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.

5. Chapter 5

Warhammer 40k is the property of Games Workshop

RWBY is the property of Rooster Teeth

---

Chapter 5: Chaos Descends - Return of the Founder

It began at dawn. As the sun crept over the horizon, the sky rained with fire.

An hour after the sun rose, word traveled down the chain of command that the enemy was making their move. Large-scale mass landings were reported outside of the safe zone established by the Phalanx. Following reports of what was landing. Daemon Engines. Mutants. Titans. Hordes of raving cultists. Chaos Space Marines. The Despoiler had let loose his full roster of horrors.

The guns of the Imperial Fists' prized fortress monastery, as damaged as it was, held the enemy fleet at bay. None among their numbers wished for the mutually assured destruction such a clash would bring.

Marshal Marius Amalrich grinned under his rebreather as he stared out into the arid desert of the Elysion Fields. Scattered behind him throughout a multitude of trenches, all manned by Cadian Shock Troopers, were over two hundred of his brothers. He had discussed the defense plan with Captain Garradon, and they concluded that their Astartes would best be used as a force multiplier to keep the humans from buckling. He did not approve of this tactic at first, but his brother in gold had made it clear that should the humans fall, they would be overwhelmed. Now they were divided, but Marius was not worried. The Hand of Dorn himself shielded them from orbit. It was a divine omen.

The Marshal's mind drifted to the woman in the white cloak. Celestine said she was blessed by the God-Emperor. So far, he had little reason to doubt the Saint's words. But the evidence that went in her favor was not much higher. The closest thing Lothar had reported was an incident where the woman was trapped in a meditative trance for three hours. He noted the golden light that emanated from her form. While this was something all witches were capable of emulating, Amalrich was inclined to believe it was divine.

He still felt like laughing at the contents of the vision. An Ultramarine. An Ultramarine would be the one to break the coming storm? While he respected their reputation, there were barely any of them on Cadia. He brushed the thought aside. Whether or not it was true, his duty remained the same. As the Primarch himself exemplified, above all else, their duty to the Emperor and His Imperium came first.

Summer Rose was a strange one, even by human standards. When he arrived and greeted her, she expressed concern for him. His rebreather upset her. When he revealed how he was injured in battle on the planet Armageddon, she showed sorrow and apologized. He did not understand why she did that. She had nothing to do with his wounds. Wounds he was proud to bear.

He was roused from his thoughts as the roar of artillery echoed overhead. In the distance, he saw the dust clouds created by the shells impacting the ground and the trails created by the enemy's transports as they attempted to weave through the rain of explosives. Some had better luck than others. But those that got through would have to face his blade. They would prefer the explosions then.

He picked up the vox feeds of his brothers as they conversed with each other. All were waiting for it. They had all gathered before the divide to engage in prayer. Led by the chaplain, their souls were guarded, and their minds focused. Their oaths were made, and duties were given. There was just one last thing for Lothar to do. Ignite their passions. Stoke the fires in their souls and unleash the fury of their zeal. But this was not something that should be done in the confines of a small gathering. Even when the members in attendance were over one hundred and fifty strong. This was an awakening that took place moments before the battle was joined. When emotion was at its zenith and had yet to be revealed to the foe. It was one of the rare moments that the Templars of the Eternal Crusade felt true comradeship with the baseline humans of the Imperium. For they too hated the enemy. They could share in the passion and desire to see mankind's foes cut down. It was beautiful to Marius.

The Marshal activated his vox. It was time for Lothar to do what he did best.

---

Summer stared out in awe. The display of destruction before her was mind-blowing. Miles beyond the trench lines, twelve explosions went off every second. The shells fell like raindrops. The constant boom of the guns behind her blended together, creating an ugly beat that preceded each explosion.

Standing on a hill just behind the front lines. The shadows of the Pylons were behind her. The line of sight her position granted her was clear. With her enhanced sight, she could see everything in detail across the entire battlefront. If she turned around, she'd be able to see Creed's command center. A Skyshield as Elaine called it. Summer would admit it had a lot of aesthetics for a landing pad. It appeared to be a common trait in this Imperium. Not that she minded. The clean and simple aesthetic of Atlas got boring quickly. The extra pop was acceptable.

She felt out of place. This was a warzone. With an army of soldiers. Not a position she ever thought she would be in. If she had the lien, she would bet a million that James would want to be here instead. Even if that would be a bad idea. He would probably argue with Creed and the Astartes. That hard head, no wonder Glynda liked him.

Speaking of the Astartes. She could see them. Dotted throughout the trenches. Some alone, others in squads. They were all prepared for what was coming. A full-on assault. Summer had seen something similar in the jungles around Vale. Fortified villages fell in hard times. Collective depression turned to anger and attracted hordes of Grimm. Everyone had to pull their weight, or a lot of people would die, even with a full huntsman team present. The fighting would go on for hours because of the sheer number of Grimm. Now she was going through a similar scenario but on a far grander scale. It frightened her. So many of these soldiers were going to die and there was very little she could do about it. Sure, she could save a dozen, fifty, maybe even a hundred. But there were thousands here, tens of thousands.

Summer turned her attention to the Cadians in the trenches. If you were capable of ignoring the thunder of the guns, you would notice a whisper quiet amongst them. None of them spoke a word unless they had to. Their attention was collectively directed at the approaching enemy. She feared for them. So many brave souls, ready to fight and likely die for their home. None of them had an aura. None of them had the security it brought her, and admittedly taken for granted. They all knew they could die if they lost focus for a second. A single bullet was all it took. A single bullet and they'd be dead. All of them knew this and they stood firm. In these moments, Summer had never held such respect for others in her whole life. Very few people back home would do something like this.

Summer wondered if they felt the same as she did. Were they all terrified of the carnage to come? Did they want to run? Summer was scared. She had heard from Elaine that there were humans among the enemy. Humans. People. She was going to have to kill people. The allegations levied against them were heavy. Traitors. Cultists. Madmen. Vermin. Insane individuals who were beyond saving. None of them made her feel better about it. In fact, she felt pity for them. Driven to insanity because of the cruelty of this Despoiler. The more she learned about him, the more she hated him. All of this violence and destruction and for what? Revenge? The depths he was willing to go, it made her sick.

She could see it on the approaching transports. All of them were drenched in some kind of energy that resonated with a similar glow to her Soul-Sight as she called it. Some were far more intense and livelier. Like the metal held a soul in each plate, they all writhed and fought for more space. A few had a singular aura to them. In the back of Summer's mind, she knew those ones had souls in them for sure. They were possessed. She wasn't sure where she drew that conclusion from, but she did not doubt it. Her intuition had yet to fail her when assessing threats. You have to be able to gauge the danger in any situation or enemy if you hoped to make it as a huntress. Her encounter with Salem was simply a poor judgment on her part.

With her long-las at the ready, she peered through the smog created by the barrage. She removed the scope back at Kasr Kraf. With her new eyes, it would only hinder her ability to aim. She could spot details at long distances like her eyes had a biological zoom function. Next time she sees the Emperor, she planned to thank him for this. An ability like this was perfect for her. Some of the transports were destroyed. Shattered by the impact of artillery shells. Others were downed. From the dust and smoke, she could see figures emerge from them. Armored figures.

As she steadied her aim on them, Lothar's voice boomed behind her. "Sons and Daughters of Cadia!"

Startled by the sudden declaration, she lowered her rifle and looked back at the chaplain. Her entire escort was here with her. Some of them weren't happy about it. Especially the Templars. Summer knew they were fighters. Warriors who craved the fight. To be stuck up here with her must be beyond frustrating. The Cadians took it in stride. Elaine had a pair of magnoculars in her hands. Doing what Summer was doing a second ago. Surveying the battlefield.

Lothar was speaking over the vox. Which Summer recognized as the local communications network. Did he have an announcement?

"The day has come. The hour is neigh. Look out into the field. See the enemy charge toward us with reckless abandon. Watch as their transports are pelted and broken. See them explode in righteous fire."

Summer was surprised. This was the first time she'd heard him speak so aggressively. His words were full of emotion and passion. The complete opposite of what he displayed yesterday.

"They charge at us now. They charge at our guns because now we know. We know what they want. Now they can no longer take it from orbit. Watch the desperate fools throw themselves at your guns. How they die pointless and empty deaths. As all traitors should!"

His next words were delivered calmly and respectfully. "Soldiers of Cadia. Your duty is a grim task. One that you will never be thanked for. A life of war and sacrifice. My Brothers in the Black Templars, as well as my fellow Astartes across your world, know this life all too well. A life given in service so the Imperium may thrive. For ten thousand years, you have held this vital world against the Despoiler and all his unholy allies. You have done so with honor and pride. Cadian blood spent in defense of humanity is blood spent well. There are none that can refute your legacy. None can deny your courage. Your zeal and faith."

He pointed his crozius out toward the destruction as if he was at the front of this army. "Look! See how much the Despoiler is willing to throw away to defeat you! He does not wish to simply kill you! He wants to humble you! To break you! He desires to break Cadia's pride! Will you just stand there and let him?"

A resounding chorus of voices rose up from below to answer him. "NO!"

Lothar let out a hearty laugh. "I thought not. You are Cadians! Proud and defiant to the end. The enemy knows this. Their ultimate prize is the destruction of your spirit. To know that you are broken. This is the day he's been waiting for. Now is his chance to break you. But will not happen. You will not allow it to happen! Tell me, brothers and sisters! Tell me, why?"

"Cadia Stands!"

"What was that?" He shouted.

"Cadia Stands!"

"They are still coming! I don't think they heard you!"

"Cadia Stands!"

Lothar laughed again. Summer could tell he was enjoying this. Almost made her wish Ozpin could give a speech like this. Alive and filled with heart.

"Yes, it does. But it does not stand alone. The Sons of Dorn stand with you. The Phalanx watches over us from above. Now is the time. Take your vengeance! Carve it into their defiled armor! Come, you traitorous dogs! Don't keep us waiting! Come and die! When this day is done, we will hurl you and the Warmaster back into the Eye! Say it again, proud Cadians! Make sure they see the fire in your hearts!"

"Cadia Stands!"

"Come, Despoiler! Come, traitors! Come and die! We have a million guns down here waiting for you all!"

The Templars all spoke in unison next, their devotion shining through their words. "No Pity! No Remorse! No Fear! Ave Imperator Dominus!"

