Saint Summer the Huntress

by Korykr

To most death is the end. To some death is a doorway. To Summer death is a beginning. Separated from her home and family, she must carve her way across a galaxy in flames in order to return to them. Nothing would get in her way. Not aliens, monsters, daemons, or evil gods. She would return to Remnant and leave her mark on the galaxy.

3. Chapter 3

Next chapter. Ere we go boyz. Thanks to Dracko1243 for the name, every contribution to this is appreciated.

Warhammer 40K is the property of Games Workshop

RWBY is the property of Rooster Teeth

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Chapter 3: Unsanctioned

War was everywhere. Battle. Holy and glorious battle. There was never any purer way to express one's faith in the Holy God-Emperor. Even as the walls they sought to defend were naught but rubble and dust. Such was the result of his hubris and blind zeal. He had ignored the orders of the Lord Castellan to fall back, believing it an act of cowardice at the time. When in truth it had simply been tactics. This was his failure. No matter. His penance would come should he survive.

The broken remains of the southernmost spur of Kasr Kraf's Martyr's Ramparts now served as makeshift trenches for the warriors of the Cruxis Crusade, and they made good use of the sundered masonry. While not as proficient as their brothers in the Imperial Fists, they were still sons of Dorn. If they were told to hold their ground, then it would become an unassailable fortress, with them as its walls.

Bolter fire soared overhead as his brothers held back the cowardly scum who kept their distance. While those with more mettle drew closer, right into the blades of the Sword Brethren.

As he rounded a corner in the less occupied portion of the ruins, he sighted a heretic in black armor. A mockery of his own black war plate. The legionnaire shifted and saw him. In an instant, they both charge. The foe wielding a snarling two-handed chainaxe, and he his relic bolt pistol and ancient power sword.

"Blood for the Blood God!" Bellowed the traitor marine.

He said nothing in reply as their weapons met. The power field sparked as the chainaxe's teeth ground against it. With a quick parry, he threw his opponent off balance and beheaded him with a quick slash. As the body fell to the ground he moved forward. Paying no notice to his defeated foe.

Further ahead, he saw a group of heretic cultists rounding a corner. He gave chase and after rounding the corner himself found a group of thirty mad fools. Within two heartbeats, he was already wading into them. Cleaving them into pieces with his sacred blade. Those who made to flee were slain by the bark of his bolt pistol.

He had no words for those who dared oppose the Emperor. He hated them. All of them. They were unworthy of his words, so he gave them none, even as they begged and pleaded. None of them deserved anything more than his blade.

When the last cultist fell, he marched on. He spied another heretic Astartes. This one had not noticed him. Wasting no time, he broke into a sprint and closed the distance. The traitor had been alerted by his approach and made to raise the defiled bolter. Using his right pauldron as a ram, he crashed into the traitor. Pinning him to the ferrocrete wall. He raised his sword and plunged it into the marine's throat. After retracting the blade, he brought up his gold-cased bolt pistol and fired into the opening. The traitor marine's helmet exploded. Blood and brain matter coated the wall behind.

He did not revel in the kill. Instead, he looked to the city behind him. Kasr Kraf was not lost. Despite its desperate state. The arrival of the Living Saint had seen to that. Her mere presence inspiring not only the Cadians and Sorortitas but also himself and his brothers. With the Emperor's Hand by their side, how could they falter? They could not. Yet it was still a desperate battle.

He watched as gunfire roared from every single emplacement and street his enhanced eyes could see. Should the tide of traitor marines stem, he and his brothers would have to turn their attention inward. Many a foe had passed through the breach before they had arrived to hold it.

Something caught his attention. On one of the high walkways was a flash of silvery white. A teleport? That would not make much sense. All loyal elements in orbit were engaged with the Black Fleet. That left the possibility of an enemy incursion. He tried to catch a glimpse of what came through, but the distance was too great even for his eyes.

He deemed this instance worthy of memory. If it became a problem then it would be dealt with. For now, there were traitors that needed killing.

Marching further along the path, he saw a quartet of his brothers. Three Initiates led by Chaplain Lothar. Shouting litanies of defiance as he fired his plasma pistol at the onrushing enemy. Their tabards were as slick with traitor blood as the stonework he just defaced.

Marshal Marius Amalrich let out a rallying cry as he charged forward to aid his brethren.

---

Summer felt her head rattle. This was worse than anything she had ever seen before. The second she stepped through the gate, she was bombarded by noise. Screams, both desperate and enraged. Gunfire sounded from all directions, and the sound of explosions was constant as the walkway she stood on shook beneath her. Was the entire city dying?

She had never born witness to true military action before. Only speculation. All were offered by James, Qrow, and Raven. The latter two not having a high opinion of it. They were more confident in individual might. If only they could see this.

The walkway was big enough to serve as a four lane, two-way road. She walked over to the edge and leaned over the railing. This city was massive. Even when she caught a glimpse back in the mist, she thought it would be smaller. Vale was like a small town compared to this. A part of her wanted to bask in the scenery some more. Even with the warzone at the giant wall that she saw surrounding the city. There was just so much to see.

Down below, in the streets, she saw them. Men and women fighting against a herd of goat...men? Summer's eyes could clearly depict what the creatures were despite the distance. They had goat's heads, with the main body and arms being that of a man. While they had ram's legs and hooves. Most of them wore rags and makeshift armor. Forged from scrap. This included their weapons. Many of which were just sharpened pieces of metal strapped to wood. Only their guns looked up to standard. Simple pistols. Although some were rather boxy and fired some red energy beams. This peaked Summer's curiosity. She would like to get a closer look at those.

Shaking her head, she discarded the thought. There were more important things to do. Her eyes turned to the normal-looking people. They wore green khaki and military flak armor. All of it protects parts of the body an auraless person could not afford to take damage. Their guns were interesting. Also, firing red beams, but with greater distance and accuracy than the goat people. They stood in formation. Ones in front down on one knee, and the ones behind standing tall. Firing together without pause or hesitation. The difference in skill was clear, as was the difference in numbers. The soldiers numbered at about twenty, while the goatmen did not seem to run out.

Summer fully believed the goats were not in their right mind. They just charged, despite being mowed down. Yet it was working. They were slowly gaining ground while the soldiers kept backing up. Trading places with each other to keep the hail of fire going. Behind them was a large pile of wreckage and ruined stonework. They were trapped.

One of the men broke formation. Falling to one knee, before rising on one leg. He'd been shot, but still, he tried to take aim. Wobbly, as one of his legs just hung limply from his pelvis.

The realization hit her like a gunshot. "They don't have aura."

This stunned her. All this violence and destruction, yet none of those below has the safety her soul gave her. Glancing down at her hand down at her hands, she forced her aura to pulse. A silvery-white glow appeared around her forearms and hands. Confirming she still had hers.

"Wait. Wasn't it red before?" She mumbled. Whenever she called on it, her aura always manifested as a deep red. Then she realise that she wasn't the same person she was before. On a metaphysical level at least.

"Hopefully this 'blessing' provided something useful." She said out loud.

Turning her attention back to the soldiers, she blinked when she realized just how far above them she was. They were several hundred meters away below her, yet she was able to clearly spot one of the men being clipped in the shoulder as if she were right next to him.

Was her sight enhanced? This might actually be useful. Now if only she had her Ivory, she could help those men from here.

"Hehe. Guess the man upstairs doesn't disappoint." She chuckled.

Looking back over the edge, she judged the distance. Too far down to jump. Not without her weapon to slow her fall. Her semblance wouldn't work either, not with such a sharp drop. She'd scatter when she hits the ground, leaving her dazed and blinded when she reformed. Not chancing that in this battlefield.

Her eyes zeroed in on the wounded soldier. Who was now being held up by a woman in a black storm coat. She too fired into the crowd. But not with a laser gun like the others. It was a projectile weapon and judging by the recoil and size, it packed a punch.

Summer knew she needed to get to them now, but she had no idea which way to go. This place looked like a maze. It would take too long to navigate on her own. Her eyes focused on the wounded man. Summer wanted to help him. The thought that she might not be able to, infuriated her.

Then the man lit up. Summer blinked. The man had started to glow a light blue. What was this? Was she seeing his aura? But they hadn't awakened their aura, as proven by one taking a shot to the arm. No. If it wasn't aura then it had to be their souls. With aura being a manifestation of the soul, it made sense. Was this another ability or was she just hallucinating?

The woman carrying the man lit up too. Hers was a violet shade. As did the rest of the soldiers. Then a multicolored trail extended from each of them, flowing through the onrushing horde and behind the buildings. She could still see it even when it passed through a broken wall, stretching on as it changed directions.

In the distance, she potted a field. Beyond that was the wall where most of the fighting was taking place.

A feral growl ripped her from her observations. Looking right, she saw a pack of those goatmen, charging at her from a passage at the side of the walkway. There were six of them and they were covering the distance quickly.

The first to reach her launched itself towards her on cloven hooves. Summer backed away as the beast landed, slamming a large scrappy two-handed axe into the steel railing. It did not pause, pulling up the axe it started swinging wildly. She could tell from training with Tai that this thing had a lot of power behind its strikes. But its movements were sloppy and easy to read.

A second one joined in wielding a machete. This would have made dodging harder, had they attacked together. Instead, they chose to attack individually. And on occasion, getting in each other's way, both deliberately and accidentally in their eagerness to strike her.

