"But we can't do anything just yet," Olly finished – for everyone. And was that not the harsh reality? As they were now? Their dreams of vengeance and combat were just that – dreams. They could do very little and what they could do was run. Of course, I couldn't fault them for that. In the absence of orders that said otherwise, the best thing to do when defeated or wounded was to retreat, recover, and fight another day. But, with the wounds they sported, I wasn't sure if these survivors even had another day.

Among them, only Olly seemed unconcerned with his injury, despite the haze in his eyes. If I had to guess, then it was likely that the old man had already accepted his coming death, having made peace with it long ago; after all, within the guard, those who lived long enough to be old would've already faced death a thousand times and walked away each time. If Olly ever made it back to High Command, outfitting him with a new bionic arm would only take a few minutes at most; veterans, after all, were in high demand and the higher ups were more than willing to invest in them.

I wouldn't lie and say that I did not look forward to the Veteran Bonuses I'd be getting once I reunited with High Command. Surely, all I'd done thus far and all I'd survived warranted some merit, at least. Higher pay sounded nice. I could finally try some of that tea everyone kept talking about – some form of heated beverage that made use of special andexpensive leaves, soaked in hot water and allowed to seep for several minutes. Once, I'd passed by a Commanding Officer who was enjoying a cup of it and, by the Emperor, it smelled amazing. I've always wanted to try some ever since, but it wasn't something I could afford with my salary.

I nodded. "Right. We will need to find medi-kits for your injuries."

Looking back, I seemed to recall an infirmary on the eastern edge of the Headquarters. It was probably still there if the enemy did not reduce it to rubble. If it was destroyed, looting around the place should reveal at least some medical supplies; and there were only six injured. Finding enough for all of them wouldn't be too much of a problem. The challenge, however, was that I would have to leave them here, which meant they'd be easy pickings for Traitor Astartes or, Emperor forbid, Daemons. I'd fought and defeated both and I knew for a fact that a single Astartes could kill all of them before any of them could even notice

At the very least, all of them seemed to agree with me on that one.

I turned to Olly. "Old man, there's an infirmary on the eastern wall of the Headquarters. I'll go check and see if there's any medical supplies for the lot of you."

Olly's eyes narrowed for a moment, a hint of doubt and curiosity, before he nodded. "Good luck to you, Perry. If you don't return in an hour, then we'll assume you're dead and move on."

I nodded. "I don't need luck. The Emperor is on my side and I will succeed."

I then turned to the others. Their silence permeated the cramped space. And I knew that they were losing faith in themselves, even if rage burned at their stomachs. The woman with the burnt face, for instance, seemed little more than a vessel for her anger, a vessel for wrath. Her eyes told me that she cared for nothing anymore, only vengeance. It would not do for the servants of the Emperor to lose hope. The fact that they were alive at all meant the Emperor surely favored them. Perhaps, a few victories would remind them of that fact. And that was why they needed my help. "Do not lose hope, brothers and sisters; the Emperor protects. Do not give in to despair. I will return. The Emperor is with you all."

They gave no replies. Olly sent me a dubious glance. Their was doubt in their hearts. But, such a thing was inherent in every human. It was not heresy to doubt. No, they only needed to see the Emperor's light once more and all would be well. I knew it, deep in my heart. They were not enemies, after all. Their faith was shaken, but they did not abandon the cause of the Emperor or turn traitor.

Yes, a few victories – attack and destroy a few traitor caravans here and there and their faith and hope in the Emperor and the Imperium would return.

First and foremost, however, I had to make sure they didn't all die in this place, nameless and forgotten, like so many others. That wasn't such a terrible fate, of course; to die for the Emperor's cause was already, in itself, a reward. But these ones survived when all others fell. They craved vengeance when all others would've retreated to safety and shadow. They deserved to be heroes. Or, failing that, they deserved to die with glory, in a manner that would catch even the eyes of the Emperor.

I walked out of the main door and silently closed it behind me. If there were any enemies still lingering about, I did not want to alert them any more than they likely already were. The armored vehicle was a dead giveaway. And, even if I'd already fixed the leak in its fuel drum, just leaving it there would draw attention. So, I walked towards it, reached out, and sent it straight into my inventory, alongside the other vehicles I'd come across; this one was, really, the only one that could still function, assuming I found fuel for it. Luckily, my inventory didn't care about the size and weight of the things I placed in it. Though, I suspect I wouldn't be able to store objects that were simply too large to be considered as items.

