After cutting transmission with Tangmo, Damien cycled through the various readings on his awesome Astartes helm and swept one last disdainful look across the macabre operating theater. When all that greeted him were dead bodies of cultists and traitor Astartes, Damien and Lita took off with the Space Marines and the Aspect Warriors.

"Our priority is to get to the STC," Damien pulled the magazine free, checked it, and slammed it back into the bolter when he was satisfied with the capacity. "Deep Ones and shoggoths are no longer the only fuckers we'll be dealing with."

"Pray tell Brother Captain, what other horrors infest this misbegotten place?" Gallus, the sergeants and the exarchs promptly joined him at the front as they thundered down a vaulted corridor, streaks of dark dried blood decorated the walls at frequent intervals, but unlike the over the top grotesques ornamentation common with Chaos worshippers the Lovecraftian creatures spurred such extreme display of violence. Damien was very glad that the Ultramarine sergeant's timbre was one of eagerness, totally unaffected by the tribulation they'd just gone through. "And will they be a disappointment like these lots?"

"I hope so," Damien grunted, turned his shoulder to the nearing exit, and rammed the thick metallic doors off the hinges. The two partitions flew into what was probably a garden in better days where recovering patients went for a nice little stroll, now it was filled with mud and strange organic protrusion that twisted and looped into abominable parody of trees. The tree-things were sort of alive, but Damien ignored them and led the Marines and eldars into a street behind the hospital. The roadway was thankfully wide and they could see the grand cathedral looming above the rotting slum. "Now, I'm not an expert like Tangmo but I think the Mi Go and Elder Things have just entered the fray."

"They will die in ignominy like their kin," Adelhard held his power longsword up at the ready as the townhouses around them started closing in, the roofs bending down until they touched and formed a canopy of steels and wires. "Forgive me if I overstep Brother Captain, but how were you able to identify these new enemies?"

"From all the bodies we found back at the hospital," Lita stabbed her thumb over her shoulder, the Mexican Warseer easily matching speed with Damien. "The corpses were dissected with surgical precision. Organs were removed from stomachs and chest cavities for obvious nefarious reasons. This is the MO of the Elder Things, who like to dissect things to study them. Then we have the Chaos Astartes with the empty skulls, this is the Mi Gos doing, they like to put brains into machines and do crazy experiments with them."

"I pray to the God Emperor that the traitors know nothing but suffering, their kind deserve nothing less," Subutai's darkly satisfied declaration was met with agreeing murmurs from his Marine colleagues. The Brother Sergeant of the White Scars then flashed a quick sequence of hand signals, his Mongol Battle Brothers received this silent instruction by spreading out to the flanks, bolters trained forward at the ready. Seeing what was happening, the other Astartes and Aspect Warriors swiftly adopted the same fighting formation. "Beware brothers, the buildings around us are not empty. Make ready for contact."

Subutai had barely finished his sentence when the entire column was suddenly enveloped inside a transparent force field. The Astartes and Aeldari skidded to stop, formed up into a back to back firing line, and Damien was about to shoot the energy wall when he realized it was Lita who had summoned the barrier, her fiercely glowing Singing Spear revealed the horrid extend of the urban decrepitude around them. Before he could ask Lita what had prompted her to summon the energy shield, the barrier shuddered and rippled violently when a hail of unidentifiable projectiles poured on them from every direction. Damien honestly got kinda concern when cracks started appearing across the surface.

"What in the fuck?" Damien strode up to the barrier and peered closer at a blemish caused by the impact. Blinking several times so the visors could take a more comprehensive reading, Damien backed away with a confused groan. "Okay, so, we might not have fought the Tyranids all that much but I remember them using living bullets against us, like these creepy worm fuckers over here."

"Thank you for the astute observation," Lita gritted her teeth and pointed at a townhouse which was flashing violently from discharging weapons. "Now can you please kill them?! The barrier is made in a way that allow things to go out, not in, and I believe the time has come for a counter battery?!"

"Yes! Of course, sorry about that!" Damien laughed goofily and trained his bolter at where Lita had mentioned, yep, there were a lot of fuckers inside. "Light them up people! For the Emperor!"

Bolts and shurikens made their cacophonic reply to the living bullets, and within moments the townhouses around them were engulfed in furious exploding fire. And from within the destruction sickening inhuman keening erupted, the ambushing barrage lessening as abominable shapes, an evil amalgamation of insectoid and crustacean, darted across the curtain of burning red. To Damien unpleasant surprise the movement did not indicate panic or fear, on the contrary it bespoke of trained soldiery reaction when faced with an insurmountable foe, the retreat that followed was orderly and expertly executed.

"Let's get our asses in gear people, move out!" Damien bellowed then turned to Lita. "How are you holding up?"

"Might need a few Tylenols after this but otherwise I'm just peachy, thank you for asking," Lita flashed her winning smile and wiped droplets of sweat from her forehead. She then pointed her Singing Spear forward, the tip fixed on a wide path clustered with vehicles and pieces of fallen buildings. "We should get over there, looks like a good place to take cover."