A cheer echoed across the trenches and the first pops of lasguns could be heard. At the front, the Shock Troopers and Astartes opened fire.

Traitor Astartes emerged from the smoke, accompanying them were masses of people. Some were in rags wielding clubs and swords. Others had proper body armor and ranged weapons. There were too many for Summer to see their individual marks. She did notice lasbeams being fired from the approaching crowd. There were a lot of them. More than she expected, the shelling was a death sentence and yet they were still coming. Goes to show, if you throw enough at the wall something will get through. It made her wonder how many were behind the rain of fire.

Turning to the Astartes she gave Lothar an approving smile. "That was a good speech. Got them all in a fighting mood."

"Never gets old. He always knows how to set a fire in the blood." Mercer said while he held the banner proudly.

"It is important to any fighting force," Lothar explained. "Faith is as potent as a blade. No army can fight without it. They must believe. For to fight without faith is to sentence yourself to death."

Summer understood what he was saying. She did not entirely agree with the faith part specifically, but that was easily substituted by other close concepts. An army must believe. She entirely agreed with that. Their morale and confidence are essential.

"I know this a bad time, but I have one question," Summer asked.

"Speak quickly." Lother prompted.

"Who are the Sons on Dorn?"

A slight grinding sound echoed from Meller's helmet. He had stifled a laugh. "We are."

"I thought you were called the Black Templars?"

"We are," Thuran said, watching the battle. "All Black Templars are sons of Rogal Dorn."

"And who's he?"

"A Primarch," Mercer said confidently, like saying it was an honor. "A son of the Emperor himself."

"Oh." Summer said. Not fully understanding why they would call themselves his sons. But she understood the level of status someone would attain if they were the son of a monarch slash god.

"Why does that matter to you?" Elaine asked still staring out through her magnoculars. "We've already established you know next to nothing about the Imperium and its history. Not to mention we're in a combat zone now. Is this small detail so important?"

"Watch your words, commissar," Kadan growled. "The name of our esteemed father is no small detail."

Elaine lowered her magnoculars to address the Astartes. "I was not implying it was, my Lord. I meant the fact that she did not know such a thing was unimportant when the enemy is right there." She explained pointing to the front where Templars and Imperial Fists were firing at the traitor Astrartes.

"Why does it matter?" Asked Lothar. "Why does the name of our father matter to you?"

Summer looked away. "It doesn't." She lied. "I was just curious. The name was mentioned in old stories back on Remnant."

The chaplain stared at her for a time before conceding. "When this battle is over, perhaps you could share some with us. In return, I could tell you of our father, Rogal Dorn."

Summer was about to respond but Elaine cut her off. "While that sounds interesting, my Lord, maybe she should focus on not dying so you can tell those stories." Her words were directed at the chaplain, but her gaze was on Summer.

"Right." Said the huntress, raising her rifle again and getting into a crouching position.

Summer set her sights on the humans charging the first trench line. The Astartes directed their focus on the other Astartes. The Cadians were focused on the cultists. Summer would admit that some of them looked rancid. Blisters and buboes everywhere. When she used her Soul-Sight, she felt repulsed. Their auras looked sick. Tainted.

She really did feel sorry for them. To be defiled in such a way. There were some Grimm who did this. The Nightmare is the most infamous example. But even that didn't do it to this degree. These people were broken. Damaged beyond repair. The only reason they weren't writhing in agony was that the corruption destroyed their ability to feel at all. It was horrible.

Again. She had no idea how she knew this. It was like a hidden library in the back of her mind and visual cues opened certain books for her to skim over. That would need investigating. Later though. For now, she had to put these poor souls out of their misery.

As she lined up the shot, the sight of them caused a mixture of emotions inside of her. Repulsion for what has tainted them. Pity for the afflicted, and sorrow for what has to be done. She held her finger on the trigger. A part of her wanted to help them. To try and save them from this. But another told her that there was no saving them. They were too far gone.

This conflict made her freeze up, she didn't want to kill people. She didn't become a huntress to kill people. Her purpose was to protect people. How could she protect anyone if she had to kill? Grimm were different. There was never a common ground with them. It was fight or die.

Summer glanced down the line and watched the Cadians. In the part of the trench that had close-quarters fighting, the soldiers had bayonets attached to their guns. The cultists were trying to chop at them like mad animals. Her eyes went wide as she watched a soldier's skull get split open and the cultist did not stop there. He kept beating on the corpse over and over until he was gunned down. She spotted another scene, three on-one. The Cadian was still alive, and they were beating him to death. He was cut, bruised, and bleeding and they just kept going.

Had any of her escorts been looking at her they would notice her irises turn to gold. With three quick pulls, she planted a lasbolt in each cultist's head.

Summer watched in silence as the dying man was carried away by his comrades. Had she acted sooner, she could have helped. Her hesitation caused this. She stilled her breath and fired again. Normally she would note the lack of recoil the gun had. Her Ivory could buck, but this girl was soft. Now though, her focus was on doing what she could to help those men. She kept firing. Her aim was spot on each time. Whether it was to wound or kill, she did not miss. Every wounded enemy was taken down by the Cadian Shock Troopers. The rest died when the beam hit them. She couldn't save those lost souls out there, but she could help those who fought to survive. As she continued to pull the trigger, a question entered her mind.

Was this war? Kill or be killed? Was that really it? She wanted to question James's sanity for willingly getting into this.

"I'm sorry." She whispered in vain. She knew they wouldn't hear her or care in the slightest. But she didn't care. To her, it had to be said. She didn't want to do this, but it was the only way.

The trench was cleared, and she saw a woman in a sergeant's uniform look up at Summer. The huntress had no idea if the sergeant could see her, but the Cadian sent a salute her way.

Summer wanted to smile, but she held it in. Smile later. Fight now.

She shifted her sights to the next line of trenches. She did her best to tune out the corpses as she tried to spot targets. An irritated groan went off behind her.

"Something troubles you, Brother?" Asked one of the Templars. Sounded like Meller.

"Why are we here?" Answered another voice. It was Kadan. "We should be down there sharing in the glory with our brothers."

Summer frowned at that. Glory? There was no glory in this.

"We act on our Marshal's orders." Said Thuran.

"Yes. To protect her, but we need not do it here. We could be in the fray. She could as well. Show the humans how much of a warrior she is."

"Are you saying we should deliberately endanger our charge just to satisfy your hunger for glory, Kadan?" Lyron questioned. "Be careful."

"Of what? Are we not Templars? We are forged for war. Not guard duty."

"We swore an oath," Lothar said in a low voice. "We swore on the name of Dorn and Sigismund to our Marshal and the Living Saint. Does the name of our father mean nothing to you?"

Summer didn't hear Kadan answer. It still confused her how an entire fighting force could consider one man to be their father. Religious reasons. That was all she could come up with to rationalize this. She just kept firing. When her sights zeroed on the sickly ones, she became frustrated. It took at least three shots to the head to put them down.

"What's wrong?" Came a voice, causing the huntress to cease her fire, but she didn't move.

Glancing to her right, Elaine was focused on her now. "You've been quiet. Is something the matter?"

Summer didn't answer, she just lowered her gun and looked at the Cadet Commissar. She almost flinched at Summer's gaze. "Were you crying?"

The huntress put a hand to her cheek. It felt wet to the touch. Was she crying this whole time? She hadn't noticed at all.

Elaine flinched again, as the gold faded from Summer's eyes, returning to their original silver.

At that moment a shadow passed over them. "What was that?" Summer asked, the sudden alarms shaking her from her sorrow.

Everyone turned to the sky. Elaine tried using her magnoculars to see what it was. Summer looked too. It wasn't a bird. Birds don't cast shadows from that height. If she were back on Remnant, she would assume it were a Nevermore. Did the enemy have something similar?

Silver eyes scanned the skies, and something entered her vision. "I see something." She called out.

"What is it?" Lothar replied.

Summer squinted, it looked vaguely avian, but the way it moved was off. "I'm not sure." She said as she spotted more.

"Show me where." Elaine demanded, Summer stood at her side and directed her gaze with a finger.

"There." She said pointing at the collection of shapes. "They look like... metal dragons?"

"What!?" Elaine yelled, almost slamming her magnoculars against her face.

They had sharp, angular bodies with spiked wings. Large, serrated talons stretched out from underneath the main bodies. Their heads were aggressive and birdlike but had the distinct predatory stare of a large reptile. Summer counted six of them, and they were all diving straight towards them.

"HELDRAKES!" Elaine cried.

On her word, the entire party sprang to life. "Scatter!" Lothar shouted.

They all sprinted away as one of the mechanical monsters dive-bombed their position. It crashed into the ground, sending a cloud of dust flying in all directions. It let out a roar of grinding gears and metal screeching. Its body was black with gold trimming that looked like jagged lightning marks. Summer stared at this beast. Every instinct she had was telling her that this thing was dangerous. It had an aura. It wasn't just a machine. It was possessed by a demon.

Summer pulled out her power sword and ignited the power field. The Cadians opened fire on the thing. The superheated lasers did nothing to its armor. The Kasrkins' heavy weapons were a different story. The plasma gun fired a blob of blue light that crashed against its chassis, distorting the metal it came into contact with before the heat dispersed. The melta gun had a more profound effect. He had to get closer, but the beam he fired cut a good portion of steel from its head.

While they all fired at the beast. It shrieked and lunged at the Kasrkin. Its jaws snapped at empty air, as a white and green cloud of rose petals sped away from it. The cloud reformed into Summer holding the Kasrkin by the shoulders.

"Are you okay?" She asked hurriedly.

He stutters. "Y-yes." Summer didn't care. It was a common reaction to someone's first experience with her semblance.

"Get back!" Elaine yelled.

Summer felt the heat on her back. Turning around she saw red flames spewing from vents on the monster's wings. The other Kasrkin and two of the Shock Troopers were caught in their wake. They screamed and wailed in agony as their armor and flesh melted and burned. Within seconds their bodies were reduced to black smears on the ground. She didn't even get to learn their names.

Summer felt her anger ignite like a fuse at the sight of this. "NO!" She roared, charging the beast.

"Summer, wait!" Elaine called out but Summer ignored her as she jumped at the thing's head. Plunging her sword into its metallic skull.

It shrieked and threw its head to the sky. Summer held on to the grip of her sword as the creature tried to shake her off, but she refused to let go. While its head was low, she noticed the others had stopped firing and the Templars were taking their shots carefully.

