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.

6. Chapter 6

Warhammer 40K belongs to Games Workshop

RWBY belongs to Rooster Teeth

---

Chapter 6: The Laughter of Gods

The shift was sudden. For an instant, he did not know where he was, nor did he entirely remember where he had been. The space he now occupied was a vast cavern, lined with colossal pillars of dark stone. In the span of a second, he took in the scene before him. The ruined bodies of Mechanicus warriors littered the floor. The black armored bodies of Chaos Space Marines in Terminator armor trudged across the rocky ground, crushing the disassembled remains of their foes beneath their ceramite boots. Around him were the royal blue and golden trim of the Ultramarines Chapter, the green of the Salamanders Chapter, and several humans he did not know. All were engaged with the force of Astartes before him.

How he came here was a mystery for later. His purpose was ever the same, the protection of the Emperor of Mankind, Beloved by All. There were Traitor Space Marines before him and they were ever and always a threat to his master, no matter how miniscule.

With his second of thought complete, he brandished his weapon, a Guardian Spear, and charged towards his foes. The first to fall to him was a Terminator whose corruption had warped his armor into an extension of himself. His arms were masses of metal tendrils, some ended in serpentine heads, others ended in drills and rudimentary saws. They lunged at him like a coiled reptile, intending to overwhelm him with their numbers. In the nanoseconds before they struck, he calculated which would reach him first and which would be last. Spinning his halberd, he systematically dismembered each mechanical appendage that approached him. The glowing blade did not stop with self-defense, he continued this motion has he closed the gap between himself and his attacker. When he stepped within reach, the Terminator could only watch as his limbs were reduced to wriggling stumps crawling from his armor like worms. The blade of his spear hacked his armor apart, revealing the corrupted mass beneath. With a final thrust, he pierced the traitor's mask and carried on. There was no glory here, only duty. For the moment, his duty entailed the deaths of all those who betrayed his master.

His name was Osiris, and he was a Custodian Guard. Created by the hand of the Emperor himself, genetically altered on a cellular level to guard the greatest being the galaxy had ever known. Trained from the moment he was strong enough to stand, schooled in every field there was to be taught. He was a walking library of information, but as of right now, he knew nothing of his current predicament. When this battle was over, he would find answers. Until then, there were traitors to kill.

His second kill was a Terminator armed with Lightning Claws. The armored warrior swiped at Osiris with the ferocity of an ancient terran tiger. The Custodian battered one arm away, stepped around the Space Marine and disabled his right arm with a strong upward cut. When the limb fell dead, the traitor turned to impale the golden warrior with his remaining hand. What he received for his efforts was a blade to the face, complimented with a bolt round for his troubles.

Osiris continued his methodical dismemberment of the Astartes before him. Each that came at him was allowed two attempts at striking him before he cut them down. Whether that death came by one strike or ten, would depend on their skill alone. He did not do this out of arrogance or useless pride. This was a learning experience for him. Every enemy killed would allow him to learn and grow. This was the core of being a Custodian. Their best was never enough, they must continue to advance their technique, refine their form, and increase their knowledge of their enemies. To do anything less was unacceptable for the protection of the Master of Mankind. For His enemies were ever-growing and everchanging. Thus, they must respond in kind.

His Guardian Spear spat out a bolt shell into the exposed face of an Astartes champion wielding a hell forged blade of burning metal. Why some Astartes refused to wear helmets was beyond him. The pride behind that ceramite was something he would never understand. Believing they were masters when they were made to be servants. The very idea made him feel the echo of what he assumed anger would feel like. The frail embers in his chest flickered when the thought crossed his mind. He ignored them, such things were irrelevant. The battle was what mattered, even if he did not recognize the enemy. For a moment, he believed them to be from the Sons of Horus Legion. Their Justaerin Terminator elite were known to paint their armor black. There was just one flaw with that theory. The Justaerin all wore Cataphractii Terminator armor, these warriors all wore the Indomitus Pattern. All except one.

Osiris sighted him in the far end of the cavern, tearing at a squad of Ultramarines. The body of a marine was impaled by the curved talons on his right arm. The blue blade he carried tore through ceramite like parchment paper. Of all the unknowns Osiris was surrounded by, there was one being he did know. Ezekyle Abaddon. First Captain of the Sons of Horus.

Osiris changed his course in the crowd. He sidestepped his allies with a speed and grace most would not expect from his armored form. The shining auramite of his armor held firm against any stray shell that came his way. More Terminators tried to bar his path, but he dismantled them as well.

When he drew closer, the changes in the First Captain became clearer. His armor was warped in some places, bending out to form spikes and jagged edges. He had also expanded, growing to a size that put the Astartes slightly above Osiris. When Abaddon's face was revealed, the Custodian took notice of the corpselike paleness of his skin.

The last Ultramarine fell, and the First Captain turned to face him. When those cold, black eyes locked onto him, Abaddon's lips curled into a mocking smile.

"Now this is a surprise." He said with clear amusement. "What is a Custodian doing this far away from Terra?"

Osiris did not answer as he stepped into an open space that was reserved for Abaddon to fight alone. The other Astartes were avoiding him out of fear. None wanted to upset him by stealing his kills. That was suitable. It kept the rest of them from interfering.

"I must say, this is a rare opportunity. It has been an age since the last time I gutted one of your kind. I plan to savor it." Abaddon said with malice edging his every word.

The Custodian said nothing as he took a guarded stance. What was the point in speaking at all? There was nothing to say. He had no words for this traitor, and speaking would do nothing. This fight would require his full focus. He knew Abaddon's reputation and Osiris would be a fool if he thought his odds of winning were clear cut.

So, without a word, he attacked.

---

Summer stared in utter bafflement. Nicholas Schnee. The founder of the Schnee Dust Corporation. The man who revived a nation and raised it beyond what anyone had ever dreamed it would be, was alive. How? The news reported him dead over a year ago. Dying in a dust factory explosion.

She turned to Trazyn and voiced her question. "Why is Nicholas Schnee here!?"

"Oh, that was unintended." Trazyn mumbled, somehow sounding genuinely taken aback despite having a synthesized voice. "I suppose in my rage at the state of my galleries, I may not have noticed that he was in the Tesseract Labyrinth I planned to deploy here. Strange, I rarely ever make such mistakes. Forgetting to add a novel item to my collection? Perhaps there is something wrong with my memory engrams?"

A shot flew over the huntress' head, and she was reminded of the current situation and the danger it posed to the man she thought was dead. Looking out, she gasped as she saw him holding the broken body of one of his friends. The man's torso had a hole in it, his spinal cord was bare for all to see. Without a second thought, she used her Petal Surge to rush out to rescue him.

---

Nicholas Schnee was a simple man, despite what most people tended to think. His goals were often small and humble in comparison to the results he produced. He was praised as a visionary, and hailed as the hero who saved the failing nation of Mantle. In truth, he just wanted to make life better for himself and those who were close to him. Namely, his future wife and daughter. All the fame and fortune never resonated with him. The true reward was knowing that he had made Mantle, now Atlas, a better place for his family. His late wife, Juwel. His daughter, Willow. They were all that truly mattered to him. The company and all the power that came with it were just a means to support them. The entire SDC could collapse in a day and the only reason he would be upset would be because he would need to find another way to earn an income for his family.

That was who he was. A man dedicated to the welfare of those he loved. The company he founded was a benefit to society, transporting much needed dust all across Remnant. Showing respect to his fellow man and faunus. A good and noble soul.

This was a strange day. He remembers waking up in the Schnee Manor in the morning, the same as every other morning. After breakfast with Willow and her husband Jacque, Nicholas received word that one of his dust factories were exploiting the faunus workers there. Deliberately paying them less and treating them poorly. After saying his farewells to his daughter and granddaughters, Winter, and Weiss, he left Atlas and flew to a refinery close to one of his mines. He planned to settle the problem personally. Such practices could not be allowed to continue. While he could have lived without it, the reputation of his family was important to the lifestyle they now lived. And that reputation was linked to that of the company that shared their name. If the company had a bad reputation, then so would his family and that would only cause problems for his grandchildren as they grew up. He wanted Willow to send them to a normal school, so they could learn what it was like to be around children who are not as privileged as them. If the company developed a bad name, then that would spread and reach the children the girls would interact with. Winter was old enough to know this, but Weiss and little Whitely were not.

The other problem he had to fix was the discriminations. Such action must not take root in the company. He understood that the faunus rarely ever lived easy lives, due to the very action he looked to stamp out. He did not believe they held less value than humans. If they did the work to the same standard as their human counterpart, then they should be treated the same and paid the same amount. If they exceed their human counterparts, then they should be paid more. Cutting their pay because they have animal traits is not only unethical, but stupid. It was one step away from slavery and he knew the faunus would fight tooth and nail to avoid going back to those times. The group known as the White Fang were proof of this. They were peaceful, but Nicholas knew they would not stay that way if pushed too far. Ideals only amount to so much when no one believes in them. By doing this, he avoided that dark future. He planned to meet the leaders of the Fang to show his support sometime after this whole mess was sorted.

When he arrived at the refinery, he did not hold back. The upside to his usually jolly demeanor was that everyone took him seriously when he got upset. No one dared object when he showed how violent his temper was. It helped drive home the point that he would not accept what they were doing. His mother once said to him that the most loving of hearts holds the greatest of rage. The more you loved something, the farther you would go to protect it, and the more you would hate those who dared to threaten it. At that moment, the manager of the refinery was threatening the reputation of the company and by proxy, the livelihood of his grandchildren. Something he loved more than all the dust on Remnant.

Nicholas did not care if it increased profits, he did not care if it increased productivity. What the CEO of the Schnee Dust Corporation cared about was doing things the right way. The honest way. Money could be earned back in time, but a damaged reputation and name would take a lifetime to fix. Time, he did not have.

At the conclusion of the meeting, he felt distorted and dizzy. A sudden vertigo struck him without warning. When the dizziness faded, he realized he was not in the refinery office anymore. He was now in a dark cave system and there was absolute chaos all around him. To say he had never seen combat was a lofty lie. The number of fights he had been in were so many he never bothered to count. But even with the experience he had throughout his life, the scene before him was shocking. None of the battles he took part in, not even the most intense skirmishes with the Creatures of Grimm could match the scene he saw. Giants, in what he could only assume to be mechanized suits of armor, were tearing into each other with a ferocity that made the Grimm look docile.

Bullets, lasers, red and blue balls of fire were flying everywhere. His assistant, a man who stood by his side since the day the SDC was formalized and recognized as an industrial power, was the first to fall. His torso exploded, spraying his innards across the cavern floor behind him. Nicholas rushed to his side, catching his falling body. Blood oozed onto his suit, but Nicholas did not care. His friend was dying, and he needed to be there for him.

Nicholas listened as his friend tried to speak but the only thing that left his lips were hollow gasps. The light left his eyes within seconds. It had been a long time since the last instance where he felt like crying. Not since Juwel passed away. To have a close friend ripped away from you so suddenly was a stab to the heart.

A strong hand grabbed his neck and pulled him up. The body fell from his grasp as he was quickly dragged away to a dark corner behind a number of large rocks. When he turned to face the person who dragged him, he blinked in surprise. There was a face he had not seen in many years. The face of an old rival now thought to be dead. Except, this was not her. This woman was younger, in fact she looked slightly younger than Willow, but the features were unmistakable. Slightly pale skin, black hair that ended with a red tinge, and the silver eyes. This must be a descendant of hers. He was not aware that old hag had any children. Then again, he was also sure she was lying when she told him otherwise,

The lady before him asked if he was hurt. "I'm alright." He replied.

The woman sighed. "Good."

"Sorry to be a bother but where am I?" He asked hoping this lady could answer him.

"That umm…" An explosive round crashed against the cavern wall behind her. "That would take a while to explain. All you need to know is that we're not on Remnant anymore."

"What do you mean?" He asked. Not on Remnant? What does that mean? Where else could they be but on Remnant?

The woman glanced over the stony her they hid behind. "This is not the place to talk about this. Just stay here and wait until the fighting ends."