Summer did not want to play tag with these things, but her attack options were limited. She did not have a weapon, and she did not know many hand-to-hand techniques. There was always her semblance.

The one with the axe tried a decapitating strike. Ducking under it, she grabbed the thing's wrist and performed a judo throw. However, she released too early and tossed the goatman over the railing and down to its death.

Summer would have balked at this, but the one with the machete clubbed her in the back. Her aura held up as the beast tried for another slash. Rolling away, she saw the discarded axe, she jumped away from the next swipe. Grabbing the axe, she yelled as she swung the poor excuse of a weapon in a full circle and split the beast in half. Blood splattered on her as the thing fell apart.

Summer blinked. There was blood on her clothes. Instinct told her to check her cloak. However, she did her best to ignore it. She had to focus.

The rest joined in. One of the four had a pistol and it was aimed at her. It fired a beamed grazed her left shoulder. Summer hissed from the sharp sting, despite taking no damage from the beam itself. Aura, as reliable as it was, has a few weaknesses. It could protect the body from damage and recover from it quickly. However, it could not protect against every external factor. Like temperature. Sure, she would not be directly burned by a fire, but the sudden rise in temperature would damage her from the inside. Blood vessels would pop, organs would fail and eventually, you would die. Slowly and painfully. Ironically made worse by the healing one's aura provided.

Survival instincts kicking in, Summer dashed forward with Petal Surge, diving straight for the one with the laser pistol. Before the beast or its friends could stop her she brought the axe down on its skull. Splitting it like an apple and lodging the axe between its shoulders. In any other circumstance, she would have screamed at the sight of this things bisected skull, filled with dripping blood and grey matter, but before she had a chance to fully take in the sight, another goat charged her. So, she swung again, dead goat body and all, into her new attacker. Due to the added weight, she lost her grip on the axe as it impacted the goatman. Sending both goats flying across the walkway.

That one had dropped its weapon. At first, she could not tell what it was. It looked like a boxy club. Quickly scooping it up she used it to block another attack from a goat with a scrape sword. She took quick glances at the weapon in her hands as she defended herself. The grip, hand guard, and skull pommel gave her the impression that it was a sword. The length was about the same as a broadsword, but it was all boxy like the pistol. On one side of what she assumed was the blade was a chain with sharp metal teeth.

Summer blocked the goat's strikes with the side that did not have teeth. The creature was not weak by any standard. It had powerful muscles putting it on par with a juvenile Beowolf.

She felt her thumb press down on something and the boxy sword revved like an engine. Then the chain and teeth began gyrating. Almost chewing at her left palm when she reflexively tried to hold it to block the goat's strikes. Using her semblance she backed away from the goat.

Rematiralising, she held out the sword and quickly inspected the hilt. It had an exhaust vent and a button at the top of the grip. Pressing it, the engine revved again and the teeth gyrated within the box frame.

The purpose of this quickly dawned on her as the remaining three closed in. The closest held a pipe with a large piece of red-stained concrete stuck to the top of it.

She sidestepped its attempt to crush her with it and slammed her weapon's snarling teeth against the goatman's gut. What followed was what she assumed the inside of a meatgrinder was like. Flesh, blood, and all kinds of nasty material flew off the blades as they cut the goat in half. Its agony-induced wailing was drowned out by the roar of the engine.

When the weapon broke through the creature, she nearly tripped. Now she had a proper weapon, even if it was a messy thing. Revving it again to clean out the teeth, Summer took her turn to charge. The first target was the one with the sword. She broke into a slide and sawed into its right leg. Making it kneel. Standing, she brought her weapon down where the shoulder met its neck.

The last creature watched its brethren fall. It began to realize that the woman before it was too dangerous up close. Scouring the battlefield it found its brother's discarded laspistol. The beastman rushed towards the pistol. It's the last hope for survival. Hand mere inches away from it, only to grasp nothing as it disappeared in a flurry of white petals.

It stared at the ground in surprise. The petals disintegrated before its eyes. Looking up, it saw the woman standing there with the pistol. Pointed straight at its head.

Before the creature could blink, she pulled the trigger. A superheated beam lanced through its skull and brain.

Her final foe slain; Summer took in the results of her actions. A mess of gore. The type she had only seen in decimated villages. Yet, this felt worse, as it was done by her own hands. Inspecting herself, she found herself clean. Strange. Did her semblance not take all the blood and guts? Checking her cloak, she found it still in perfect condition. All white outside, she did not bother to check the inside. If her semblance did this, then she wouldn't complain. The feeling of all those viscera on her almost was disgusting. But she did not feel sick. She had killed living things before. Animals, and even helped butcher them in her old village.

This, however. She had never been exposed to this before. She thought she might vomit, almost waiting for the reaction to happen. It did not. All she felt was a sense of revulsion. Was that towards herself or them?

She did not want to dwell on that. Instead, she inspected her new pistol. An energy weapon. Pretty much no recoil to mess up rapid fire, and a basic loading system. Was that a digital ammo counter? She always wanted one of those. If this were made on Remnant, it would be standard issue in the Atlas Military for sure. The simple design and effectiveness would make mass production easy.

As for her other weapon, she had only one thing to say. "What kind of deranged psycho would ever consider using this?! A chainsaw sword. Really?" Needless to say, she was not impressed. She preferred more precise weapons.

Then were the goat things. Kneeling down to the corpse of her last victim, she mumbled. "What the heck are you?" She knew they weren't faunas. These things had way too much animal in them. She had been around enough to know. Some traits were more extreme than others, but this was beyond that. Other than the human features, there was nothing human about them. The corpse in front of her faintly glowed. Was its soul still present?

Like the soldiers below, a misty trail extended from the body, backtracking where it had been during the fight. The mist looked different from the soldiers though. The humans had been pure in their individual colors. This looked stained, like every color on the spectrum had been squeezed in and was competing for space. It made her feel uncomfortable.

The trail stretched back into the building the goats came from. It took dozens of turns and twists, slowly descending to the streets below. She saw it, her path down. She could follow the trail this soul left for her to reach the fight down there. She could help them.

Checking on the soldiers, she saw that some of them had gone down. Now there were thirteen still standing. Summer revved her sword. It was a messy thing, but it would do.

Going full throttle, she bolted along the path laid out before her. Following the wispy trail into the interior of these colossal buildings.

---

She could not believe this. How could it have turned out this way? Ambushed by these animals. Her commissar had attached her to this unit for a simple seek-and-destroy mission. A large band of the filthy mutants managed to slip through the breach in the Martyr's Rampart. Now they were scouring the empty hab-blocks for easy prey. The platoon she was assigned to was near full strength when they got their orders. Now only twelve of them were standing, and just barely at that. For example, the guardsman she held upright so he could back up as they fired. Now laying on a rock beside her, his weapon firing at full auto. Cadians are a stubborn bunch, she was proud to admit. Not that it did them much good in the ambush. Cornered and outnumbered, all they could do now was make the monsters bleed.

So, Cadet-Commissar Elaine Blackwell did. With every shot of her bolt pistol, she brought one down. She had to be selective as she did not have the ammunition the guardsmen's lasguns had. Focusing her attention on the larger brutes or those with ranged weapons.

The shock troopers did not slack on their part either. The pop of their barrels signaled the end of the blighted creatures' existence. The problem was the number of them. There were too many to stop. She wanted to use the grenades she brought, but most of them were too busy firing to grab them off their fallen comrades.

A stray stub round struck her right cheek, ripping it open and exposing her clenched teeth. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth as she spotted the fiend who clipped her. It held a stub pistol and was aiming straight at her. She was about to reply, but a lasround burned through its skull before it could.

"Apologies ma'am." Said the guardsman she had been shouldering.

His expression was stone, but his tone was light. "Couldn't let the bastard get away with that. Can't go around messing up pretty faces just cause he's jealous."

She wanted to berate him for making jokes at a time like this, but she decided against it. If they were going to die here, then they died their way. As Cadians should. So, in the spirit of the mood she responded.

"Looks like you made some improvements. He won't be complaining anymore." She managed to say past the pain and blood filling her jaw.

The guardsman smiled as he continues to fire. Elaine would have done so too, but her face hurt like a bitch. He was a good man. If they survived this, she would ask for his name.

Despite the efficient killing, the beastmen were almost upon them. A part of her wanted to signal her fellows to fix bayonets, but logic told her that any pause in their volley and would get them swarmed in seconds. Not that she doubted these men. But in melee, numbers mattered even more in the open. So, she kept firing. Hoping that they were nearing the end of this sea of filth. If not, then they would die fighting. As Cadians should.

---

Summer brought her sword down on another goat's head. Grinding it into mulch. She did not worry about the body as she ran. She could see why only six out of that whole mob made it to her. It was more cramped than a shoebox in here. Even though the place was almost empty. Except for the occasional mauled corpse. Which usually had one of these beasts close by. She had sawed through four of them on her way down. Each kill made the trail more readable.

Whoever designed this place, had efficiency on the brain. Designed to pack as many people as possible. While minimizing living necessities and space usage. She'd seen flats in Vacuo that provided more than this place. She glanced into one of the rooms as she passed by. She made a note that city life in this space empire definitely wasn't for her.

