"I will do as you command, my lord." I said.

And all the golden lights and flames and colors disappeared in a vortex of energies.

Blinking, I soon found myself amidst the company of the Astartes who'd been my enemies just moments ago. I knew who they were now, their true nature, and where their loyalties lied. I approached the one whose breastplate I'd shattered and bowed.

I harmed a fellow servant of the Emperor and an apology was in order. "Forgive me, lord Astartes; I mistook you for an enemy."

The Astartes eyed me for a moment, before shaking his head and speaking in an oddly soft voice. "There is nothing to forgive, guardsman. The Great One has spoken to us. We shall accompany and protect you to the best of our abilities – or, specifically, my brothers will. I must return to the armory and repair my armor."

"Wait," I reached out and placed my hand over the shattered breastplate and, with a flicker of my will, repaired the ruined Power Armor using [Tech Shaping], the entire process lasting only a moment and about a hundred units of [Raw Material], before I took a step back and smiled as I beheld my handiwork. The Power Armor had been fully and truly repaired, pristine, looking as though it had never been damaged at all. "There, good as new."

The Astartes looked down upon his armor, examining it for a moment, before he turned to look back at me. "Astounding. Then, my brothers and I will protect you with our lives, guardsman. The Great One wills it and it shall be so."

I frowned. There was a little problem with that. "Where should I even go? I don't think there's any place on Praxtor that's safe."

"My brothers are engaging the main brunt of the Chaos Forces as we speak," The Astartes answered. "There are few havens, but none of them are going to last. It's even less likely with that... thing rampaging about."

The Astartes pointed to the distance, where a gigantic humanoid silhouette lumbered about a great vortex of shadow and fire, the Hive City of Kuresh in flames around it. "Short of orbital bombardment, nothing we've done, thus far, seemed to hurt it."

"The God-Emperor told me he'd deal with the Balrog himself." I said. What the God-Emperor was actually going to do was up in the air. But that was the point of it, I supposed. I had no idea and I wasn't meant to know. All I knew was that the God-Emperor was the protector of humanity and that all he did was done for mankind; the interpretation of his immense and innumerable plans was not my responsibility, nor was it within my ability to do so. It was simply a matter of faith. "And I have faith in my lord. Therefore, there is nothing to worry about."

"There are ruined cities everywhere," I continued, shrugging.

I... honestly did not like the idea of hiding from the enemy when I was more than capable of fighting. But, the God-Emperor has spoken and there was nothing more to be done. To go against his divine mandate was heresy. "One of them should be safe enough for us to take shelter in. And, if nothing else, I am more than capable of holding my own in combat."

"I am well-aware of your combat prowess," The Astartes said, idly running a hand across his breastplate. "Soft martial arts... capable of absorbing, redirecting, and reapplying kinetic energy. Your mastery of it is nothing short of amazing. I would love to learn from you if we had more time. Regardless, if you have to fight at all, it shall be under mine and my brothers' gazes; no harm shall come to you - not under our vigil."

"What do you suggest, Lord Astartes?" I asked him. Truth be told, the ruined cities were terrible places to hide in, especially since most buildings would've already been reduced to rubble. We could attempt to take one of the mountain fortresses, almost all of which had been taken by the traitors and heretics, but I wasn't sure if that was a good idea. A single Earthshaker round would turn me into bloody rivulets, something I likely couldn't recover from, unless enough of my brain survived such an ordeal. And mountain fortresses were riddled with artillery emplacements, hundreds of them lining the walls, ready to rain death upon any who approached.

That the heretics and traitors controlled these fortresses was a tragedy.

Fortunately for us, the Kuresh region was relatively safe, precisely due to the Balrog's rampage as it tore through the heretic lines and even burned a whole mountain to ashes and magma, alongside the fortress that'd stood upon it. The rest of the planet was an entirely different story.

The Astartes turned from me and gazed into the distance. "The enemy has abandoned a stronghold. It should serve our purposes – for now. We will take you there and ensure your safety, before we rejoin the fight."

