The daemon dropped onto its knees, muscled arms feebly grasping at the power sword embedded in its stomach, pained roars leaving its infernal mouth. It craned its head up just as a shadow loomed over it.
Raguel grasped his power sword's hilt and effortlessly pulled it out of the kneeling daemon. The hell knight snarled at him, unbridled fury in its eyes. At that moment, it wanted nothing more than to punish the Space Marine for his defiance. Its plan for vengeance did not come to pass, however, as the Dark Angel swiftly and effortlessly decapitated the hell knight with one smooth slice.
The hell knight's body crumpled back onto the snow, dark red ichor seeping from the stump that had once been its head.
His senses and instincts, honed by centuries of conflict, alerted him to a party of daemons rushing at him from behind. By their shrieking, he identified them as one of those troublesome daemons that lobbed balls of fire from a distance.
The imps charged and shrieked, hoping to catch the Astartes by surprise. If Raguel was a normal human, it would have worked. Unfortunately for them, he was a Space Marine of the First Legion.
Moving faster than they could comprehend, the marine turned about, his power sword raised and ready. He first reached the imp closest to him, and with a precise strike, cleaved the daemon in two. His HUD reacted immediately, locking onto the surviving daemons and presenting him targets. Behind his dark mask of ceramite, Raguel shivered slightly as disgust and revulsion flowed through his body.
"No mercy for the ones that led us astray," the Dark Angel whispered as he charged the imps. He cut down the daemons as he passed, sparing them naught but a single hateful glare as he tore through them. The last daemon was tricky, perhaps realizing that death was certain. Rather than engage in melee, it instead jumped back and moved to summon a fireball. Raguel kept running, not letting distance get between him and the daemon. The foul creature finally summoned ts fireballs and lobbed the flaming orb at him. Raguel grit his teeth as he ignored the blasts, needing only a second to cross the distance.
By now, the imp was near panicking. The giant had slaughtered its brethren and shrugged off its attacks like it was nothing. Maybe one last fireball could bring him down. Before it could summon another, however, Raguel had finally gotten close enough and swiftly delivered a kick that launched the imp across the snowy earth.
Unimaginable pain coursed through the imp's body as it convulsed violently in the snow. Clawed hands desperately clutched its chest in a vain attempt to nurse itself. The imp's pain, while grating, still left the daemon somewhat lucid. Raguel saw its infernal eyes widen in panic as he drew close. He felt no pity for it, only sheer unbridled hatred for what it and its kind stood for, and had done to countless innocents. Raising his ceramite boot, he brought it down on upon the daemon's head, crushing it with a meaty squelch.
All around him such similar scenes were playing out. Guardsmen taking down the shambling corpses of both heretic and mechanicus, Sister Cosette gunning down daemons and the dead with her bolter, and most importantly...
"Rip and tear!" roared a man in green power armor, fierce green eyes glowing with rage as he stared down the daemon underneath him, his archeotech halberd impaling a daemon, pinning the foul spawn to the earth. The daemon roared and clawed at the Night Sentinel but the man simply shoved his halberd even deeper into the creature, eliciting louder screams of agony. Its well-earned misery was then cut short when another Sentinel moved to assist his brother. He did so by crushing the imp's head with an armored boot.
Feeling watched, the two Sentinels turned to Raguel. His HUD immediately locked onto the pair, presenting him targets. He ignored his HUD as he sheathed his power sword. His orders were to assist the ancients, not purge them. The Sentinels, seeing him sheath his weapons, nodded at him and powered down their weapons as well. The battle was coming to a close and the only enemies left to deal with were stragglers who threw themselves at the joint Sentinel-Imperial force.
Raguel remembered what he saw when he, Cosette, and the guardsmen that managed to survive retreated from the Sentinel command room, and entered the temple's courtyard at the direction of Hayden. The Slayer's enigmatic associate had unleashed the temple's security at the daemons in the form of automated turrets that shot some form of energy lances at the enemy.
The space marine was briefly brought out of his thoughts when he felt a light tap on his pauldron. He turned his head and found one of the two sentinels looking up at him. Underneath his archeotech helmet, the man wore a grin that spoke silently of his respect for the marine.
"You fought well for someone meeting the forces of the Dark Realm for the first time," said the sentinel, his voice deep and loud. Normally, Raguel would have swiftly decapitated anyone that dared come close to him and lay their hands on his armor. His armor and personal space was inviolate. On this occasion, he would have to silently bear the invasion of his being. He was dealing with an ancient one, after all, and if his memories were still true to him, the customs of ancient Terra were far different than his own.
"This is not the first time I have fought the denizens of the Warp," rumbled the astartes.
The sentinel tilted his head in confusion, mouthing "Warp?" under his breath. Raguel turned his gaze back to the sentinel, taking note of the man's armor. It was painted a shade of green, or perhaps olive. His armor consisted of a chest plate with a single red 'eye' on the upper left plate. Brown padded cloth hugged his thighs, bearing a crisscross design. His boots were bulky and heavy, with three metal studs embedded in the knee guard.