"Don't stop! Kill it!" She managed to say as she repositioned herself atop its head as it tried to lam her to the ground. "Don't worry about me! Just kill it!"

The Astartes reacted the quickest, taking her words to heart. Kadan let out a warcry as he tore a plate off the monster's metal hide. Mercer's combi melta punched a hole in its wing. Lothar took the riskiest course of action. He aimed at the head while Summer tried to cut further into it. He trusted in the Emperor to protect His Chosen. The Master of Mankind would guide his strikes. The remaining Kasrkin added his fire to it, looking to avenge his fallen comrade.

The Cadians joined in, aiming for the body. While their lasguns were not very effective, even at maximum charge, their efforts were showing results. The Helldrake's movements were becoming more erratic and frenzied. It was starting to panic.

It let out another shriek and charged them all. Missing the mark, it passed them and ran off the hill. It did not run down the hill. It took to the air. Rising high into the sky with Summer hanging on for dear life.

The huntress heard Elaine call out to her, but it was too late. She was already too high for them to be of any help. The thrusters built into the creature gave it incredible speed. Summer's only lifeline was the grip of her sword. She would be at the mercy of the blades dotting the monster's spine if she let go. Not to mention if she fell, there would be no stopping it from circling around and finishing her off in mid-air.

Summer screamed as an artillery shell flew passed her. It didn't matter how strong her aura was now. A hit from one of those was death. The metal dragon didn't pay them any mind as it began a series of tight maneuvers to throw her off.

Summer grit her teeth, this thing was stubborn. A Nevermore would be long dead by now. Even the Alphas would go down from the damage inflicted on this thing. This thing shouldn't be moving regardless. What is keeping it on the crazed path with no issues?

As if to answer her question, her Soul-Sight activated again. A burning red aura surrounded the metal frame. Reminding her of the true nature of her prey.

She knew what she had to do. Looking down, she felt her breath hitch at the height they had climbed in these short moments. She couldn't afford to wait for a second longer.

---

It raged. It raged like a fire in the prison of metal and smoke its essence was placed in. This was not how this was supposed to go. It was meant to soar in with its kin and destroy the material engines of violence. It did not know the names of such devices for it was incapable of comprehending the matters of the material. Despite this, it knew its role and mission, as dictated by the ones who commanded it and the Powers that placed it in this shell.

It knew it had made a mistake. During its descent, it spied a bright one. A brilliant glowing light. It knew what that was. Though, again it had no name for it. But it knew the value of such things. Such souls were delicious. Its memories of devouring one in the past tempted it into claiming this prize before its kin could sniff it out. It was a mistake back then too. It was so fixated on the soul it was devouring that it failed to notice another one present. That resulted in its banishment and upon its return, it was sealed into this metal frame.

Now again, it made a mistake. The soul shone so brightly. Brighter than any it had seen before. Now its vessel was damaged and wounded. It had no ability to detach its essence from it alone. Now the bright one was on it. It felt desperation radiate from its surface thoughts. The bright one knew of the danger.

Then a new sensation graced its senses. It was small at first. It was burning. But not a physical burning. Something was bypassing the metal shell and burning its very essence. A sense of alarm ran through its being. This burning. It knew this burning. That light. That cursed light cast out by the Anathema! The bright one burned with the same light. But it was different. It was cleaner and quicker. Like the flames were now concentrated and condensed. The realization came quickly. It knew of the Anathema's pet. The winged one. Many of its kind knew her. This bright one was something similar. In the microseconds of the initial burning, it sensed the Anathema. It was connected to the Anathema. It needed to get the bright one off.

It jerked around in the open sky. The sudden movements threw the bright one off its footing. A small flash burst out. It's very being roiled in pain. It let out a call for help. To the materials below it would sound like a shriek, to its brethren it was a plea for aid.

It could feel their approach. It knew why. They wanted the bright one. It still wanted the bright one but did not care to get it. Now it risked the Banishment and perhaps something even worse. Something that sent an unfamiliar sensation through its being. It did not know what to call this feeling but provided the motivation to abandon its current prey for the sake of survival.

It continued to move as if its whole body were having an epileptic fit. It stopped gaining altitude and began to drop. It had to keep the bright one from burning it again. Its kin sped up. Now it was sure they saw the bright one.

The burning returned and it flailed more, but there was only so much it could do with this metal shell. It continued its attempts to stall. Bending its metal body, to the point where it might give out. It did not matter if it had a broken form. It was better than the alternative.

Something changed. The burning did not stop, but it wasn't growing. It could still feel it there, the pain was constant. Its kin were near. Then came the flash, and all was pain.

---

The Black Legionnaire aimed for his head. The Marshal parried the strike and followed it up with a shot from his bolt pistol. The bolt round slammed into the heretic's vox grill, making him stagger back. As he raised his arm to deliver the death blow, his vox burst to life.

"My Liege." It was Lothar.

Amalrich did not pause in his actions. With a downward swipe, he cut the vermin's chest open and let him fall to the sand. No words or ceremony for fools. He wouldn't even waste his spit on the corpse if he could.

"What is it, Brother?" Amalrich asked mildly. On the battlefield, you could not take your eyes off the enemy. And he had plenty to watch for.

"She has been taken."

Amalrich fired a round at a bloated thing that used to b human. It exploded, washing its fellow cultists in acidic filth. He ignored their screams of agony. A mild punishment for traitors.

"What?" He said into the vox.

"She has been taken, my Liege. I have failed you." In all the years he's known Lothar, he could not recall ever hearing him sound so ashamed. This would not do.

"Tell me what happened. Now." Amalrich ordered as he cut a cultist in half.

Lothar gave a brief explanation. A pack of Heldrakes had appeared from above. If the Marshal had to guess, they were probably there to take out the artillery. He would need to get word to the Lord Castellan to fix that. One of said Heldrakes soared down and attacked. Then it flew away with the Anointed. He would need to call on the gunships in reserve to retrieve her.

He switched his vox frequency to one of the pilots of their few remaining Thunderhawks. Before he could say a word, the sky lit up with a golden light. It was like a miniature sun had been born. Many of the traitor Astartes down the line recoiled in pain. The Templars and Fists capitalized on this moment of weakness. The more afflicted cultists screamed as the deformations and mutations shriveled up. Many dropped to their knees from the agony. Some even died.

Amalrich looked into the light as it faded. He saw six forms falling from the sky. Heldrakes.

He cut the feed with the pilot and switched back to the chaplain. "Lothar. Did you see that?"

"We all saw it, my Liege. She is falling."

"If she is truly chosen by the God-Emperor, then such a thing will not end her." Amalrich stated with absolute confidence. "Make your way to me, Brother. I shall carry your oath until you arrive."

"As you will." Then the vox cut out.

"To me, Brothers!" Amalrich called out to his nearest Sword Brethren. "We charge into the fray. Our Emperor's Chosen is in peril!"

The Marshal ran straight into the staggered horde. Three of his Sword Brethren accompanied him. The hail of lasbeams from the Cadian Shock Troopers covered their advance. They crashed through the lines of bodies in their way. Stunned as they were, the foe offered little resistance even as they fired back. Bullets pinged off their ceramite armor, adding more dents and scratches to the piling battle damage. Still, their holy plate held firm.

In the sky, Amalrich watched the Heldrakes fall. They were roughly scattered. The highest one has bent awkwardly. He noticed something. None but the highest looked damaged. It was hard to notice, but as it he closed in on the point where he predicted they would land, he saw little to no damage on the others. But they were dead. He could tell. They just fell. No life. Did she do that?

Amalrich felt a sense of satisfaction as he watched the daemon engines crash into the ground. Not just because they crushed more traitors in the process. It was a satisfaction in being right. The Saint spoke true. Only those blessed by the Holy Emperor could accomplish such a feat.

"Forward!" He yelled out, as his vox came to life again.

"Marshall. What are you doing?" It was Tor Garradon of the Imperial Fists. "You've broken from the defensive and launched yourself into the enemy force. Are you suicidal?"

Amalrich wanted to answer with a jest but knew the Captain's temperament. Pragmatic and serious. He would not bother contacting Amalrich unless he needed to. He was the supervisor of the Astartes portion of the defense. The Marshal respected that about him. He knew his fellow Son of Dorn would likely never crack a joke. Amalrich decided to laugh anyway.

"Far from it, Brother-Captain. Something in the field demands my attention and I don't plan to disappoint." Amalrich lunged his blade at a traitor Space Marine and impaled his secondary heart. With a mighty heave, he pulled the sword up and through his collarbone, ripping the fool's arm from his shoulder.

"This is not the time for vainglorious feats, Marshal." Amalrich could tell Garradon was not amused. "I've received word that the enemy has launched attacks on all fronts and the humans' artillery support has been crippled. We need every warrior we have on the lines."

Amalrich wanted to tell his distant brother about the significance of this, but he decided not to. Sons of Dorn they may be, but the Imperial Fists and the Black Templars were far apart from each other in many regards. Garradon would likely ignore any argument he made in regard to the woman. So, he approached this from a pragmatic standing.

"Exactly, Captain. We need every able-bodied fighter we can get, and I plan to get us one more." Amalrich explained as he bisected a bestial mutant.

"One life cannot be worth risking that of a leader of an Astartes Chapter," Garradon argued. "What kind of warrior are you referring to?"

Normally Amalrich would agree, but there were many factors that the Fist could not understand. His honor, that of his brothers, and chapter were at stake. Not to mention the ever-growing importance of their newly appointed charge. If the Saint was right, then this oath had to be fulfilled. Regardless if it cost him everything.

"A battle psyker of great potency." He managed to wrench the words out as he shot the legs off of a human with a crab claw for an arm. Psykers were unclean souls, worthy only of the executioner's blade. But of course, there were exceptions. Navigators beheld their Lord's light, and he need not recount the accolades of the Grey Knights.

"That is not good enough. Even a fully trained battle psyker would be of little use here. The leadership of your chapter is far more important."

"You are wrong, Brother." Amalrich objected, seeing a mass of white trailing behind the final falling Heldrake. "This one is powerful enough to stun the enemy horde. Such an asset cannot be lost to them."

He and his brother ran past the form of the first fallen Helldrake. As he passed by one of the fallen daemon machines, he could see it. He could even feel it. It was empty. As he suspected. It was devoid of the taint of the unclean. Void of the foulness that had once permeated every bolt and plate of metal. Scoured away by the explosion of Holy Light. It was just a lump of cold, jagged metal now. A traitor Marine came from behind it and locked blades with Amalrich while Garradon continued speaking.