"Copy that, and you can lower the shield now, I don't think we're in any immediate danger for the moment," Damien emptied his magazine at a thick cluster of dancing shadows, sending streaks and splatters of sizzling gore into the fire. When the trigger clicked empty Damien waved the column after Lita, around them the barrier slowly faded from corporeality. "Move it! Get behind cover and return fire at anything that fucking moves! Elraleath, give us some covering fire!"

"As you command Brother Captain," as one Elraleath and his Dark Reapers raised their Reaper Launchers to the sky and unleashed a salvo of silvery missiles. The projectiles made pretty loops and twists across the stygian nimbus before shooting down on the slum like world ending comets, blooms of roiling flame thoroughly vaporized the close-knitted buildings until nothing but charcoal ashes remained. "All done."

"That should keep them off our backs for a while," Damien grunted as the column entered a large ten lanes road, the Aeldari swiftly ducked behind the plentiful covers while the Space Marines did their best to shield themselves, an attempt that wasn't wholly successful considering how big they were. After confirming that everyone was alive, Damien tapped the data-pad built into his armguard, "okay, according to the map, we're about ten kilometers away from Somnus Mare's grand cathedral. The bad news is that the cathedral is situated on a tiered rise, each layer surrounded by walls and buildings that had probably been turned into bunkers already."

"So what's the good news?" Lita inquired.

"The slum is opening up and there's an empty five hundred yards strip of land around the cathedral," Damien turned off the data-pad and held his bolter up at the ready. Lita saw through his awesome Astartes helm and scrunched her face in annoyance at the smile he was giving her. "Basically, nothing's gonna block the trajectory of our bullets."

"Wonderful," Lita rolled her eyes and gave her Singing Spear a slow twirl around her fingers. "You need me to bring up the shield again?"

"No need, we'll be hitting them fast and hard, but I wouldn't mind if you use your magic in a more offensive capability," Lita nodded firmly to Damien's request. "Okay then, let's see if we can make another perfect no damage run. Prepare to move out people, time is of the essence."

"I'm afraid it wasn't a perfect run, Brother Damien," Manaus, the Ultramarine heavy weapon specialist, strode up to Damien and held his right hand forward. Marring the blessed Astartes armor was a sizzling rent that stretched from wrist to elbow. "When the lady Warseer's shield came down I've neglected to watch my flank. An insectoid abomination scored a hit on me, rest reassured my reciprocation was deadly."

"Goddamn, the damage looks super biological," Damien leaned closer and tsk audibly. "How bad is it?"

"In all honesty, I feel completely fine."

"If I may, brother Manaus," Brother Matuk, the Salamander Tech Marine, slipped in beside Damien, the crane sprouting from his power pack whirled in anticipation. "I would like to make a quick preliminary assessment of your war gear to ascertain the scope of the damage inflicted."

"Go ahead brother Matuk," Manaus allowed Matuk to take his hand and put it under intense scrutiny, the Tech Marine prodded the damaged armor with exo-limbs, the light of his visor glowing bright red as he studied the despoiled carapace. "I should mention that the projectile did not penetrate deep. The flesh beneath is untouched, I feel neither discomfort nor healing reaction from my person."

"Your diagnosis is correct," Matuk withdrew his exo-limbs and stepped back, there was a clear lessening of tension in his posture. "As brother Damien had mentioned the bullets bear similarity to the Tyranid's bioweapons, but instead of beetles and scarabs the specimens that corroded your armor appears to be worms. Brother Manaus, this was a direct hit, was it not?"

"Indeed," Manaus nodded.

"The worms only manage to destroy the first few layers immediately beneath the ceramite," Matuk continued. "Against normal material like rocks, stones, metal and rockcrete this would've been effective, but when met with venerated armors of the Astartes it was wholly inadequate."

"Be that as it may, I think we should try to avoid the worm bullets? All it takes is one lucky shot gentlemen," Lita made her comment and the Space Marines concurred with nods of agreement. "Good, because I think it's time we get moving again, the dark is starting to get restless. Not to worry, I'm gonna brighten the place up."

After that statement Lita tapped the ground with her Singing Spear, the metallic twinkling notes summoned ten orbs of light which darted across the air and positioned themselves along the battlegroup's column. Brilliant illumination bathed the area in searing white, barely a speck of shadow managed to escape the glaring intrusion. Distressed clicking echoed across the claustrophobic rows of malformed buildings and Damien saw the Mi Gos falling back from their now exposed covers, some spreading their membranous wings to fly into the black nimbus where not even Lita's sorcerous light can penetrate. Damien took a few well-aimed shots, laughing when the bugs plummeted to the ground in gory gibs.