Overall, Raguel found the armor to be utilitarian and plain in appearance. There was no heraldry or any other symbols save for a single script that was predominantly displayed on his belt buckle. By the standards of the Imperium, the armor was drab and would have been decorated more. Armor was supposed to herald where a soldier belonged, be it PDF or astartes. With each passing victory, all would see who would have won it.
Personally, Raguel did not care. Since he awoke to this millennium, the only thing in his mind was penance.
"Warp, hmm? is that what most are calling Hell these days?" muttered the sentinel, half to himself.
There it was again, Hell. The ancient enemy Hayden spoke of in hushed tones. When time permits, he needed to know more about this enemy.
"Warp, Hell, it matters little. All will fall before the might of the Emperor and his Imperium," stated Raguel. The sentinel laughed jovially.
"I know not half the things you just uttered but well said my friend!" laughed the sentinel as he began patting Raguel's chestplate even more. When he had finished laughing, he gestured towards the other sentinel that stood closely.
"That man is my brother, Arkyn. He's a stoic and also a bit of an grouch but he's good at his job. You'll find no finer Sentinel to slay demons or whatnot, save for the Slayer of course." Raguel glanced at Arkyn who acknowledged the Dark Angel with a nod.
"A fine kill," rumbled Arkyn.
"He speaks! Miracles do occur!" joshed the other brother as he strode towards Arkyn and slapped him on the back.
"I've always spoken, you fool. I just choose not to," replied Arkyn, annoyance in his voice.
"Oh brother, we all know the reason why you choose not to speak. It's because you idolize the Sl-"
"Isn't it your turn to introduce yourself?" interjected Arkyn. His brother's eyes widened in surprise. Managing to look apologetic from behind his helmet, the sentinel turned towards Raguel.
"Ah, I forgot. I am Arkanos, together with Grouch here, we are veteran Night Sentinels of Ar-" The cheery sentinel suddenly paused, a heavy lidded look appearing in his eyes. Raguel had seen such eyes before. The look of the betrayed. A pit formed in his stomach but he pushed it back into his mind. As he did, the sentinel recovered quickly and continued.
"I suppose it doesn't matter now. We will follow the Slayer, wherever he might go," he finished, with his earlier cheer. Raguel nodded, feeling that the man wanted nothing more than to change the subject of the conversation. With them giving their introductions, it was his turn to do so.
"Well met, Sentinel Arkyn, Sentinel Arkanos. I am Veteran Brother Raguel, of the Dark Angels Chapter," Raguel introduced himself. A part of him recoiled introducing himself as such. He still remembered the days of honor and glory, where astartes such as him lived to be the examples of triumph and splendor of mankind. But he had to for the sake of both himself and the Inquisitor.
Arkanos burst into laughter as Raguel finished his introductions. At first, the marine thought that the man was taking him as something to be amused by. His confusion grew to heights when the man crossed over to him and delivered another pat on his pauldron.
"So formal!" cheerily said Arkanos, "Please, I'm just a Night Sentinel, not the King of Argent D'Nur. Call my brother and I by our first names. We are both warriors, no? Titles are for nobles, not for men such as us."
Certain astartes would disagree with the man, but Raguel was no ordinary astartes. "Very well. If you return the courtesy, I shall do so as well."
"Excellent!" cheered the man. Turning towards the battlefield, he let out a whistle of appreciation. "We've done fine work today, yes?"
Raguel followed the man's gaze and nodded.
Indeed, they had performed magnificently. The battlefield was littered with the corpses of daemons and their possessed thralls, each with varying states of destruction. Some were impaled and eviscerated by spears, others pulverized by glowing power hammers. There were daemons whose heads were disembodied, limbs torn, and bodies cut in half, while others were sporting holes in their chests, or were completely turned into red mist by the archeotech weaponry of the Sentinels.
The Sentinels fought as a unit. Those armed with energy spears, a good portion of their forces, quickly formed into blocks and leveled their spears at the daemons. Supporting them were the sentinels with powerswords that cut into the enemy formation, forming gaps for the spearmen to advance and lay waste with their spears. Behind them were sentinels with their archeotech rifles picking off daemon after daemon with accurate and precise shots.
When the full brunt of the enemy was upon the sentinels, they counterattacked and advanced with sword, spear, and rifle. The daemons may have been personifications of pure, tainted power but the sentinels defined sheer discipline that refused to buckle under the daemonic pressure. Instead of falling, they closed ranks and advanced.
Then, the veteran sentinels and the Slayer arrived.
While the daemons and their possessed cadavers buckled against the sentinel line, the veteran sentinels and the Slayer flanked them from both sides and unleashed a vicious melee onslaught on the forces of Hell. Armed with power hammers, halberds, and axes, they were like the scythes that cut through the wheat that were the daemons.
Feeling pressure from both sides, the surviving daemons attempted to escape but the sentinels and the Slayer had already cast the net. All that was left was for the fish to flop about on the boat and die.
Raguel found himself admiring the sentinels for their discipline and in the way they fought. They were rage, brutal, and without mercy. They ripped and tore until it was done. Their way of fighting reminded Raguel of the World Eaters who were also famed for wanton murder, but unlike his traitorous kin, the Sentinel way of fighting was tempered brutality, unlike the mindless savagery of Angron's space marines.
