been taken by the forces of chaos. They were attacking the final refuge of the heretics, but they had armed a cyclonic torpedo that they had somehow gained. He looked around to see his squad's demolition expert dead, his entire lower half gone, the defuser that the tech-priest had given them in hand. The rest of the squad in similar states, scattered around him. In a moment of clarity, he grabbed his lasgun from the ground beside him, then the defuser. Standing up, he turned around to see the heretic fortress, then began to run. Holding it one-handed, he began firing the weak weapon at the enemy lines, not bothering to aim. He dully heard the commissar ordering a charge and the war cries of his brothers and sisters in arms over his own breath. Eventually, he ran out of ammo, and he grabbed his lasgun just below the Imperialis, not slowing down to reload. He jumped over a heretic trench, throwing the cheap weapon down at the followers of chaos below him like a javelin, impaling one in the chest with the bayonet.
He continued to run, throwing his last frag grenade into the side gun of a corrupted Leman Russ tank. He could see the cyclonic torpedo in the middle of the fortress, and redoubled his efforts, his legs burning from how far he already pushed them. Before he reached the doomsday device, he pulled out his combat knife, the blade gleaming and untainted. When he reached it, he wedged the blade under a pannel and pushed. When enough space was made, he forced his hand in, and pulled the sheet of metal off. He quickly attached the defuser, remembering the instructions the tech-priest had given his squad. He turned as he unholstered his laspistol, only to see a crudely made red grenade arcing towards him. When it impacted the ground near him, the fire spread quickly, surrounding the guardsman within seconds, and began to eat away at him. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to run, to escape the flames that ate at him for the chance of survival, to forget the cyclonic torpedo and the defuser in his hand and to live. But he ignored it, favoring to stand there and complete the objective, and die in the process. He looked up to see his fellow guardsmen fighting, some going to help, only to be held back by those more sensible. The commissar stood there slack-jawed, bolt pistol only loosely being held in his hand.
Only when he heard the beep of the defuser completing its task did he submit to the flames, smiling as his legs gave out from under him. The cool embrace of death was coming for him, and he welcomed it with open arms.
He awoke lying in the grass of a verdant green field. He sat up to see a great fortress set in a mountain, golden and glorious, beckoning him. He stood up and began to walk to it, unclasping his helmet. He discarded the piece of armor, it's purpose no longer needed. Then he moved on to his pauldrons, the unneeded armor pieces fell among the grass, followed shortly by his flak vest. He unholstered his laspistol, dropping it, his job of shedding blood having been long fulfilled. Just before he entered the fortress' open doors, he stopped and unsheathed his knife. He looked down at the blade, at the reflection of himself in it, before dropping it, the blade sinking into the dirt, and entering the hall of the Emperors' finest
Years later, when the taint of chaos was completely destroyed on Umia, there would be a statue in the center of the planets' capital. It would be of a guardsman, his lower half wreathed in flames, yet with his lasgun raised as if the flames did not harm him. The wings of an angel came from his back, spread wide as if they were shielding something. At the base of the statue sat a plaque:
"In honor of guardsman Talion, who gave his life to the Emperor in order to save our planet"