He was going to offer a rebuttal, but the sudden shifting of her form silenced him. It had been an age since he'd last seen that semblance in action. The only difference was that instead of the usual red this one was white. She shot out into the chaos and returned to deposit a unkept man in a green and brown cloak. He had a messy black beard and a strong muscular build to him. A fighter. He was armed with a strange pattern of gun that Nicholas was unfamiliar with. It was a beam projectile weapon. Nicholas found that believable. The Atlas military was experimenting with that very field. Energy based weapon prototypes were highly effective against the Grimm. The man was garbed in black combat gear, excluding the metal should pads and collar than revealing itself under the green and brown cloak around his neck.

"What the feth!" He said in accented voice with an above average pitch.

Nicolas understood his confusion, he had been victim of that semblance before. The disorientation is quite alarming for those who have never experienced it before. The man looked around franticly, when his sights were set on the woman, he aimed his weapon at her.

Nicolas lunged to stop him but paused as he found he could no longer move. Something was holding him in place.

"Now that is rude." Came a synthesized voice from behind them. "Saved from being crushed underfoot and you repay your savior by shooting her? I swear, is there no decency in this galaxy?"

A large metal figure strolled past Nicolas. If his eyes could widen, they most certainly would. A robot. And it appeared to be self-aware. An artificial intelligence. He heard rumors that Atlessian scientists were beginning their research into the subject. To create metal soldiers to protect the people of Remnant from the Grimm when there were no huntsmen available. Nicolas doubted they would be able to build something like this.

"When you said you visited Remnant, I didn't realize you'd kidnap one of the most important men in recent history for you collection." The white cloaked woman said, sounding upset.

"When preserving history, I like to have a level of authenticity to my exhibits." The machine explained with what sounded like pride.

"While I can respect wanting to make your works as realistic as possible it doesn't…" The woman suddenly gasped, as if she were stuck by a sudden epiphany. "It was you!" She yelled pointing an accusatory finger at the robot. "The explosion at the dust factory! That was you!"

"Clever deduction." The robot congratulated. "It was one of the more subtle of my many trips."

"Subtle!" She yelled in outrage. "You killed over four hundred people!"

"I had to cover up his disappearance somehow. Would you have preferred I march in there with two hundred of my Deathmarks and atomize everyone at the site?"

The woman did not look satisfied with the robots answer and neither was Nicholas. An explosion at the factory? Did she mean the refinery he was in just moments ago? What was going on?

The woman groaned in exasperation. "Whatever. The fact he's alive is good enough for me."

"That's good because as I recall, we have more pressing matters to address." The robot said, gesturing to the battle with a golden staff.

"Right." The woman said, conceding the point.

The robot walked away with slow steps and Nicolas found he could move again. The other man was too stunned for words. The woman grabbed his shoulder pads and shook him. "Hey. Hey!" She yelled, landing an audible slap across the man's cheek.

The soldier yelled in shock. "I'm awake!"

"What's your name?"

"Finlay Innes."

"Finlay. I want you to stay here and guard this man. Do you understand?"

Finlay looked at Nicolas and then back to the woman. "Why do I need to guard this fancy suit?"

The woman gave him a skeptical look. "Do you want to fight from here or go back out there?"

Finlay glanced around the boulder he stood behind and ducked back as a lasbeam nearly took his head off. "Point taken."

The woman nodded and burst into a mass of white rose petals. The mass launched itself into the crowd, while Nicolas looked to his new friend. "Name's Nicolas Schnee." He said offering a hand.

Finlay looked at him with no shortage of suspicion but accepted the offered handshake. Extending a tattooed arm, he clasped his hand around Nicolas' own. "Finlay Innes. From the Tanith First and Only." Nicolas noted the power behind his man's grip. He was someone who did not shy away from demanding work.

"Can you fight?" Finlay asked as he checked his weapon.

"I can." Nicolas watched the brawl. "But I'm not trained in hand to hand, and while I'm a decent shot, I prefer fighting up close."

Finlay reached under his cloak and pulled out one of the finest daggers Nicolas had ever seen. It had seen use, but it did not look dulled in the slightest. "Would this be enough?"

"Keep it. I need something bigger." Nicolas said then he started coughing. Pain flared up in his lungs. Now was the worst time for this to be happening.

"Take your time, it ain't like were in the middle of a bloody battle." When the pain subsided, Nicolas noted the sarcasm in his voice and ignored it. Compared to the gossiping of the Atlas elite, this man was a refreshing change of pace.

A large sword skidded their way, scrapping against the stone floor. To Nicolas it was the size of a great sword. The hand guard was gold and shaped into the letter U.

Finlay noticed it too. "Is that big enough for ya, Fancy Man?"

Nicolas took note of the rifle in Finlay's hands, it was built for long distance. He had been around enough huntsmen and mercenaries to tell. "How good are you with that thing?"

Finlay looked indignant for a moment. "You'd have a tough time finding anyone better than a Tanith born when it comes to shooting."

Nicolas took that as a sign that he was rather good. "Cover me." He said leaping over the rock cover.

Finlay gave no complaint to this course of action. He took aim with his gun and capped at anyone who tried to fire at Nicolas. When he reached the sword, he took it with both hands and pulled it up. The blade was heavy. Good.

"Look out!" Finlay called out as one of the back armored giants approached Nicolas.

Its gun's ammunition had been spent and was now discarded. The large maul in the other bore down on Nicolas. With a quick role he avoided the strike, which left a small crater in its wake. While he had confidence in his aura, he was not willing to test its durability today. The giant went in for another strike, Nicolas slipped under it and took a swing at the thing's body. The sword sparked blue and dug into the chest plate, but it was not enough. The armor was thicker than a Boartusk's hide. Using all his strength, he freed the blade and backed away before the brute could get a hold of him. As the beast lumbered towards him, Nicolas took note of his helmet, spying a weakness. He charged in and the giant made to crush him with that explosive mace. Again, Nicolas slipped past the strike and delivered a return swipe to the thing's helmet. While not a killing blow, it tore a chunk off the helmet, exposing the flesh beneath.

Nicolas made to repeat the action, but the giant caught his sword with its free hand. He thought about abandoning the weapon when a sharp whistle caught his attention. A flash of silver shot toward him. Catching it in his hand, he saw the knife Finlay offered him. Releasing the sword, Nicolas plunged the dagger into the exposed flesh in the monster's head. Its body lurched and fell still.

Retracting the blade, it armored bulk slowly fell backward, hitting the ground with a loud crash.

Nicolas looked to Finlay and held out the blade. "Thanks."

"You got some balls." The soldier said. "Going head-to-head with Astartes ain't something most men can walk away from. You're a better fighter than I thought."

Nicolas put on a jolly smile and tugged the collar of his ruined outfit. "How do you think I can afford this fancy suit?"

Finlay laughed. "If only we all had that luxury." He said, walking out to Nicolas, who presented the knife to its rightful owner.

The soldier reached for it when a new sound filled the cavern. It was a mass of growls and roars. "We got company." Finlay said, taking the knife and clipping it under the barrel of his gun.

Nicolas grabbed his sword and felt the cavern start to shake.

---

Summer shot through the madness in search for other survivors that she could pull from the clutches of death. As of right now she had saved six soldiers, pulling them to the chamber's edge in hopes prolonging their perilous lives. They were grateful for it. The huntress wished she could do the same for the Astartes, but they were determined to fight the enemy head on, and she could not deny them that choice.

As she ran, she saw one of the blue armored walkers get torn apart by a trio of oversized monsters. Their armor plates were similar to their smaller counterparts, but between the metal she saw muscles so large that an Alpha Beringel would shy away from them. Mounted on their shoulders and fists were a variety of guns. Ranging from heat-based weapons to a minigun.

The remains of the steampunk warriors were rallying to a giant, hunched red cloaked figure at the far end of the chamber. They were gathering around the largest Pylon pillar in the room, forming a perimeter to defend it. The leader looked familiar, even though he had gone through those downright horrific metal augmentations. His multiple limbs and spider like legs were braced for combat. His sides had lower limbs that held different sorts of steampunk guns. They both looked to be energy-based weapons, judging by the blue coils around the base of one and the crackling arcs of lightning sparking off the other.

Summer pushed her fascination with the weapons aside, focusing on her familiarity with the robed cyborg. He was in her vision too. Even though she never got to see his face, the robe, hunched posture, and the impressive size of his stature were enough for her to connect the dots. He must be this Archmagos Creed was talking about.

Summer felt the hairs on her neck stand on end. Something was happening.

From the shadows, monsters appeared. Many were the red horned beasts she's delt with less than an hour ago. Some had the shape of women, but they were anything but pretty. Lashed togues, crab claws for hands, and when Summer got close to one, she noticed they only had one female breast most of the time. Then came the scurrying little menaces that hurled fire in every direction, not caring who they hit in the process. They were masses of teeth, messy tendrils extending from their heads, and multiple eyes ranging from one to nine. Most were blue, others were pink.

Summer knew what they were on sight, daemons. More daemons were joining the battle. The enemy must be getting desperate to call this many here.

One of the pinkish female daemons with many arms led a charge against the soldiers garbed in winter clothes. The Archmagos fired one of his weapons, unleashing a beam of white-hot energy at the daemon, vaporizing it and its cohorts.

Mechanical beasts lumbered into the chamber. Summer took them for giant dogs at first, but when she saw the metal tendrils they used as weapons, she revised her assessment. Things were getting worse by the second. Under the thunder of their footsteps, the stalactites at the top of the cavern fell, crushing people on both sides. Summer was about to use her eyes to clear out the daemons, but halted when she heard a familiar battle cry.

"Cadia Stands!"

A hail of fire emerged from the breach in the cavern wall at the enemy's' backs, delivering a staggering blow to the unsuspecting monsters in their midst. Cadian Shock Troopers poured through and added their might to the brawl. Summer saw Creed in the advancing army, twin pistols in hand, chanting the battle cry that had inspired his army to follow him through this hell.

"Cadia Stands!"

Following them was something Summer was not expecting. At first, she thought they were more Astartes, but when she got a clear view of them, she realized they looked more like the werewolves from old fairytales. These new vicious predators bounded towards the foe, tearing into them with clawed limbs. Out of everyone here, they were by far the most ferocious.

Summer met Creed's gaze. Neither said a word, the only form of communication passing between them was a nod from the Lord Castellan. Then Summer took a breath and her eyes shone with light.

---

Osiris backed away as the blue blade came at him. He was no fool, he saw what that weapon was capable of. Watching it cleaved through an Astartes was enough of a demonstration of its destructive capabilities. While his auramite was stronger than Astartes war plate, he was not willing to gamble his life on the chance that it could stand up to the weapon Abaddon wielded.

Over the course of their duel, he managed to land several strikes on the former First Captain, but each blow came with the risk of retaliation from that sword. The Custodian was not blind to the fact that he was at a disadvantage. Abaddon was focused on protecting his exposed face and his torso. Osiris could land glancing strikes but inflicting a fatal wound would require him gamble everything in one blow. The other option was to whittle down Abaddon's armor to the point where it was no longer functional.

Osiris did not mind the second option. It was the sounder plan. He was the faster of the two of them and without ammunition Abaddon could not harry him or back him into a corner.

"Cadia Stands!" Bellowed a chorus of voices from the far side of the cavern.

Osiris took note of that name. Cadia. That must be the world he was on. Half a galaxy away from his post. How he got here could be determined later, he had a duel to win.

Abaddon came at him again, swinging both his Talon and blade in a flurry of motion. Osiris took note of both. His transhuman perceptions almost slowing down time for him to calculate a counter motion. The blade would reach him first, then his opponent would take a step and put him within reach of the Talon. Osiris would never say it openly, but he was impressed, Abaddon had caught on to the fact that he was focusing on the blade more than Power Claw. Now, he was baiting Osiris into a position where he could catch the Custodian by surprise.

Osiris leaned past the blade and with a twirl of his Guardian Spear, intercepted the Talon, knocking it off course. For being encased in Terminator armor, Abaddon had impressive reflexes. Recovering from his failed offensive, Abaddon delivered a powerful backhand, knocking the Custodian back. He is stronger than an average Terminator as well.