He had the honor or rather, dishonor of meeting a World Eater once. It was horrible.
"Ah, there he is," said Arkanos. Raguel turned to see what the sentinel was looking at, and found it.
Striding in the snow, followed by two green armored sentinels, was the Slayer. In his hands was an archaic double-barreled shotgun, barrels still smoking from lit gunpowder. His green armor was now stained with the red ichor of the daemons and their possessed cadavers. His eyes, glowing bright with power as he scanned the devastation on the field.
"It's amusing to think that an addition to the Arena soon became one of our most powerful and cherished champions. By the Wraiths, I'm even wearing the Slayer's symbol," said Arkanos, bemusement in his voice as he watched the man stride across the temple's snow-covered courtyard. At that, Raguel had to ask.
"You title him as the Slayer, or Doom Slayer as I heard from some of your sentinels," inquired the Dark Angel, his HUD locking on to the false astartes. He ignored that and continued. "Tell me, why do you and your Sentinels refer to him as such?"
At that, the two sentinel brothers shared a look. Arkyn, who had silently crept up next to his brother, nodded at Arkanos. The man however shook his head.
"You tell it better than I. You do it," stated the sentinel. Arkyn gave his brother a look that Raguel could guess was a look of disappointment but the glint in Arkanos' eye told Raguel that the sentinel cared little if he was thought of as a sloth.
Turning to Raguel, Arkyn began.
"Before the Great Struggle, before Inferno unleashed its fire, He came. Bloodied but unbowed, He ascended to the Brotherhood. Power and strength were in Him but He was grim for He spoke of the ones that would bring perpetual torment," Arkyn resonated, his tone loud and clear, demanding the ears of those that would listen.
"We took no heed of his words for we were strong and powerful. But when Inferno came, we were humbled."
"The Might of Argenta collapsed before the tide of Inferno. Our greatest lords and warriors were lost in the first battle. On the ruined and blood-soaked field, we ran for the safety of our walls." The regret in his voice turned to sorrow and grief. Raguel pondered on the nature of the Sentinel's foe. How powerful were they that it made the ancients flee from battle?
By instinct, his hand rested on the hilt of his powersword.
"Then, we saw Him," Arkyn quickly interjected, his sorrow lost in a instant. Raguel noted the fierce look present in the sentinel's eye.
"While we ran for our walls, he strode out. When we went for shelter, he walked out of it. Under the grey-skies of Argenta, the legend of the Slayer began. With fist, blade, and rage, he routed the demons of hell. Charging into their ranks with the fury of a god, he tore down their champions, he laid low their warriors and broke their damned backs against the Stone of Argenta!" Arkyn all but roared.
"We saw him, a lone man, valiantly fighting the hordes of hell by his own. Shame fell upon our leaders and warriors for we had run and he did not. We could not bear this indignity and dishonor. We could not bear to abandon the man we had accepted as a brother. And so, the Lord of Argenta rallied their forces and sallied out of our walls." Nostalgia twinkled in the eyes of Arkyn, remembering the glories of battle past. Raguel sympathized with the man, recalling the past glories of himself and his Legion.
"The battle was glorious and worthy of everlasting songs and feasts! The Might of Argenta regrouped and we joined the Outlander as he fought the legions of Hell. The Lords of Argenta rode down the demons with their beasts, great winged dragons whose teeth were razors and whose claws were daggers. The Night Sentinels filled them with spear, sword, and ballista shots. We recovered the dead in which we had so disgracefully abandoned. Our Atlans, majestic in frame and devastating in power, annihilated their hordes with cannons and lances. When it was over, Inferno was held at bay and retreated into their fiery pits to lick their damned wounds," Arkyn finished with a sneer.
"Is this when he received his title?" interrupted Raguel. Arkyn shook his head.
"Nay. This was simple the first of many battles to be fought. On that day, my people learned not to fear. My people learned that victory was possible for He was with us, our sword against evil, our shield against the infernal fire," said Arkyn, reverence in his tone. Raguel took it all in stride, understanding why the ancient would feel as such. There were countless times when he and his brothers were treated with reverence when they liberated or welcomed lost human worlds back into the fold of the Imperium.
At that point, Arkanos chose to interject. His brow slightly rose when saw that the sentinel had taken his helmet off, said helmet now clasped in his right arm.
"While the Slayer received many laurels for the victory he brought us, it wasn't the time he got his title. He only got it during the Battle of Taras Nabad."
Raguel and Arkyn turned to the sentinel who met their gazes. Seeing that he had their attention, Arkanos continued.
"The holy city of Taras Nabad was besieged by Inferno. The Dark Lords of Inferno used their foul magic to spawn a Titan, a colossal giant of immense strength and power, not to aid in the siege of the city, but to kill the Slayer." He chuckled, amused that Inferno would spend massive resources just to kill one man.
"As the Slayer is here, the Titan failed," Raguel observed.