"Do not stray from us, mortal. Our task is to defend you, but try not to make it more difficult. The Carcharodons Astra are not suited for the preservation of life, but we shall do our best, regardless." The Astartes finished.

I nodded. That was the best option for everyone, I figured. They'd leave me alone in the stronghold, where I'd be more than capable of defending myself, without having to reveal my abilities to my allies, prompting undue suspicion. It worked. It'd also help me because I think I seriously needed to level up [Tech-Shaping] and [Warp Shaping] some more, though I wasn't exactly sure how I'd go about either of those. [Warp Shaping] was an even bigger mystery. "I understand, Lord Astartes. By your lead."

The Astartes nodded back, before turning and nodding to his brothers.

And then, without another word, they began jogging.

I followed after them and stuck to the center of their diamond formation, seeing as the God-Emperor himself gave me the task of keeping myself alive. Would it be impertinent of me if I placed his angels of death between myself and any possible danger? Maybe. I personally didn't like the idea of it and I was quite certain the Astartes felt the same. But orders were orders and the Emperor's word transcended laws.

If the God-Emperor ordered me to jump headfirst into a Daemon's gaping maw, I'd do so without a single hint of doubt.

The same, I felt, was true for the Astartes.

It didn't take more than an hour before we encountered a ragtag regiment of traitors and heretics, likely scattered from when the Balrog broke apart their siege lines. Without the Traitor Astartes to lead and guide them, they were easy prey. The Carcharodons, loyalists that they were, descended upon them like frenzied beasts, wielding their weapons with an almost animalistic ferocity, tearing apart limbs or ripping men apart. Despite their savagery, however, I saw the grace that lay hidden underneath all the blood and gore – not a single wasted movement, brutal though they were, and a martial mastery that mortals could only dream of. It was the sort of fighting style that was developed after centuries of experience and practice. I didn't think I'd be a match for any of them, even if I transformed into an Astartes - at least, not without [Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist].

The heretics didn't stand a chance.

I joined the carnage by picking up a Lasgun and shooting as many enemies as I could. It was chaos, but also strangely orderly. The Carcharodons and I quickly developed a sort of rhythm; I'd target distant foes, while they dealt with just about everyone else in their immediately vicinity. And it worked. The heretics barely had the strength or the initiative to fight back, almost breaking immediately as soon as the slaughter truly registered to them. They were only cowards after all.

"For the Emperor!" I roared as I picked up a frag grenade from the ground and hurled it right into a group of traitors who'd found refuge behind a wall of sandbags. There were ten of them. Three died immediately, while the other seven scattered with various injuries. They managed a few steps, before the Carcharodons were upon them.

It was beautiful.

"Die, corpse-worshiper!" My eyes briefly widened as I turned to my right, where the roar had come from. There was a heretic there, a woman with crazed eyes, frothing from her lips. I failed to notice her in the carnage. She'd strapped a bunch of explosives to her chest and was running straight for me. Time slowed to a near-crawl as my heart hastened. Normally, I wouldn't be afraid of such a thing. A bomb may destroy my body, but, as long as I kept my head safe, then it wouldn't kill me. However, I didn't want the Astartes to know the full-extent of what I was capable of, which meant I had to prevent myself from getting blown up. My mind raced as I searched for anything in my arsenal that could stop her.

Wait, I didn't have to stop her, did I?

Gathering all the strength in my legs, I jumped back as powerfully as I could. And, considering I was in my Enhanced Human form, that jump hurled me a fair distance, widening the gap between myself and the crazed heretic. I took aim with the Lasgun and fired a single shot right at the bomb on her chest, detonating it prematurely. A vortex of fire and death consumed her, while the shockwave from the explosion itself sent me hurling even further away. A few of my ribs broke, but it was nothing I couldn't immediately mend.

By the time I hit the ground, my bones were fixed.