"Let's get out of the slum people, forward!" Joining Lita at the tip of the column, Damien shouldered his bolter, flicked the switch to full auto and thundered down a dirty avenue laden with filths and rubbishes. He held down the trigger and sent a stream of white hot bolts at a squat two stories building filled with Mi Gos, the fuckers were readying their weapons in a brave but futile attempt to stop the oncoming assault. They were turned inside out in a cascade of fire and crimson, none able to discharge their weapons or articulate their demise. Next to him Lita thrust her splayed hand across several townhouses on the right, beam of iridescent silver shot forth from her palm and destroyed the flimsy buildings in a violent hurricane of flame. Thunderous staccato followed the battlegroup as Astartes and Aeldari poured their firepower on to the surrounding slum, leaving in their wakes burning ruins and smoldering twitching eldritch corpses. Damien was slamming a new clip home when the slum opened up and the battlegroup sprinted on to an uneven road of badly laid tarmac. The cathedral on the other side of the clearing was a stark contrast to the abysmal surroundings, the towering house of worship was large and decked out in spires, columns, archways, and churchly windows. The blackened grimes and neglects only add to its grim grandeur, no longer an altar of sanctity but a monument of outworldly corruption.

"This is a bit problematic," Lita rolled her shoulders then stabbed the Singing Spear to the ground like a badass. She gave the area a quick glance before shaking her head, "looks like we'll have to go through the front door."

"Hey Damien, Lita, sorry for interrupting but me and Henry kinda need confirmation on a certain development we've just encountered," Erik's voice blared from the intercom, his timbre calm despite the clear ambience of battle raging in the background. "See, our position is being attack and it's not only Deep Ones and shoggoths who are coming at us. I'm seeing…bugs with guns? Or is it crabs? I honestly have no clue, I've only read through Lovecraft's works a few times. Is this happening on your end too?"

"That's an affirmative Erik, we're also fighting the bug fuckers," Damien nodded, around him the Astartes and Aeldari arrayed themselves in a loose crescent across the empty ground, unhurried and relaxed as they checked and reloaded their weapons for the fight to come. Across the divide movements can be seen on the rise leading to the cathedral, the Deep Ones and Mi Gos put no effort into stealth as they hunkered down, admirable in their misguided fearlessness. Behind the defenders, ghostly light flashed at random intervals from the many tall windows. "They're fortifying the cathedral where the STC is being kept, we'll be attacking them in a couple of minutes, and the bug things are called Mi Go by the way."

"I told you those fuckers were called Mi Go!" Henry cried triumphantly at the huffing Erik, but the American general's moment of celebration quickly ruptured into frightened squeal. "Fuck! Get the fuck down they're shooting us again! Don't let the bullets touch you it'll melt your shit!"

"The bullets are worms, kinda like the Tyranid's weapons," Damien went on. "It wasn't very effective against Astartes armors, I guess the same can't be said for standard guardsmen and eldar's gears."

"The damn thing melts real fucking deep dude and the wounds are nasty, the medics are working overtime patching people up," Henry said then hissed a slew of curses under his breath. "Are you fucking for real – yo Damien, I gotta go, things are getting real intense in this part of the woods. Brace for impact and return fire!"

"Damn, I'm not liking how the situation is developing," Damien turned off the transmission and eyed the cathedral with rising distaste. "If it's that bad over there, then we're in for one hell of a ride."

"Let me hail Tangmo, he might have a few tips for us," Lita tapped her earbud. "Hey Tangmo, how's it going on your end?"

"No time to talk a lot of fighting shits really hitting the fan there's a lot of crazy shits around!" Tangmo machine gunned the reply in a torrent of explosive rhetoric, his hurried tempo matching the furious gunfire rattling around him. "Mi Gos and Elder Things and all kinds of scary shit I need to kill gotta go bye!"

"The Lovecraftian abominations are waging war on multiple fronts it seems, and with passable efficiency too," Gallus gave his begrudging observation and took his place beside Damien, a revving chainsword in his right hand and a bolter in his left. "When you are ready Brother Captain, I am eager to see how the xeno's mettle fared against true Adeptus Astartes, uncorrupted and unbent, unlike those that had come before."

"That time is now, Brother Sergeant," Damien made one final check on the bolter and started forward at a stern, temperate pace. "Forward brothers and sisters! In the name of the God Emperor and Isha let us rid the galaxy of their accursed existence! Kill them all!"

There was no triumphant roar, no benediction of righteousness, no litany of death and hatred, only cold silence as the Adeptus Astartes and Aspect Warriors advanced on the cathedral. Clear agitation were evident in the Mi Gos and Deep Ones' movement, Damien can see the fishes and bugs darting from place to place as tactical plans were changed at the last minutes, a situation one do not want to be embroiled in when the enemies were upon them. These lots had fought and won against the Black Legion Chaos warband and probably expected the Immortal Spirit battlegroup to behave in a similar manner, the Lovecraftian forces learned this folly too late. The Deep Ones were the first to lose their collective nerves, several early discharges quickly devolved into panicky hails of bullets and las that peppered harmlessly across Lita's barrier. The Mi Go displayed more discipline than the Deep Ones, their guns trained unwavering at the approaching battlegroup, yet for the moment no bullet flies. They were the first to die.

"Elraleath, take out the Mi Gos please," Lita turned to the Dark Reaper exarch and gave her command.