Using Petal Surge, she descended the stairs at breakneck speed. The function of the building had a minimalist mindset. But when she saw the actual architecture, she got a very different message. There were winged skulls lining the arches of the doors. She had passed through a large hall that had a massive fresco of a man in gold armor with flowing hair and a flaming sword on the wall.

As she descended further, the braying of the goatmen became clearer. No surprise there. The trail led her out into the open streets of the city. Rubble and ruin were everywhere. Following the trail further and she found them. The horde of goatmen.

She hid behind a ruined truck. They hadn't seen her yet. Peeking over the wreckage, her eye bulged at the size of the mob. There were a LOT of them. Too many to fight with what she had on her. The sword was effective, but it was unwieldy. If it got stuck in one of them, she would have to abandon it. That would be a problem. In a crowd she could easily miss a strike and lodge it in one of their stomachs. Those precious few seconds would be more than enough for the rest to swarm her. The pistol was an effective sidearm, but it lacked the power she needed to throw the horde off balance. Even if she could tough it out and kill them all, those soldiers did not have that kind of time. They needed help now. If she could scatter the crowd, it would give them some breathing room. She could do that. She didn't have any explosives, but she did have something else. Something she never wanted to use.

With a sigh, she walked out of cover. "Guess I have no choice."

Holstering the pistol on her belt, she knelt down. Taking a runner's stance. She hated using her semblance this way. It always got people hurt. Now though, that was the idea. Her form changed as her semblance activated. Her cloak flowed on invisible winds, while white petals drifted off its edge, vanishing into nothingness. Eyes flashing silver, Summer charged the horde.

---

Elaine slammed a fresh magazine into her bolt pistol. They were down to eight. Pressing against the ruins that had trapped them. She had nearly choked on her own blood three times now. Her head was becoming light, but she powered through it. She had to stand. To fight. Cadia would never fall, so long as one defender stood.

She nearly keeled over as a powerful shockwave shook the stone beneath them and she caught a glimpse of several mutants flying through the air, crashing into buildings. The flow of the beasts' massed charge was stunted by this. Many looked back to see what had struck their rear. Not all of them stopped to look, but enough to destroy their momentum.

Gunning down those focused on the charge, Elaine rushed forward. Pulling out her power saber she cut down the first mutant to reach her. Parried a second, which got sniped by the humorous shock trooper, and ran through a third. She needed to act quickly.

Kneeling down by a fallen guardsman, she plucked the grenades from his belt. Pulling the pins, she hurled them into the mass of animal scum.

When they went off, she yelled out. "For Home and the Throne!" To which the remaining troops replied. "Cadia stands!"

They followed her example, those that could stand marched forward, and three continued firing. Providing cover for the rest to scavenge any grenades from their fallen. Tossing them into the crowd.

She felt her cheek tear more from that exertion. It was worth it. At least the scar from this fight would make her more intimidating when she became a full-fledged commissar. As the filth focused on what was attacking their rear, Elaine allowed herself a moment to speculate. Reinforcements? Collapsing structures? Another enemy warband? You never knew with mutants and traitors. Just as eager to turn on one another as to kill their true enemies. She caught hints of something white in the crowd. Whatever it was. It had their attention. Now she'd make them pay.

The spread of grenades tore holes in the enemy's ranks. Now that the pressure was off Elaine could register how much damage they'd done to their ambushers. The result surprised her. Bodies littered the floor in heaps. Shoved aside by their brethren so the assault could continue.

They advanced, gunning down the remaining beastmen. Those left behind covered their flanks in case any managed to hide from their advance. Now in the thick of the fighting, there was a bittersweet pride in the sight of their breaking foe. They had made the scum bleed.

The barrage of grenades had caught them off guard. Bunched together in the rubble they made for prime targets. Each explosion claimed nearly a dozen of the beasts. This decimated their remaining numbers.

When the last grenade was thrown. They reached the intersection where the horde had gathered, and Elaine saw the one responsible for the disruption.

At first, she mistook it for a phantom or warp apparition. It moved so quickly it looked like a blur. Yet, it turned out to be a human in a white cloak. A woman, hacking at the remaining beastmen with impressive efficiency. She focused on death blows. Making sure each wound was either mortal or crippling. Who was this woman?

It did not matter at the moment. Whoever she was, she'd given them the advantage. Now to capitalize on it. Raising her saber, she signaled the charge. Within minutes, the few remaining beastmen were gunned down as they closed in on their unexpected ally. The woman dueled with a much larger beast. This one was brutish and twice her size. Yet she avoided its strikes gracefully. Like an acrobat.

An assassin maybe? She had heard stories of what imperial assassins were capable of. She wasn't a normal soldier, that was for sure. The freak couldn't touch her.

The woman shot the fiend's legs with a laspistol, and capitalizing on the disruption she slammed her chainsword into its face. Within seconds the monster was slain.

After a quick scan to ensure that was the last of the beasts, Elaine sheathed her saber. The troopers by her side lowered their guns.

All present focused on the woman rushing up to them. She looked young, probably only a few years older than Elaine, which meant she might be in her late twenties. Black hair with red tips and a small braid that went around her head. Slightly pale skin with a smooth complexion. Slender build, if Elaine guessed right. The woman was not dressed for combat. Long white cloak, black corset, a slightly frilly skirt, tights, combat boots, and an ornate flower buckle. It all fit together well enough, but it offered zero protection. Ironically, this only improved Elaine's evaluation of the woman's skill. She was completely undamaged. There wasn't even any blood on her.

When the woman's eyes fell on Elaine, she became distressed and ran up to her. "Are you alright?" She said in Low-Gothic.

Elaine blinked; this woman had closed the distance faster than she could react. Elaine made to greet but the woman spoke again. "Oh. That's bad." She said, examining Elaine's wound.

The Cadet-Commissar had to agree. It hurt like hell, but it was only a minor issue at the moment. "I'm all..." But the woman cut her off again. "Don't talk. You'll just make it worse." She said, almost scolding the cadet like she was a child.

Before Elaine could pull rank to get the woman to listen, the woman dropped her chainsword and placed her hands on the cadet's cheeks. This frustrated Elaine, who intended to smack the hands away. But stopped when the woman began to shimmer white. A sense of calm washed over Elaine. The pain in her cheek vanished and the aches in her muscles faded away.

Stunned by this, she said nothing as the woman repeated the action on the guardsmen around them. Tentatively, she raised her hand to her cheek, to find it completely mended. She wondered if there was a scar. The realization set in, and her sense of calm gave way to alarm.

"Psyker." She whispered with a frown.

When the woman had finished treating the last standing shock trooper, Elaine's hand drifted to her holstered bolt pistol. She would need to react quickly, this woman was fast, likely a result of her powers.

When the woman exploded in a shower of white, Elaine's pistol was in her grip and out of her holster. But she wasn't fast enough as the white cloud shot passed her.

The guardsmen had the same reaction. Their guns raised in alarm. Turning back, she saw the witch on her knees by one of the fallen. Back turned away from Elaine.

Her first thought was to shoot but stopped herself. Something was off about this woman. The squad was about to close in, but she stopped them. "Wait." She ordered.

"Ma'am?" Asked a guardswoman. Lasgun still trained on the witch.

"Don't shoot yet," Elaine said, holstering her pistol.

She turned to the piles of shredded bodies. Taking note of the number which were killed by chainsword. The woman was consistent with her strikes. Elaine counted twenty-two, but she knew it was likely more. Looking down at the roadworks, she saw that it was shattered in a spot that was too far to the right for their grenades to reach. A spiderweb pattern of cracks stretched forward from it. To the left, she saw some of the mutants had been reduced to pulp. Further up she saw an intimidating number of red stains marking the buildings.

She had seen battle-psykers before. Most were decrepit, frail, and sometimes slightly unhinged thanks to their witchery. This woman was definitely not like them. She was fast, strong, and in her right mind. If she could take on this many enemies at once, then she must be very powerful. The final thing that felt off with this picture was the way the woman used her power. When psykers used their unnatural abilities, she always remembered there being a sharp drop in temperature around them. Like they sapped all the warmth to fuel their abilities. Not this, however. This felt different.

This woman was a strange one, but one thing was clear. She was dangerous. Very dangerous. They could try and gun her down, but if she managed to close the distance, would they last? Her gut told her not to chance it. Not with only eight of them. Cadians or not, they were still human. The witch was playing nice. Better to play along for now.

The shock troopers around her all stood ready to fire. The psyker had not noticed their hostility as she tended to the guardsman Elaine had spoken to earlier. Just what was she doing to them?

"Guns down, but keep on those triggers." She ordered. They mustn't be aggressive, but they should stay ready in case this was some trick. All complied and lowered their weapons.

The cloaked woman approached them, having reconstituted three of their fallen. The guardsman Elaine was shouldering walked with them. That brought their numbers up to twelve. Excluding the new arrival. Straightening her back and folding her arms behind her the cadet stood to greet.

"I am Cadet-Commissar Elaine Blackwell. On behalf of the Cadian 21st, I thank you for your aid." She kept her tone formal. She was to be a commissar, she had to be an example.

"You're welcome." The woman glanced back to the corpses by the wreckage. "Sorry I didn't get here sooner." She added, sounding depressed.

"Appreciated, but you don't need to apologize. We were not expecting any form of relief."