Mirth was in Arkanos's voice as he replied. "It succeeded in laying waste to Taras Nabad but yes, it failed in its purpose." The same misty look that was in the eyes of Arkyn now fell on Arkanos as he recalled the memory of the Slayer's greatest triumph.
"You should have been there, Raguel. You would have seen a battle of gods. When the Titan appeared, we Sentinels defending the city knew that hope was a naive wish. While the defense of Argenta was led well, our resources were straining under Inferno's invasion. Our Empire was now throwing its full weight to combat them but it wasn't enough."
"And then the Slayer appeared?" Raguel added sardonically. Arkyn growled at the marine but Arkanos merely chuckled.
"Quite. As I was saying, we were still wallowing in misery and despair when the Slayer himself showed up. When he did, we all saw that something about him was different. The air around him seemed to palpitate with power, each step he took was measured and the earth shook with each passing step. In his hands, a glowing crimson blade. At that moment, we knew that he was a match for the titan and that bastard beast knew it too." While Arkyn was grim and serious in his tale, Arkanos was much more relaxed but nevertheless warranted Raguel's attention.
"The earth cracked and shook as they battled, these two titans. The Titan of Inferno attempted to use its massive frame and power to crush the Slayer but the Slayer was too fast. While Inferno's attacks were done to deal as much damage as possible, the Slayer's attacks were measured and concentrated, slowly chinking away the Titan's armor. Eventually, the Slayer had damaged the Titan's armor to the point where it he exposed its infernal heart." At that, a massive grin appeared on the Sentinel's face.
"To get to the Titan's heart and finally finish the fight, the mad man commandeered a energy cannon so that he could be launched towards the Titan. By the wraiths, you should have seen the face of the operators when he directed them to shoot Him!" the Sentinel said with a laugh, behind him Arkyn chuckled as well. Raguel tried to imagine the scenario the sentinel's described, a young and green sentinel quaking in fear with the form of the Slayer looking down at him while in the background, a titanic daemon raged.
The Dark Angel was unsure to smile or frown as he found the image to be disturbingly plausible.
Arkanos sighed. "Well, the Slayer loaded himself in that cannon and launched himself straight at the Titan. Like an angel, he descended upon its heart and with his crimson blade; impaled the demon and sent it crashing into the earth." Arkanos turned his gaze to somewhere distant.
"The herald of Taras Nabad's doom was slain, brought down by a man. When he had slain the Titan, he was no longer a man for could such a thing perfectly describe Him? No, on that day, he was known by a new name and a new title. When the Titan fell into the earth, we all knew one thing. He was a man no more. He was now the Hammer of Argenta, the Lord of the Night Sentinels, the Inferno's Bane..."
Something in Raguel urged him to turn his head to where Arkanos was looking to the Slayer and he did so.
"...The Doom Slayer."
Standing tall and resolute, an armored boot stamped over the battered form of a Hell knight, his body standing against the billowing snow-filled wind and his armor illuminated by the bright orange flow of fiery trees was the Doom Slayer.
At that moment, the Dark Angel felt something in him stir. He felt as if he wasn't looking upon a man or an astartes. There were only a few things in the galaxy that made him feel that way, that made him want to bend the knee.
The first was his Primarch, Lion El'Jonson. And the second, was none other than the Master of Mankind himself.
He glanced around to see if anyone was watching and sure enough, he wasn't the only one. A few guardsmen were watching, the most prominent being the cadian lieutenant the Slayer had saved. Her violet eyes were shining with awe as she watched the Slayer. His enhanced hearing allowed him to hear what the woman was muttering under her breath and the Marine found the woman whispering not-so-silent praises to the Emperor.
Alongside other things he wished he hadn't heard.
Turning back to Arkanos, the Dark Angel pursed his lips as he considered his next words.
"Arkanos, you lied to me."
The sentinel scoffed.
"You indicated that you were terrible at telling tales. You and your brother are both excellent at it," said the marine. A sheepish look came upon Arkanos as he turned to his brother.
"To be honest, I only said it so that Grouch here would speak. It's been a long time since he has said anything and I thought a change would be the best for him," confessed the man. Amusement coursed through Raguel as he watched the other brother advanced on Arkanos, murderous intent in his eyes.
But them, the man stopped.
Alarmed, Raguel's hand went for his powersword. Were they under attack? A clicking noise made Raguel turn to see Arkanos donning the helmet he had taken off. Around them, the sentinels began to move as if they were being rallied.
Sensing his eyes, Arkanos began to explain the cause of the commotion.
"The one known as Hayden had discovered something. We are marching to another location which is a fair distance from here."
"For what purpose?" asked the Dark Angel. The Sentinel looked up at him and smiled from behind his helmet.
"To reclaim our Atlans, of course."
According to Hayden, they were to march a good distance from the temple valley, towards a frozen lake where the titans of the ancients had been sunk. Said titans were encased in the lake for millennia , waiting for the right moment to be activated again. As long as there was no opposition it was a relatively simple task.
For the power-armored at least.
Talia and her men had no qualms marching. Even if they lost a number and she sported a leg injury she got from a daemon, they were Imperial Guard and the Guard did their duty, no matter what. The only thing that made their duties a challenge was the snow.