"Already done, lady Warseer," Elraleath nodded and joined his Dark Reapers. The black clad Aspect Warriors, with eerie synchronicity, raised their Reaper Launchers skyward and unleashed the missiles. Silver streaks across the air before hammering down on the Mi Go's position, the bugs were ripped apart in a tidal wave of explosion, so fast was the destruction that no survivors can be found amidst the gory wreckage.

"Fucking beautiful! Now it's our turn people, open fire!" The battlegroup unleashed a near perfect volley on the entrenched Deep Ones, killing large swathe of the abominations and driving the lucky few who weren't decapitated behind cover, statues and earthen embankments proving poor defenses against an uninterrupted barrage of bolts. "That'll keep those fuckers pinned! Yo Adelhard, this is the chance for you and the Black Templars to go full medieval on their asses! Please do us the honor of making the first breach!"

"With pleasure Brother Captain!" The front ranks parted and the Black Templars formed into a wedge with Adelhard at the tip. Swords raised, the blades coated in crackling blue, the Sons of Dorn charged the iron wroth gate. "No fear! No pity! No remorse! In the name of the God Emperor let none survive!"

Damien staggered and Lita almost fall flat on her ass when the Black Templars entered the breach with swords raised heroically high, their thunderous war cry made the air vibrate with cacophonic fury. Bulling aside the entrance with ease, the iron bent and broken beneath the pounding sabatons, the Black Templars wasted no time getting up close and lethal with the cowering Deep Ones. Holy shit, Damien honestly wished he was killing shits with Adelhard and the Black Templars right now, but watching the unrepentant carnage unfolds was a join in itself. The Deep Ones shrieked balefully as they were cut down with extreme prejudice, the fishmen can do nothing but die before the merciless power longswords, every battering slash and stab sending thick fountains of gore skyward in a visceral explosion of gibs. The Black Templars took no heed of pleas and desperate cries for mercy, the simpering clemencies were reciprocated with litany of purest hate and hymn of unrestrained rage, and within five minutes the first Lovecraftian defensive tier was utterly destroyed and depopulated. Not wasting time, Adelhard and the Black Templars bounded up the second tier, repeating their bloody work on the already fleeing Deep Ones. A few surviving Mi Go tried to fight back and, well, it didn't end pretty for the bugs.

"Okay, I'm getting a little optimistic," Damien waved for the main characters to follow and bounded after the Black Templars. "They obviously didn't expect anyone to make it this far, which is very good for us."

"You're absolutely correct," Lita blanched from the carnage unleashed by Adelhard and his gang of rambunctious knights. And holy shit Damien kinda have to agree, Jason Vorhees would weep with joy at such an uncensored manifestation of extreme violence, shredded gores scattered liberally all over the place. "Now let's hope you didn't jinx things for us."

"Dude, things always goes sideway regardless, at this point I'm just gonna enjoy every victory big and small along the way," Damien shrugged and Lita nodded agreeably to his reasoning. Because seriously, they were about to reach the top most tier and the only thing they'd encountered so far was the welcoming carpet of corpses the Black Templars had graciously rolled out for them. "See? This is gonna be a walk in the park."

Damien knew he was tempting fate by being bubbly and cheerful, so the universe proceeded to fuck him over for daring to entertain the idea that good things can happen in the grim darkness of the forty second millennium. The Black Templars were pinned down, the genetically engineered knights were scattered across the cathedral courtyard and hunkering down behind destroyed statues and large filth covered crypts. Now, he might not be a super expert on HP Lovecraft's work like Tangmo, but Damien vividly recalled that Lovecraft's forte lies in eloquent and long drawn proses describing places and the feeling of creeping horror. Unlike Tolkien or Martin or Erikson the Providence native did not elaborate on the actual societal and cultural details of his cosmic creations. So imagine Damien surprise at seeing Mi Gos and Deep Ones mounting heavy caliber laser weapons that looked like a weaponized version of Nikola Tesla's electric coils, the pointed tips spewing lightning bolts that tore large rents across the ground. The tools employed by the Lovecraftian monsters had a very retro early twentieth century steampunk vibe to it.

"Yeah, we kinda need to take care of that," Damien pointed at the giant electric guns. "Anybody want to do the honor?"

"If you would allow me, Brother Captain, lady Warseer," exarch Olatien stepped forward, his Fire Dragons standing crisply behind him, Fusion lances held at the ready. Damien blinked several times as he took in the red clad Aspect Warriors, have their armors always glowed like that? "The Fire Dragons will rid the courtyard of the abominations and their war machines."

"Be my guest dude, we'll provide you with covering fire," Damien said as Olatien and the Fire Dragons silently fall into formation, the Fusion lances humming with barely restrained power. "When you're ready, Olatien."