"Yeah. The freaks had us by the balls." Said one of the revived guardsmen.

Elaine shot him a glare. He lowered his head in silent apology.

"I'm sorry." Said the psyker. Why was she apologizing? None of this was her fault. Had she gotten here sooner, yes she would have saved more men. But that was a minor thing. They might have died in the skirmish after she got here. They were Cadian and they died as all Cadians should.

"It's alright. But who are you?"

The witch shook off her sorrow to answer. "I'm Summer Rose. I'm a huntress."

"Huntress?" Elaine repeated. "You hunt beasts for sport?" Elaine asked, wondering if this woman was sanctioned. If not then the cadet had a serious problem.

"Not really. Back home huntresses protect people by killing monsters." Elaine listened intently.

"And do all huntresses have the same abilities as you?" Elaine asked politely.

"Yes and no. We all have different abilities, some are similar, and some aren't. There are things we all share." Huntress. The term was their world's name for psykers. A local term. Confirming that the woman was unsanctioned. Not good.

"So, you're a mercenary then? Brought from off-world to help with the defense?"

Elaine did not need to look back to feel the frowns on her comrades' faces. Cadians are a proud bunch. In both their legacy and training. The soldiery often took offense when anyone implied that they needed help defending their own homeworld. Good thing Creed was more practical. Pride does not win a war.

"Not exactly." Said the woman. "I'll help out however I can. But I'm actually looking for someone."

"And who might that be?" Elaine asked, slightly eager for some insight into the woman's motives. She might be an assassin after all. But who would be the target? Creed was the most likely choice. If she could get close enough to him, he'd be a dead man even if she went down seconds after. And without Creed, Cadia would be finished.

"Do you know anyone named Celestine?"

The cadet heard some of the soldiers shift at the mention of the name. Elaine nearly did too. This woman was after the Living Saint. Elaine had heard the reports. That the blessed lady had come to their aid. Now, this witch was searching for her.

"Why..." Elaine tried to speak, but Summer charged her. Knocking her down on her side.

For a moment Elaine felt vindicated. Pushing herself up, she reached for her pistol. Until one of the men yelled out. "Space Marines!"

Looking around, she saw them. Three large armored figures marched down the path the woman came. Their jagged, spiked armor is the same as many of the other traitor Astartes. Black and gold. Two held bolters, while the one on the lead held a large spiked mace.

Their bolters fired and guardsmen scrambled to whatever cover they could find. Elaine got to her feet and dove behind some fallen stonework.

Peeking over her cover she sighted the leader of the trio charging at them. At his pace, he'd be on them in moments. Elaine drew her power saber and pressed the activation rune. Preparing to duel the armored giant. She would die, but it would give what's left of the platoon a chance to gun them down. Constant fire wouldn't slow these brutes down. Not with only eleven lasguns.

Elaine prepared to jump from cover, only to stop as Summer ran passed her and straight for the lead Space Marine. The chainsword in her hands revved in challenge to the warrior. She heard the Astartes laugh as he accepted.

When the distance closed between the two, the Space Marine stuck first. Meaning to crush her with a downward strike. The huntress sidestepped the earthshattering blow and took a swipe at the traitor's helmet. While the teeth of the weapon did not break the ceramite, the force of the blow staggered the Astartes. Not because he was concussed, but more likely because he did not expect Summer to hit so hard.

Elaine stared in shock until she sighted one of the others aiming her way. Ducking down, she felt the ferrocrete tremble from the impact of bolt rounds.

Cross the way she spotted the guardswoman from before. She was firing at full auto from behind a ruined transport. A bolter round exploded off of it, sending her tumbling back. Elaine wrote her off as dead but was shocked when she got back up. A green glow surrounded her body.

Elaine did not know what to think. By all rights, the woman should be dead or critically injured. Bolter rounds are built to kill. Yet there she stood. Undamaged.

The guardswoman stared down at herself, just as shocked as the cadet. Turning back to the duel, she saw an even more shocking sight. Summer stood atop the marine's power pack. With two hands she held the chainsword against the Astartes' throat. The marine held it back with one hand, which the teeth were chewing into. While trying to grab her with the other. She was trying to saw his head off.

One of the other Astartes registered his brother's plight and shot Summer in the back. Knocking them both down, with Summer rolling off the marine. The silvery white shimmer returning on impact.

Elaine took note of this and looked back to the uninjured women who now stood behind a sundered column. Then back to Summer, who should have been blown apart. Instead, she yelled out. "OW! Right in the shoulder blade!"

The marine who shot her stopped firing for a moment as well. He appeared to be just as confused as Elaine was. But he disregarded it as he holstered his weapon to fire again. Elaine decided to act first, firing a bolt round at the marine, managing to strike behind his right pouldron, throwing off his shot.

Summer saw Elaine fire and dashed over to her position while dodging more fire from the Astartes. When she reached the ferrocrete chunk, she jumped over it and crouched by Elaine.

"I can't get passed his armor." She said gesturing to her chainsword. "You guys have anything stronger?"

"No," Elaine replied. "We used all our grenades on the beastmen. And we lost our heavy weapons teams in the ambush."

Summer's eyes dropped down. "What about that?"

Elaine looked at the saber in her hand. Yes, it could cut ceramite. But should she trust this woman?

Looking over her cover again. One of the Astartes was mocking the leader while the other argued with him. As for the leader himself. He was running straight at her. At that moment Elaine made her decision. Die now to the Space Marines or die later because of a psyker.

"Here." She handed her blade to the huntress who eyed it with obvious fascination. "Press the rune to activate the disruption field. That should let you get through..."

The spiked mace broke through the ferrocrete, knocking both of them away. When Elaine recovered she spotted a faint purple glow covering her arms. So, whatever protected the shock trooper also saved her. What had that woman done to them?

Summer and the Astartes resumed their match. With the huntress now gaining an advantage. The saber left scorching gashes in the marine's power armor. She slipped passed his guard and struck at the exposed undersuit at the back of his right leg. This did not slow the marine down. His attacks became less deliberate and more like wild thrashing.

Summer backed away from his swings. Forcing him to refocus on her. Boots thundering against the stone, the marine charged at her and made for a diagonal swing. Summer disappeared into a white cloud as the blow fell. The head of the mace passed through it, crashing into the street. The cloud flowed around the astartes and Summer reformed atop his power pack once more. Plunging the blade through his helmet.

The power-armored form of the marine went limp and fell to the ground.

The other two saw this and Elaine was willing to believe that there were looks of disbelief behind those helmets. She could not blame them. At that point, they began to focus their fire on Summer. Who continued to dodge their volley.

They were distracted. Now they could hit back. Elaine ran to the closed shock trooper and ordered a message to be passed along.

The two marines stopped shooting, as their bolters were empty. Both drew their combat knives. They charged her together, trying to grab her and slash her. They made sure to stay close enough together to intercept any reprisal Summer attempted.

A bolt round pinged off one of the marines' helmets. He turned to see who had fired it. To be greeted by a mass firing of lasbolts. A nearly constant stream of red light pelted his armor, scorching all of the gold as black as his plate. He saw through it. The mortal whelps were lined up. Their sights trained on him. He bellowed in outrage as he charged the rabble.

Elaine fired again and again. Landing headshot after headshot. The marine closed the distance quickly. Elaine knew this plan was a long shot, but focusing all their fire on only one marine while Summer kept the other occupied was their best chance to take them out.

It appeared she underestimated the durability of Astartes power armor. Revving the chainsword she retrieved, she prepared to countercharge the fiend. His armor would give out sooner or later. The shock troopers just needed more time. Only a few feet short of reaching, the marine howled in pain, before falling face-first to the ground. Elaine's saber sticking out the side of the fiend's back, barely avoiding the power pack.

Behind the fallen marine stood Summer, panting as she removed the blade. Walking around the body, she plunged the saber into the heretic's scorched helmet. Elaine wondered if that was necessary. Then Elaine looked to the one the psyker was fighting only moments earlier.

His armor was riddled with deep cuts. His left arm was missing. Along with his head/ She scowled. Clean kills. More than these traitors deserved.

"That was close." Summer panted, pulling the saber free with a strong tug. "These things are durable."

Elaine almost felt like smiling at that. Three mighty Astartes, brought low by a cloaked woman in a frilly skirt.

"Never thought I'd see a weapon with a working disruption field." Summer commented on her approach. She was inspecting the power saber intently. "They only started experimenting with the concept back home."

Elaine presented the chainsword to the huntress. "You dropped this."

Summer glanced between the two weapons and gave a childish smile. "Wanna trade?" She offered, holding up the saber.

Elaine heard a cough from behind her. She ignored it. Wanting to refuse the woman outright. But she reminded herself that the person before her had just dueled three traitor Space Marines and took a bolt round to the back with no visible damage. Elaine was well aware that Summer could end them without much effort. Even less, now that she had a better weapon. So, Elaine continued to play along.

"Tempting. But that saber was a gift from someone very important to me. I would like back, please."

"Sure thing. Umm. What was your name again?" Summer asked, now sounding embarrassed.

The cadet hid her frustration behind her stony demeanor, as they exchanged weapons. Opening the side of her storm coat, she sheathed her sword in the scabbard hidden beneath it.

"Cadet-Commissar Elaine Blackwell."