"You are saying there is a psyker of this magnitude among their number?"

"Yes," Amalrich answered as one of the Sword Brethren plunged his lightning claws into the traitor's spine. "A woman in white. Did you not see the explosion?"

"I saw it. I assumed it was a weapon. Was that caused by the psyker you're after?"

"Yes." Amalrich kept his answers short. They were in the thick of it now. There were fewer Astartes here, but the cultists were massing and there were only four of them. He did not doubt the skill and zeal of his warriors, but he wasn't stupid. They had to be quick, or they would be bogged down. Then the traitor marines would come at them with impunity.

"You believe this psyker would fight with us? It would be simpler to terminate the threat."

"She already fights with us." The white mass began to swirl as it descended. The lower end formed into a sharp tip, giving it the shape of a drill spike. "The Heldrakes that destroyed the human artillery tried to claim her and she escaped."

He slew as he spoke, he was in a sea of bodies. Blood, guts, and viscera coated his armor. Muting the gold of his power pack and dying his tabard red. Perhaps he should change it to red should he survive this. Foolishness. How else would the enemy know he had taken the lives of their worthless kin? Far better to show them evidence of the fate they had chosen.

"Very well. Retrieve the psyker and return to the line. Without the artillery to suppress them, the enemy has gained momentum. If the line breaks because of this, you will answer to me."

The threat in his voice carried over the vox. Amalrich was not afraid. The welp could bark all he wants. This would not be his end. With the God-Emperor as his witness, he would not fail.

"A price I would pay happily for such a thing. Have faith Brother-Captain. I shall return soon." He answered with a strong laugh. In the face of a threat, show confidence, a Black Templar never cowers before anyone. Not even his own kin.

Garradon said nothing more as the vox clicked dead. The final Heldrake hit the ground and the white mass followed shortly after.

At the moment of impact, the cloud scattered in all directions. Little white specks floated in the air around the point of contact. Amalrich got close enough to let one fall into his palm. It looked soft. Thin like the parchment of his purity seals. He'd never seen something like this before. They were all around him, floating in the air like tiny stars.

Then came a shift. The white mass in his palm straightened out. Becoming perfectly flat. They all did. An unknown force took it from his palm and carried it off with the rest. They all began to swirl around the landing spot. Each one spun like a saw. One scraped against the ceramite of his wrist guard. Leaving a clean cut on it. Lothar never mentioned her being able to weaponize this scattering form. The chaplain only stated that she uses it for avoiding incoming attacks. The woman was keeping secrets.

As the tempest of white picked up speed and coalesced, the cultists blindly rushed in. The specks of white cut through them. Blood spattered everywhere as the raging storm of white ripped the traitors' bodies apart. One cut a cultist's jaw off, leaving him grasping at his open maw as another speared his torso. Another had his arm snapped in half by one severing his joint. This storm of white death cut through them and any armor they had, like a thousand blades. It was beautiful, in a way.

The storm of white pressed itself together and compressed itself into a humanoid shape. The mass changed into the white cloak he had seen before the oath was made. The woman stood there, in the middle of the mess of gore, completely unharmed. Her body was clean, and unsullied despite the vicious evisceration, Amalrich presumed, she enacted prior.

She stood there, looking stunned and unresponsive to the sights and sounds of the battlefield. Her form fell, limp like a malfunctioning servitor.

Amalrich rushed to her and caught her with his right arm leaving his sword arm free. "I have her! Cut a path through this filth!"

"Yes, Marshal!" His brothers answered.

So began the grueling return to the trench line. He held Summer under his arm. He was careful not to cause any damage. It was a strange experience for him. Protecting another on a battlefield. By the Throne, if Helbrecht found out, he'd never live it down. He'd be compared to the likes of the Salamanders. Still, he would bear those jabs with pride knowing his action kept a Chosen of the God-Emperor safe.

He cut apart any fool who dared assault him while he carried his charge. Using his blade one-handed was nothing new. Fighting with a disadvantage was something all Templars were trained for. Never give up, no matter the odds.

A lasbeam pings off his pauldron as he approached the trenches. How fortunate. Had they injured the woman he would end whoever fired that shot. Even if he had to murder a whole squad to be sure.

The woman groaned in discomfort. She was regaining coherency. "My-my sword."

Amalrich meant to respond but a sudden rumbling caught his attention. Looking back, he saw a most unwelcome sight. Chaos Rhinos. Garradon was right. With the artillery gone all they had to deal with enemy armor was the gun emplacements. Given the number of enemy transports, he knew they wouldn't be enough.

He reactivated his vox. Calling all his Thunderhawks. They needed aerial support now. But there was another immediate problem. They weren't going to reach trenches before the Rhinos reached them.

He gave voice to this dilemma telling his brothers to scatter. They offered themselves up as a distraction from the enemy's guns. If they must give their lives, then they desire to carve out their final moments in proud defiance.

The woman squirmed in his grip. He ignored her at first, but he quickly realized she was talking to him. "What?"

"Join hands." She said.

Amalrich did not break his stride. Did he hear her right? "What did you say?"

"Join hands with them." She instructed.

Amalrich didn't know how to respond to that. It was such a strange demand. So strange that he completely ignored that she was telling an Astartes what to do. All he could really ask for was clarification and quickly, the Rhinos were almost on top of them.

"What do you intend to do?"

"Just trust me." She groaned.

Amalrich quickly weighed his options. He could risk his brothers and himself in this supposed gamble the woman was concocting. Or he could send them to a near-certain death against enemy armor and Astartes.

"To me, Brothers!" He called out.

The Sword Brethren drew closer to him. Extending his sword arm he instructed the closest to take his arm and pass the order along. He was questioned on it, but the Marshal would not have it. "Do it!"

A power-armored hand clasped around his wrist and the action was repeated. The Astartes marched in unison linked in an awkward chain.

Then his world shifted. He had no real way to describe what happened to him. He felt his worldview divide. Like he no longer viewed the world through two eyes. Now it felt like a thousand and he was made from them. A thousand different eyes, all looking in different directions. Even his transhuman mind could barely process what was happening to him.

In this state, he had no control over his movements. It felt like he was being dragged and there was nothing he could do to break this strange form of binding. He wasn't alone either. There were others here with him. His brothers were trailing behind him. Ahead of him was the white mass he saw form into Summer earlier. What was happening?

He could perceive the world, and it felt clear. In a way that his mind was never meant to process. The enemy were pouring into the Cadian trenches. The Rhinos were still closing in. And he was picking up speed. There was no way for him to know how fast she was going, but it was faster than any pace he could manage on his own. They soared through the crowd of filth, their bullets and lasbeams harmlessly passing through him.

They reached the Cadians and shot over the first line where the heavies fighting was taking place. The Cadians fired at them but again to no effect. Then he felt his perceptions reform into what they were.

---

Summer's world was shaking. The impact had scattered her collective form, as well as her perceptions. It took everything she had to pull herself back together. Just like her mother warned her. Breaking apart while using her semblance is incredibly debilitating. Her senses were scrambled. When she reformed, it was like she was blind and deaf. All she could feel was the overwhelming sense of fatigue that came from reassembling her form.

The next thing she knew, she was being carried under someone's arm like a potato sack. The Templar wasn't gentle about it, but based on what she's seen of them, she doubted they were meant to be gentle with anything. She overheard their problem. Not all of them would make it. With her brain reasserting its correct functions, she decided to take a gamble. She needed to get them to make contact with each other. She wasn't sure how many there were, but she had to try and help. There was a limit to the total mass Petal Surge could interact with. One of her ancestors managed to use it on an entire caravan, or so her mother had claimed. It would be a stretch given her current state, but that was still better than letting them die so she could get away.

The marine holding her agreed and she smiled at the thought of them forming a hand chain. It was a silly thought, but it was still funny. When she activated her semblance again, she felt them following her lead. There were four of them, and they had more mass on them than she expected. It was straining but not unbearable.

Managing to guide them behind the first line of trenches, she released her semblance and reformed their bodies. When her eyes regained their sight, she beheld over a dozen lasguns pointing at her.

She felt like groaning. How often was this going to happen to her before it got old?

She dropped to her knees. The ground still shaking, like she was on a boat in a stormy sea. Good thing she hadn't eaten anything, or she might throw up. The soldiers were shouting something at her, but all she could hear was ringing. They were angry, one was about to shove the barrel of his gun in her face, but the Astartes stepped between them. This made the Cadians back off. They shouldn't be fighting amongst themselves.

One of the Astartes got to one knee in front of her. She recognized him. It was the Marshal. His scarred face was partially covered by that rebreather mask. She still felt bad for him. Not being able to breathe properly without that technology. Most people would find that heartbreaking.

Her hearing slowly returned to her. His choppy voice was distant and faint. She was not worried. This happened when she was young. The effects were more psychological than physical. Her mind received an overload of information and it had to temporarily impair itself to process that.

"My Lady." He said. It was so soft she barely heard it. The mask did not help in the slightest. It kept her from reading his lips.

"Are you alright?" His voice started sounding normal. But the world was still shaking.

"I'm fine." She managed to say through heavy breaths. "What's happening?"

All around her Cadians were running up and down. Fresh troops were being brought to the front while the injured were being carried back. Dragged back if they had to be.

"The daemon engines you destroyed took out our artillery support. The foe now approaches us unhindered. The result is increased fighting at the front. I've called in air support, but the fighting has intensified and will continue to get worse until our gunships arrive. I've called in more of my brothers to the front to keep it stable. We are being pressed hard."

Summer didn't like that. More people are in the fighting. More people are dying. Groaning, Summer tried to stand. Something had to be done and it's her job as a huntress to help.

Standing on shaky legs, she walked over to a pair of guardsmen. One was bleeding out from bullet wounds, the other was dragging him away. When she got close, the one dragging his friend noticed her. She reached out to the dying man. She had to help him.

The other man threatened and cursed at her. Calling her names that she would deem to be very inappropriate. She did not mind at all. He was acting in defense of his dying friend. "Don't you touch him, you freak!" Was the mildest insult he threw her way.

The Marshal stomped ahead of her toward the man. Hostility radiating off his soul like furnace heat. In her current state, she couldn't stop him. And given how easily his brothers were hacking into the people charging at them, the Marshal would have no issue killing a man for something mild like disrespect.