When some distance was made, Abaddon marched on him again. Osiris prepared to receive another onslaught. So focused on the foe before him, he made the mistake of ignoring the daemons around him as a Hellblade nearly succeeded in taking his head off. A trio of red daemons closed in on him. Caught unawares, Osiris dispatched them with a whirlwind of strikes, planning to refocus on the primary threat.

He was too slow. The blue blade fell upon him, after narrowly avoiding it, the Talon raked his breastplate, mangling the thunderbolt sigil and shattering the gem placed there.

Osiris was on his back now. His Guardian Spear was out of his reach. Abaddon wasted no time. Storming up to the downed Custodian, he raised that dreaded blade and prepared to strike.

Before the blade fell, a blinding golden light filled the cavern and Abaddon stumbled back. He roared in pain as the flesh on his face began smoking.

Some form of psychic attack had stunned the First Captain. The devilish blade high in the air, the multitude of faces across its corporeal surface showed various expressions of shock and surprise. Then they began to scream.

---

Nicolas clutched his skull as the noise echoed through the chamber, but blocking his ears did nothing, it felt like the scream was inside his head. He was starting to feel dizzy, but the scream ceased before he lost his balance.

"Sweet feth! What manner of beast can make a sound like that?" Finlay cursed, picking up his gun from the floor.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Nicolas answered as he scanned the crowd.

"There!" He said pointing to a billowing white cloak.

"You sure we can trust her?"

"If she's like the rest of her family, yes." Nicolas said with conviction.

"Alright. Just don't be mad if the psyker blows yer head off."

"Psyker?" Nicolas asked as they ran.

"You don't get out much do ya? Everyone knows what a psyker is." He said with a wry chuckle.

Nicolas decided to drop the conversation. The woman in the white cloak was on one knee, and she was trembling. Running to her side, he placed the sword down and grabbed her shoulders.

With a gentle shake, he tried to stir her from her daze, she looked frightened, he asked. "Are you alright?"

She gave him a quick nod, before standing up. "Are they gone?"

"What?" Nicolas asked.

"The daemons. Are they gone?" She clarified looking around the cavern.

"Demons? Demons aren't real."

Finlay laughed as he stood next to Nicolas, his rifle aimed into the battle, he didn't fire. With the number of friendly troops in the mix he didn't want to risk hitting a friendly, especially the giants. "Trust me friend. They're real as you and me."

Nicolas did not reply, now was not the time to argue. He heard the woman gasp, turning quickly he asked. "What is it?"

She directed his gaze to a small clearing in the crowd. He saw two giants. One in gold and another in black. The one in black held a glowing blue sword that made his hair stand on end. The one in gold was in the process of standing up, but the giant in black knocked him down using a clawed fist.

"We have to help him." She said, looking at Nicolas. "Launch me at him."

Nicolas stared at her for a moment. The thought of refusing came to mind but then he remembered what pedigree he was talking to. Picking up his sword, he activated his semblance. Glyph.

Finlay jumped when a white snowflake symbol appeared on the ground.

Nicolas turned to the woman. "I'll be right behind you."

She gave him a cheeky smile, similar to the ones Willow used to give when she won a debate with him. "Glad to see the great Nicolas Schnee hasn't lost his edge."

He returned the smile. "And I'm glad to see a Dorn again."

The woman's smile vanished. "My name is Summer Rose."

---

One of Osiris' eye lenses cracked after that last impact. Abaddon loomed over him; blade raised. Yet, there was a clear strain to his movements, it was clear even through the black ceramite he wore that he was struggling to wield the blade properly now. That psychic attack had unsettled him somehow. The faces on the blade snarled and thrashed around, almost as if they were trying to free themselves from his grip. His face had its own snarl as the weapon shook in his hand.

Before he could bring the blade down, something crashed into Abaddon's arm, knocking him back a step. Landing between them was a human woman in a white cloak.

Osiris stood and looked around. His Guardian Spear was a short distance away. He could reach it but a moment. Abaddon regarded the woman while being wary of the Custodian walking towards his weapon.

"Your interference will cost you your life, woman." He threatened in his deep aggressive voice.

The woman did not answer, but Osiris did notice her shaking fists. She was frightened. Abaddon had noticed as well. "Your fear is palpable." He said with a wicked smile. "Though I commend you for choosing to face me, despite this."

"You think I'm afraid of you?" The woman asked, an air of confidence in her words despite her shaky tone. "I'm not."

She raised a hand and pointed at Abaddon's blade. "I'm afraid of that thing you have in your hand. Not you."

Abaddon's smile was replaced by a look of aggravated puzzlement. Osiris agreed, why would the woman fear the weapon but not the warrior wielding it? He kept his pace nominal, waiting for an opportunity to deliver a crippling blow.

The weapon shook again, and Abaddon raised it. The faces on the blade. All the ghostlike faces in its blue glow snarled and snapped in the direction of the woman. Like a mass of chained hounds pulling at their bindings to reach prey that was just out of their reach.

"It knows you." Abaddon said. "You're the reason it's been fighting me since I entered the catacombs." He then pointed the blade at her. "I know not why it wants you. The desires of daemons mean little to me, but if I must feed it your blood to sate its hunger, then so be it."

On his first step another white object crashed into him, and Osiris broke into a sprint. With a nudge of his boot, he kicked his spear into his waiting hands. Abaddon was swinging at the woman with a level of precision he had not seen so far. It was as if the blade itself was targeting the woman and not the Astartes Captain. The Talon remained still, as he planned to kill her with the ritualistic great sword alone.

The woman had the flexibility of a Callidus Assassin. The ethereal blue of the sword just barely missing her each time. It was truly an impressive display.

More white objects came hurtling into the Astartes. Crashing against his armor with negligible damage but surprising concussive force. The objects unfolded into large tusked porcine creatures with white mist rising from their forms. They let out snorts and wines as they prepared to charge again. The woman used the distraction to back up to Osiris.

"Are you hurt?" She asked, concern edging her voice.

For the first time that day, Osiris spoke. "I am unharmed."

The woman's facial features showed signs of relief. Osiris ignored it and turned his one functional lens to Abaddon, who was now bisecting white, bipedal, lupine creatures. They came at him in a pack of twelve, leaping at him with no regard for their own lives. The daemon blade cut through them with no resistance.

Following the creatures' path in revers Osiris watched and elderly man manifesting more of them from a glowing six-pointed rune on the floor. A psyker. But one that was on his side. Osiris turned back to the woman; she had saved his life. He never would have imagined a mortal would ever do such a thing for him. He could continue to serve his master thanks to her. This debt would be repaid.

"Enough!" Abaddon bellowed, killing three of three of the wolves with a single broad sweep.

"You are not the only one with allies, woman!" He snarled as more blood red daemons emerged from the shadows. "Drach'nyen will have your blood!" He roared as the host of warpspawn surged past him.

Osiris readied himself for the onslaught, but loud heavy footfalls caught his attention.

"Look out!" Yelled the woman as she sprinted away from a hail of bullets.

An Obliterator unleashed a storm of ammunition from its shoulder mounted minigun. Its focus was on the woman. Osiris took the opportunity to charge the brute. One of its oversized arms leveled a wrist mounted flamer at him. When the flames roared from the nozzles, Osiris outpaced them and forced the minigun to stop firing.

The woman ran behind the Obliterator and jumped on its deformed back. Grabbing hold of the minigun and plasma cannon. Placing her feet on its spine, she pulled both weapon mounts back. This caused no small amount of discomfort to the behemoth. For a moment, the Obliterator lost its balance, giving Osiris the opportunity to plant the blade of his halberd between the monster's eyes.

The woman dismounted the beast and gestured for the Custodian to follow, and he did. Against an army of warpspawn and the First Captain, he did not favor his chances. If told to stand he would stand, but given he was without any directive from his brothers or his master, survival became the order of the day. If given the opportunity, he would kill Abaddon, but surrounded by the daemonic tide, that possibility was highly improbable.

He followed behind the woman who joined up with her psyker friend and a Guardsman. They circled around the edge of the cavern till they were among more allies than enemies. The woman turned on the daemons and unleashed a flash golden light that destroyed the closed of the fiends. So, the woman was also a psyker, and the one who unleashed the attack that stunned Abaddon. The debt he owed just got bigger.

As for Abaddon himself, he seemed to have lost interest in them. He was now marching on the Guardsman Regiment that stood against him.

Then a sudden crash stalled the fighting for a moment, radiant light exploded from a newly made hole in the cavern ceiling. The daemons caught in its rays wailed as they burned.

Descending gracefully from the opening, was a power armored woman with large wings that were lit with golden fire. Following closely behind her were two more warrior women using jump packs.

"Celestine!" Cried the white cloaked woman.

"Despoiler!" The woman known as Celestine shouted, thrusting her burning blade at Abaddon.

"Ah, the Corpse Bride." Abaddon replied with a sneer when her feet touched the ground. "I received word that you were here. Have you finally gathered up the spine to face me?"

Celestine took her sword in both hands and glared at him hatefully. "Had I known you'd be here, my blade would have already split your skull, heretic!"

"Come then, servant of the False Emperor." Abaddon answered pointing his daemon sword at her. "Drach'nyen has been so uncooperative today, but I feel the opportunity to drink your soul should be enough to sate it, at least until I get my Talon on that other woman."

Celestine charged at Abaddon without a word. The daemons surrounding him pounced on the woman, but she cleared them out with a sweep of her burning sword. Winged mutated Space Marines attacked from above, but the other two woman cut them down mid-flight.

When that burning blade met the daemonic sword, the clash began. Osiris could almost hear wailing echo from each meeting of those unnatural weapons. It was obvious to the Custodian; Abaddon was the superior warrior. From the moment their swords met, it was clear Celestine could not match him in single combat. Fortunately for her, it was not single combat. The other two made quick work of the Mutated Marines and engaged Abaddon while his focus was on the winged woman. While his Cataphractii plate held strong, he was clearly struggling. Osiris reignited the power field around the blade of his spear. Now was his chance.

"We have to help them!" The cloaked woman declared, rushing into the fray.

"Summer, wait!" Said the elderly psyker as he rushed after her.

Osiris said nothing as he followed along. He had a debt to pay, and he would not allow the woman known as Summer to die due to her own eagerness. More Astartes stepped in their path, he would dispatch them then help his current charge.

---

Katarinya Greyfax watched from the shadows in disgust. She beheld the angelic woman's arrival with utter revulsion. How long had she been gone for this heresy to take root? Battle Sister's sufficed with idolatry. She eyed the feral Space Marines as they attacked like tribal savages. Warriors of the Adeptus Astartes reveling in their own mutations. Then her gaze turned to the woman who rushed to join the Sisters in their battle with the Despoiler. She looked human, but she could not fool an inquisitor. The psyocculum on her left eye revealed her true nature. A daemon masquerading as a white cloaked maiden.

Worse was the uncorrupted among their numbers. Warriors of proud Cadia and Ultramar. Known across the galaxy for their unswerving devotion and loyalty. They embrace these evils in the name of victory. This was disappointing. Evil had no shades. No lesser versions that could be tolerated in service to a larger goal. Purity was perfection. Uncompromising and ideal.

Thousands had died by her hand for far lesser sins than this. Even killing her own kind for wavering from the path. What victory could there be if adamant precepts were torn a sunder?

A green glow lit up the darkness around her. Greyfax leveled her Condemnor bolter between the two glowing eyes of her captor.

"Abomination." She snarled.

"That word." Trazyn's metal hand gestured lazily across the cavern. "Stop me if this sounds familiar, but I suspect your priorities require re-evaluation."

"You sow corruption wherever you treat. Your reckoning is overdue." Greyfax pulled the trigger, or she tried to, her finger did not respond.

Trazyn opened his palm, a flood of microscopic machines flowing over his fingers. "I'm not a fool. The Mindshackle will not let you harm me."

Bile filled Greayfax's mouth, she fought back against the urge using her anger. "You've corrupted me! As you did Valeria!"

"A precaution only. As for Valeria… She had a remarkable brain. You robbed me of the opportunity for study."

Greyfax pulled the trigger again. Nothing happened. She was powerless.