"Nice to meet you." Said Summer offering a handshake. One Elaine took. The woman had a strong grip.

"Now then." Elaine began. "Form up." She called to her remaining troops.

The shuffling of footsteps could be heard from behind. "We're done here. We make for the Muster Fields."

She turned seeing the squad in two rows. Five in front, and six behind.

"Can I come with you? There might be someone there who can help me find Celestine." The huntress requested.

"Stay with me," Elaine instructed her. "We're on point. In case we get jumped again, I need you to cause as much disruption as possible while we cover you."

"Lead the way." Said Summer happily.

'And it will keep you where we can see you.' Elaine reminded herself, she knew they didn't have the firepower to hurt this witch. Whatever witchery was being used to protect her was powerful. Elaine glanced at her hand. Remembering the purple glow that covered it. Just what foulness had they been tainted with? When they got back to the Colonel she would arrange for something a little more potent to subdue this woman.

Glancing at the others, she was glad to see none of their fingers were off their triggers, except for the one she had shouldered earlier. His attention was on the sky. She wanted his name. Might as well ask now.

"You." She said walking up to the man and gaining his attention.

"Yes ma'am?" He asked, standing at attention.

"What is your name, guardsman?" She half asked and half ordered.

"Tarn Katar, ma'am."

"Guardsman Katar, mind telling me what is so interesting up in orbit?"

He didn't smile, but she could tell he wanted to. Something about the way he looked at her.

"I could. But I think it'd be better if you see for yourself." He answered, returning his gaze upward. Promoting her to look too.

Everyone looked up and watched as the skies above Cadia were consumed by a blinding purple light.

---

Lord Castellan Ursakar. E. Creed had not smiled in over twenty years. That streak had ended today, and he couldn't have been happier. He stood atop the Martyr's Ramparts. His twin pistols holstered, his eyes narrowed, and an unlit cigar in his hand. With him were his Kasrkin guards and his Color Sergent. Who had a satisfied grin on his face and if they had taken off their helmets, so would the Kazrkin.

Jarren Kell whistled before speaking. "Ain't that a sight."

The enemy force who had breached their gates was now in full retreat. Their spirits were broken with the sky shining purple overhead.

Creed silently agreed, pulling out a lighter from his coat pocket. He had doubted they would last. Especially with the Blackstone Fortress looming over them like death's specter. But thanks to the arrival of the Phyllanx, The Will of Eternity was dead in the void. A miracle, and a huge relief for the Lord Castellan.

"Now all we need is some Earthshaker shells. Let the Basilisks give us a fireworks show to celebrate." Said, Kell. The men around him did not respond to the joke. This did not bother the Color Sergent. He knew they liked it, as did Creed.

Lighting the cigar, Creed took a slow drag and exhaled like it was his last. He needed to think. The enemy had retreated, Kasr Kraf still stood and the Blackstone Fortress was gone. The rest of the Cadia was still dealing with their own sieges, and his forces were battered and bruised. But not beaten. They had reinforcements, a new batch of Sororitas on the ground, and the Phalanx in orbit. While the Despoiler had a whole Armada left to hurl at them. Uncounted millions of fresh troops just itching for their chance to take Cadia. Even with the Salvation Stations littered around Cadia ready to deploy at a moment's notice, he did not like his odds. He was certain the enemy had identified him by now. He needed to make plans against possible assassination attempts. The morale of the men depended on it.

Then there was Cadia itself. The reason he had pushed his troops so hard. Why he pushed himself so hard with all those sleepless nights. Until now, there was no possibility of escape. If Creed played his cards right, he could get a good number of Regiments off the planet to hold the line further back in the system. Phalanx was the largest vessel in Imperial history. It could hold a good number of soldiers and equipment. It was a feasible idea. He'd have to convince the Imperial Fists first.

Then there was the issue of them still being outnumbered. They needed to get a concrete message to the wider Imperium and hold long enough for a response. That was impossible while they were stuck here. He wanted to defend his home as much as every Cadain out there, but a martyr's end is pointless if there's no one to continue the fight.

"Lord Creed." Said a calm voice.

Creed looked to the sky and bless his soul, there she was. The second miracle of the day. In all her holy splendor. The Living Saint herself. Creed and his retinue took a couple of steps back to make room for her to land. Along with two Sororitas that he recognized. Canonesses Genevieve and Eleanor. Both bearing jump-packs. The Kasrkin slung their weapons and made the sign of the Aquila. Kell held his stance, while Creed took his cigar out of his mouth.

"I'm not one for ceremony, so please forgive me for the poor welcoming party, my lady. We were not expecting you."

"You have already been forgiven, Lord. I am sent where I am needed and often arrive unannounced." Said Celestine, in what almost sounded like a joke.

"Then thank the Emperor for that. Before you got here, I thought we were done for." He admitted, not showing a hint of shame. He had nothing to be ashamed of.

The Battle Sisters narrowed their eyes at him but said nothing. Celestine's serene expression did not change. "Today's victory is yours Lord Creed. Your doubts do not condemn you. For you did your duty regardless."

Creed almost felt like smiling for the second time today. Commendations from the Saint herself. Maybe he was blessed, who knew?

"I did as any son of Cadia would. Now I need to return to command, we drove them off, but everyone knows the scum will be back. We need to decide on a plan before they do."

"As you wish. I do have some requests for you. Your men would also benefit from seeing you after this triumph."

Creed nodded curtly. It was a reasonable idea. Show the men he still stood with them. That they had reason to stand tall.

---

Summer stared out at the fields as she walked alongside Elaine. The place was a mess. Bodies were littered everywhere. Both soldiers and what she could only describe as cultists, judging by their clothes and ritualistic scars. The sight brought back many unpleased memories. Villages burned, and families ripped to shreds. Lively hoods destroyed. Summer tried to ignore those thoughts, but they were very insistent when she spied a dead body.

Vehicles were wrecked and some were still burning. Summer could only marvel at the size of them. She had never seen tanks before. No kingdom ever used them after Mantle's failure to debut in the Great War. They were ineffective against large numbers of Grimm. Too slow, both in movement and fire rate. When compared to Atlas' recent tech developments, which are sleek and smooth, these tanks were boxy and aggressive. Definitely built for their job. The cannon barrel on one of the larger ones alone demonstrates how much damage these things could do. A well-timed shot from one of those could bring down a Goliath. The thought made Summer grin. Those Grimm always showed off a sense of surety about themselves because they were so hard to damage. She would enjoy seeing one brought down so easily.

"Is something funny?" asked Elaine in her ever-serious voice.

"Not really," Summer replied. "I was just looking at those tanks. Never seen one in person before."

Elaine did not reply, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Summer was not sure what to make of this girl. Always strict, formal, and serious. Even now that the fighting was over. It reminded Summer of Glynda. Not to mention her rank sounded bizarre. Cadet-Commissar. Summer didn't really pay attention to James when he described military hierarchy, but she was sure he never once said anything like that. Some special officer if she had to guess by watching her interaction with the others. Her attire said as much too. Very formal, very neat, and kind of intimidating. Black leather trench coats can do that if someone has the right attitude and stature. This girl had that and some. Not to mention she had a good-looking face. Not overly pretty, but something that wasn't off-putting. Like the tear on her cheek. Good thing Summer was able to patch that up with one of her new semblances.

To say she was surprised when she completely mended such an awful injury would have been an understatement. But at the time she was too focused on helping them. Using one's aura to rapidly heal another person. Such semblances were not unheard of. They were just ridiculously rare. So much so that it would almost guarantee you a job at a local hospital. Such semblances were often preceded by the user having an abnormally strong aura. Guess she fit the bill. The Emperor sure was generous.

That made three new semblances in one day. And they were all useful in their own way. The soul trail one would need a little detective work, but definitely a plus in her book. The enhanced sight was the icing on the cake. Now all she needed was a long-range weapon and she'd never miss her snipes.

The open field was swarming with soldiers. Most had the same armor as the troops she rescued. She spotted a few strange ones in the crowd. Including some who looked like they were dressed for winter, while others looked straight out of a jungle action movie. Red bandana and all.

Then there were the big ones. Big and burly. Way bigger than the man on Salem's whale Grimm. These guys looked like they could bench a Beringel. They looked friendly. When one of them looked her way, she waved at him. Almost timidly, he waved back, before being addressed by a man in a similar uniform to Elaine.

Those men walked alongside what Summer guessed were the captains. As well as guys carrying banners. Very complex banners. Most of them consisted of some arched gate with wings, a skull on top of it, and a sinister-looking eye in the gate itself. They all had strange letters on them. Xs, Vs. Is. All in different orders. The soldiers looked tired, some looked like the walking dead. Their eyes almost looked glazed over. Those that did not, looked proud.

They passed an interesting sight. Armored women. She recognized the armor. It was the same as the women in the vision shown to Celestine before she left. Now that she got a closer look, she could see the subtle differences. The helmets reminded her of old knight helmets. Summer could only approve of this since these people didn't have their auras unlocked, a sturdy helmet was the best way to keep a bullet from spilling your brains out. The armor itself looked pretty solid too. It made her question why they don't give everyone here armor like that.

Then she saw the ones without helmets. Every single one of them had pure white hair and bob cuts. Had to be dyed. No way there were this many platinum blondes in one place.