Without more words spoken the Fire Dragons dashed passed the pinned Black Templars, blurs of lithe burning shadows, Damien doubted he could follow such immaculate speed without his enhanced physique. By the time the Mi Gos and Deep Ones realized something strange was happening the Fire Dragons were already standing not twenty paces from them, Fusion lances trained on the heavy electric weapons. Hellish beams of red inferno shot from the lances, the superheat lasers destroyed the Lovecraftian's heavy guns in a kaleidoscopic explosion of blue fire and lightning. The Mi Gos and Deep Ones shrieked shrilly as roiling flame consumed them, it took a very long time before they finally stopped moving and drop dead. No longer suppressed, the Black Templars emerged from cover and lay a vengeful barrage on the Lovecraftian abominations that survived the firestorm, the killing was quick and bloody.

In the end, no covering fire was needed.

"Spread out and stay under cover!" Lita, with Damien at her side, ran straight for the cathedral awning entrance while the rest of the battlegroup took up position across the mausoleums filled courtyard. Sliding to a stop before the staircase leading up to the huge gilded double door, Lita pointed the Singing Spear forward. "Form up behind us, be ready to breach the cathedral!" The Mexican Warseer spun to face the Canadian Astartes. "Ready?"

"Always," Damien put away the bolter and drew his thunder hammer, grinning as he gave the polearm quick warm up flexes, "ladies first?"

"Why thank you," the blade of Lita's Singing Spear was now hued in radiant silver. "You might want to close your eyes."

Damien predictably didn't close his eyes and immediately regretted his decision. Even with the visor of his awesome Astartes helm blocking out the worse of the flare Damien had to turn away from Lita's sorcery, but not before getting his retina napalmed. Blinking until the flashes passed and he stopped seeing double, Damien kept his gaze on the ground until Lita's lightshow stopped with a jarring suddenness. Half expecting her to double over after taking a slug to the chest, Damien breathe a sigh of relief when he found Lita hale and standing and looking ultra smug after blasting the cathedral's entrance to smithereens.

"I told you to close your eyes," Lita made her good-natured chastisement. "Are you okay?"

"Totally, thank you for asking," Damien nodded then spun around. The Astartes and Aspect Warriors were standing at the ready, arrayed in a double file, weapons brandished and not at all affected by Lita's magical power. "Slay everything inside and secure the STC! Forward brothers and sisters! For the Emperor!"

Despite having reached what was essentially their goal, the final stage where the last boss awaits, the cathedral was not all that special if Damien was being honest. Considering how the most common architectural theme of Warhammer 40k was heavily inspired by Gregorian and Christian lore and religiosity, the Sistine Chapel motif had pretty much lost its novelty. Sure, Damien wasn't gonna deny the grandeur and size of Somnus Mare's underwater cathedral, because it was a masterpiece of devotion and engineering. Even with the blood and grime the vaulted ceiling, the pillars of sparkling dark green granite and the awing altar of worship were sublime in beauty. But he had seen this so many times that, sadly, the allure had lost its potency.

"Nothing new," Damien snapped out of his retrospection and took in the immediate surroundings, brow quirked as he pointed the thunder hammer at a tall reliquary like construct in front of them, situated just beneath the dark crystal dome. "Correction, now that's new."

"…Okay, so those are the Elder Things, right?" Lita blanched at the dozen abominable creatures arrayed around the reliquary, the STC obviously, hands and arms of tentacles tinkering with the blinking terminals, to which Damien nodded slowly. At the Mountain of Madness was the longest work written by HP Lovecraft, and even though it was a slog to get through courtesy of the endless wordy description of Antarctica and cyclopean ruins, the most memorable thing in the story was the Elder Things. The damn thing matched the description in the book to a tee; six feet end to end, three and five-tenths feet central diameter, tapering to one foot at each end. Like a barrel with five bulging ridges in place of staves. Lateral breakages, as of thinnish stalks, are at equator in middle of these ridges. In furrows between ridges are curious growths, combs or wings that fold up and spread out like fans which give almost seven-foot wing spread. Pandemonium raged across the hall, Mi Gos and Deep Ones rushing to engage the Astartes and Aspect Warriors, yet the Elder Things remained stationary around the STC. "And why is one of them crucified to the STC?"

"Huh?" Damien blinked and holy shit Lita was right, a fungi xeno was indeed nailed to the STC. He was about to make more comments when certain details caught his attention. "Hold up, I don't think that's an Elder Thing up there."

"Later, we have to kill these guys first," Lita waved her Singing Spear fiercely above her head and a vortex spiraled into existence, within moments a hurricane had completely enveloped the interior of the cathedral. This would've been a cause for concern under normal circumstances but with Lita in charge of the sorcery the Space Marines and Aspect Warriors were in no immediate danger. They were wholly unaffected by the raging cyclone of gold and silver, feeling none of the all-encompassing gust. Multiple balconied floors ringed the interior, and it was without a doubt that an army of Mi Gos and Deep Ones were hunkered behind the balustrades with guns trained downward. The effectiveness of such overwhelming firepower can only be speculated on because before any of the abominations can open fire they were snatched off their feet by Lita's sparkling hurricane. It would've been more than enough for the bugs and fishes to be dashed against the marble hall and dropped screaming to the ground, but unfortunately for them Lita was fashionable and stylish with her application of power. The Mi Gos and Deep Ones and Elder Things were eviscerated to gory pieces and sapped to crisp by the winds of magic.