Her semblance came to mind but that vanished. It wouldn't end the issue. There was one thing she could do. There was no guarantee it would work but if it did, then she could help everyone at the front, even without a weapon.

Pulsing her aura into her arms, she reached out to the dying man. She imagined her aura wrapping around him and coaxing his wounded form into action. Her aura was like strings, stitching up his injuries and encouraging his mitosis to accelerate the process.

A white glow covered her arms, and the same glow covered the wounded man's body. The Marshal stopped to watch the sight, and the Cadian who insulted her became quiet as his friend stirred to life. No one could see it, but the bullets that were embedded in his body were pushed out. And his wounds quickly sealed up. The blood was still wet, but the man felt his strength return to him.

He planted his feet on the ground and pushed himself away from his friend who stared in wonder. After checking himself, he stated he was free of pain and gave Summer a quick salute before turning to his bewildered friend, who also gave an apologetic salute of his own.

Both marched past the huntress and returned to the fray. Summer was happy. Slightly tired but happy. Her gambit paid off. After seeing a healing semblance in action, while Qrow was hospitalized, she wondered if all variations of the rare semblance had similar functions. And as it turns out, they did. Some required contact and others required being in close proximity to the target.

The Marshal stared at her. "You are full of surprises, Summer Rose."

She gave him a weak smile in response. "I couldn't just let him die."

A bolt round exploded at the Templar's feet. Back at the front the Rhinos had crashed through the first line and were making their way further in. Heavy weapon emplacements were gunning them down, but the transports were tough and pressed on. Their deaths came by a thousand guns, it was slow and grinding. In the end, the Rhinos fulfilled their purpose and delivered squads of Astartes into the midst of the Cadian trenches.

Black Legionnaires march out and brutalized anyone they could find. "Keep your distance." The Marshal ordered. "Lothar is on his way. Wait here for him." With that, he ran to meet the butchers.

All the nearby Astartes ran to meet their evil brethren and the result was absolute chaos. The first line slowly crumbled as the Cadians were cut down. Mad screaming cultists filled the trenches as the Astartes trampled everyone in their way. They were being pressed hard and the casualties were showing. Full squads were being dragged away as they were being gunned down by the devotees of the Despoiler.

She wanted to fight. She needed to fight. It was an instinct, a need. Something was burning inside her telling her to do something. Seeing all these wounded people set her blood on fire.

Summer held it in as she sat in a cross-legged position. Another idea brewed in her mind. She felt her aura surge. Its power ran through her body. She spared a second thought as to how this came so naturally to her. It felt easy, which itself felt off. It was like someone had already planted the instructions in her mind beforehand. Thinking back to her time in the afterlife she recalled the light. Maybe she knew what it knew? They were one and the same now, so it wouldn't be too surprising.

A white glow covered her body, she could hear people shouting at her, but she blocked them out. Her aura's durability increased to the point where she no longer felt the bullets bouncing off of it. Then she allowed it to expand. Closing her eyes, she stretched out with a sense she never knew she had. She could feel them around her. The Cadians, their souls ripe with panic, anger, and fear. The Astartes, their anger was more intense, but it was simpler than those of the guardsmen. The cultists were a mess, from their number she read every emotion she could understand, and many she did not know how to categorize. They were all mad.

Summer focused on the souls around her that gave off a sense of immense pain. Those ones would need help first. Spreading her aura out to them, she found her suspicions to be true. When her aura reached them, felt where they were in pain as if she was the one experiencing it. So, she went to work. At first, she could mend three at a time, but she put so much energy into it that their wounds no matter how severe, recovered. The ones with lost limbs could not be fully helped, but she could seal up the damage so they could live to fight another day. As she pressed on with this task, she felt something else from the Cadians around her. They were flocking to her, gathering around her like a school of fish. These people caught on quickly. As they rallied around her, she upped her proficiency. It was like a forgotten exercise that she was now relearning. The number of people she could reach at once rose quickly. It got to the point where she felt the injured being dragged towards her.

As more and more people rallied around her, she felt a sense of protectiveness from them. They were protecting her, and she was protecting them in turn. Summer remembered a quote from James. 'Taking fire for a friend. Standing shoulder to shoulder with a stranger. Holding the line together. That is the great equalizer of war.' She understood what he meant back then, but now she related to the emotion with which he said it.

She felt the Templars and the front. Their anger was still there but now there was something else. Joy. They were enjoying this. Certainly, more than the other ones. The ones in yellow armor. They had a cold anger in them. An anger that stays with you and remains in the corners of your mind. They move more conservatively than the Templars, but they don't hold back.

In opposition to this, she felt the enemy Space Marines. She recoiled when she grazed their auras. They were pure illogical messes. Some were more like hyper-aggressive animals than anything else.

She felt more of them coming. Pushing her aura further, she supplied the Templars with energy. She didn't mind. Thanks to her new patron she had plenty to spare. Some of the Astartes made split-second stops to register the effect she had on them. In the melee, she found the Marshal. He was far calmer than the others. That was respectable. Even in all this fighting, he was keeping a level head. No wonder he was the leader, you need to be able to think clearly in order to direct the flow of a battle. He didn't pause, there was a sense of recognition from him, and he only sped up, pushing his impressive musculature even further.

The enemy Astartes kept charging in, while a numberless horde of cultists swarmed over the now abandoned first trenches. While messed up in the head, they were still smart enough to avoid the Space Marines. Some of them still died. Summer could not see the acts, but she could feel their lives being snuffed out.

As they got closer, they fell like wheat in a field. When the mob reached the Cadians around her, a skirmish broke out. Summer couldn't see the battle play out, but she felt it. Every wound and every injury suffered by one of the soldiers around her fired off the neurons in her brain. Pain bloomed throughout her whole body as she fought to maintain her concentration. Every second brought a new stabbing pain or bash to her chest. She also felt the burn on lasbeams on her flesh. Those were hard to mend as they were already cauterized. But she forced it, ignoring the fact that she was defying nature in the process. Everything about her seemed to defy nature now, so why not embrace it?

The amount of pain increased in intensity, she found herself gritting her teeth and forcing her breath. In her intense focus, she lost her grasp on the Templars. Her sight diminished to only the Cadians around her.

One of the Cadians exploded and the resulting pain forced her to scream, breaking her trance. The noise of the battlefield crashed into her. Angry shouts, pained screams, and insane cackling. One of the soldiers around her checked to see if she was alright. Only to have his head explode, making her scream again.

Black legionnaires marched through the crowd of cultists, firing their bolters and exploding the humans' bodies like blood-filled water balloons. They marched on with an unstoppable momentum. Summer, still in a semi-aware state of her trance, felt a level of confidence that stank of arrogance.

Summer reached for a lasgun. Ignoring the gory remains of the guardsman it belonged to. She took aim and fired at their eye lenses. The shots stunned the Space Marines but didn't bring them down. One finally took notice of her, and a bolt round flew past her head, killing a guardsman behind her.

Her entire body was swelling with the phantom pains she inflicted upon herself. But it faded with each passing second, if she could hold out a little longer, she could use her Petal Surge to create a shockwave to stop the Astartes. That portion of her semblance still upset her. As did the other one she used after she landed. The more violent aspects of her personal power always left a sour taste in her mouth. But if she had to use them to protect these soldiers, she would.

Then came a hail of bolter fire from behind. Decimating the advancing force and grinding the Black Legion's march to a halt.

The humans turned and almost fired out of fright. More Astartes, but not the normal kind. If any of them could be considered normal.

They wore black armor, like the Templars and Black Legionnaires. But these ones stood out because of a few decerning features. Their chest plates were lined with white ribs. Icons of death were adorned across their armor. Their helmets were all variations of Lothar's skull helmet. The final and most striking feature was that all of them were LITERALLY on fire.

This new force marched among the Cadians, avoiding the humans and never ceasing their fire. Summer was sure that they were firing far beyond their ammo capacity, as she never saw one of them stop to reload.

One, however, was not firing. This one marched up to Summer and stared at her. It just watched her as the others stomped past in complete silence, completely atypical from the Astartes she's seen so far. Flames burned in his vox grill, under his helmet, and out of his eye lenses.

The roar of engines signaled the arrival of the Astartes gunships. Each one unleashed its full arsenal on the approaching force beyond the trenches. It would be nice if they could clear the trenches themselves but even the Astartes are not too fond of friendly fire it seems. Slowing their momentum would have to do.

A smaller roar could be heard. It sounded like a bike engine. The deathly marine stepped aside, revealing another one, sitting atop a large and bulky-looking bike. The marine before her nudged his helmet toward the bike.

Summer didn't know what was happening. But she turned away. She had more important things to do. People were dying all around her and she had to get back in the fight. They had to win this, or all this death would be for nothing, and she would never allow that. She would never allow the deaths of good people to be for nothing.

The Astartes grabbed her arm. To her surprise, it was far gentler than her treatment by the Marshal. She glared at him. Super soldier or not, she would not be told what to do when people were at risk.

Then she went blind again. Hard labored breathing reached her ears. She was in a dark cavern with a large black pillar at the end of the chamber. It was dark. Too dark for her to see anything. Except for the fallen angel.

Celestine was on her knees, a look of pure agony on her face as she used her sword to keep her from falling further. Her armor was tattered and broken in some places. Her wings were damaged and had lost their shine. It was like her very life force was leaving her.

Loud thuds could be heard. Something was approaching the fallen angel. Summer couldn't see properly in the dark, but she could see its silhouette. A towering, hulking figure marched up to Celestine, and in its left hand was a jagged, glowing blue sword. She could see wailing faces on the blade. They moved with unnatural life. The figure raised the blade and brought it down on Celestine.

Summer gasped and she was back in the battle. Another vision. Celestine was in trouble. Her first thought was to rush to the bike now. But she paused and looked back to the raging war in the sands of the Elysion Fields. They needed help. But, as she said to her patron, she was just one huntress. She couldn't stop the apocalypse. But someone like Celestine could. If she died, these people would lose hope. The death of hope on such a scale would be like a killing blow to an army.

It pained her to leave them, but she couldn't afford to let the angel die.

She looked to the Astartes and pulled her arm free. Walking up to the bike she took her place behind the burning driver. Strange. The flames didn't hurt. They didn't even sting as they brushed against her. The bike hummed to life and speed off.