"I brought you here out of common cause." Said Trazyn. "I am not yet done with this world, nor is your Imperium. If you seek to save it, I suggest you direct that formidable certainty of yours elsewhere. Our reckoning will wait."

With a snarl Greyfax turned away from the Xenos. She had to admit, she was unable to strike at him. The reckoning would come, but not today. The fiend was right, she would need to direct her hatred at another foe. Namely the Despoiler, who now fought against four. The white daemon circled him like an acrobat. While the Archtraitor's focus was on the Battle Sisters, the woman's presence appeared throw him off balance.

Katarinya stared closely to be sure, but it was almost like the woman was stepping into the Despoiler's strikes. Whenever he made sweep of the blade, she put herself as close as possible to it. The trajectory appeared to change to go after the woman, rather than strike at one of the Sisters.

Greyfax used the psyocculum to examine Abaddon's weapon, and it confirmed her suspicion. A daemonic blade. Containing a warpborn entity of immense power. Likely the most powerful she had and will ever see in her life. She dared not imagine what lengths the Despoiler had to go through to bind a daemon of such might. But she silently thanked him for it. For if such a monster were freed from its shackles, they would all be dead by now.

As for the woman, Greyfax noted the emphasis on her diversions. The daemon in the sword was fixated on her. So much so, that it endangered its wielder for the chance to strike at her. Why the beast cared so much for killing its own kind? Greyfax would never know, the ways of daemons were insanity itself.

---

Summer had never pushed herself this hard before. This guy was a lot faster than she thought. Even when the monstrous sword came at her of its own volition, she was barely able to avoid it. Aura would not help her against this thing. She could not afford to get hit, not once. All her focus was on evasion, not a bad deal considering her only methods of counterattacking was her semblance and eyes. Not very dependable considering her environment. Using Petal Surge to create a shockwave would destabilize the cave further. Using the more violent form of her petals to grate at his armor was an idea, but it also risked harming Celestine and her bodyguards. The last resort was her eyes, but that had already failed. In fact, the beast took the power of her silver eyes at full blast and only got angry. That thing was not like its lesser kin. It could not be killed.

Her safest choice was to run interference. Putting herself as close as possible to danger to tempt the monster to come after her instead of the others. Being this close to it made her adrenaline spike, and for the first time since her death she might actually tire herself out. Those horrific faces kept biting down, almost like they would spring from the sword itself.

This was a challenge for sure, sparring with Raven gave Summer sharp reflexes, as her old partner's fighting style was highly aggressive. This had given her the edge when it came to fighters of a similar mindset. Those who fight aggressively often want to end the fight as quickly as possible and often lose their cool when they fail in that regard. This guy was slowly drifting in that direction. Not that she could blame him. Four on one, anyone would complain on the unfairness of that.

Dodging another narrow sweep, Summer felt something strange. A sense of fatigue washed over her. A hollowness was settling in her chest and a fog was being cast over her mind. She lost her balance. Stumbling backwards, she struggled to stay on her feet. Before she could understand what was happening, she saw that almost everyone I the chamber was experiencing the same debilitations as her. Many of the Cadians had blood trickling down their noses. A loud rumbling could be heard. An earthquake?

The black stone pillars that dotted the cavern shone with green energy. This gave Summer the truth. The Pylons were active. But why were they making her feel so faint? Weren't they supposed to push back the daemons and stop the enemy?

The daemons in the chamber were fizzling out. Fading from reality itself. Some of the more deformed Astartes cried as they appeared to succumb to seizures and spasms. Like their muscles and organs no longer functioned as they should. She saw Nicolas, he stumbled for a moment, suddenly out of breath, but forced himself upright again.

The leader of the corrupted Astartes did the same, freezing up at the sudden appearance of this debilitating field, but ground on with gritted teeth.

The one who had it the worst had to be Celestine, her wings lost their golden shine and her skin appeared to degrade by decades. The amount of strength she lost was alarming. Her speed and reflexes were reduced to a fraction of what she had displayed up until now. The same for her friends, while they fought with similar ferocity, the energy had drained from them.

Summer felt the effects become even worst, it got to the point that she could barely stand. Everything felt distant, like she was being dragged away.

One of Celestine's bodyguards were sent flying by the warlord. Summer made to help her, but with just one step she was on her knees. She felt so fragile, so weak.

The other bodyguard was cut off from the duel by more of the armored Astartes. They hemmed her in, and Summer could only imagine what happened when she lost sight of her. Even through all this, Celestine fought on. The warlord did not show any mercy, with each attack, he pushed the angel back further. Each hit looked like it broke bones.

Summer tried to force herself to stand, to fight, but she couldn't. Her legs were so heavy, it felt like they were rooted to the floor.

Celestine screamed as a large gash was cut in her armors side. The daemon sword had cut her cleanly and forced her to her knees. One had clasping over her wound, blood pouring over her armor, the other using her sword to keep herself from falling.

---

Greyfax fought against the fading of her consciousness. Cold and bitter rage keeping her rooted in reality. She did not know what was happening, but she would not allow it to be the end of her. She watched as the Despoiler advanced on the downed Battle Sister.

"It would appear that your great plan has backfired." Abaddon said with grim satisfaction.

"So, you say. But your dark masters won't come to your rescue this time, Despoiler. You might kill me, but one day, mankind will be free of your foul patrons."

Abaddon raised his daemonic sword. "There is no freedom."

Celestine lowered her head solemnly. "At least she will survive past this."

Abaddon paused and Greyfax probed his mind. He was trying to understand the Saint's words. The inquisitor silently scoffed at the word. Saint? Who in their right mind would label this daemon a Saint. The Despoiler's thoughts turned to the woman in white.

He turned his massive bulk to look at the woman, who barely stood on her own two feet. He was pondering this woman's importance to Celestine. In his mind, Greyfax caught an echo of the whispers of the daemonic blade. Its eagerness to destroy the woman entirely. Its desire to kill her superseded its desire to slay the Saint, even after tasting the latter's blood.

Abaddon decided to grant the monsters wish. If only to make the Saint's final moment, one of despair. "Don't be so certain." He said to Celestine.

He turned and made his approach to the woman. Celestine meant to rise but fell to her knees as she cried. "No!"

Greyfax did not understand why the Saint valued this daemon more than herself. She inspected the Saint's thoughts. Greyfax did not believe most of what she gleamed from the witch's mind. That the cloaked woman known as Summer Rose was personally blessed by the Emperor himself.

Such nonsense was the grounds for delusion and heresy. Those who proclaimed to be the purist were often the most depraved and vain. But then Greyfax looked deeper and found that Summer did not show the typical characteristics of most who laid claim to such boons. For a moment, the inquisitor did not know what to believe. Presumptions clashed with observation.

"So, you're the Despoiler?"

Greyfax ceased her probing of Celestine's mind and focused on Summer. She was chuckling.

"I thought you'd be bigger."

The Despoiler was not amused. "You've caused me no small amount of frustration this day. I plan to return the favor, now."

"But why?" The woman sounded genuinely confused. "All this death. For what? Revenge?"

"You would never understand." Said Abaddon. "We were the mightiest force the galaxy had ever known, yet that corpse you call an Emperor conspired to be rid of us. Delegating us to the whims of weaklings."

Greyfax reached into Summer's mind, fully prepared for the thoughts of an incoherent monster, but to her surprise, found a genuine human consciousness. She saw a mother and a father. She saw monsters in black, followed by broken buildings and the screams of her family. If Greyfax did not have the psyocculum, she would be convinced this was merely a human woman.

"So, betrayed the empire you built because of pride? What? Were you upset that other people were put in higher positions than you?" Greyfax felt the anger in the woman. She disliked such pettiness.

"The strong should lead, while the weak follow." Abaddon said with finality. "It has always been this way."

Summer laughed. She knew she would die. Greyfax caught tinges of grief. Despair for not being able to return to her family. To a husband and daughters that she had failed.

"An old friend of mine thought the same thing." The image of a dark-haired woman with a red blade flashed in her mind. "Her mistake was thinking her view applied to everything. Do you know what she did when she found a challenge she couldn't fight her way out of?"

The memory of a child with golden hair surfaced. "She ran."

Greyfax pulled herself away when Abaddon raised his blade. With a snarl, he prepared to cut the woman down. "No!" Cried Celestine.

Greyfax reached into the Despoiler's mind once more and set it ablaze. Neurons flared and died within the Despoiler's brain. She was loathed to admit it, but the Xenos filth had been correct. Her priorities had strayed. Her sights were set on the impurities of the Imperium that she had started ignoring the very threats to the Imperium itself. Witches and daemons these women may be, but the Archtraitor was the true threat. While they all deserved the pyre for their existence, some had to be ushered to the flames first. Retribution would find the false Saint, and the daemon woman would be judged, but Abaddon's sentence was long overdue.

Abaddon staggered, the sudden psychic assault putting him on the back foot. But Greyfax began to falter, her strength dwindled with each second that past. The connection broke and she cursed. Pulling out her Condemnor Bolter, she fired. Shots bounced off his armor.

---

Summer turned to the side to see the shooter and gasped. It was the woman from her vision. The one that walked by Celestine though the crowd. She was here too.

While Abaddon appeared to be having a seizure, Summer tried to stumble away. Her steps were small and carried the weight of boulders.

Abaddon did not take long to recover, he marched on her with renewed anger, only to be stopped by a mass charge of guardsman.

"Cadia Stands!"

Summer saw Creed leading the attack. He was betting everything on killing the Despoiler.

When their eyes met again, Summer saw the grim determination. He gave a short gesture for her to run and that's when she realized that they were protecting her and Celestine. They were selling their lives so she could escape.

Even through the haze that clouded her mind, Summer felt the panic rise again. It was happening again. People dying to protect her. Just as they did when she was a child. Summer remained frozen to the spot as she watched Abaddon, and his bodyguards tear into the Cadians. Blood, limbs, and viscera fell to the floor in heaps.

Abaddon himself carved through the masses of humans with contemptuous ease. Each swing took half a dozen lives. The huntress wanted to scream, to rush in to help, to tell them to run, but her strength was leaving her. Fresh tears fell down her cheeks as she fell to her knees. This could not be happening again.

---

Osiris deflected another strike with his spear. The Astartes that were not at Abaddon's side had gathered to Osiris, most likely for the pleasure of being the one to slay a Custodian. A boast he knew they would wear like a badge of pride. Behind him were warriors of the Schola Progenium. Tempestus Scions as he recalled. They and many others had added their fire to the mix. At his side were what remained of the Salamanders and the feral Space Wolves. One who stood out was the human psyker the woman known as Summer had been accompanying. Something had stripped him of his power, but he fought on. More cautiously but not without merit. He had impressive reflexes for a mortal.

Osiris had made headway in reaching Abaddon, but the commander of the Cadian guardsmen had reached him first. Many were dying on both sides, but the important thing was stopping the First Captain. Osiris did not know all the details, but he knew victory hinged on who died first. Abaddon, the winged woman, and the human commander. The battle had reached its apex.

His Guardian Spear became a whirlwind of destruction. He could no longer afford to be conservative. Each swipe and lunge, maimed, killed, or crippled. He had to reach the battle's center.

A new shape entered his vision, this Astartes was also in black armor. But he was different from those he had killed up to now. His armor had no gold. White crossed were scattered across the ceramite. His helm was a white death mask. Chained to his wrists were a plasma pistol and an eagle winged mace. The warrior was fresh into battle, delivering fatal judgment with his war maul. Each strike let out a powerful explosion that forced ceramite to buckle beneath it.

The two warriors exchanged a silent greeting as they converged on one another. They fought in tandem. One, a force of brutal zeal. The other, a warrior of methodical destruction. Osiris read the flow of the battle; this warrior was also after Abaddon. Together, they pressed forward. The Custodian would dismantle his opponents while the Marine ended them and any others who thought to disrupt Osiris' trailblazing.

They became the spear tip, forcing a wedge in the enemy's numbers. Creating a temporary gap for a small force to break through.

Osiris caught glimpses of a group of Cadians, led by a woman in a commissar's uniform, running the gauntlet he made. The psyker and the guardsman from before followed close behind.

---

"Cadia Stands!" Summer heard Creed bellow, no one else took up the cry.