"Holy goddamn, this is fucking beautiful," Damien made his very pleased observation and turned to Lita, looking her up and down. "Hey, you doing okay? You're starting to sweat."

"Is everything dead?" Lita asked, her face pinched from the magical exertion. "Can you check please?"

"I think the interior is clear," Damien made a quick sweep of the balconies and grunted in the affirmative. "You can stop now Lita. If anything's alive we'll deal with it promptly."

Exhaling slowly, Lita tucked the Singing Spear under her armpit and waved sharply at the sorcerous hurricane. The shimmering vortex rumbled like a storm fading into the distant horizon, the radiant gusts became soft downy wisps before at last surrendering its corporeality. And then it rained bloods and guts and bodies, drenching the battlegroup in steaming scarlet ichor. Welp, at least it was better than getting shot but the reeking offal was pretty bad, even with the awesome Astartes helm to filter the air.

"Not exactly the sort of drizzle I was hoping for," Damien snickered and spun around to find Lita once again free of muck, courtesy of a dainty little transparent umbrella she had summoned. Seeing how she was swaying slightly, Damien went to one knee and waved Lita over to his pauldron. "Get on Lita, I can see you're pretty winded, take a little break dude, no one's gonna mind after what you've just did."

"Thank you Damien, that tornado really took a lot out of me," allowing her back to hunch slightly, Lita walked over to Damien and seated herself on the Canadian Marine's pauldron. Lita shifted her buttocks around to find a comfortable position as Damien rose back to his feet, paused suddenly, glanced down at her seat and squawked loudly. "What in the – eww! There's blood all over you!"

"It's just your skirt, relax," Damien shrugged with extra force, causing Lita to bounce around a bit. "Now you look just like the rest of us! Welcome to the club!"

"And here I thought you were a gentleman!" Lita huffed but did not extricate herself from the pauldron. "It's a good thing you're so comfortable, otherwise I would've already gone elsewhere!"

"I humbly beg for your forgiveness, good lady, I shall strive to better pursue cleanliness as per your request," Damien chuckled audibly but assumed his more serious countenance a heartbeat later. "Alright, enough joking around, time to get fucking serious now that we're in the heart of enemy's territory. Matuk, kindly extract the data inside the STC please, the sooner that's done the sooner we can get off this fucking planet and Exterminatus it straight to hell."

"I wholeheartedly agree," as Matuk and a few other Marines from all four chapters jogged toward the STC, Lita pointed her Singing Spear at the supposed Elder Thing nailed to the gigantic churchly hard disk. And yes, this close Damien concluded that the xeno was definitely not an Elder Thing. "So…what are we gonna do about this one? Is it dead?"

"Probably, the mofo got fucked up pretty bad," Damien switched his weapon back to bolter and approached the xeno, stopping several paces from it. "Yo, poke it."

"Are you serious right now?!" Lita rounded on Damien, her face a study of incredulity.

"Hey, I'm not the one with the long pointy stick," Damien would've love for Lita to see his poisonous smile right now, judging by how her face was reddening visibly she can totally see it through his awesome Astartes helm. "Come on, the damn thing looks dead. Go ahead you'll be fine."

"You owe me big time Damien, remember that," Lita huffed and held up her Singing Spear. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Lita tightened her grip around the shaft and launched the polearm forward, the shining blade hitting a carapace shell with a clinking chime. She stabbed it once more, twice more, thrice more, growing braver and braver as time passed. "Huh, looks like it's really dead. And you're completely right, this isn't an Elder Thing. I think I saw an illustration of it somewhere before – AHHHHH!"

The Singing Spear clattered jarringly to the ground as Lita bolted back from the creature, who had suddenly stirred to life. Arms pinwheeling across the air and screaming at the top of her lungs, Lita careened down the pauldron and would've made a nasty landing on the gore slick ground if Damien didn't swept her up mid-fall into his arms. Breathing heavily Lita, now draped over Damien in a bridal carry, held out her open palm and the Singing Spear flew back into her hand. Alerted by the Mexican Warseer embarrassing squeal, the main characters gathered around the writhing Lovecraftian monster, it's tentacle like appendages flailing feebly against the chains holding it. Now that the fighting had ceased and Damien got a good gander at the xeno, the Canadian Astartes surmised that it was one ugly motherfucker. They were immense rugose cones ten feet high, and with head and other organs attached to foot-thick, distensible limbs spreading from the apexes. They spoke by the clicking or scraping of huge paws or claws attached to the end of two of their four limbs, and walked by the expansion and contraction of a viscous layer attached to their vast, ten-foot bases.

"You okay?" Damien asked, his eyes fixed on the crucified monstrosity.

"Besides the irrecoverable damage done to my dignity and reputation, I'm totally fine," Lita wiped away a few stray hairs that had come loose, the Mexican Warseer's initial shock had morphed into anger. "Thank you by the way, you've just saved me from more embarrassment."

"Don't mention it dude," Damien nodded. "Look Lita I honestly don't mind carrying you like this, it's actually quite romantic, but can I put you down? I can't fight like this and I don't want Dalthorn to get jealous."