---

Elaine blew the head off a raving woman with a shot from her bolt pistol. The trenches were a mess. Their forces had lost most of their coherency. Why hasn't the Colonel said anything? Why hasn't he called for a tactical retreat? Consolidating their force for a tighter defense. Without the stopping power of their heavy guns, the enemy had attrition on their side. If she were a full commissar, she would shoot the man for letting it become this bad. These men needed leadership, and their leader was staying quiet. The epitome of failure.

Her face was stuck in an unflattering frown as she ran. Doing her best to keep up with the Black Templars. That woman was insane. Launching herself at a Heldrake like that. Now she had more questions. That bright light she made was going to be one of them. Was that a semblance? She never mentioned having a semblance that disabled daemon engines. She was keeping secrets. While Elaine was no inquisitor, she would get the huntress to talk.

As they drew closer to the front where the fighting was at its apex, she noticed something odd. Full squads of Shock Troopers were retreating. None of which were injured. All of them were combat-ready. What was going on?

She stopped and her squad stopped with her. The remaining Kasrkin standing by her side. She let the Astartes run ahead, it wasn't like they'd be hard to find, she'd just need to find the banner.

"Halt!" She called to an oncoming squad.

The guardsmen came to a stop in front of her. They knew what rank she held and did not argue.

"What's happening? Why are you retreating?"

"Colonel's orders, ma'am." Answered the squad leader.

"I received no such orders." Elaine objected, believing that they were lying.

"It came through a few minutes ago, ma'am. He sounded desperate. Like we were about to be overrun at any moment."

Elaine gave that thought. It didn't sound right. "Do you have a vox?"

One of their number stepped forward, carrying the equipment on his back. "Contact Commissar Strang."

The vox officer did just that and the news she received shocked her. The Colonel was dead. Strang had killed him. The weak fool had gone mad, raving like a lunatic, claiming to hear voices that foretold the doom of Cadia and every man under his command. Strang is currently trying to countermand his final orders, but the vox was a mess. If Elaine did not know Strang's personal frequency, she would never have reached him.

She ordered the squad to follow her back into the melee. They had no objections, given what they just heard. That their leader would break like that must have struck a chord in them. It certainly didn't to Elaine. Strang always said the man lacked the steel of a real soldier.

They ran into the fighting, the Templars' banner flying high and proud. Elaine close in on it and looked around for Summer. She wasn't even sure why she cared this much about the woman, by all rights Elaine should be focused on the battle.

"Commissar!" Came the clipped voice of Lothar.

The Templar approached her alone, his brethren having joined the battle. "Have you found her?" He seemed to be more focused on finding the huntress than the fight.

"No, my Lord. I don't see her anywhere." Elaine said, holding in her frustration. A Commissar has to remain calm in any situation.

Another Astartes approached, Marshal Amalrich. "I felt a presence in my mind earlier. It was her, but she disappeared less than a few moments ago. I told her to stay and wait."

Elaine's eyes bulged at the notion. Summer had said there were semblances that manipulate thoughts. But she never mentioned that she had one. She would explain this at gunpoint if it came to that.

"Damnation!" Elaine cursed. "Where is that woman?!"

"They took her!" Yelled a guardsman who ran up to them in a panic. "They took her!"

"Calm down man!" Elaine snapped at the man. "What are you yapping about?"

"Marines! They were burning!" He spoke between haggard breaths. "We were gathering around her. She was healing our injured, so our sergents decided to keep her safe to help with the fight. Then she screamed and the burning Astartes came!"

"Traitor Asartes took her!?" Elaine exclaimed. Her squad mirrored her expression.

"No." Lother objected, pointing a gauntleted finger into the skirmish.

There in the melee stood black, burning Astartes, firing into the ranks of the Black Legion.

"So, the legends are true." Amalrich stated in both awe and forlorn acceptance. "The Legion of the Damned. That they are here is a sign of how dire this endeavor has become."

"You say they took her?" Lothar inquired, to which the man confirmed.

"Where?" The Chaplain demanded angrily.

"North! They took her north!"

"North?" Elaine mumbled. "Why take her... the entrance to the catacombs." Elaine spoke her revelation out loud. "They're taking her to the Archmagos!"

"Why would they do that?" Tarn spoke up, making Elaine flinch at his sudden outburst. If this were a formal setting, she would have shot him by now.

"That is irrelevant, Guardsman." The Marshal stated. "Right now, we have a battle to win. Get in contact with your commanders. Tell them we are performing a staggered retreat so we may reconsolidate our forces. Get your regiment to rally to us as we bleed the foe. We must stand united before we are overwhelmed."

The guardsman with the vox got to work. Contacting Strang to give him the news. Some instruction would give him the means to reorganize this breaking army.

"Chaplain." Amalrich turned to Lothar. "Leave your brothers with me. We shall hold the enemy at bay while you find her. Fulfill your oath, Brother."

"Fight well, my Liege." Lothar placed his fist against his chest plate. The chaplain then took off, while the Marshal ran in the opposite direction, rejoining the battle.

Elaine frowned as they just left. Guess she would have to give the orders now. "You lot." She said addressing the squad she found on the way here. "Find Commissar Strang and help him reestablish a proper communications network."

The squad gave a salute and headed their way. "What are we gonna do ma'am?" Asked Alexa Thade.

"What the Lord Castellan ordered us to do. Follow the chaplain!"

---

Summer never found any sort of appeal in bikes. Sure, they were fast, but she was already fast in her own right. It was the fact that her body remained rigid during the ride. It always made her uneasy, she preferred to be active when traveling. Why Raven at taken such a fancy to them was beyond her.

She held on to the Astartes burning power pack as they drove across the sands. They'd already gone beyond the trench network, and now they were among the 'temporary' command structures that the Cadians' commanding officers were supposed to be.

They were alarmed by something other than the flaming warrior on a bike. All of them were armed and getting ready for a fight. The battle must have gotten worse.

Summer's breath hitched as a sickening feeling entered her chest. She felt something nearby. A presence, a disturbing presence. Her hands started shaking as she recognized this feeling. It was the same as in the dream she had last night.

The monster. The murderer. It was here. Somewhere. Summer wanted to use her new sense to find it so she could stay away but stopped herself. The Marshal and the Templars noticed her when she looked at them, who's to say that thing wouldn't? The last thing she wanted was for that monster to know where she was.

Her vision shifted, and the first thing she noticed was extreme pain in her chest. The environment was alien to her. Most of it was white. There were monsters everywhere. Of all shapes and makes. Doing battle with them were warriors in embellished golden armor. Most wielding large mechanical spears with crackling blue lightning running off the blades as they struck.

It took Summer a moment to realize that she wasn't standing on the ground. She was suspended in the air. Held up by a five-pronged wooden spear impaling her chest. It hurt even more than the time that witch did this to her. The one holding her up was a large man. He looked like a caveman. He had tribalistic tokens around his neck. His whole body was covered in scars, the most prominent was a large gash across his chest as if the scar tissue had just finished healing. Across his face was a scraggly unkempt beard.

It looked human, but its eyes gave away its true nature. They glowed red. Filled with nothing but malice and the need to kill and murder. It was the monster from her dream. It changed its shape to look like this man. Why? She had no idea. She just knew this man was the beast.

It let out a triumphant cry as it raised her up like a trophy. The motion drove her further down the spikes she was impaled on.

"I am your death." It growled, and the pain vanished.

She was back on the bike. They had stopped in front of a large cave. It was wide enough to fit three chimera tanks at the same time. The flaming marine pointed toward the cave.

Summer got the message. That was where Celestine would be.

Jumping off the bike she walked to the cave. Her pace was rushed. The presence of the monster still had her rattled. It was faint, but the fact that she felt it at all meant it was close enough to be a threat to her, and she had no intention of fighting it. She couldn't kill it. Something deep inside her told her this. There was no way to end that daemon. She paused. Daemon? Was that how it was supposed to be? Not demon? She brushed the stray thought aside. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that the changes she was experiencing had only just begun. That would frighten her, but so far, they had done nothing but help her. So long as she didn't lose sight of herself, she could bear any form of transformation. Turning back, she planned to thank the Astartes. Only to find that he had vanished.

---

Color Sergeant Jarren Kell spat out a mouthful of blood. The impact from the bolt shell on his knee must have damaged his internal organs along with tearing his limb apart. He was down on his remaining knee, his vision blurry and clouded. Pain filled his mind, but he held the company standard proudly. His blood coated the steel flooring of the landing pad.

He knew this was the end for him. To presume otherwise would be the height of stupidity. Still, he was not defeated. The banner still stood. Creed still lived. Leaving on the last Valkyrie. The Despoiler's surprise attack failed.

The loud clump of armored boots clanged against the flooring. He was here. If only Kell had the strength to rise. If he could land just one strike on the fiend with his power fist, it would make this moment satisfying beyond words.

Curved claws wrapped around his throat, hoisting him up like a doll. Cold black eyes stared from a pallid face. The Despoiler. Kell wasn't afraid. Not in the slightest. It was over for him. What more could even Abaddon the Despoiler do to him? Only faith mattered now. Faith and honor.

"Such dedication to so unworthy a cause." The Despoiler mumbled. "Pitiful."

Kell spat a gobbed of bloody flem at his captor. "Cadia stands." He choked out.

Abaddon snorted; his lips curled in sardonic disgust. "I don't think so."

The last sound Kell heard was the sound of his own shattering spine.

---

Summer wandered the cave in silence. It was quiet down here. Almost lifeless. It had been dug out recently, and the markings on the walls were fresh. It had not been a clean job. There were bodies scattered throughout the passageway. Summer got close to one and almost recoiled in terror. It was a man, but a good portion of his body was replaced with crude mechanical equipment. This one had a comically large drill for an arm. It was so big that she was sure it would be heavy enough to break the poor man's spine. If it were not replaced with a mechanical grid to reinforce it. Then there was its face. Over half of it was plated over with metal. Its eye was replaced with a red lens. Cords snaked out of its skull connecting to various parts of machinery around its body.

She stared at this thing in horror. What kind of monster would do this to a person? Worse, what kind of monster would do this to a man and just leave him here as if he was nothing? Like his life meant nothing.

She glanced around. There were more. Men and women sprawled on the rocky ground. Discarded and forgotten. This sight upset her more than anything she'd seen so far. What happened to them? Why were they like this?

Her contemplation was cut short by a mass of footsteps coming from behind her. The heavy footfalls made her wonder if it were Astartes. Then the presence reasserted itself in her mind. It was close. Uncomfortably close. A chill ran up her spine. It was getting closer. Had it found her?