And by the Emperor, did it snow.
The ancients struck a spectacle as they marched in their neat columns, white and green power armor marching in cadence as snow and wind battered them. The Dark Angel and Sister of Battle that accompanied them marched easily as well, the heavy snow nothing more than a pittance compared to them.
Then there was she and her guardsmen, struggling as they trudged through the knee-length snow, freezing their asses off. The kreiger detachment fared slightly better than her cadians- their zeal and devotion to their duties egging them on- but even she could see them struggling as they marched.
"Why do we not have power armor?" bemoaned a guardsman as he slowly made his path. Around him, his brothers and sisters in arms were undergoing the same trial as him and whispered under their breaths.
"Less moaning, more trudging," muttered Talia as she walked, careful not to put too much pressure on her leg. The men and women groaned but complied, a look of stoic resignation on their faces.
The battle at the temple had done a number on her and her men. The daemons there hadn't been lax when it came to tearing apart her regiment and many of her guardsmen were killed or wounded. The dead they had to burn so that their bodies wouldn't be used as puppets, while their wounded had to be left behind and await medivac. It was a surprise when her request was granted but the vox-operator had assured her that the Inquisitor himself had approved it.
Considering that the lives of guardsmen such as her were worth their weight in copper wire, it befuddled her to no end as to why an Inquisitor would even give their existences a moment's thought.
If she could get the chance, she'd try and ask the man why he'd do that.
It was then an electronic voice boomed next to her, nearly making the woman jump out of her own skin.
"Lieutenant Talia, you are slowing down the march."
How the feth did he sneak up on her?
Looking up, the cadian found herself staring into the red-rimmed eye slits of the Dark Angel Raguel. At her point in life, she had seen many things that could last a lifetime but having a Space Marine staring down at her soul was not one of them. The Cadian felt fear and intimidation rise up inside her. The red-rimmed slits, the skull and wings heraldry of the astartes, his general aura that he emitted were all perfect ingredients for the woman to rightly be scared for her life.
But...
She had fought this long and hard, surviving the worst that the galaxy could throw at her. She had faced his corrupted brethren and their fodder. She had been rescued by the Slayer, not only was he a warrior from times long past but a herald of the Emperor himself. Was it not because of her prayer that he appeared? Was it not because of her faith he came down from the sky like a sword of vengeance to cleave at humanity's foes?
Courage rising in her, the lieutenant steeled herself as she glanced at her bandages wrapped around her leg.
"I am still able, Lord Raguel. I only have to-"
"Your injury is hindering you from performing effectively, guardsman," interrupted the Dark Angel. "Your devotion to your duty is commendable, but not like this."
Anger swelled in Talia. How dare he belittle her service!? She may not have been a space marine like him but she was still a good soldier in her own right.
Looking up at him and taking care not to let her displeasure known, she spoke through grit teeth. "I assure you, Lord Raguel, that I am still combat effective!"
"You should have waited for evacuation with the rest of the wounded, guardsman," said he, nonplussed and straight to the point. "Speed is essential here. I do not wish to stay on this mountain any longer."
Talia was about to retort when the Dark Angel suddenly lifted her up from her feet. Surprised, the woman yelped as she found herself face to face with the space marine. Her protests died out when the marine spoke once more, this time, with a whisper.
"We must hurry. We are being watched."
Eventually, the Sentinels and the Imperials reached their destination.
They came upon a cliff that loomed over the frozen lake Hayden spoke of. The Slayer's mood turned sour when he saw black smoke plumes rise from a burning town seen from the cliff. Surrounding the town was a sea of black tents and roaring fires. Of war machines and material. Furthermore, he could see Corrupted in their positions. The majority were the baseline corrupted but he could see a few of those corrupted space marines around the camp.
Then he saw them.
Shackled and weeping, prisoners were being led into a circle by the corrupted. He could see that most of them were civilians but a few of the prisoners shared the same uniform that those Kriegers wore, their gas masks gone and a empty look in their eyes. On the circle were symbols of sorcery most foul, tended to by corrupted kneeling in supplication to a traitor space marine in the midst of the circle, a twisted staff bearing an eight pointed star in his hand.
"Those souls are going to be sacrificed," Hayden chimed in. The Slayer felt his opinion of the man rise slightly as he heard the sheer revulsion in his voice. Behind him, a veteran sentinel came to look upon the sight and a cry of horror escaped from her lips. Looking back, the woman had introduced herself as Grel, the Sentinel-Commander of the loyalist force.
The woman turned to him, cool blue eyes alight with rage underneath her helmet.
"We must rescue those prisoners before they are killed," said Grel, urgency laced in her voice. The Slayer nodded as he took out his double-barreled shotgun. Understanding the Slayer's intent, she unsheathed her blade, a sword with a blue hilt and a golden cross-guard that was powered by wraith energy. Seeing their knight-commander draw her sword, the rest of the sentinels followed suit, simultaneously powering their own weapons in a sea of blue light.
"Dr Hayden, do you have any information on the foes we face?" Grel queried the robotic doctor.