"That's a good idea, thanks," Lita smiled as Damien lowered her to the ground, the Mexican Warseer was spritely again after the brief rest. Tilting her neck left and right until it cracked satisfyingly, Lita trained her Singing Spear at the abomination. "And don't worry about Dalthorn, he's not the jealously type, he's actually very kind and understanding."

"You've always been a good judge of character," Damien took aim at the fungi looking motherfucker. "Where is he anyway?"

"Back with Henry and Erik, he's in command of the Guardians detachment," Lita inched closer to the Lovecraftian creature. "You made me look like an idiot, prepare to die."

"Thank you."

Lita didn't squeak in fright this time, nope, that honor belongs to Damien. Mercifully, he didn't articulate his shock by leaping into the air, and the awesome Astartes helm made his cry of distress sounds decidedly manly. It was nothing short of a miracle that no one got trigger happy as the thing on the STC emitted a moan that was outworldly and wrong on the ears, while trying weakly to fight its bondage. Matuk and the Tech Marines were about to join them but Damien shook his head.

"Telepathy," Lita grunted and pressed the tip of the Singing Spear to the thing's head, eliciting a sound that could only be described as relief. "You might want to be very careful mister. If you try anything untoward it's gonna end very badly for you."

"But it is an end," despite the words not coming from any vocal cord, it sounded raspy and exhausted, those last few breaths before death finally claimed the speaker. Damien glanced around the hall and deduced that the creature was sending his telepathic communication to everyone in attendance, "one that I welcome."

"Why did the Elder Things nailed you to the STC?" Damien asked. Since no bullets were flying for the moment, they might as well learn something. "You're one of them aren't you?"

"I am not one of those wretched things," a hint of anger seeped into the creature's voice, but heavy exhaustion soon douse that fire. "No…I am of Yith."

"That's right! The Great Race of Yith!" Lita snapped her finger and Damien let out a long 'oh' as recognition dawned. Although he can't remember the finer detail at the moment, one of the main takeaways from Tangmo's lecture on the subject of Yith was that the Great Race were not bad guys, most of the time. The Warhammer 40k characters were unaware of this fact and were rightly stunned when Lita disengaged her Singing Spear, stabbing the polearm to the ground then leaned easily on it. "You're a long way from home."

"Not of my own volition," the creature, Damien's gonna call him Yith for now, uttered miserably. "Like many of my kin, we are enslaved to this mad blasphemous cavalcade."

"A likely story," Damien was not convinced, despite the utter misery laced within Yith's testimony. "If there's one thing your kind is famous for it's lying through your fucking tentacles. So forgive me for not believing that you people have nothing to do with this invasion."

"I speak no lies," Yith shook his head wearily. The tiny physical motion was pitifully lethargic. His head then craned slowly toward Lita. "Like us you can see into the mind of others, you must know that I speak true. If you wish, you can look into what is left of my mind."

"You seriously think I would go rooting inside the head of an eldritch creature? That's the sort of labyrinth you can get trapped in and die, and I don't fall for cheap tricks," a painful quiver ran across Yith's body, Lita having obviously sent a physic pulse into his body. After he sagged into the chains Lita leaned closer to Damien and whispered. "He might be a Lovecraftian abomination, but I can read telepathic wavelength and he's being honest, for real."

Damien nodded, took a moment to contemplate their current predicament, then turned to Matuk, "how long until the data extraction is completed?"

"It will take some times, Brother Captain," Matuk told him. "The amount of files is immense and several caches are encrypted. I'll get it done as fast as I can."

"Very good Matuk, that will give us time for a little conversation," Damien flashed a series of hand signals, prompting the Marines and Aspect Warriors to form a defensive circle around the STC. He then waved for the Brother Sergeants and exarchs to join him and Lita. "Alrighty then Mr. Great Race of Yith, I'm willing to entertain the possibility that you're a victim of foul play. Therefore, I'm gonna be asking you a few questions in regard to what in the fuck is going on here, so you better be fucking honest with us."

"I have lost everything, craving only death, and if honesty will grant me this then so be it," Yith made an audible telepathic sigh. "What do you want to know?"

"Why have the Lovecraftian gods invaded the Imperium of Man?" Damien asked his question. "Lovecraftian is an umbrella term we've given you guys by the way."

"Even across the stars, across the dark gulf of infinity, the one constant to always be found is mankind's hubris and the misguided notion that they alone stand at the nexus of existence," the hint of amusement were not missed and a few Black Templars started closing in on Yith. A sharp glance from Damien stopped them. "Your plight is not unique young one, for this is not the first, nor will it be the last homestead of mankind to fall to the Great Old Ones."

"So the Great Old Ones had invaded other realities before?" Lita spoke up and Yith nodded slowly. "How many realms had the Lovecraftian gods attack so far?"

"I do not know, but since my incarceration I have seen seventeen different variations," Yith answered her. "Some were consumed by flames, their requiem one of torment and despair. Others simply faded into the darkness, silent and happy even as the end claimed them."