I quickly pushed myself up onto my feet and took aim with the Lasgun as I turned and scanned my immediate vicinity. Another heretic emerged from the ground, aimlessly firing a stubber of some kind, the bullets launching and speeding everywhere and every direction. None of them hit me. The traitorous scum was clearly panicked, eyes wide and filled with irrational, likely instinctual thoughts. I fired a single shot into the heretic's head, causing his entire upper torso to explode into bloody rivulets.

Several more emerged from smoking rubble and ruins, swearing vengeance upon the Imperium as they charged with what seemed to be makeshift weapons. Behind me, the Astartes engaged more of the heretics in a gruesome melee. Where they were coming from and how many they really were, I had no idea. I focused on the enemies in front of me. There were ten of them in total. But only three of them wielded ranged weapons. The rest carried melee implements.

I discarded the Lasgun I'd picked up as I rushed towards the heretics. Of the three who wielded ranged weapons, only one carried a Lasgun. The other two bore stubber rifles, which they fired in my general direction with at least a modicum of accuracy as I quickly noted the bullets that blew apart holes all over my body, even enhanced as it was. I didn't mind it; I repaired myself almost as quickly as I took damage. The one who held the Lasgun fired. And my eyes widened as I just barely avoided a direct hit to the chest. A shower of gore splattered across my face.

I turned and looked to my right and scowled.

My right arm, including the shoulder and right pectoral area, had been vaporized, leaving behind a smoking, gaping wound.

Any higher and I would've already been dead.

The heretic did not get a second chance, however, as I quickly regrew the flesh I'd lost and, rolling forward beneath a hail of bullets and laser beams, grabbed a fist-sized rock and hurled it right into the face of the Lasgun user, sending the heretic tumbling into the ground – not quite dead, but definitely out of the fight as I'd thrown hard enough to shatter bone. The rest were easy to deal with. With [Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist] at a comfortable level 10, there were very few threats, I felt, that could decisively defeat or even challenge me in melee. And not even an Astartes, traitor or otherwise, could defeat me in a duel of pure hand-to-hand.

Hence, it wasn't exactly surprising that the traitorous fools went down without much struggle. Each time they attacked me, I'd simply absorb the kinetic impact of their blows and immediately counter with an attack of my own, shattering bones with every strike. It was cathartic to be in the thick of things once more, fighting amidst allies. I wasted no movement. Twice was enough – once to absorb and redirect attacks sent my way, and another to send that attack right back. Within a span of fifteen seconds, I'd downed just about all of them, including the two heretics who wielded stubbers. Only one of them remained. I rushed forward, grabbing another rock and slamming it down the Lasgun-wielding heretic's head, breaking his skull apart in a shower of flesh, bone, and blood.

I breathed in after that and took several steps backward as I began surveying my immediate surroundings. No enemies – only corpses and smoke and dust and blood. I ran up to the Astartes, who were waiting for me, surrounded by a veritable hill of corpses – not quite a mountain, unfortunately, there weren't that many heretics here. Their leader, the one whose breastplate I broke and repaired, nodded towards me. "Your name, guardsman. I would have it."

I bowed my head to the angel of death before me. "I am Perry Anatinus, my lord Astartes, nothing more than a loyal servant of the Emperor and his Imperium."

"You fight well, Perry Anatinus." The Astartes nodded at me. After that, we resumed jogging. There were still a few traitor and heretic stragglers about, just by the borders of my senses, which meant the Astartes definitely detected them as well. I was disappointed, however, when we did not stop to run them down. I was definitely fast enough to keep up with the Astartes and chasing and killing a bunch of fleeing heretics definitely wouldn't be too big a task for them. I did not give voice to my thoughts, however, as the answer to that mystery was rather simple; I knew it – everyone did.

"May I know your name, Lord Astartes?"

"I am Tepok of the 4thCompany. Well met, Perry Anatinus."

"Well met, Tepok."

AN: As a Christmas Gift, I'll be updating three times this week - here and on my (Pat)reon. Speaking of which, my (Pat)reon currently is up to Chapter 23, which I'll be updating tomorrow and Wednesday, up to Chapter 25. The next free updates will be Wednesday and Friday. So, if you're interested in reading ahead of everyone, feel free to subscribe.