Not wanting to find out, she ran. Deeper into the tunnels she went. Not knowing where she was even going. Lining some of the walls was a shiny black material. The Pylons. The Pylons were embedded in the earth. How far down they went she could only guess. Judging by the sheer size of the things it would not surprise her if less than half of their mass was visible.

Gunfire sounded off behind her. Someone was fighting. Her suspicions were accurate. The enemy was in the tunnels. She needed to find Celestine quickly.

As she rounded a corner to a large chamber, a mass of bullets greeted her. Some pounded against her aura, the rest created fresh holes in the stony walls. Summer hid behind the rocky corner as the fire ceased.

"If you're friendly, come out!" Called an angry voice. "We won't ask ya twice!"

Summer raised her arms high and stepped into the chamber. Covering the other end of it was a makeshift barricade of metal plates and what looked to be car parts. They had three heavy gun emplacements. Summer counted over thirty of them, all guns were trained on her.

"I'm not your enemy." She said as she walked up to them.

"Sure, you ain't." The man in a sergeant's uniform said sarcastically. "State your name."

"Summer Rose." She answered stopping in the middle of the chamber. Nearly jumping from fright as a large metal door close behind her. When had they had time to install those?

"State your business here. And do it fast before we waste more bullets on ya."

"I uummm..." Summer thought back. What was her rank again? "I'm the battle psyker for the 21st Regiment." She said with no surety. They had such bizarre words that they were hard to remember.

"That's rich." The man answered. "Creed ordered all available psykers to be used up in the beacon at the start of the war. Good try."

All of them readied their guns. But a loud yell from deeper in the tunnel stopped them. "Guns down lads! Guns down!"

The soldiers complied without any argument as the form of Creed walked out of the darkness. A full squad of Kasrkin behind him. The sergeant saluted him as he walked to the barricade.

"I'm surprised to see you here." He said, his voice gruff and scratchy like he'd been shouting all day. "Where's your escort?"

"Oh. Umm. I lost them in the fighting." Not a lie. Not quite.

"Damn." He cursed. "We could have used some Astartes support right now. Argh. Never mind. Why are you here and not out there fighting?"

"I could ask you the same thing." Summer countered, not wanting to spill the insanity that she was having visions. "Why are you holed up in here, when the fighting is out there?"

She could see the disgruntled looks on many of their faces. They did not like having someone question their leader.

"Two of our battlefronts have been breached. And the Despoiler launched a deep strike into our command center. Almost all of the High Command is dead."

Summer didn't know how to process that. Their army had no leaders now. That meant everything was falling apart out there.

"Perhaps it's a good thing you came here. Whatever your reason. These tunnels have to hold no matter what." Creed stated with grim finality.

"Why? Your army is dying out there. You're needed out there with them!" She shouted, her face flush with fresh anger.

"How dare you!?" The sergeant shouted back, he reached for his laspistol but Creed caught his arm. "Lord Creed?"

"Calm down boy," Creed ordered in a respectful manner. "If I were in her shoes, I would have said the same thing to the unfortunate son of a grox in my place."

Creed looked at Summer, only then did she see how tired he was. It was like he hadn't slept for years. "Believe me. If I had a choice I would be out there. But I don't. If we lose these tunnels, it's over for us."

"What's so important about these tunnels? Without an army, there's no one to man them." Summer knew this man was the one in charge of this whole army. After witnessing the carnage outside, his rank meant nothing to her. He could be a frontier town militia officer outside Vale for all she cared. He'd better have a good reason for being here and not with his troops.

"The Pylons," Creed said. "When the Mechanicus came here, they told me these Pylons were the key to defeating the Archenemy. In these caverns is the control center for the entire Pylon network. If they get to the central cavern and kill the Archmagos, all this blood, all this death will have been for nothing."

Summer was about to question more but a new sensation graced her new sense. Heat. A burning heat. Like an angry fire. She turned to the door. The heat was growing in intensity.

"What is it?" Creed asked, noting Summer's distraction.

"I'm not sure. Give me a moment." She sat on the rocky floor cross-legged again.

"Sir..." She heard the sergeant object, but Creed cut him off.

"Shut it."

Closing her eyes, she reached out with her new sense. It stretched out beyond the door. She couldn't see the passage, but she could see them. They burned like fire. They emitted nothing but mindless anger. There was basic intelligence in them, but beyond knowing how to use their weapons and follow basic instructions, they were no better than animals. She remembered the revulsion the red daemon gave her back when she was in that other place. These things were like smaller versions of that brute.

There were dozens of them, and they were heading this way.

Opening her eyes, she called out. "Daemons."

As she said it, a series of clanging noises echoed from the door. They were hacking at it from the other side.

"Get the word out!" Creed bellowed with renewed vigor. "I want all the bulkheads sealed. They've entered the catacombs. Get ready boys, we're in for a fight!"

Summer could hear them moving around behind her. But she kept her calm. This was no different than dealing with Grimm. Standing up, she walked to the side of the chamber. She knew what to do. When the doors blew and they rushed in, she would strike. Like Celestine said. They were tailor-made to fight these things.

Creed called out to her for her to get to cover. She ignored him. He had his way of fighting, she had hers. A chorus of noise came from the door. They were a mixture of growls and yells. The Cadian Shock Troopers all stood ready. Creed had his twin pistols out.

The roars of the daemons were overtaken by a loud thumping. It came in a beat of threes. One after the other. Then something crashed against the door. Then another and another, and another. Each impact was strong enough to form a large dent in the steel alloy.

Summer could feel the raw anger emanating from the door. Like it bled through the gap that formed in the seal. This made her fingers twitchy. She knew anger. From a young age, it plagued her existence until her early teens. But this was sociopathic. Completely irrational and insane. Anger like this cannot be sustained by any sane creature.

The doors broke as a metallic horse-dog creature charged in. The daemons she sensed followed it in. There were three of the metal beasts. Each had one of the red devils on its back.

"Cadia Stands!" The soldiers cried as they opened fire on their blood-red adversaries.

The huntress watched from the side of the cavern. These things were quick. Some of them became blurs of motion, similar to her Petal Surge but not quite the same. It was like they were here but at the same time not. Not that it would have made a difference. None of them had noticed her.

When it looked like all of them were past the door, she struck. Using her silver eyes, she bathed the room in a golden light. Their roars of pain were the same as the rest of the noises they made. Angry.

Within seconds the cavern chamber was cleared. Leaving the guardsman staring in stunned silence. Except for Creed, he just looked at Summer. While he wasn't smiling, his arms were crossed over his chest. "Seems like having you here will be more helpful than I thought."

Summer did not give a response as an ear-piercing shriek echoed throughout the tunnels. The sound made the huntress' blood run cold. It was the monster.

The noise lasted for a whole twenty seconds before it stopped. Leaving everyone stunned. "Emperor's Teeth! What was that!?" Creed swore as he stared down the empty tunnel.

Summer began to shake. That was a mistake. A huge mistake. It saw her, she knows it because she heard its voice. It was hungry for blood. Her blood.

The beat of heavy boots echoed down the halls. The Cadians shook off their awe and refocused on the upcoming fight.

Hulking black armored figures marched into the chamber, firing bolt shells from blocky double-barreled bolt guns. They looked similar to Astartes, but they were larger. The armor was bulkier than the armor the Templars had. They had vicious-looking clawed gauntlets covering their free hands. And they had tusks like a Goliath Grimm.

They marched across the chamber. Not ran. Marched. It made sense to her. That armor looked extremely heavy. Even the enhanced musculature of the Astartes would have trouble moving in them. They looked very cumbersome. But that didn't seem to be an issue as they shrugged off the volley of bullets and lasfire like it were raindrops.

The one at the lead was armed with a sword that looked to be made of molten metal. He reached the barricade first and hacked it apart with that burning blade.

Creed immediately called for a retreat. He knew they were no match for these behemoths in close combat.

While they funneled out the exit, Summer zipped past them in a flurry of white. Some of them shot at her. The one in front tried to hit her with his sword. The heat of it was not natural, she could feel it even in her dispersed state. She did learn one thing. Despite the bulky armor, these guys had impressive reaction times. If Summer had to stick Tai or Ironwood in armor like that, they'd barely be able to land a proper punch. But these boys were still slower than Kadan. The notion that she could outmaneuver them was one she would remember.

Zooming down the next passage, she quickly caught up to Creed and his troops. They were at a fork in the road. Creed was leading his men down the left path.

"Where are you going?"

"Linking up with the rest of the Cadian 8th. We need all the guns we can get if we're going to stop those bastards from reaching Cawl."

"So, this guy is the only one who can use the Pylons on them?"

"That's what he told me. Last I heard he was making good progress." Creed confirmed with a small flicker of hope in his voice.

"Send me ahead." Summer demanded with a firm stare. "Someone has to warn him. I'll keep him safe if more daemons show up."

Creed stared at her with a neutral expression. He was mulling over his options, she could tell. Before he could reply, a loud bang echoed from behind her. She shoved Creed away as a bolt shell crashed into her shoulder. She had to admit, even with her enhanced aura protecting her, those things struck with enough force to rattle her skeletal structure.

"Go!" Yelled Creed, tossing her a device that resembled a scroll, only bulkier and non-collapsible. "That will guide you to him. Make sure he survives or we're all dead."

That was the last she heard of Creed as he ran into the darkness with his troops. The heavy rhythm of armored boots echoed behind her, and worse. The presence. It was in the tunnels, and it was getting closer. She had to move and quickly.

---

With her scroll device in hand, she followed the map displayed on the green screen. This place was like an ant colony. The passages went in almost every direction, some even broke into vast crevices and cliffs that lead into a dark abyss. Summer ran, she kept the pace nominal. Planning on conserving her strength for the fight to come. If the frontlines were broken, then it was only a matter of time before the main bulk of their forces arrived and they would have a protracted battle on their hands. Here their numbers would be nullified because they'd be limited in space. That must be why they sent the daemons and those armored brutes in first. Send in the toughest and most brutal first to make cracks in the defense and follow through with the main force. Smart, considering the enemy is aware that they are running out of time.

Summer found herself in a massive open space. There were Pylon beams everywhere, and they pulsed with greenish energy that made her hair stand on end. Whoever made these things must have been terrifyingly smart. To make something that had the power to hold off the powers of hell itself, she could barely even comprehend what the things were made from.