She watched in terror and Abaddon closed in on the Lord Castellan. Laughing with each step he took. Creed fired at him. She saw one shot hit the Astartes' head, but only one. The rest refracted off his armor.

"Cadia is dead!" Thundered Abaddon. "Even now, its doom comes."

The Talon swiped at Creed, casting him to the ground. Blood spilling from a ravaged arm, and sparks flickering from his armor. Creed lost both his pistols. One of which landed at Summer's side.

"Cadia lives while but one of its soldiers fight on." Creed yelled out defiantly as he tried to stand back up. Not looking bothered by the horrific injury he just suffered.

Crackling talons descended on the man, but a lasbeam strike gave the Despoiler pause.

Both Abaddon and Creed turned to see Summer holding the discarded laspistol. Its barrel pointed at the Warmaster.

Abaddon just grinned. "You waste your life so eagerly. You fight for a dead world, woman."

"My name is Summer." She said bitterly.

Abaddon cackled. "Well, Summer." He said with condescension. "Before you die, know that you fight for a failed cause."

Glancing down, he saw Creed roll away. He contemplated following but decided to address the weaker enemy. "I set this world's fate in motion before I even made planetfall. Were it not for hubris, I would not have set foot here at all. Your games with the Pylons have only reinforced the folly of pride."

He advanced again and Summer made no motion to flee, with shaking hands, she fired at him. The beams just bounced off his war plate. The curved claws of the Talon wrapped around her arms and torso. She felt the blades dig into her flesh and threaten to crush her skeletal structure. If she had breath, she would scream.

Raising her high, he declared. "The Corpse Bride has failed. The will of Cadia is broken. The Imperium will soon follow. While our time together has been short, I shall make you death quick. A small act of respect for the steel you've shown me. Take solace in the fact this benighted world will not suffer for much longer."

He brought the daemonic blade to her throat, intending to behead her. Summer could see the malefic glee in the thing's multiple faces as it drew closer.

A thunderous impact rocked Abaddon's right arm, forcing him back a step. The bladed fingers of the Talon dug deeper into her arms as she waved around in his grip. Another, and she was sent flying with sudden force.

The hard ground met her, and she felt her vision go dark. The last thing she saw was the golden warrior and Lothar facing down the Despoiler.

---

Lothar charged at the Despoiler while he held Summer in his grip. With a hammer blow from his crozius, he staggered the Archenemy. Before Abaddon could realize what happened, Lothar delivered a second strike to the Talon itself. The exploding power field forced the claws to open, freeing the huntress from their hold.

The chaplain stepped between the Despoiler and the woman. Plasma pistol roaring as it spat blue fire at the traitor.

Abaddon snarled as he turned to the side to protect his exposed face. "A Son of Sigismund."

The Warmaster tried to close the gap but was stopped by the Custodian's spear cutting away at the vents on his back. In retaliation, he spun around planning to bisect the golden warrior, but he was already out of reach.

The three of them stood. Two facing one. Lothar turned his gaze to the unconscious form of Summer. Blood pooled on the stone around her. Anger burned in his twin hearts. This would not go unpunished. Both for him and the Warmaster.

Behind him gathered the small escort force the commissar had brought with her. They were all out of breath. They did not run the full way, but the mad dash though the catacombs, following the trails of violence and destruction left in the Black Legion's wake had left them gasping for air. Still, they were ready to fight.

Abaddon roared in pain, as behind him stood the Living Saint, her holy blade piercing the traitor's spine.

"The Emperor protects." Breathed Celestine, her voice hollow and weak.

Abaddon lurched away from her, the Ardent Blade ripping clean of his flesh. Glancing around, he saw that his chances of surviving the upcoming battle were dwindling. Wounded as he was, he could not stand up to the foes arrayed against him.

The remaining of the Cadian 8th closed in, led by the wounded Creed. The desire for vengeance shone clear in their eyes. Lothar watched as the Despoiler and the Saint stared each other down. Neither so much as flinched.

Azure lightning exploded across the cavern. Abaddon and all his warriors faded into nothingness.

The cowards. Rather than face their deaths with honor, they ran.

Lowering his weapon, he turned to his charge.

"Summer!" Cried the commissar as she ran to the huntress.

Her squadmates in tow, they carefully lifted the woman. She was drenched in her own blood. The pure white of her cloak was stained red.

"Medic!" Yelled the commissar.

"Get off of me!" Snapped Creed as he shoved away the man treating his wounded limbs.

"But sir!" The medic protested, but Creed silenced him. With the bloody stumps that used to be his fingers, he gestured to Summer.

The medicae knelt by Summer as they lowered her against a stone. An elderly man wearing a white coat and wielding an Astartes Power Sword walked up to them. "Will she be alright?"

"It's not looking good." The medicae answered as he hastily applied a bandage wrap across her arms. "She's fading fast."

"Who are you?" Asked the commissar, standing to face the man.

"I'm Nicolas Schnee." He answered politely.

"Why do you care about the state of this woman?" The commissar's voice was stern.

"She saved my life not long ago. Not to mention I owe her family a debt."

"Her family? So, you're from Remnant as well?"

"I am, though I will admit that I am terribly confused as to how I got here." Nicolas admitted with a bashful grin.

"Wonderful." The commissar groaned. "Another one."

Lothar turned to the Blessed Lady, she stared though the hole in the cavern ceiling and into the starlit sky as if waiting for something to happen. Then turned to another woman in armor. Lothar did not need a second look to know what the woman was. The stylized I symbol on her hat told him everything he needed to know. An inquisitor.

Celestine shuffled up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her swaying body.

Lothar did not hear what was said between them, but he marched forward. His thoughts were plagued with shame over his failure to uphold his vow. The Emperor's Anointed was on the brink of death and he had not been there to prevent it.

"My Lady." He said to the Saint as the inquisitor walked away. Dropping to one knee, he planted the head of his crozius on the stone floor. "I have failed you. I ask for no forgiveness for this crime."

Celestine stared at the wounded body of Summer, worry evident in her eyes. "You have not failed yet, Chaplain." She said with a sad smile. "She is more resilient than you know. Her life is not lost on us. Have faith, Templar."

---

Elaine watched the mangled body of Summer received medical attention. How could it have come to this? What possessed this woman to fight the Warmaster himself? This only further solidified the notion that the huntress was so selfless that it qualified as insane.

"Ma'am?" Guardsman Katar asked for permission to speak.

"Yes?"

"What do we do now?" Tarn asked gesturing to the fallen huntress.

"Wait." Elaine answered. "Wait and pray that the Emperor is not done with her yet."

---

Nicolas watched the medic with solemn respect. This was not the first time he'd seen a member of that proud line brought low. He would never get used to it. The thought of unfairness crossed his mind. It was the same as back then too. How come it always ends this way? It was cruel, for years he'd been left with a debt he could never repay because he thought they were all gone. Now here one appears out of nowhere and the ending is the same as before.

"You alright?" Finlay asked, staring at Summer too.

"I'm worried. Look at her, she's young. Younger than my own daughter. To see her like this only reminds me of how harsh reality is."

"Why? Ya think it should be you instead of her?"

"On some level, yes. It would not be the first time someone made the ultimate sacrifice for me. My life would not be half as long as it has been otherwise. The things I've done would never have come to pass." As he spoke old memories resurfaced in his mind. Those of an older woman in a red cloak, slaughtering Grimm by the hundreds. Only to die to save him.

"I know how you feel." Finlay replied. "My last day on Tanith wasn't a good one. I watched my friends and family burn. I wanted to stay to fight, but it was over before I could fire one fething shot."

"I'm sorry. I can't imagine what that must have felt like." Nicolas apologized. Now feeling selfish.

"Don't be. Wasn't yer doing. You can only grieve for the lost for so long. Like you said. We would not have done what we've done without it. I grieve for Tanith still, but I fight harder than any other because of its loss."

Finlay pulled out a military water can from his belt and offered it to Nicolas. "Here, you look like you need a drink."

Nicolas took the can and brought it to his lips. When he tasted the liquid, he almost spat it out. He looked to Finlay who was grinning. "Little strong for ya, Fancy man?"

Nicolas narrowed his eyes and took a large swig from the can. The act brought a grin to the soldier's bearded face.

"Excuse me." Came a calm and clipped voice.

Nicolas lowered the can, so he could reply to the golden giant that had addressed him. "Pardon. Did you want something?"

The armor of this being was the most ornate he'd ever seen. Not even ancient knights of Remnants history were given this much embellishment. Even with the gash marks on his breast plate and the almost ruined helmet. Nicolas noted Finlay's hesitation and did not blame him. This guy was almost double their height excluding the pointed helmet.

"Are you acquainted with her?" The giant man turned to Summer.

"Not exactly. I just met her." Nicolas answered.

"I see." Nicolas sensed no hostility or ill will in this man's tone. After spending years navigating the vipers' nest that was the high spires of Atlas, he had gained a good sense for reading people.

"The fighting is over. Perhaps you should take that off." Nicolas prompted, pointing to his own head.

The warrior did nothing for a moment. Then with a loud crash, he planted the bud of his spear in the stone, leaving it standing upright. Nicolas was shocked. The man showed almost no effort at all when doing it. It was completely casual. The strength behind those limbs were formidable.

With a hiss, the warrior removed his helm. Revealing the face of a handsome young man. Auburn hair, and green eyes, firm facial features and a scar running across his left cheek. "Is that better?"

Nicolas gave the man a jolly smile. "Very. Now we can talk face to face. I'm Nicolas Schnee. To whom am I speaking?"

The Schnee offered his hand to the giant, fully aware that the man's grip strength alone would shatter bones. Finlay still looked shocked at the action, like it was some mystical cosmic event.

"My name is quite extensive, but you may call me Osiris." The golden man answered back, taking Nicolas' hand with a surprising level of care. While the larger hand engulfed the Schnee's, they shook confidently.

"What does the medicae have to say on her condition?"

Nicolas looked away from him. "Not great, I'm afraid. She's lost a lot of blood."

"I see. I hope she lives to see the next sunrise. She is an admirable warrior." Nicolas noted the neutrality in his tone. There was no sorrow, but also no arrogant dismissal. This man was devoid of the pride most young warriors displayed. He stated everything as if he were disconnected from it.

"I hope so too." Was all he replied with.

"Pardon." Came a weak voice. It was the winged woman. Nicolas could see her struggling to walk, he made his way to her and help her stabilize herself.

"Thank you, kind sir." She said with a radiant smile, despite the state she was in.

"You're most welcome." He replied fondly.

He helped her approach Osiris. "My apologies for the interruption, but are you a Custodian?"

"Yes. I am a member of the Hykanatoi."

"It is an honor to meet one of the Guardians of Terra." She said with a bow of her head. "Your presence is truly a blessing from the Emperor."

"That remains to be seen." Osiris responded with skepticism. "I am unfamiliar with your position. Of what branch of Imperial military are you?"

"The Adeptus Sororitas, my Lord. We are the Sisters of Battle, the armed forces of the Ecclesiarchy."

Osiris's facial features did not shift in the slightest. "And what is this Ecclesiarchy?"

Celestine's next words were spoken with less certainty. "It is the Imperial Church; we are the protectors of the people's faith in the God-Emperor."

Nicolas saw Osiris' right-hand twitch. He didn't like what he just heard. "I see." Was all he said. He definitely didn't like what he just heard. Nicolas thought the man would grab his spear, but the Custodian made no such move. While Nicolas was not exactly religious, he never held any hostility towards those who were.

"I share the Saint's respect." Came another clipped voice. It was the warrior in black that saved Summer. He gave a bow before speaking again. "It is an honor to meet you, Custodian. I am Lothar. Chaplain of the Black Templars."

"I know of your chapter." Osiris responded. "Tell me Templar, what has happened here? Why are the traitors attacking Cadia?"

"From what I am aware of, they wish to destroy the Cadian Pylons."

Osiris turned and Nicolas followed to the pillars of black stone that shone with green energies. All this fighting was over those things?

"To what end? They are alien, their destruction is irrelevant to the Imperium."