Glancing around, I confirmed that, for now, I was alone. There were no enemies nearby. I then went around the main building and made my way east through the rubble and ruins. Once I was certain that I was out of the periphery of my fellow survivors, I then used [Self-Shaping] to turn myself into an Astartes and quickly donned a suit of Power Armor. After that, I took out a single power-sword from my inventory. Strangely enough, for all the bulk I hefted, I was still able to move quietly, which told me that there likely were Astartes who'd trained hundreds of years to do the same thing on a much higher level. After all, I had the body of one, but not the training or the experience.

That was precisely why I would've lost against that Traitor Astartes if I did not also possess a myriad of unnatural abilities, granted to me by the System.

Eventually, I realized thatmaybe the Headquarters was devoid of any enemies. Or, if there were any, they did not want to attack me.

Several minutes later, I found the infirmary right where I expected to, close to the eastern wall. The wall itself was little more than rubble, but – strangely – the infirmary remained standing, though numerous cracks adorned its structure and the windows had been blown out, riddling the ground with shards of shattered glass. Shards that broke into even tinier pieces when I stepped right on them. The doorway was too small for an Astartes, I noted with some disappointment. Truly, the body I had now was amazing, its senses extended far beyond mortal perceptions; even in here, I could – quite literally – hear the survivors inside the HQ. They were talking, though their voices were muffled and I struggled to pick out individual words.

Sighing, I sent both the Power-Sword and Power-Armor into my inventory and reverted to my original human form. The sudden loss of my enhanced senses was, strangely enough, far more jarring than suddenly gaining them. After that, I walked into the ruined Infirmary, idly willing forth a Lasgun in my grasp as I stepped inside. The interior was... weirdly intact. There were plenty of medical equipment scattered about everywhere. But there were no corpses – not even splatters of blood and gore. And I did not catch the smell of death and decay that was all too common in battlefields. In fact, it didn't seem at all that this place was ever attacked. There were scorch marks on the walls or holes. It was more likely that the damage I was seeing came from the panicked staff as they rushed out of the infirmary when the enemy reached HQ.

I didn't know what to make of it. The lights were still active, but they flickered on and off every now and then. The silence that permeated the air was almost... eerie... unnatural, even.

Whatever the case, I made my way deeper inward until I found what I was looking for. There were ten Medi-Kit packs on the floor, right next to a broken glass container that'd likely fallen during the panicked rush that occurred. Whatever the case, I bent down and sent all ten Medi-Kit packs into my Inventory. After that, I wandered the Infirmary and searched for anything that might've been of value; I pried and broke open sealed doors and cases, trunks and chests. Most of the medical equipment, however, were the sort that could not be carried anywhere; though, I did grab and pack as many sanitary bandages as I could. I had no use for them, but my allies certainly did. The scalpels were interesting, mono-molecular blades that could slice open flesh with but the weakest and barest swipe. I bagged as many of them as I could.

With [Tech-Shaping], I could mend their dulled edges again and again with each use. I also found it odd that the skill considered the medical scalpels as 'technology', but not my combat knives. I didn't argue too much, however, since there were limits and this was just one of them, even if it seemed arbitrary.

I also found a large black duffle bag. It held a variety of clothes that were likely used for medical practice, but I had little use for any of them. So, I took them out and threw them away. I then placed all the bandages and Medi-Kits inside the duffle bag. This way, I could walk right back towards the survivors and not have to worry about them finding out about my abilities.

Eventually, I'd scanned through the entire Infirmary, finding nothing else of note or value to me and my... team. I wasn't sure just how much time had passed, but it was likely already close to an hour. I had to return soon, before the others assumed I was dead. So, I hoisted the duffle bag over my shoulder and made my way out of the infirmary. Again, I noted, the silence and emptiness was... strange. I'd expected a mountain of corpses and bodies, but I found none. There were signs of violence and carnage, but there was no blood or, really, anything that might indicate that anyone died at all. It was... strange. Even stranger was the fact that I felt nothing at all – no eyes staring at me from the shadows, no Daemonic thing stalking me out of sight and mind.

The emptiness of that place disturbed me more than the chaos of the battlefield.