"Cadet Blackwell." Came a low and strong voice.

The entire group halted as a man approached them. He was dressed in similar clothing to Elaine. Except he was far more decorated. Gold shoulder pads, red trim coat, along with a medal, a golden half-circle with a two-headed bird symbol on it. Under the coat, Summer could see armor. To top it off he wore a black peaked cap.

His face was scarred across his lip, chin, left cheek, and over his right eye. His features were stone and spoke of years in the field. Hair showing bits of grey in the black. This man was old, but he did not act it. Striding towards them with a youthful step. His violet eyes stared sharply. Elaine could have passed as his daughter.

All squad members behind them straightened up and holstered their guns. Elaine stood straight and crossed her open palms over her chest, almost like a shadow puppet of a bird.

"Commissar Strang, sir." Elaine greeted, her voice strong and clear.

Strang stopped in front of Elaine and glanced at her head. "You've lost your cap, cadet." He stated calmly, but with an edge to it.

"I did, sir," Elaine said looking him in the eyes. They were roughly the same height. With Summer being the shortest member of their little party. Much to her annoyance.

Strang stepped beside his cadet and inspected the soldiers. His hands folded behind his back the whole time. "Is this all that's left?"

"Yes, sir."

"And the captain?"

"Dead, sir. The mutants ambushed us, and he was among the first slain."

"I presume you took command then?"

"Yes, sir. We completed the mission. None of the filth remains."

The man's gaze turned to Summer, she almost felt small, and not because he was an inch or two taller than her. "Who is this?"

"A mercenary who came to our aid when the beasts cornered us. Her name is Summer Rose."

"Umm. Hello." Summer said, not sure how to address this man.

He stared at her for a moment before offering a gloved hand. "Thank you for your assistance. Cadia needs every able-bodied fighter it can get right now."

Summer took the hand with some hesitation. When she felt the fabric, she noted how stiff it was. Not the grip, but his fingers. They felt weird.

The commissar then turned to the troops. "Get in formation. Your pansy Colonel wants you all looking sharp. Creed is doing his rounds so get going."

The troops gave a sharp salute before marching past Summer. Elaine stepped up to Strang to whisper something in his ear. The man listened and turned to the huntress. "Follow us." He instructed before walking away with Elaine in tow.

Summer complied and followed them to what she assumed was the Cadian 21st. The banner had two Xs followed by an I on it. The troops were all lined up in mass. Weapons held down, and heads held high. If these many soldiers were at attention. She could only imagine what kind of person this Creed was.

Summer felt like asking, but never had the chance when she felt the muzzle of a gun press against the back of her skull. "On your knees, witch." Said Elaine, her voice full of venom.

"Elaine? What are you doing?" Summer asked, stunned by this sudden hostility.

"On your knees!" Elaine repeated, as twenty green armored soldiers surrounded them, they had an exotic assortment of weaponry, all of which were aimed at the huntress. Instead of arguing, Summer lowered herself to the ground, her knees scraping against the dirt.

"Why are you threatening me?" Summer asked.

Elaine walked around to Summer's front; her gun trained on her forehead. "You know exactly why, witch."

"No. I don't and why are you calling me that?" Summer didn't understand. She wasn't a witch. Summer didn't have any magic.

"Because that is what you are. Your powers are the product of foul sorcery. Unnatural and unclean."

"I don't understand. Your mad because of my semblance?" Were these people really this paranoid? She helped them and they turn on her for this? This was superstitious to the extreme.

"Call it what you wish. The fact remains that you are a psyker and unsanctioned psykers are a danger to us all."

"I don't even know what that is!" Summer argued.

The troops behind Elaine parted for Strang to step forward. His glare made Summer flinch. Arms still folded behind his back; he spoke. "As stated by the ancient edicts of the Adeptus Terra in millennia past. All unsanctioned psykers are to be taken to the nearest detainment facility to await their judgment." Strang reached into his coat and pulled out a pistol, similar to Elaine's but with a red covering. Elaine stepped aside for Strang to take her place.

"However, in the absence of any form of communication with the Imperium. And as we are in an active warzone. Protocol demands that all unsanctioned psykers are to be purged at once."

Summer's eyes widened as he lowered the gun to her forehead. She realized that he was completely serious. Summer caught quick glances at the men around her. She did not recognize any of their weapons. There was one she found particularly threatening. It was a fairly large gun with glowing blue coils. She spied heat distortion rising from them. Another form of laser gun? Didn't matter. If any more of these guys had heat bases weaponry her aura wouldn't be able to handle it. Not to mention they were all packed together. If they all fired at once they'd hit each other. Did they really view her as dangerous? She helped them.

She could not afford a hail of gunfire going off here. There were too many people. She would need to be fast. To activate her semblance when the commissar pulled the trigger. That's when the soldiers would drop their guard and she might slip away.

When the barrel of the pistol pressed against her forehead, she readied herself. His finger began to squeeze the trigger.

"Fraeden Strang." Came a familiar voice. Calm and soothing. Summer watched as the commissar looked back and her heart soared.

---

Celestine walked alongside Creed as he surveyed his forces. His entourage followed him, her Geminae Superia behind her. One by one they visited each regiment and spoke with their commanding officers. All reported casualties ranged from moderate to heavy. The final hours of the siege had left them all mauled. The same could not be said for their morale. Every soul present on the fields was in good spirits despite their exhaustion.

As they passed by, guardsmen all made the sign of the Aquila and whispered quiet prayers to the Emperor. Celestine heard them all and it lifted her spirits along with their own. Creed and Celestine. Beacons of hope and faith.

Celestine paused as she approached a group of Repentia. The Mistress of Repentance halted their march. "Praise be to the Emperor that we are graced with your presence, Holy Lady." Said the Mistress, her pain lash locked to her hip.

"Praise be to Him on Terra." Said the Repentia.

Celestine looked at the five Sisters, noticing the scars on their bodies from the lash's bite. She barely remembered that time, but they had her sympathy.

"May I ask what their sins are?" Celestine requested.

The Mistress gestured to each as she spoke. "Cowardice. Cowardice. Cowardice." She turned to the last two and addressed them together. "Disobedience, and Insubordination."

All of the Repentia had an air of shame about them. Celestine believed that they would have preferred the lash to this. The glares from her Geminae only made it worse for them.

"Could you elaborate on the sins of the last two?" Celestine inquired, making the two Sisters flinch.

"These two were ordered to aid a Cadian task force in sweeping the city. When they came across a demolition squad with orders to destroy the Temple of the Emperor Ascendant, they believed that the squad leader was taking the coward's way out by not clearing it out instead. When the squad leader argued back, they killed him, half his demolition team, and a number of their own assigned guardsmen."

"What of the temple?"

"Destroyed. After we confirmed the demolition team was acting on orders, we also learned that the temple had already been defiled by warpspawn. Loyal blood wasted because our own took action above their station." The Mistress' tone was harsh and the two did not meet Celestine's gaze.

"Zeal is a powerful thing. As is our devotion." Celestine began. "They give us strength and allow us to act in His name. Allow them to fuel you, but do not let them control you. For the Archenemy is adept at using our passion and fervor against us."

"Yes, Blessed Lady." Said the Repentia in unison.

Celestine turned to the Mistress. "Treat them as you will Mistress, but do not let them forget that they are not beyond redemption."

"Of course, my Lady." Said the Sister, before Celestine carried on her way.

She always felt that those in the Repentia needed to be reminded of this. They were not damned, they simply strayed from the path and required aid. As did everyone at some point. The process was harsh, but the pain was necessary in the end. It served as a lesson, as much as punishment.

Further down the line Creed was speaking to a Colonel. Of the Cadian 21st according to the banner. Colonel Ghadi. A man of some resolve. His regiment appeared to be one of the more intact ones. She had to give him that.

As she approached Creed, another force appeared to be marching in the same trajectory as herself. The tread of their power-armored boots was always hard to ignore when they wanted to be heard. It got Creed's attention.

Thus came the Black Templars, led by their Marshal Amalrich. Now there was resolve. Faith enough to match her Sisters. But why were they here?

The Space Marines reached Creed before she did, and the Lord Castellan did not so much as blink. The colonel was another story. He had never been around astartes most likely.

Drawing closer, their Chaplain, Lothar Roth took notice of her and kneeled. His brothers noticed and followed his example. "Holy Saint." Amalrich greeted while his warriors remained silent.

"Well met, Marshall Amalrich." She greeted him warmly. "What brings the Emperor's knights to meet with the Lord Castellan?" It was not offensive. She knew how Astartes acted sometimes. Some were cooperative, kind even. While others refused to even acknowledge baseline humanity. The Black Templars were a difficult bunch to predict, so she asked out of curiosity.

"A matter of honor," Amalrich answered. "During the siege, an order was given to fall back to the city. I misinterpreted it as a coward's order to protect himself, thus we ignored it."

"You don't answer to me, Marshall. As far as I'm aware, all Astartes elements on Cadia are free to take whatever action they feel would best hamper the enemy. You were entirely in your right to ignore my call for withdrawal." Creed said.

"Your decision was tactically sound, and my disregard cost the lives of many faithful warriors. Had I heeded your words, it could have been avoided." The Marshall retorted. "Thus, we are here to offer you our blades. In the up-and-coming battles, we shall stand by your side. You need only direct us."