"The Mechanicus believe otherwise." Lothar answered, keeping the respectful tone that Nicholas somehow knew was only reserved for those of reverence. "The Archmagos Dominus claimed they hold the Eye of Terror in check. That without them, the Eye would spill outward into Imperial space."

"You are certain what they say is true? I have born personal witness to the treachery of the Mechanicus. They often follow their own priorities rather than what is best for the Imperium."

"I am not. Our last Techmarine was killed twelve…" Lothar paused. An audile click could be heard from his helmet. Nicolas turned to the woman. She was serene, despite the horrible wound at her side. Then he realized he had not introduced himself.

"Apologies, madam." He said softly. "I am Nicolas Schnee. It's a pleasure."

"Well met, Nicolas Schnee. I am Celestine." She answered with a smile that was somehow radiant even with her withering form.

"Would you like to call the medic over? That's a very bad cut." Bad was an understatement. Nicholas could see hints of bone jutting next to the severed pieces of her corset.

"Your concern for me is appreciated, but I am alright. Better that Summer and Lord Creed get treatment."

"Are you, her friend?" Nicholas asked hoping for some information.

The smile on Celestine's lips broadened slightly. "I would hope so, though I only met her recently."

That was dissatisfying. He wanted to know if his theory was correct. While everything seemed to fit, he wanted to be sure. Until he could get an answer from her directly, he would do everything in his power to help her recover from this comatose state she was in.

Other than that, he would also need to figure out why his aura and semblance weren't working. That sudden sense of vertigo that washed over him seemed to strip him of his abilities. He would need to find a way around it.

"Lord Castellan!" Lothar called out.

A man with mangled arms stepped over, to the frustration of his medic, who lost his grip on his medical supplies.

"What is it? Is a second wave on approach?" The man's voice was harsh from shouting, but he managed to speak clearly.

"My Marshal tells me that all traitor Astartes elements on the field are retreating." Lothar said.

"What!?" The man relied. "That can't be right. Why would they retreat now?"

"Marshal Amalrich has ordered his remaining Thunderhawks to shoot down as many transports as they can. From what he's told me, it's happening all across the Elysion Fields."

The man's brow furrowed. "What is that fiend planning? He's not known for retreating when he holds the advantage. We beat him back here, but the battle is far from finished."

"Hubris." Said Osiris grabbing the attention of those gathered. "Abaddon admitted it was hubris that brought him here. He likely had something else in the prepared from the very beginning."

A rumbling echoed from the hole above them. It was loud enough to be heard clearly throughout the cavern. "What the devil!" Yelled the military commander.

"Lord Creed!" Cried a distorted voice.

They all turned to a new figure. Nicolas nearly recoiled in fright at what he could only describe as a technological monster. A giant hunched figure with metal plating over its back, over a dozen spiderlike legs and a siren beside his head.

"Archmagos Cawl. Do you know what's happening?"

"I have received word from the Iron Revenant. The crew of the Phalanx reports that the Black Fleet has hurled the remains of the Blackstone Fortress into the surface of Cadia itself!"

The shock was of this news was lost on Nicolas, but the expression the military personnel told him this was not something to be taken lightly.

"That shouldn't be possible." Elaine Blackwell said in disbelief.

Before more objections could be shouted, the shaking began. The cavern vibrated violently as the rumble turned into the sound of distant thunder. Cracks began to form on both the floor and ceiling. Rocks broke off from above, crushing those who once stood victorious.

A loud screech emitted from the machine man. "The catacombs have become unstable! We must reach the surface before they collapse, and we are all destroyed!"

"Can you lead us out, Dominus?" Asked the commander.

"Yes!"

"Go! We'll follow you!"

The machine man scuttled off on its many limbs. The commander and his cohort followed. Nicolas turned to Celestine. "Can you keep up?"

"My strength will return to me. I would appreciate your assistance until then." She said still looking as calm as she did from the start.

"Alright then." With a heave, he swept the armored woman off her feet and held her up in a bridal position. Her armor made her heavy, and the wings made it slightly awkward, but he had wrestled with an Ursa and come out on top. He felt like laughing when he saw the expression on her face. It was the first time he had seen that calm demeanor break for anything.

Finlay certainly didn't hold back anything as he bellowed in delight. The two armored women who were Celestine's bodyguards approached him. While they didn't look any better than their mistress, they showed clear hostility.

"Stop." Celestine said. "It is alright, Sisters. He is being… what is the word?"

"Chivalrous." Nicolas answered. "I was taught to lend aid to others when I can. It is not a sign of disrespect, madams. I am merely giving your sister assistance until she can walk properly again."

The two women hesitated, but Celestine assured them it was alright. When they took up position at his side, Finlay whistled. "Damn. I need you to teach me how to do that."

"What about Summer?" Elaine asked as stones fell around her.

"I will carry her." Osiris decreed, placing his helmet back on his head. Ripping his spear from the stone and offering the four-meter-long weapon to Lothar. "Would you hold my weapon, Templar?"

Lothar took it without a word. The Custodian walked over to the prone form of the woman who had saved him, and gently lifted her up in the same fashion Nicolas held Celestine.

---

She felt weak. So weak. Like she was fading into nothingness. Was this what it was like to die? Wait. Hadn't she already gone through this? No. This was different from the last time. Everything was dark but she wasn't falling. She still felt her body. Her lungs, her heartbeat. It was hard to think, much less move.

She felt large arms lift her up. Who's there? She wanted to say, but she couldn't make herself move. This was a new kind of hell. Being trapped like this, knowing you're still alive, but unable to do anything about it.

She felt movement. Whoever was carrying her was taking her somewhere. Away from the battle? Had they lost? Were they retreating?

Summer did not know. How could she? The Pylons had crippled her, and the Despoiler had finished the job. Now she was stuck here. At the mercy of anyone who came along.

A noise reached her ears. An echo. A whisper. Something was in panic. Summer could only catch that by the frantic nature of the distant voices. Then the voices went silent again, but only for a moment.

Summer then heard a very familiar sound. The sound of laughter. She didn't know the voices. It sounded like there were thousands of them. But she did remember them. From her dreams. The laughter that came before the ocean tried to swallow her whole. Before the storm came. This was that moment. The storm was coming. She could feel the first gust of wind against her soul. Then the second and third. Each became stronger than the one before, and more violent. But as they came, her mind cleared. Her strength returned to her. The breeze wasn't malicious. The howling winds to come were the tools of the voices, but they ignored the breeze. The gentle wind that gave life and spirit. For it was too small for their pride ego to see. They only saw the howling gales, the powerful, the mighty. They did not see the simple, the honest and the small. Such things were forever beyond their grasp. For they only saw things that made them. Even the most difficult to comprehend amongst their number could not understand the significance of the simple and humble. Those who valued others above themselves.

All of them believed they were right and that was their fatal flaw. They did not see they were all correct, but that they were not all there is. They were only pieces, and they could not accept that.

Summer felt a new sense of understanding dawn on her. The daemons, the enemy. She understood them now. They were the worst parts of us. The parts we could not get rid of. Anger, Despair, Desire, Curiosity. They were these things taken to their darkest aspects.

It was only now that Summer realized the truth of the apocalypse in her vision. These things were beyond Salem. Beyond even the Brother Gods. The Brothers could create and destroy as many worlds as they wanted. These things would still be there, feeding off their creations, growing stronger and eventually breaking free.

This only hardened the huntress' resolve. As she watched the array of impossible colors explode in the distance, she saw them, giant silhouettes staring out into a void ripe for plunder. They wanted it, they wanted everything. Everything that was beyond their reach. They would break whatever kept them from their prize, no matter how long it took them.

They had to be stopped. Humanity had to fight these things. They had to resist. To be free they had to fight back. To do anything else was to fall to eternal torture at the hands of these entities.

As the breeze continued to wash over her, feeling returned to her fingers. She wiggled them, then curled them into a fist. Her felt her aura flare to life, the pain of her wounds returned with it. But that faded fast as her soul focused its attention on restoring her physical form. When that happened, she came to understand something that she had been avoiding since her rebirth. She wasn't entirely human anymore. The thought of such a thing upset her. What was she if not human at all?

What would her children think? Would they call her a wierdo? A freak? The thought made her sad. She didn't want her children to hate her. But did that matter so long as they were safe and happy? They likely thought she was dead by now. The thought of them crying over an empty grave, broke her heart. She would get home one day. Nothing would stop her. Not the Despoiler. Not these monsters. Nothing!

Feeling had finally returned to her body, whoever was holding her was being extremely careful about it. They were running, but they did their best to minimize discomfort, for fear of aggravating her healing injuries. They also held her bridal style. Summer wasn't sure how to feel about that. No one had done that to her before, not even Tai. The big wuss. Couldn't do it for Raven and couldn't do it for her.

Summer opened her eyes and saw the golden warrior carrying her. Now that she got a closer look, she realized that he was even bigger than Lothar. What do they feed these guys to make them so big?

They were running though the catacombs. The collapsing catacombs. Cracks were forming along the walls at an alarming rate. What happened while she was out?

"What's happening?" She asked, her voice was weaker than she thought it be.

"We are evacuating the caverns." The giant said. "How are you faring?"

"Like I was nearly cut to pieces." Summer replied with sarcasm.

"Better than being in pieces." He retorted. "Be thankful Abaddon's boasting stalled him long enough for us to intervene."

"Thank you." She said managing a smile. He gave no response.

Summer turned her head to the side, looking forward. Everyone was rushing forward. No one was being left behind. At the head of the pack Summer spotted the Archmagos leading the way on his multiple legs, there were points where he was running so fast, he almost lost his balance and fell to his side on a turn. Watching him correct himself was downright silly.

Lothar was closer. In his left arm was the warrior's spear. Summer really wanted to get a closer look at that thing. It looked more advanced than her own weapon. She smiled when she imagined her Ivory with a disruption field. Reducing the effectiveness of Grimm armor to tissue paper.

"You're awake."

Summer looked up and saw Elaine running at their side. "You're not mad that I ran out on you guys, right?"

"What do you think?" Elaine replied with a stern frown.

"I'm sorry."

"Save it. When we get to safety you've got some explaining to do." Summer winced, feeling like a scolded child.

Looking ahead, Summer spotted Celestine and… she was being carried by Nicolas? Summer watched as Nicolas carried the Saint in his arms as if she were a frail maiden. Celestine peered back and their eyes met. It was a relief to see that the Summer was not the only one who was recovering from this. The angel looked as if she had aged half a century before Summer passed out. Now she was looking like her old self again. She was happy to see Summer awake. The huntress gave her a cheshire grin. It did not take long for the angel to understand why, and she looked like she was laughing. Bet she was not expecting to be carries like a damsel today. Nicolas glanced back at Summer as well.

When they reached the entrance to the catacombs they were greeted by the aftermath of a sandstorm. Everything was covered in dirt. The base that used to be High Command was wrecked. A Pylon had collapsed, crushing most of the buildings. Summer was carried to the front of the crowd where Creed and the Archmagos were speaking.

"The situation is unsalvageable, Lord Creed." The Archmagos spoke with distress in his distorted tone. "The Pylons Nodal Network is collapsing. Without them, Cadia is lost. I recommend an immediate mass evacuation of Cadia itself."

Creed did not respond to the Magos' words. He looked disillusioned.

"Sir." Summer said, trying to draw him from his stupor. He turned her way. "I saw it. The storm is coming. We have to get out of here before it's too late."

"She is right." Said Celestine, still being carried by Nicolas. "While we stopped the assault, we failed to protect Cadia itself from the start. What comes for us now is a tide of daemons beyond number. We have no means to hold them here any longer."

"Without the Pylons, the tides of the Immaterium will wash over this world within mere hours. We must act now!" The Archmagos said with an alarming amount of assertion.

Creed still said nothing. He was too shocked for words. They lost. Cadia was lost. After everything they went through. All the suffering. The sacrifices just to carry on for one more day. Only to learn they never had a chance from the beginning.

The ground rumbled again.

"The impact of the Blackstone Fortress has destabilized the surface of Cadia. We must withdraw before evacuation becomes impossible." Stated the Archmagos.

"Enough deliberation." Called out the scary caped woman with the beaver hat. She marched up to the group.