Again, someone shot at her. Bullets rained over her aura, and she immediately ran to a dark corner of the chamber. Hiding behind a rock she saw people in red robes covered in metal. The metal looked far too compact to be body armor. These guys were the same as the drill people from before. They appeared to have some kind of steampunk guns. They looked clunky and unrefined. This didn't mean they wouldn't hurt. Some had what appeared to be wooden rifles, but she wasn't fooled. No techno army would resort to something so outdated. She bet those guns packed an even bigger punch than the steampunk guns.

They made some odd screeching sounds. It was like listening to a movie being played in reverse while a chalkboard was being scratched on the screen. It was very unpleasant to listen to. Then a deeper version of the same noise came from further inside the cavern.

Slow, methodical footsteps could be heard from the crowd, accompanied by the clang of metal against metal. Were they sending something out?

All the mechanical men took aim at the newcomer like they wanted nothing more than to gun the thing down. Summer's eyed widened at what she saw.

Its entire body was made from metal. All of it had a chrome finish. Except for the ribbed chest plate, collar, and what looked to be a loincloth of some kind. The chest plate and pauldrons were a turquoise blue, with a golden signet in the center of the chest. The collar was gold as were the metallic robes that covered the front of it. It had a metal hood and cloak, that gave it a hunched appearance. The robe part was made from some strange stony material. Under its chest, she could see cables that glowed with green energy. On its hip was a series of strange rectangular disks. In its hand was a golden staff topped with two green blades and an orb between them. Its face was that of a skeleton. Hollow and still. The twin lenses that were its eyes glowed green and stared right at her.

"We mean you no harm." It said in a low tone that sounded rather lively for a machine.

Summer just stared at it. A robot. An actual robot. It was the coolest thing she'd seen yet. How did the Imperium build something so streamlined when everything else looked so clunky?

A deep blaring noise came in from inside the cave again. The robot turned and spoke. "Yes. I know I don't speak for you, but I at least want to try and engage in civil conversation if I can. Watching you work is surprisingly boring." It had the accent of an aristocrat. Not quite the same as an Atlassian. It was far too relaxed.

Summer slowly stepped out of cover and all the mechanical men redirected their aim at her. She raised her hands to show her lack of weaponry. "Ah. It worked. Strange. No one ever believes me when I say that." Despite its deep voice Summer picked up hints of amusement in it.

"Umm. Hello." Summer greeted.

"Oh. Yes, where have my manners gone? Greetings. Sorry for the hostile introduction. We were not expecting company that would not shoot back. Well, they weren't." The robot gestured to the metal phalanx with its staff. "But never mind that. What are you doing here? Has the battle turned out poorly?"

"From what I've heard." Summer answered, not sure if she should be honest with this thing. Something about it made her feel nervous. "What's going on here? What are you?"

"My, aren't you an inquisitive one." The robot said, still sounding amused. It was rather off-putting since she couldn't read its expression. Its face didn't move at all. "My kind have existed since the time before yours learned to think. I am the Overlord of the world of Solemnace. I hail from Nihilakh Dynasty of the Necron Empire. But you may call me Trazyn." It said with a flourish of its cloak, making the soldiers shift their aim back to the robot. She was right, it had the attitude of an aristocrat.

"Summer Rose. Hu..."

"Huntress of Remnant, yes, yes. I know where you hail from." Trazyn interrupted her. Catching her off guard.

"What? You know about Remnant?" Summer gasped in surprise. Could this really be true?

"Yes. Quite the primitive little world, all things considered. But I'll admit, your people are quite interesting. I might return there to gather new additions for my galleries." It said as if pondering on what groceries he should get on a trip to the store.

Summer would have bristled at Trazyn's statement on being primitive, but now she was far too focused on the fact that this Necron said that it knew about Remnant. Someone knew about her home. She needed to know more. Where it was. How to get there. The thought brought a smile to her face. Finally, she had some hope. When this war was over, she would be able to head home and stop the catastrophe to come.

"Did I say something that amused you?" Trazyn asked, those emerald optics read facial expressions well.

"No." She lied. Only realizing now that she was smiling. Doubting he would give the information freely. Aristocratic types were always keen on keeping secrets when it was known they had valuable information. "Just wondering what you mean when you said galleries. Are you a collector or something?"

"Ha!" The Necron laughed. "My dear, you'll find I have the most extensive collection on galactic history anyone has ever seen."

"Oh? You're a historian?"

"I am among the few in this wretched universe who cares about recording history in any respect. I make no boast when I say my collection is the masterpiece of my Dynasty. Other than its excessive wealth of course."

"But why?" Asked the huntress. "Why bother if no one cares to remember?"

"It is our past." Summer wasn't sure but she almost detected a hint of passion in his voice. "We learn from our history to navigate the future. Without reviewing and understanding the mistakes of history we are doomed to repeat them. Not to mention the achievements of our ancestors are not something that should be overlooked so casually. What they accomplished in their time lay the foundations of what was to come. I merely take it upon myself to ensure some aspect of their legacy is remembered and respected. What was accomplished and made in ages past are priceless treasures never to be made again."

"Wow." Summer never expected a machine to be so dedicated to something that sounded like a hobby. "Sounds like you've done a lot. Your friends must be impressed."

Trazyn stayed silent. Summer caught on quickly.

"Are your friends proud of you?"

The Necron let out an artificial sigh. "Sadly, no. Very few of my kind have any interest in what has transpired in the galaxy during their long slumber. The only thing they care about is politics and grabbing power for themselves. The few that make regular visits to my galleries often leave it in a mess." It said bitterly.

"That must be hard. Putting so much work into something for ungrateful snobs to waltz in and ruin it."

"More than you know. I would have died from a stroke, as your organics put it, if I could have one."

"Are you still open to visitors?" Summer asked.

"What is this? An organic wanting to peruse my collection?" Trazyn put a metal finger to his chin.

"I only just learned there was so much going on in the galaxy at all. I feel like I could use a history lesson. If you'll let me?"

"Well now, this is a rare thing. A human wanting to visit my galleries. I'll warn you, the last one who did that met an unfortunate end at the hand of her associates."

"All my friends are back on Remnant. What can they do to me?" Summer questioned rhetorically, with a mischievous smile on her face. The machine probably thought she was just being cheeky, when she was just glad this conversation was going so smoothly.

"Splendid then. When all of this is over, I shall give you a grand tour of my galleries. It is rare that one of my own kind takes interest, but to find commonality in another species is refreshing. You shall be treated as a guest of Trazyn the Infinite."

"It would be an honor. Overlord Trazyn." Summer wanted to curtsey, but she was still aware of the mass of guns on her.

"An organic with manners. Another rare sight. Perhaps I should add you to my collection. I already have the name for your display. The Polite Huntress."

Summer giggled; it was fake. As she spoke to him, she got a gut feeling that he wasn't joking. "I do have one question. If you feel obliged to answer me."

"Ask away, this is the most pleasant conversation I've had in two centuries."

"What did you take from Remnant exactly?" She was getting closer. She just needed to play to his ego to get her answer. Every big shot in an empire wants recognition for their efforts. That goes double for those who are extremely passionate about their work. For being a machine, Trazyn fit the bill to a tee.

Summer didn't hear his response as a chill ran up her spine again. The monster was close. Really close.

The western wall of the cavern collapsed with an earsplitting roar. Summer ran to take cover once again, with Trazyn following at an almost leisurely pace. Summer watched as high explosive rounds crashed against the metal that comprised the Necron's body. They left marks, but they smoothed out on their own. Like the metal was made from some sort of liquid.

When Trazyn took his place in the shadows, Summer turned to the attackers. As before, they were the bulky armored warriors. Except their leader was different. He was bigger than the last one, that's for sure. Mounted atop his armor was a spiky metal banner of some kind. On some of the said spikes were skulls and the helmets of Astartes. Over his right hand was a massive gauntlet with giant curved claws for fingers, and a double-barreled bolter with a bullet chain feeding into it. His face was pale enough to look like a corpse. What hair he had was tied into a red topknot. On his right pauldron was a burning eye that almost looked alive. The final thing she noticed was the sword he carried. The sword from her vision. The sword that would kill Celestine.

She felt her limbs freeze just staring at it. The presence she felt. It was coming from that sword. The monster. That sword IS the monster, but how was it a sword? It didn't matter. All she needed to know was that the beast was contained so long as it remained that way. The wielder was the problem right now. That armored beast in black was surprisingly skilled for being trapped in such a cage of armor-plating. Taking him down would be tricky. Oh, how she wished she had her Ivory right now. Then she would charge head on against these fiends.

"Well. This is turning out poorly." Said Trazyn as he watched the mass of black armored bodies tear the machine men apart and destroy their heavy guns that somehow bent gravity itself. "Watch, good huntress."

The Necron pulled out a simple fist-sized cube. "I shall show you a sample of my collection." With those words, he tossed the cube into the raging battle. It bounced twice. It began to unfold and expand. It was like those weird two-dimensional animations Tai and Qrow showed her while they goofed around at Beacon. The sudden change in mass startled Summer. She'd seen some strange things after she died but this was definitely close to the top. The cube seemed to alter the very space within it.

The cube let out a burst of light, and new combatants entered the field. Astartes with blue armor and two large blue combat walkers. A small army of men in what she could only describe as winter attire. They looked stunned as did most of those who followed. Men with green cloaks began sniping at the Black Legion. More Astartes emerged from the cube. These ones had green armor and carried flame weapons.

One of the last to emerge was a towering figure in decorative golden armor. Summer recognized the one. It was the golden giant she followed in the vision of the cheering crowd. Summer watched in awe as the golden warrior charged the enemy in a blink. Someone in armor had no right to move that fast. That spear he carried reminded her of her precious Ivory. If only in the way he used it to systematically dismantle his armored foes.

The last group of figures to emerge were not warriors at all. In fact, they looked out of place. They looked like business officials. Summer stared at them. All of them were dressed in presentable attire. There was one in the group that Summer couldn't look away from. He was an elderly man, but he had the physique of a seasoned fighter. The hair on this man was white as snow. He wore a white coat liked with gold and embroidered on the back was a very familiar snowflake emblem.

At the sight of this living legend, Summer whispered. "Nicolas Schnee?"

---

That's right. Trazyn kidnapped Nicolas.

Keep it coming with the names. Just don't go overboard. Just give me the name and the faction they belong to.

Hope you all enjoy it.