"If you want forgiveness, you already have it. Without your lot, Kasr Kraf would be crawling with traitor Astartes by now."

While Creed debated with the Marshall, Celestine spotted an anomaly in the 21st's formation. A group of Kasrkin gathered in a circle, their weapons all trained on whatever they had surrounded.

When she saw the soul inside the ring, she was surprised. That beautiful soul. She was here. The Emperor had sent her here. That beautiful soul that held out so easily against the tides of the Empyrean. Now surrounded and likely being persecuted by other ignorant souls.

Without a word, Celestine marched toward the encirclement. As she neared it she noticed two people standing within it. Both wearing the uniform of the Commissariat. One was a woman, fairly young and recently graduated from the schola. Elaine Blackwell. The man pointing a pistol at the anointed's forehead was older by far. Cold and battle-hardened.

Reaching the encirclement, she called out his name. "Fraeden Strang."

---

Creed cut his conversation with the Marshal short. The Saint had just intervened with an execution if his eyes her reading this right. With Kell following close behind, he witnessed the persecution of what looked like a civilian.

The Saint called Commissar Strang's name and that got them to stop whatever it was they were doing. The Kasrkin refused to lower their weapons. As well as Strang, who kept his pistol against the prisoner's forehead.

"What's this all about then?" Creed asked loudly, ensuring everyone heard him. They did not lower their weapons to greet. This told Creed the woman was dangerous.

"Lord Castellan." Said the younger commissar. "Cadet-Commissar Elaine Blackwell, sir. We found an unsanctioned psyker in the southern hab-blocks. She aided me and those under me while we hunted a band of mutants."

"I see. And why is she surrounded by Kasrkin instead of in chains then?"

"Well, sir. Shortly after we dispatched the mutants, we were set upon by three traitor Astartes. In the struggle I witnessed her taking a bolt round to the back. She wasn't even hurt."

"Really?" Now Creed was beginning to make sense. If her powers made her durable enough to tank bolter fire, then the Kasrkins' heavy weapons made sense. Now for the less obvious questions. "You said she provided aid? Did she help you kill the heretics?"

"More like we helped her sure. We lacked the necessary armaments to kill enemy Space Marines?"

So she can go head-to-head with Astartes? That was concerning. Or promising, depending on what the next answer was. "And why is she here cadet? Why'd she help you?"

The cadet glanced at the Saint. "She said she was searching for you, Blessed Lady."

Celestine looked like she might say something, but Strang spoke first. "All of this being an obvious ploy to assassinate her. Or plant a saboteur in our ranks. The second the traitors return this witch will turn on us."

"I'm not a witch!" The woman cried, Strang responded by pressing the bolt pistol further into her head.

"Enough of your lies. It is time we are rid of you." Strang declared.

"You will not harm her, Commissar." Celestine objected. Her sword held at her side and for a moment Creed thought he saw her armored fingers tighten around the grip.

Her words gave Stang pause. Looking away from the captive he asked. "Excuse me?" He asked, his voice still firm but laced with surprise.

"I know this one. She is not with the Despoiler." Said the Saint, her voice turning cold.

"I'm sorry my lady but that does not change the fact that she is a psyker. An unsanctioned psyker. Her powers are a threat to us all." Strang argued, now unable to pull the trigger without Celestine's approval.

Creed was impressed, it took a lot to make a commissar sweat. Especially one like Strang, with decades of service under his belt. Yet the Saint did it with just three sentences. This left a problem though. Celestine was defending this woman. He felt that if Strang attacked her, the Saint might just kill him in front of all the men. That would be disastrous for morale.

Then there was the woman herself. Who was she to warrant being protected by the holiest figure on Cadia, to the point where said figure would be willing to spill loyal blood to do it? If this woman really was a psyker then it only compounded the issue. There had to be some sort of connection between these two. What made her so important to the Saint?

While Strang tried to argue his case, Creed observed the woman. She looked nervous and fidgety, but not afraid. Even when surrounded by lethal weapons. Her body language spoke of readiness. Like a coiled spring. That made sense. Creed would do the same in her position, waiting for a prime opportunity to escape. So, why hasn't she done anything? Strang's decision to hold her at point blank was a smart choice. If she got him the Kasrkin would get her. But Strang was distracted and all of the Kasrkin's commanding officers were present. They wouldn't risk shooting now. She had the opportunity to escape now. What was she waiting for? Was she hoping the Saint could talk Strang down? Her passive attitude and readiness meant one thing. She was waiting for Strang to pull the trigger.

'Not fighting unless we fire first? Alright then. Let's see what you do when no one can hurt you.' Creed hypothesized multiple scenarios in which the woman killed him for what he was about to do. Time for a gamble.

"... protocol dictates that I do this. To do otherwise..."

"Commissar." This time Creed was the one who cut off Strang.

"Lower your weapon," Creed ordered.

"Lord Castellan, you cannot..." Creed cut him off again.

With slow, deliberate steps, he marched passed the Saint and up to Strang's face. "Lower. Your. Weapon. Commissar."

Audible clicks could be heard from Creed's own Kasrkin as they readied their weapons. Colonel Ghadi almost broke into a cold sweat as the two stared each other down.

Wordlessly, Strang lowered his pistol and stepped aside. Giving Creed a clear view of the prisoner. Stepping into the encirclement, he stood above her, his arms clasped behind his back.

"What's your name miss?" Asked Creed.

"Summer Rose." Said the white-cloaked woman. Looking up at him calmly. Not threatened by him in the slightest.

He took note of her attire. Not made for combat. Her hair was slightly abnormal. Her eyes were grey. No, not grey. They were shining like silver caught in the light. Odd.

"Why are you here? What are you?"

"I'm a huntress. I protect people by killing monsters. I came here to find Celestine."

Creed turned to the Saint. "Is this true?"

Celestine, having regained her serene smile answered. "Yes. While I do not know her reason for her coming here. I understand her purpose is similar to mine. We face foes most are ill-suited to battle."

That could only mean daemons. A daemonhunter? Could she be an Inquisitor? No, she would have pulled rank by now. Not allow herself to get captured.

"They say you are unsanctioned. Is that true?"

"I don't know what that means. Is it another word for illegal or unlicensed?" That was a yes in Creed's book.

"Both. Now." He leaned bending forward slightly. "Who sent you? The Inquisition?"

Summer shook her head. "No."

"Then who did?" Creed snorted.

Summer looked to Celestine and Creed followed the stare. The two women said nothing, but Summer looked like she was imploring the Saint to answer for her. This caused Creed to wonder. Could they have been sent together?

"You know what? It doesn't matter now." He said, letting her dodge the question.

"Can you control your powers?"

"Yes, sir. I won't hurt anyone." She said with earnest concern. A strange thing for a psyker. He had seen many. Most did not show such levels of empathy with others.

"Can you fight without them?"

She seemed to hesitate for a moment before replying. "Yes. I've trained since I was six."

Not a bad starting point. Cadians were also trained as youths. She was beginning to sound useful.

"You took on three Astartes. You a close combat specialist?"

"Most of the time. I'm a pretty good sniper too." A sniper, it's always handy to have more of those. Assuming the Saint was correct, this little lady could be very useful.

"And hunt daemons?"

Her eyes narrowed. He could see anger in them. Had he struck a nerve?

"I hate them." She said, her eyes changing from a cool silver to a burning gold. "They're a plague on my home. Yes. I hunt daemons."

Creed felt something emanating from the huntress as she spoke. Anger, and hate. The sensation washed over his mind. Making him almost reflexively reach for his pistols. The Kasrkin around her became agitated as well. Normally Creed would see this as proof the woman would need to be put down. But instead, he grinned. His second smile in over two decades. He liked this. There was anger. The righteous hate for the enemy. She was no enemy. She was an asset.

"Guns down lads." He commanded and the Kasrkin, albeit reluctantly obeyed.

"Lord Creed, you can't be serious?" The younger commissar protested. "She simply says she has control, she's still dangerous."

"You're on the ball, cadet." Creed turned to Ghadi. "Colonel."

"Yes, sir," Ghadi responded, keeping the anxiety out of his voice.

"Consider this woman a replacement battle-psyker for your regiment. Have her properly equipped and ready for your next deployment." He turned to Strang. "And since you're so worried. You can watch her. But I know, she's dangerous, so I'll provide insurance."

Creed then turned to his audience, the Black Templars. They had watched the whole scene. "Marshall, I have a request if you'll listen."

"You have my attention." Replied Amalrich.

"Lord Castellan!" Called out a voice. Down the ranks of guardsmen ran a vox officer. His vox set almost fell off as he sprinted.

"What is it?" Demanded Creed, expecting bad news.

"It's High Command, sir. They say a Mechanicus fleet just arrived in orbit."

Creed felt like smiling for a third time. Bless his soul, today was full of presents.

---

Shock Trooper Tarn Katar stood at attention outside the commissar's tent on the muster field Night had come and the standing army of Kasr Kraf took the opportunity to recuperate. The purplish green light of the Eye shone bright enough to cast shadows. The lads didn't care. Months of near-constant fighting had left many of them dead on their feet. Not to mention the sick ones, overusing combat stims had some nasty side effects. While Cadian's were against using them, there were still those who did. It was even understandable in certain situations. Those in the best shape kept watch alongside the Astartes and the Sisters.