Whatever the case, if nothing was going to attack me, then it didn't matter too much. I glanced up as I walked. The blood red sky seemed unchanged, a veritable ocean of vitae, writhing where the sky should've been. There were no clouds. Streaks of black lightning flashed every now and then. There were strange, tortured faces in the clouds, I noted, like men and women, wailing in pain and agony, much like the tormented souls of my brothers and sisters upon the walls of that corrupted Manufactorum. The only difference was that I had no idea how to devour the taint from the sky. The faces twisted. And, in the distance, a faint laughter – so faint, in fact, that I almost did not catch it, but it was there.

I breathed in and frowned. Was that... sulfur?

But what sort of abomination would be laughing here, of all places?

Was it another Daemon?

That was definitely a possibility.

However, I now had a method to kill them – permanently.

Granted, it wasn't a very fast method, but it was the only one that actually worked. Otherwise, I could disintegrate their bodies with plasma grenades and they'd still reconstitute themselves somehow. The only permanent way to kill them was to devour their very essence with [Warp-Shaping].

So, I wasn't too concerned about Daemons.

But, I did not want to endanger the lives of the survivors, my brothers and sisters of the Imperial Guard. That Daemon I fought before was easily powerful enough to kill them all before they could even notice it was there. I was only able to keep up with it when I used the body of an Astartes. My default human self could hardly even perceive the Daemon's movements.

So, I made sure to sneak my way back into their hideout. I wasn't sure what I was sneaking from, but basic training taught me how to hide my presence when moving about and I simply made use of that knowledge. Hopefully, no one saw me. I opened the door and found the survivors still there, but all of them, save for Olly, were asleep on the floor.

"You're alive," Olly said, turning to me. Again, there was an odd look in the old man's eyes, but I didn't know just what it was. "That's good. I had assumed the worst when you ventured out there, Perry."

"I know how to keep quiet." I replied, before turning to the others. Already, I noticed, the smell of rot was setting in, the smell of infection. I set the bag down and opened it to Olly, who glanced down and nodded. The supplies I'd brought back were more than enough for everyone. "We ought to wake them. The sooner we can implement these meds, the sooner they can get back to fighting shape."

Olly nodded and turned. "Attention!"

The survivors all stood up as quickly as they could – those with functioning legs, at least. The command was damn near primal, after all, instilled in every guardsman during boot camp. It was the sort of command that could rouse an entire regiment awake, ready for battle. Even I couldn't stop myself from stiffening and moving into attention just as the others did. I had to wonder if Olly had been a Drill-Sergeant at some point before he joined an Armored Company; the old man certainly had the makings of one.

"Everyone, we will be administering meds and bandages to keep your dumb-asses alive!" Olly declared. And again, if he wasn't a former Drill-Sergeant, then he was probably a Commissar. But then... why would a Commissar want to join the army? "Once that's finished, we're heading out. The longer we stay here, the greater the chance that we'll be found by the enemy. We'll look for a new vehicle and then we're making out way southward so survey the battlefield. There's not a lot of us, so we can't afford to engage in prolonged battles."

I grinned. "My brothers and sisters, the time for the Emperor's Vengeance is at hand. We will avenge the dead and the lost. And the enemy shall taste the sting of defeat through us."

That seemed to bolster their spirits, enough that the hopelessness in their eyes disappeared. Even Nikolas, whose faith in the Imperium and the Emperor was shaken the most, appeared to brim with conviction and... determination. Death was a certainty, after all; what truly mattered was how many of mankind's enemies we would be taking with us to the grave.

It took us over an hour to properly clean, disinfect, cauterize, and bandage everyone's wounds. It was made all the more difficult by the fact that none of us, save for Olly, knew how to apply the contents of the Medi-Kit. Sure, most of it was obvious at a glance, but – as it turned out – there was a proper and an improper way to tie a bandage around a wound. I did possess a [Health Potion] in my Inventory, but I only had one of those and I wasn't sure how any of them would react if they saw my ability, my power. I was also certain that, even if I did show it to any of them, they weren't going to drink the strange red slurry.

Could I, perhaps, give it to the Mechanicus and pretend it was an STC of some kind? They were always out looking for those, weren't they? If I recall correctly, we were once briefed about it, telling us that any and all STC's we found, if we were somehow lucky enough to do so, were to be handed over the Mechanicus, or any liaison that was closest, immediately. After all, I had no need for the [Health Potion], not when I had nearly full control over my body. But, others would have use for it. If the Mechanicus could somehow mass-produce such a thing, then would it not be to the benefit of the servants of the Emperor?