"They are servants of the Chaos Gods, rulers of a dark realm called the Warp. The standard corrupted can easily be killed. The ones in power armor you need to be careful of as they were genetically enhanced soldiers with decades of experience before their turning. Avoid fighting them alone if you can," replied Hayden, recalling the information that he received from both the Inquisitor and Raguel.
"Understood," she affirmed, gauntleted hands gripping her sword. "What of the Atlans?"
"While they may have been encased below the lake, the activation of the temple has kickstarted their cores. The Atlans are reactivating as we speak and I'm calibrating them for combat," said the scientist, a slight cackle in his robotic tone. It didn't take a genius to see that the scientist was eager to see the Atlans rise and wreck havoc on the battlefield again.
"Have we arrived at our destination?" inquired the electronically enhanced voice of Raguel as he strode next to the Slayer and Sentinel. The Slayer and Grel turned to see the Dark Angel striding towards them, a crimson-faced Lieutenant Talia carried bridal style by the marine.
"We have. We only need to deal with the corrupted sitting right next to the Atlans," Hayden spoke through his speakers. Raguel nodded and gingerly lowered the cadian lieutenant he was carrying onto the snow-packed earth. Talia stood on shaky legs, her face red with embarrassment at being carried all the way.
"You also need to know that some of your citizens have been corralled by the corrupted, Raguel." Metal glinted wickedly as the Space Marine unsheathed his powersword in a flash.
"Sacrifices to be made to the Ruinous Powers no doubt," snarled the Dark Angel. Similarly, the embarrassment on Talia's face was gone, now replaced with a look of anger as she turned towards the burning town.
The Marine turned towards the town as well, his grip on his powersword tightening.
"The ones they chain aren't theirs to claim. They are servants of the Emperor."
His powersword hummed with power.
"And he does not abandon his people!"
When Lili awoke early in the morning, she felt that something was wrong.
The voices in her head warned her not to wake up and just go back to pleasured sleep. The melodic ones at least. The angry ones all but demanded her to rise up, pick up her weapon, and gun down those that dared fight against her. She made them all shut up with a single command. Her brain was her brain, not theirs.
And so she went about her day murdering, pillaging, and raping. The town burning around them was the latest their warband had swallowed. She and her cultists had wanted to take the townsfolk and drown them in the pleasures of Slaanesh but the Sorcerer forbade them, wanting to use the townsfolk and its defenders as a sacrifice to the Four.
She was there, idly lounging by as she watched the loyalists being edged towards the sacrificial circle. She was bored, the ecstasy of battle having worn off. There, she wished that something exciting would happen. Anything to take her mind off boredom.
Then the Sorcerer who had been leading their warband had his pretty blue helmeted head explode by a beam of orange light.
When his body fell on the snowy earth, all semblance of order collapsed.
The fodder ran in all directions like headless groxes. Their power armored benefactors barked orders for them to prepare for combat but they were too shocked to even bother listening. Then, people started to fall one by one.
Orange beams of light struck her friends from somewhere and turned them into sanguine mists, their weapons and shoes the only thing that reminded the world that they had existed.
Lili was quick on her feet, quickly taking cover behind a low concrete wall. As long as she would keep her head down, she was going to be safe. She was going to wait and wait until everything was clear.
It wasn't entirely a wholesale slaughter of her group. The unholy space marines that accompanied them quickly gathered to fight back. A pair of boots hitting earth made her turn towards it and there she found one of the unholy ones taking his bolter up. Joy went through her as soon as she registered the staccato booms of his weapon. She watched in fascination as his weapon ejected spent shells that piled up on the snow as he fired his weapons. With them at their side, they would enlighten their attackers on the meaning of pain!
Then, three beams of orange light went through the marine, puncturing a hole straight into his armored chest. The marine was as shocked as she was as he fell on his knees, dropping his bolter at the side for his hands to nurse the hole in his chest. Even with the sounds of battle going around, she could hear him gurgling on his blood. His suffering was swiftly ended when another beam came. This time, it came for his head.
It was at that point Lili decided that she did not want to stay in the ruins of the town. She did not want to stay there period. All she wanted at that point was to leave and never come back. Rising to her feet, the chaos cultist ran as fast as her feet could carry her. She did not care where she went, she simply ran whichever way her instincts told her to go.
All she saw now was carnage. Her fellow cultists rising with their weapons only to turn into mist as a beams of light hit them. She passed by a corner where a group of men were trying to get inside their chimera. The crews turned from crewmen to crewpaint even before they could get up the armored vehicle.
There was another cultist that appeared in her vision. He was a strong man named Georg who held a heavy bolter as his own personal weapon. Behind him were other cultists, no doubt soldiers for Georg to lead into glorious battle. The glorious battle did not come however for they were quickly whittled down into mist with each passing step they took. The same happened to Georg except he did not turn into mist. His body exploded in a shower of guts, blood, and bone.
That was then she felt something hit her, making her fall into the snow. Panic coursed through her as she felt snow on her back and strong arms on her shoulders. She screamed and trashed, determined not to be taken. Then, she heard voices.