Tarn didn't pity them. He was aching too, and not from the shot he took. No, his leg had healed just fine, courtesy of the regiment's newest conscript. Who was sitting to his left, tinkering with the equipment she was given.

An hour ago, two lads came along and dumped her gear in front of her. "Complement of Creed." Sneered one of them. Tarn didn't like their attitudes. The lady seemed kind enough. She took the brunt of the fight off their backs and fixed them up well. Not many psykers tend to do that for rank-and-file soldiers. Even when they could.

The gear was all standard. Flak armor, khaki vest. A long-las. Bayonet. Belt pouches, spare charge packs, and a helmet. The only thing that was not standard was the power sword. Tarn did not judge. After seeing her fight, he completely agreed with Creed's choice.

She set everything down and shoved the uniform to the side. Focusing squarely on the rifle. Tarn had to admit, the lady knew how to treat a weapon right. Giving it a full inspection. Gauging its weight and getting a feel for it. Repeatedly reloading the charge pack. Tarn hoped the Machine Spirit did not take offense to that. His tended to get agitated if he did not offer the proper prayers.

Then she slowly and carefully began to disassemble it. Handling each component with almost loving care. If her cloak had been red, a passerby might mistake her for a tech adept. Each piece was placed separately from the others, then she started rebuilding it. Doing the entire process in reverse. She didn't want to use her weapon, she wanted to understand it.

"Aren't you tired?" Tarn blinked when he realized she was talking to him.

"Sorry." She said, still assembling the rifle. "You've been standing here for hours. Aren't you tired?"

"Not at all." He lied. At this point, he would agree to wrestle and ork if it meant he would get a full night's sleep beforehand. "What about you? All that jumping and flipping must have been exhausting. You sure you don't want some rest yourself?"

"Nope." She replied putting emphasis on the P. He suspected she was lying, but if she was, she hid it better than everyone else.

"My name is Summer." She said politely.

"Tarn Katar. You fixed up my leg before. Remember?"

Summer paused in her assembly. "Sorry. So much was happening at the time I forgot to ask."

"Don't worry about it. I'm just happy I got to keep my leg." He glanced over at the clothes that were provided for her. "You should put on the uniform. Might get a better reception that way."

Summer turned to the piled and cringed. "I'd rather not. That armor would feel awkward. Plus, khaki isn't my color."

Tarn smiled; the lady still had a sense of humor after the day she'd been through. That's a good thing. "You sure? You'll never know unless you try it. Might make you look bigger, but I heard some people find that attractive."

Summer just giggled softly before returning to her work.

"You into guns?" Tarn inquired as she reattached the stock.

"I like weapons. They protect people."

"And hurt them too," Tarn said offhandedly.

She did not reply as she stared down the attached scope, before removing it.

Tarn wanted to apologize, thinking he'd offended her. But stayed quiet when he noticed the cadet-commissar approach.

She looked angry, very angry. Stopping right in front of the woman, she spoke in a low voice. "You will explain, what did you do to me? To those troops? What form of psychic witchery did you place on us?"

"I didn't place anything on you?" Protested Summer. "All I did was unlock your aura. It's meant to protect you."

"And for what price?" Elaine growled. "What foul bargain did you strike for this?"

"Nothing." Replied the huntress. "I just used a portion of my own aura to unlock yours."

"Was that why you were so confident when I had you at gunpoint? Is there some kind of link between us all now? If I had shot you, I would have died too? Just so you know I would have pulled the trigger anyway. Even with your protection chaining me to you."

Tarn stiffened at the notion that he might have died. He had received the same strange protection from the woman. Also being this close to an angry commissar, even a cadet was not a position many in the Guard wanted to be in.

"No." Replied Summer. "I wasn't protecting you. That was your aura. It was all you."

Elaine only got more upset at that statement. "Explain now."

The woman took a breath before speaking. "Aura is the manifestation of one's soul. Bearing it outward to shield the person from getting hurt. All I did was unlock yours and heal your injury. The protection you got from it was your own soul protecting you."

Tarn listened intently; he didn't quite understand. Being protected by your own soul. That sounded awfully close to psyker nonsense.

The cadet took in these words as well. "So, you forced your psychic curse on me?"

"No!" The huntress said vehemently. "It's not some magic or curse. It's your soul. It's something everyone has. Everyone has a soul, so everyone has an aura. All I did was wake yours up."

Elaine still looked angry, but she appeared to give it some thought. Tarn had to admit, it still sounded fishy. But the idea of having a form of extra protection that was completely catch-free was slightly appealing. "This is... common where you're from?"

"Kind of. Though not everyone has their aura unlocked. It's mostly for huntsmen and huntresses like me. To help us fight and protect our homes."

"Is there a way to deactivate it somehow?" Elaine asked.

Tarn blinked, where was this conversation going?

"I umm..." The huntress paused. "I don't know. I heard stories of people who tried to suppress their auras, but I have no idea if they were true or not."

Tarn noticed Summer bearing a cheeky smile. "Why? Afraid of what your boss might do to you if he found out?"

Elaine did not respond as her expression became much darker. That's when Tarn realized that the woman had caught the cadet-commissar red handed.

"Yeah." Summer continued. "I noticed that you left that part out of my little trial back there."

Tarn felt his blood run cold. He hadn't realized it either. If any of the officers found out, he might get executed.

"Is this your ploy then? Blackmail?" Elain hissed.

"No." Summer said again, smiling warmly. "I'm sorry, okay. I was worried and just wanted to help. Unlocking your aura was the only way I knew how to mend your injuries. If I had known beforehand that I could heal you without doing it maybe I wouldn't have."

Tarn watched the standoff. Summer was being honest, he could tell. Back in the hab blocks, the only thing she was concerned about was making sure they all got out alive. She charged the Astartes without any hesitation. Even the cadet-commissar could argue with that. Elaine wanted to say more, Tarn had to guess that the cadet had her hands tied. She wasn't permitted to shoot the psyker without reason, and if she tried the woman could drag the rest of them down with her.

"Fine. I guess I have to accept the reality of this." The cadet said, dourly. "So, explain this aura to me. What other benefits does it provide? Are there any drawbacks I should be aware of? Any weaknesses?" Questioned the cadet.

"Oh, plenty." She admitted. "But first I'd like to have some questions answered myself."

Elaine narrowed her eyes. "What kind of questions?"

"Where we are? Who you all are? Why we are at war? I don't know if you've noticed but I have almost no idea what's going on." She said in an almost panicked fashion.

"You don't know where you are?"

"Nope. I don't even know what planet this is."

Tarn balked at that. This woman did not know where she was. How? This was Cadia. The jewel of the Imperium. The cadet took it in a better stride than he did.

"Our world is called Cadia." She said simply.

"Cadia. That's a pretty cool name." Summer complimented.

Tarn felt she deserved more of an answer than that. "Best damn fortress world in the galaxy." He said with pride.

Both women looked at him. Elaine glowered at him while the silver-eyed lady asked. "Fortress world?"

Before he could elaborate, the cadet sighed. "By the Throne. Just how uninformed are you?"

"Let's assume I know next to nothing about the galaxy." The woman admitted, and Tarn was not sure if he should take her seriously or not.

The speakers set up all around the fields came to life. Playing a song Tarn had become used to hearing since the siege began. It always preluded an announcement from Lord Creed himself.

"What a nice song." Said Summer. Tarn gave a nod of approval.

"Flower of Cadia. It's a classic." He said with an appreciative smile.

"You still have to answer my questions. Or I may report this to Strang regardless." Elain stated with finality.

Summer seemed to give it some thought, with her solution being a compromise. "How about this? We take turns. You ask a question. I answer. Then I ask you a question. Sound fair?"

The cadet stared down at the seated woman who had completely reassembled her long-las.

"I suppose." She spoke. "Now tell me, is aura a universal defense or does..."

As the two conversed, Tarn listened as the song ended and Creed's voice sounded from the speakers.

"Soldiers of Cadia. We have driven the enemy back. Their greatest weapon is shattered. Again, and again we have pushed them from our walls, and we are still here. Take pride in this moment. For you made it happen. All of you. And all the proud sons and daughters of Cadia who have fallen protecting our home. But our work is not done yet. Thanks to the labors of the Adeptus Mechanicus, we have discovered the enemy's true goal. The Despoiler plans to unleash hell upon the Imperium. To wash us all away in a tide of daemons. The Cadian Pylons are his target. They must be protected. Take heart, my friends. With mighty Phalanx above, the time has come for our counter-offensive. Rest well, sons and daughters of Cadia. Soon we make for the Elysion Fields. Cadia Stands!"

---

There we go. Hope you all enjoy it.

Thanks again to Dracko1243 for Tarn Katar. Home to see more from you guys. Guardsmen. Sisters. Priests. Inquisitors. Space marines. If you want a character in this story just let me know and I'll see if I can fit them in.

Also, I want to know if anyone knows how long the final battle of Cadia went on for. I know what happens, but I don't exactly have the time frame.

I am working on the 30k one but do not expect that for a while.

Also do not take Summer's explanation for aura being different from the Warp or magic as facts. Remember she is just as ignorant as the guardsman in regard to how that works. I'll just tell you all now. Yes, the aura is a psychic ability. Same goes for semblances.