The challenge was in convincing them that it was, in fact, an STC and not just a strange, possibly tech-heresy, object.

I shelved the idea and decided I'd get back to it when an opportunity presented itself.

Once the survivors were properly treated and medicated – some of them requiring stimulant drugs to keep themselves from keeling over – it was finally time to venture out, just as we'd hoped.

"Hey," A voice called out to me as I closed the zipper of the duffle bag. I turned and realized it'd been Nikolas who'd spoken to me, the man who lost a leg, the stump now properly bandaged and disinfected. He moved by grasping at whatever he could grab to keep himself upright. If it bothered him, then Nikolas didn't show it. It was commendable. I wish I'd already unlocked the ability to reshape the flesh of others; then, giving each of them new limbs would've been an option.

In due time, I suppose.

I turned to Nikolas and nodded. "Yes?"

Of the survivors, Nikolas was the one who harbored hatred towards the Imperium. A part of me found it heretical, but I also understood; as a fellow Guardsman, I understood. However, to truly hate the Imperium was to hate the Emperor. I don't think Nikolas hated the Emperor; he'd certainly made no mention of that. Hence, his earlier words were likely only spoken in anger, lacking any real conviction. So, I harbored no hatred towards him. Nikolas was just bitter.

"Thank you for..." Nikolas glanced down at the stump where his leg used to be. He was much calmer now than he'd been. "For dressing my wound."

"It's no problem," I said, smiling. "I did what any man would've done in my place. You would've done the same for me if our roles were reversed."

Nikolas' eyes widened briefly and his eyes drifted way for a moment, before he cleared his throat and shook his head. "Anyway, you have my thanks, Perry."

"You're very welcome, then." I said, smiling. Gratitude was nice, but it was unnecessary. Again, I only did what any Guardsman would've done in my place. "We still have a problem to deal with, however. The armored personnel carrier you came in here with was compromised; we'll have to find another vehicle."

Their previous vehicle was also in my Inventory, but I did not bother telling them that.

I turned to Olly. "Should I go back out there and look for one? There's bound to be at least one tank that's still mostly operational. Finding one will be difficult, but not impossible."

Olly nodded. "Aye, we'll need a new vehicle. I know how to perform an emergency activation. So, we just need one that's functional and has enough fuel. I'll be coming with you."

"It'll be dangerous, old man," I said, smirking. "Think you can keep up?"

Olly snorted in clear amusement. "Lad, I've been fighting since before you were even born. I know how to keep myself alive."

"I'm coming with you both," One of the women approached us, the one whose face was half-burnt, now covered in bandages. Her name was Mira, if my memory served. Her speech was strained, every word she spoke was painful. She held her Lasgun close to her chest. "I still have my limbs intact."

I nodded. The others had injuries that affected their ability to engage in open combat. Nikolas only had one leg. Loran couldn't properly move his dominant arm, because a chunk of his right shoulder had been blown out, alongside the a good portion of the joint. Gus suffered a similar injury, but for both arms. Aria lacked a left arm. If they came with us, then they would only slow us down. I couldn't protect all of them. I wasn't strong enough to do that just yet.

Olly was also injured, but his presence was necessary; we needed him, since he was the only one who knew how to perform the Rite of Emergency Activation, which I figured he must've learned from watching the Tech-Priests at work. Well, his presence wouldn't be necessary if I'd ventured out on my own, since bringing back a working armored vehicle meant all I had to do was find it and place it in my Inventory. With these people around, I couldn't do that. It was limiting, truly, but it was preferable to the silence of walking around alone.

Quest Received!
Find a Functional Armored Vehicle!
(Hidden Bonus Objective)
Reward/s:
Common Gacha Token
Skill [Basic Driving]
500 kg Raw Material
(Hidden)

Oh, nice, another quest. The rewards were pretty good too. Now, I definitely had extra incentive to find an armored vehicle. The hidden bonus objective was... not something I'd encountered before, it was rather simple to understand; there was an unknown parameter in the quest that may or may not impede me in any way and my job was to deal with it... or not, which would mean I wouldn't get the bonus reward.

"Alright then," I said. I held my Lasgun close, but otherwise pointed it down – away from my allies. Olly pulled out a Laspistol and nodded. "Let's go."