"Lili! Calm down!" cried a man's voice. Her terror went down a bit as recognition filled her.
"Puck?"
Sure enough, she found herself staring into the blue-eyed form of Puck right above her, fear also in his eyes.
Puck was her friend since she was little. Together, they found the Chaos Gods and were enlightened by it. Why wouldn't they swear allegiance to the Great Powers? They gave their lives purpose and meaning, unlike the Corpse Emperor. One day, they swore to marry under the blessings of Slaanesh and have many children to sacrifice to the Prince of Pleasure.
Steeling herself, she sat up. Puck gave way for her and sat right at her side. Looking around, she found that Puck had tackled her into a trench where other cultists were taking shelter. A couple of them were arguing about something. Lili drowned out the noise of battle to hear.
"What the feth is happening? Who's attacking us?" the first cultist cried.
"Snap out of it, coward! We kill and burn whoever comes!" the second one shouted. His words may have been filled with bravado but Lili could see that he was afraid. The way his arms were shaking as he hugged his lasgun as an indication of that.
To be entirely honest, the cultists in her group never really expected real and honest combat. The Envoy all promised them loot and gifts and pillage and rape. The Corpse Emperor's astartes was nowhere in sight and the Envoy assured them that the Imperium would be busy fighting the advance of their brethren across the galaxy so victory was all but assured. So they prepared this world, her home, for the coming harvest. When the Iron Lord arrived, he had delivered what the Envoy promised and more.
Up until now.
"Lili, are you hurt?" came the concerned voice of Puck. Lili turned to him and smiled at his affection for her.
"I'm fine, Puck." Physically at least.
"Did you see where Cora and Drax went? I lost my eye on them when the attack started."
Oh she remembered them all right.
"Drax's boots are available if you want. I wonder if Cora's knife can still be salvaged." she muttered. Puck's stared at her first in confusion then understanding as he saw the point she was making.
"At least you are safe," He sighed as he reached to cup her cheek. Lili smiled slightly, feeling the man's warmth. It was then they heard a rough voice call out to them.
"Cowards! Out of your trenches! To battle!"
Looking up, she saw the armored form of a unholy astartes staring down at them, a bolter in his hands.
"But we will be slaughtered!" cried a cultist. Lili was fortunate enough that she brought up her hands to shield herself as the cultist's upper torso was blown apart like a melon, splashing his guts and blood on the trench wall and on his fellow cultists.
"Khorne does not reward the cowardly!" roared the space marine, his bolter raised and smoking. "Stand up and fight or I shall make His displeasure known!"
Each single cultist hiding in the trench stood as one.
Inside of her, a small part of Lili whispered to her that maybe turning to the ruinous powers was a bad idea after all.
"Where do we shoot?" a cultist asked fearfully.
"Up!" the marine roared as he finally turned from the fodder. Lili also turned to where the marine was facing and there she found them on the cliffs above the town. She couldn't clearly see what they were like but she could make out white power-armor with blue glowing slits. In their hands were energy weapons of sorts, expertly picking them apart like flies.
It was then, the roaring started.
It was low at first, a bare echo in the billowing wind. Then, it grew louder and louder until it was nothing more than a deafening thunderbolt across the night sky. From the cliffs they came and leapt, a mixture of white and green power armor. Unlike their long-ranged brethren, she could see they were bearing melee weapons.
That glowed.
Lili took a second to glance at her own weapon, a combat knife she took from a fallen guardsman and a stub gun she received when she first joined the cult. Putting two and two together, she made up her mind and ran.
Frak the Ruinous Powers. Frak the Warband. Frak the corpse Emperor. Frak everything. The only thing that mattered her was her life.
As everyone had been distracted by the arrival of the platies, she was able to create a distance between herself and them. It was at this she took the oppurtunity to turn back and see how they were faring.
The platies were heavy. If they landed on the snow, it picked up snow into the air. If they landed on cultists, they were crushed under the sheer weight of their armor and were nothing more than scarlet puddles in the snow. If they landed on the space marines, it was enough to bring the marine down on the earth. If the kinetic force that impacted them did not kill the marine, the spear thrust and twisted into their necks did the trick.
From there, the slaughter happened.
One of the cultists dropped his stub rifle and charged at one of the platies with a combat knife. The platie reared back, leveled his spear and thrust it into the cultist's stomach. Either out of shock or anger, the cultist still thrashed and raged even as the platie twisted his spear. Seeing that he was still alive, the platie lifted the thrashing man and tossed him like a sack into a group of platies who then gored him with their weapons.
There was another cultist nearby. She had gone to know him as Kristoff, an ugly portly man that had his looks perfected by Slaanesh. What was once a portly and balding head was now a chiseled statue with long curly hair.
He had grown arrogant with his perfect looks and always walked around with a sneer.
The arrogance that was on his face was gone, now replaced by a look of manic terror as he blasted away at the platies with a autogun.
A platie in green armor rushed towards him, a glowing hammer in his hands. Kistoff shrieked as the platie got closer and closer until he was in hammer distance. He then swung his hammer and smashed Kristoff's pretty little face. The impact had shattered the cultist's head, sending bone, brain, and blood to splatter.