"Is there a functional transmission relay nearby?" She asked the Archmagos.

"Several command structures have collapsed, but some are still whole. There should be a salvageable broadcast relay nearby."

"If we find one, could you rig it to broadcast on a planetary scale?"

"I can, but we must act now! The probability of escape in decreasing with each second that passes."

The woman turned to the soldiers. "You heard him! Get to searching! I don't care if you have to dig up the whole base. We have to get the word out! Get moving!"

The gathered force fanned out. The Astartes that were all furry ran off into the distance. The ones in green helped the soldiers in their search. Clearing the way of rubble.

Summer felt her limbs return to functionality again and requested to be let down. When her boots touched the sandy ground, she turned to Creed. He looked so tired, like he was going to drop dead at any moment. But he still had that fire in his eyes as he followed the scary lady.

---

Within the next hour a broadcast message rang out across the surface of Cadia. Every speaker that could function echoed the words spoken by the Lord Castellan.

"People of Cadia. You have done all that I have asked and more. You have driven the enemy back. You have won the battle for Cadia. You have won. But it is my duty. My heavy duty to tell you all that Cadia. Our home is doomed. Not for lack of courage and strength on your part. You have won the battle. Your honor is unblemished. You might think that this is a defeat for us, but it is not. I assure you. Preparations are being made now. After this message, there will follow a broadcast announcing the evacuation zones where landers will come to lift you all from the planet. I repeat. This is not defeat. The fight will go on. We shall carry the flame of Cadia back to the Imperium. We shall fight to defend Holy Terra itself!"

---

Summer stood in the cargo hold of the Iron Revenant. The remains of the Cadian 21st stood line in formation for a final inspection as they filed inside. It was very generous of the machine man or Cawl to let them come aboard his ship. While she still disliked the whole steampunk vibe they had, she had to admit it was freaking cool. She was in space. Actual space.

She knew this because the place had massive ten-meter-high windows that gave a clear view of the outside. It was beautiful and terrifying. The planet she had come to know as Cadia looked like an inferno. Half of it glowed with fire and the bits and pieces of it were breaking away from the main body. Summer could not imagine how many people had died in that firestorm.

She felt like crying again but held in her tears. There was plenty of grief going around.

After they had reached the site for the lander of this Mechanicus group, they met the remains of the Black Templars. Summer was impressed, so many of them survived the fighting. In contrast, the 21st took a serious beating and was reduced to less than a quarter strength. That was when Creed stated his intentions.

He was staying behind.

Nearly everyone objected to this, but not even the Astartes were able to change his mind.

After transferring control of the 21st to Commissar Fraeden Strang, Creed departed.

Celestine stated her desire to go to a place called Ultramar with the techno wizard. Surprisingly, that was his next stop too. The Templars offered up their services to the Saint as well. The Marshal was convinced that following Celestine was the best option going forward.

When the huntress asked why, the Saint only recounted the vision they shared together. It was to find the warrior in their vision. Celestine knew where to look for him. That was good. The sooner they found him the better their odds were at starting to fix this. Summer did not object to that. She objected to Creed's decision to stay behind.

The two shared one final glance at one another at the hatch closed. He was determined to go down with the ship. Summer gave him a silent nod as the hatch cut them off from one another.

The entire cargo bay was nothing but pure silence. Other than Strang and whomever he was speaking to, no one said a word. Not even Tarn was in the mood to crack a joke. Elaine had dropped her serious and hard demeanor for once and didn't glare at Summer. She just stood in place, holding her cap in her hands. This had hit them hard.

Summer walked across the bay to a nearby corridor. It was best to leave them to their grief.

"Got a moment."

Summer spun around. It was Nicolas.

"Sure." She said quietly.

"You holding up alright? You were hurt really badly."

Summer took in the state he was in. His coat was town and ripped. His pants had quickly become frayed. It had only been one day, and he was this torn up while she looked good as new. They said her cloak was drenched with blood, yet now it looks fine. It made very little sense, but she was slowly starting to grasp why she didn't have any scars at all. She didn't recover the normal way anymore.

"I'm fine. What about you?" She returned the question as they walked into another hall with the giant windows.

"I'll live." He said with a smile.

A strong cough burst from his mouth. Then another, and another. He grasped at his chest hard. On instinct, Summer placed a hand on his shoulder and both their auras flared. His was an icy blue while hers was still pure white.

Summer felt the pain he was in and realized what the problem was. His lungs were infected. Something had damaged them from the inside and now it was affecting his ability to breath correctly.

When the coughing fit ended, she held onto him until he was confident, he could stand again. He was tough.

"When did that start happening?"

"Two months ago. But acording to the doctors its been there for much longer. And it's gotten progressively worse I got the news." Nicolas admitted with a small amount of shame.

"Did your family know?"

"No. I didn't want to trouble them with it just yet."

Summer frowned. While noble, it was dumb, they were his family, they had the right to know.

"The doctors said it was because I spent too much time in the mines. There was nothing they could do. My days were numbered the moment they told me." He said sadly.

Summer kept quiet, looking for a way to change the subject. Looking at the window she said.

"Well, I bet you weren't expecting to see a sight like this in your last days."

Nicolas forced a grin as he stared at the glowing orb that was Cadia. "Hard to believe we're really here. The first two people from Remnant to go to space. I accomplished a lot in my life, but I never thought I'd get the chance to see this."

"Technically, you're the first to go to space." Summer added.

"Why is that?"

"Because of how you got here."

"Could you explain that part to me? I am still confused on how I got into that cavern."

Summer walked to the glass of the window, slightly fearful of touching it. She'd seen movies on how the vacuum of space was instant death and she did not feel like dying again. Moving to the metal arch frame, she leaned against it. "Okay. Get ready. Because I'm not entirely sure how much of this is going to sound completely insane."

Nicolas gestured for her to continue.

"You were reported dead over a year ago."

Nicolas' grin vanished. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. It was all over the news. Nicolas Schnee caught in a dust factory explosion." She said slowly waving her hand across her vision as is mimicking a title reveal on a holoscreen.

"That can't be right. I'm right here. Very much alive." Summer could tell what Nicolas was thinking. If Summer thought he was dead, then so did the people close to him. Nicolas had a reputation for being a very kind man who treated his family and friends well. He was likely imagining their reaction right now.

"Do you remember that robot we saw in the cavern?"

"Yes."

"Turns out he's some kind of weird historian. He has a galactic museum where he stores things and people." Summer pointed a finger at Nicolas. "You were going to be his latest addition."

"So, he caused an explosion to cover up my abduction." Nicolas deduced.

"That's my guess."

Summer could see the worry on his face. It was understandable. In less than a second, he was stripped of everything he knew and everyone he loved. In some ways, his situation was even worse than Summer's. At least she got some advantages from her death, he was stuck with nothing. But she had to give him credit. He was handling this better than she did.

"So, where does this leave us?"

Summer turned to the burning world and the array of colors that was surrounding it. "I don't know. I have no real idea where we are. No idea where Remnant is. And no idea if we'll be able to reach it in time."

"Reach it in time? Are we on some kind of clock?"

Summer paused pondering if she should tell him. She wanted to share the burden. With someone, with anyone. He might think she was crazy, but now everything was crazy.

"Do you want to know how I got here?" She said sating into the approaching storm.

"Is it something you're not comfortable with?"

Summer balled her hands into fists. "At first but now I'm not sure anymore."

"Then I won't pressure you." Nicolas answered respectfully. What a gentleman.

"I should be dead." She said with all the bitterness she'd built up to now. She heard his feet shuffle behind her. "I was a huntress in the employ of Ozpin."

"The Headmaster of Beacon?"

"The one and only." She said as her voice got lower. "Turns out he's more than just an old man. And the Grimm aren't just mindless monsters."

Nicolas stood next to the huntress and asked. "I've always had the feeling that man was hiding something. He approached me on several occasions to propose I attend some meeting with all the different Headmasters. It all felt too shady for my tastes. My gut told me something was going on, but I decided to stay out of it."

Summer smiled, but it was a sad smile. "You're smarter than me. But you have no idea how far it goes."

"How far does it go?"

Summer licked her lips. Moment of truth. "Ozpin is not what he appears to be. On the surface he's an old man who runs Beacon Academy. But he's more than that. He's been alive for all of our history."

Nicolas said nothing, he simply gave her a pondering look.

"I'm not joking. When he dies, his soul goes to the body of a likeminded individual and overtime they merge into one being."

"That sounds absolutely horrifying." The Schnee said with a straight face, but she knew he shook inside.

"I thought the same. He's been doing this throughout history, shifting how our society has developed and grown. Using his collected experience and skill to reach high positions. Do you know the King of Vale?"

"Don't tell me. That was him?"

"Yes." Summer said, more of her disapproval showing. "The huntsmen academies were his idea. All of it."

"I can understand wanting to create a peaceful world. His decision made sense. The Grimm were running rampant after the war."

"That wasn't the only reason." She confessed. "He didn't make the huntsmen purely to protect the Kingdoms."

"Why'd he do it then? What's the purpose of all this secrecy?"

"The Grimm have a leader." She admitted. "I know it sounds insane, but they do. They have a queen. A witch named Salem."

Nicolas was stunned as she knew he would be. The Grimm had a reputation for being mindless creatures of destruction. Them having any form of true leadership was never something anyone considered. Alphas and Ancient Grimm were the closest thing but those hardly counted because all they did was draw more Grimm to them when they marched on a town or city. It was not a true uniting force.

"So, it was all some kind of war in the shadows?" Summer nodded without looking at him. "And what does all this have to do with you being here?"

"I was getting to that. I worked for Ozpin. Me and my team. We went on missions for him. We intercepted Salem's agents, some of us spied on her. We were the idiots he sent to do the work, so he didn't raise any alarms. He wanted the rest of the world to know nothing about what we were doing."

Summer took a deep breath. She needed to keep her cool.

"A few days ago. I got a mission. Not my team. Just me. Alone. Salem herself was on the move and Ozpin wanted me to capture her."

"I take it this mission did not end well?"

"He conveniently left out the face that she couldn't die." She hissed through gritted teeth. "I cut off her arms. They grew back. I cut off her head, she grew it back. I watch as one of her henchmen literally shattered her frozen body. Five minutes later, she's good as new."

Summer stopped, realizing she was about to go on a rant. "Long story short. I was outmatched and killed."

Summer didn't need to look to see the expression of surprise on his face. "You don't actually mean that. You're right here."

"I'm not joking. She impaled me and dropped me like a broken toy. Next thing I knew, I was in there." Summer pointed to the storm of color. The other place filled with monsters and devils.

"The storm?"

"Yes. It feels like a dream now but I know it's real. There were monsters, horrible things I couldn't even name. And a light."

Summer recalled the meeting from both ends now. How she looked down on the tiny spark that was her original soul. It was so small, but it shone so brightly. It had to be saved. She had to be saved.

"It rescued me. Brought me to a safe place and showed me a vision."

"What did you see?"

"Do you remember those monster from the cave?" Nicolas nodded. "Those were daemons. Like the mythical kind. From the old stories."

Nicolas still looked skeptical but he didn't outright dismiss her.

"Remnant was under attack from those things. They were everywhere and everyone was dying. Ending with all of Remnant burning."

"How do you know this wasn't some sort of fever dream?"

Summer looked him square in the eyes. Even if he was taller than her, he felt the intensity behind Summer's silver irises. "I know what I saw. Believe me, I want to be wrong. I'd give up my eyes to make sure what I saw never happens."

Nicolas backed up. "Alright. I understand, but you must believe me when I say this is a lot to take in."

Summer stepped away. "I know, but it's the truth. You don't have to believe it. Just know I won't stop until I get home. I won't let anyone get between me and my family."

Nicolas smiled again. "Now you're starting to sound like Sina."

Summer blinked. Sina? She knew that name. "You knew my grandmother?"

His smile broadened. "I knew she was lying when she said she had no children. The Dorn family were never very good at it."

Summer glowered at him. "I'm not a Dorn. My name is Summer Rose. My mom was Iva Rose."

"That doesn't change the fact that you look like a younger version of her. Same hair, same face, same eyes. Not to mention your semblance. Only a Dorn has that semblance."