"ARGH! DIE! JUST DIE!" roared a voice. Lili turned and saw that it was the traitor marine from earlier dueling one of the platies. This platie looked to be a woman, judging from the shape of her armor. Sparks flashed as their weapons clashed, the traitor marine's chain-axe against the platie's blue glowing sword.
If she had to describe the match, the marine brawled whilst the platie dueled. Chain-axe in hand, his swings were wild, manic, and powerful. Tactics or strategies weren't in mind with the marine, only the death of the platie. The platie read the marine plain as day, dodging and deflecting his swings to rile him up to greater levels of anger.
"This ends now!" he bellowed, as though screaming it loud enough would make it come true. Pouring all his frustration and power in one massive swing, he brought it down the ground with such a force that it kicked up a small shockwave.
Unfortunately for the marine, he had dug his axe too deep and the serrated axe had embedded itself into the earth. Seeing her opportunity, the platie leaped forward and beheaded the marine.
His head sailed in the air and struck a far wall. His body stood still, hands still clasped on the chain ax's handle. The platie kicked the marine by the knee. This did the job and the body collapsed in the snow.
The platie seemed to bask in the death of the marine, her eyes set on his now rapidly bleeding body. Something registers in Lili's eyes and she screams.
"Puck!"
There he was, silently crawling on the snow. When she screamed his name, he froze.
This distracted the platies long enough to turn towards Puck.
Then towards her.
"Lili run!" Puck managed to scream before a platie drove a spear into his back, but Lili didn't hear it.
She ran again before he even yelled out for her to do so.
Lili ran and sighted a ruined house. Desperate to flee from the screams of the dead and dying, desperate just to get the frak away, she barged into the house. Her eyes registered that it was a communications post, commandeered by her warband. Now abandoned, it seemed perfect for her to hide until the platies had murdered everything in the town and left.
Spotting an empty corner, she occupied it, her back laying against the wall. Autopistol in hand, she shakily raised it at the doorway, vowing to shoot whoever dared to step into her spot.
As she did, her mind whirled.
Who the feth were they? Where the feth did they come from? This battle-no, massacre- was fething nightmare!
Her heart pumped like crazy. Sweat dripped down her brow. Her breaths were quick and greedy. Her teeth chattered, whether out of the cold or fear, she didn't care.
The small part of her that had been whispering to her that maybe staying loyal was a good idea was a loud yell now. The corpse Emperor forgave right? Father Yesin often spoke of the Emperor's great capacity for forgiveness.
And vengeance.
Maybe this was her punishment. A punishment because she turned her back on Him and because she also had gutted Father Yesin like a fish.
Yes. It made sense. The platies were no doubt his angels sent to cast retribution on those that betrayed Him. She had close brushes with death before. Maybe she was spared because she could still be redeemed.
The fear that was in her now was slowly dissipating. She lowered her weapon as her breathing turned to normal and the panic that was in her eyes vanished, making her see things much more clearly.
It was there that the vox in the room started to come to life.
"This is Sergeant Albain," came in a rough voice. "We are seeing that the town is under attack. My armored column is returning to assist. For Chaos Undivided!"
Hearing this, Lili made her way out of the corner. Looking around the room, she found stairs at the far corner. Moving carefully, she made her way towards it and climbed them. Reaching the top, she found open window that gave her a view of the distance.
Rightfully enough, she saw the metal forms of Albain's armored column making their way to the town. Chimeras and Leman Russes manned by traitor PDF. Hope that had been long squashed in her slowly returned. Perhaps they could win after all? The platies may have power armor and fancy weapons but she doubt one of them could ever hope to stand against a Leman Russ's cannon!
Maybe the did have a chance after all?
What did the platies have that could even dare to match a Leman Russ?
It was then, the world began to shake.
The lake nearby which had been kept frozen all year round suddenly cracked as a metal hand punched through the thick ice. The deafening sounds of battle suddenly stopped. It was as if the entire world paused to lay witness to what was happening.
The hand then fell upon the snowy earth and grasped tightly. Then, it rose.
Breaking through the ice, the head was the first to be seen. It had a horned helm and blue eye-slits. Judging from the green palette, Lili could guess that the rest of its body was also green. The titan then stood slowly, pieces of ice falling down into the lake. A metallic groan echoed in the snowy air as components that hadn't seen the world for millennia moved.
Lili did not care for the sound however for her eyes rested upon the two gargantuan cannons that were mounted on the titan's shoulders and the massive spear it grasped in its other hand.
As if it wasn't grand enough, nine more metal hands breached through the ice.
Then for the first time and after a thousand years of slumber, horns not heard for millennia blared.
Lili fell to her knees.
There was no hope.
Only punishment.
His titans were here to make them repent for their sins.
The Emperor was going to have his due.
From behind her, Lili could hear a stubber being cocked. She turned to face the source of the sound.
The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was of a man in green armor, his double-barrled stubber aimed straight at her.
A/N: Another transportation, with some slight changes. Enjoy!
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