Summer turned away from him. "I'm not apart of that family. House Dorn is dead. They were wiped out in the final battle of the Great War."

"So was House Schnee. Yet, here we both are. Remnants of a forgotten time. It almost feels like fate."

Summer groaned. "How wonderful, two members of rival houses, stuck together in a war that leaves entire planets reduced to rubble."

Nicolas laughed. "Well, rival house or not, I am glad there are some of you left."

"Why?" Summer asked bitterly. She had nothing against Nicolas, but the history she was aware of was not something she was proud of. "I thought the two Houses, Schnee and Dorn hated each other."

"Hardly. Our ancestors were rivals, but rarely ever enemies. I have a detailed record in my personal archives dating back centuries. We fought yes, but there was a healthy respect between us. There were many such occasions when we joined forces. The Great War was one of them."

"And look how that turned out."

"I'm grateful for it." Nicolas said. "Were it not for your family, my father wouldn't have survived the war."

"Really?" Summer said with skepticism.

"I cannot count the number of stories he would tell me as a boy. Of the heroic feats he would see on the battlefield on the part of House Dorn. And the tragedy of how they were wiped out in the final battle in Vacuo." He finished somberly.

"That's not the history I know. They were mercenaries and killers. Doing any job they could find to gain wealth or status."

"Then my family is guilty of the same. But instead of straight up mercenary work we used our organizational skills and political standing. The reason we were almost wiped out during the war was assassinations you know, my family was responsible for a good portion of Mantle's trade with Mistral before the war. Then we became commanders."

Summer grinned. "With a semblance like Glyph, it only makes sense. You can control the battlefield and summon your own bodyguards."

"Yet there has never been a Schnee that could match a fully trained Dorn and their Crimson Cloud. For all the power Glyph gives us Schnee's, I'd say your semblance is far better suited for combat."

Summer almost cringed upon hearing the name. Crimson Cloud. A semblance that was thankfully forgotten in modern Remnant. Even Ozpin seemed to have forgotten, or perhaps he didn't see them as worth remembering.

It was considered one of the most dangerous semblances in history. It essentially turned a person into a swarm of living blades, sharp enough to cut through the thickest of armor. Not to mention the fact that while in that form the user could practically ignore physics. Inertia did not affect the user, allowing for lightning-fast reactions with no drag. Then there was the power to store kinetic energy via momentum. Summer remembers watching her mother use that power to crush the shell of an Ancient Deathstalker. With enough buildup Summer could create a shockwave on par with a bomb capable of demolishing buildings. Not to mention, masters of the more dangerous aspects of the semblance could use the blades while keeping themselves whole.

The name was attributed to it because of the blood it tended to spill when used. That and the fact that the Dorn family predominantly wore red cloaks as a tradition. It was why she wore a white cloak; she was meant to be the fresh start for the family. A better start.

"If you say so." She mumbled.

A gunshot echoed through the halls. Looking to the bay where the Regiment was gathered, Summer heard another shot.

Without a word, she ran to investigate.

In the hanger, Strang was strolling away from the corpse of a trooper. The barrel of his pistol was still smoking.

Summer looked down the line. There were more bodies. What was Strang doing? Shooting your own men? Had he gone insane?

The newly minted Colonel Commissar stopped in front of a young trooper. He looked to be in his early twenties.

"What is your name, Guardsman?" Strang asked in a low voice.

"Miro, sir." He answered.

"Where is you rifle, Guardsman Miro?"

"It was broken, sir. I left it behind to help the wounded."

In a blink, Strang's bolt pistol was aimed at the trooper's head. When he pulled the trigger the bolt shell flew up and hit the ceiling of the cargo hold.

In the span that it took for the commissar to raise his weapon, Summer had closed the distance and forced Strang's arm up when he fired. She had no idea how she managed to do that so quickly but she decided not to question it. She was too enraged right now to care about the new metaphysics of her being.

"What is the meaning of this!?" Strang snapped. "Unhand me! You are interfering with my duties as commissar of this regiment."

"Duties!" Summer snapped back. "You're killing your own men! And for what? Because he doesn't have a gun!?"

Strang tried to pull his arm away from her grip, but despite her size, she was far stronger than she looked. When she did release him, he pointed his bolt pistol at her, intending to warn her against doing it again. Only to have it slapped out of his hand with enough force to send it skidding across the cargo hold.

Both Summer and Strang had a stand-off. Summer did not like this sort of confrontation, but if it meant protecting these soldiers, she was willing to go through the discomfort. She had let too many people die already.

"Why did you do that?" Summer said, her golden irises burning into Strang's own.

"Discipline." Strang replied managing to whether the burning gaze. "In order to survive this war, this regiment needs to maintain discipline. No tolerance can be shown. These men will serve as examples." He gestured to the three fresh corpses he had created.

Summer felt her anger spike, so much so that everyone around her backed away. The force of her rage on their minds triggered their fight or flight responses.

"Examples." She growled like a bloodthirsty beast.

In a blur of motion, Summer grabbed Strang by the throat and slammed him to the steel floor with a loud crash.

With her hands around his throat, she hissed. "How about I make you into an example?!"

The Cadians watched this scene in confusion. This was the first time anyone had defended them from the barrel of a commissar's judgement before. Some wanted to let this play out, others wanted to step in to help their new Colonel. Most were stuck between the two options and waited for the rest of their brethren to decide for them. Not to mention many were afraid of how the woman would react.

A click made Summer look away from her current captive. Elaine stood over the huntress; bolt pistol aimed squarely at her head. "Release the Colonel, huntress."

"You can't be serious. Don't tell me you agree with this!" Summer snapped, refusing to back down.

Strang tried to reach for his sword, but Summer stepped on his hand rather forcefully, earning a shout of pain from the man.

"Release him, Summer. I won't warn you again."

Summer did not comply with the cadet's demand. Elaine was hesitating because she knew she couldn't kill Summer with one shot. Her aura would absorb the impact and drawing her saber was an even bigger mistake. Summer could disarm her within the span it took for her to raise her blade.

"Stop!" Nicolas said, running up to the Cadet. "This isn't worth it. Miss, please drop the gun."

Elaine did not yield. If she was to be a commissar one day she could not buckle.

"Put it down, lass." Said Finlay Innes as he pointed his own rifle at her head. "You lot have lost enough today. No sense in adding you to the list."

"Frack off, outsider!" Elaine barked. "This is Cadian business."

"Enough." Came a calm voice.

Entering the hanger was the golden form of Osiris. His helmet had been removed he watched the scene unfold with passive interest.

"He is correct, cadet. Your regiment has suffered enough casualties. Until you find a means of replenishing your numbers, it is best to minimize your losses when you can." He said as he calmly approached the stalemate.

"Lord Custodian, you must understand, we are only doing our duty as commissars."

"There are times when duty can be carried out blindly and without real thought to consequences. My order often deliberated on what duty entailed and how best to carry it out and when. Tell me, do you believe these men understand why your leader just killed three of their own for what I observe to be minor infractions?" As he spoke, Elaine could tell there was a shift in the room. As a political officer, she had to learn to read it. It was turning against her. But she couldn't back down.

"That is always how it starts Lord!" Elaine argued. "Any tolerance at all eventually leads to heresy."

"They just lost their home!" Roared Summer. "You just lost your home! Don't tell me that hasn't upset you! Of course, there will be gaps in discipline. They haven't had a chance to grieve!"

Strang gasped while in her grip. He was trying to speak. Summer released his throat but kept her foot on his hand.

"And what do you suggest I do about it?" He rasped as he gulped down air.

Summer snarled and stepped off him. "I'll show you."

She pointed to the nearest platoon and ordered them all to follow her. While they were unsure of her authority, they did not want to upset a psyker capable of facing down a commissar's gun with no issue. That and the Custodian that was clearly on her side and none among their number was dumb enough to object him.

Be it coincidence or just dumb luck, Tarn Katar was present for this demonstration. As was Alexa Thade and the rest of the Cadians Summer had rescued.

The huntress had brought them to the corridor she was conversing with Nicolas in. She brought them within full view of Cadia. They all saw it. Their home, broken and in flames.

"Look at what they've done." Summer said to all of them. "Look at what they've done to your home."

They all stared at it. The ruin of their proud birthplace. Now nothing but a rock in the void.

"Remember what Creed said. You won. They couldn't beat you on the ground. So, what did they do? They destroyed the ground you walked on. They wanted to break you, but they failed. So, they broke your home instead."

Summer saw Tarn, his gazed was fixed on the inferno. "Tarn?"

The sound of his name shook him awake. "Yeah?"

"Are you angry?"

Tarn glanced at the place he called home. He felt a lot of emotions as he stared at it. Anger was definitely one of them. "Yeah."

"What about the rest of you?" Summer asked aloud. "Are you angry?"

A disjointed chorus of affirmations joined together to answer her. Good.

"Remember what Creed said. The fight isn't over. They hurt you today. Don't you want to hurt them in return?"

Another chorus of affirmations. She was getting through to them. Summer looked at the breaking world. On one of the drifting pieces, her enhanced eyes sighted something.

"Does anyone have umm…" Summer snapped her fingers as she looked for the word. "Magnoculars?"

One Cadian stepped forward and offered his, but Summer didn't take it, instead she directed his attention to the dark floating continental piece she spotted. The guardsman stared at it through his magnoculars.

"Those magnificent bastards." He said out loud, his voice becoming more shaky with each syllable that left his throat.

One by one Summer called over Guardsman to see what she had seen, and over time a whisper began to echo among them. "The planet broke before they did."

It was Tarn's turn to go next. Alexa went before him and what she saw left her in tears.

Summer guided his sights and when he peered through he could not believe what he saw. In the darkness of the fragment of Cadia, he could the flash of lasbeams. That could only mean one thing.

"They're still fighting down there."

"Cadia still stands."

"The planet broke before the Guard did!"

"Cadian blood. Ice in the veins."

Summer saw the emotion she stirred up in these men. They were upset. They wanted payback. Revenge. Fortunately, that was something Summer understood well enough.

A flash of memory entered her mind. A man was there. He was telling her to run. To hide. So she hid. But she hid in the wrong place. It was a place where she could see what happened to him. She watched as his skull was crushed under the weight of a giant black paw.

Summer forced the memory down, but held onto the emotion. She understood the Cadians. She really did. Now she had to show them the way out of this before it consumed them. She had to save them from themselves, just as her mother did for her.

"Do you want their sacrifice to be for nothing?" She called out to them.

"No!" They all yelled together, almost frightening her. She wasn't used to such strong reactions. But she kept going.

"Then say goodbye to Cadia. Its time is up, and I cannot possibly understand your loss, but this is far from over. Take your chance to mourn them now, because tomorrow we talk revenge. We'll make the Despoiler pay for this! We'll avenge Cadia and Creed." Summer wasn't sure where she was getting the conviction from, but she rode the wave. These people needed hope. Even if that hope was based on something as empty as revenge. It was better than nothing.

She expected them to cheer again, but no. They all stared at the world that was their home. They stood silently and gave a proud salute as the light of their burning world washed over their faces. This was their farewell. They all knew they'd never come back. Yet, they bore it proudly. It almost brought a tear to her eye.

Summer told them to go back and bring the next platoon. Nicolas, Osiris and Finlay stood at her side. She would need to depend on them. She would need to do her part to keep them all going. It was all she could do. If she wanted to go home, she would have to play her part and help win this war.

And she would win. For home. For family.

Down the hallway stood Celestine, she watched this even unfold with a proud smile on her lips. The Templars watched as well. Meller made a jest that Lothar had a new student. While Katarinya Greyfax looked on with a curious frown. She had overheard the conversation Summer had with Nicolas. When she catches the woman alone, she would question her. This daemon was strange, she was clearly a daemon, but she did not show any form of malice or deceit. That begged investigation. In due time.

Summer stared out into the storm. She could still hear them. The voices from the other side. They were happy, they were insanely happy for what the Despoiler had done for them. Now they were free, so they laughed.

---

The Planet broke before the Guard!

Again, submit names if you want them included. Name and faction, that's all it takes.

Hope you all enjoyed. See you next time.