"Why?" Damien reentered the conversation. "Why are the Lovecraftian gods doing this? They're supposed to be above banal and petty things like conquest and violence, their schemes utterly incomprehensible. What happened to the mortal races being beneath their notice?"

"Your knowledge of the eldritch is impressive," Yith told Damien. "And yes, the Great Old Ones spare little regard for inconsequential creatures like mankind, but what had prompted them to this course of action was not malice or desire, just simple curiosity."

"…Curiosity?" Damien couldn't stop the incredulity from entering his voice as he traded look with an equally disgusted Lita. "You mean all this shit happens because of curiosity?!"

"I apologize if the answer is not to your liking," Yith didn't sound one bit apologetic, if anything there was a hint of satisfaction at seeing Damien distressed. "But it is very common for a great answer to be a simple one."

"There has to be a better reason for this," Damien wasn't about to let this go, it can't be that simple! "I mean, come on, there has to be something more, a grand plan to dominate all life as oppose to being curious!"

"No grand plan, no master scheme, just undiluted curiosity," Yith went on. "The Great Old Ones saw what happened when they meddle, the result pique their interest, so they repeated the process to see the many different outcomes. Like children throwing rocks into a placid pond just to see the ripple, they are very pleased with the disturbance."

"God Emperor have mercy, this is fucking unbelievable," Damien face palmed his awesome Astartes helm with a resounding gong. He calmed down a moment later and, after a few seconds of reflection, nodded slowly. "No, wait, scratch that, this is actually very Lovecraftian as modus operandi goes."

"Their curiosity are far from placated, and they found this realm to be very interesting," Yith made an effort to cast his bulbous gaze across the hall. "Yes, this place is very different."

"Brother Captain, the STC is connected to the Yith creature," Matuk was typing speedily across a control panel on the side of the STC. "His cerebral organs are wired into the machine, and data are being filtered through it."

"Is the STC damaged?" Damien asked, because there's gonna be hell to pay if they came all this way and got nothing in return. "Can the files be extracted?"

"The extraction is progressing optimally Brother Captain," Matuk's fingers were blur as they danced across the keyboard. "But the data has been copied, categorized, and transferred directly into the Yith creature. For what reason, I do not know."

"What is happening exactly?" Lita now put forward her question. "Why are you hooked up to the STC? Are you being used as some kind of storage device?"

"They see what I see, feel what I feel," Yith told her. "Like others of my kin the information funneled through me are being broadcast across the aether, to be seen and understand by the spawns of the Great Old Ones, to be studied and learned for future incursion. Sometime even the gods themselves personally took charge. Be calm, their eyes are turn to happenstance elsewhere."

"The Lovecraftian gods are using you to stream live information to them?" Lita pressed on, "across to other universes too?"

"They are," Yith's head dipped sluggishly in the affirmative. "The mind of our race transcends the boundaries of time, space, the phantasy of slumber, and the purgatory that lies between days and dreams. The Great Old Ones know this and used me and mine accordingly, much to the detriment of all."

"I can see that," Damien raised his bolter, coiled his finger around the trigger and fixed Yith at the center of the iron sight. "That's why you wanted to die, to free yourself from being used like an interdimensional WIFI router. Tell me, if you die right now then the Lovecraftian gods will not be able to see what's going on, yes?"

"They will be deprived of the main avenue of reconnaissance, which I believe will aid you in the fight to come," a timbre of hope can clearly be heard in Yith's raspy enunciation. "You are of a military mind, you can clearly see the benefit of my demise. If mercy cannot sway you then put your trust in cold pragmatism."

"Oh trust me, this won't be cold, I'm gonna enjoy this little application of pragmatism," Damien told him and the Astartes laughed lowly. "One more thing, I have a message for your gods. They fucked with the wrong universe."

Yith might have tried to say something, but Damien didn't give a fuck as he sent five bolts into the bulbous xeno, the resulting explosions tore him apart in a messy shower of limbs and organs, with no damage done to the STC to boots.

"Ain't I a kind and merciful person," Damien spread his arms magnanimously at the chuckling main characters, but his playfulness wilted when Lita shot him a reprimanding glare. Coughing nervously, Damien quickly behaved himself. "Sorry about that. Anyway, is the Yith motherfucker really dead?"

"Hang on," Lita closed her eyes and trained the Singing Spear at what little remained of Yith, the blade shimmering silver. After about two heartbeats the Mexican Warseer opened her eyes and nodded with clear satisfaction. "He's dead. I can sense nothing of his physic residue. Correct application of bullets can solve any problem it seems."

"Makes our job a lot easier, that's for sure," Damien glanced up at the vaulted ceiling, despite the gothic façade getting smeared liberally by blood and gore, courtesy of Lita's tornado from earlier, the place was more or less intact. He didn't pay much attention to the interior though, because he was more concern with the fact that everything was deathly quiet, the sort of quiet that herald the storm. Giving the place one last slow appraisal, Damien tapped the side of his awesome Astartes helm. "Henry, Erik, come in, what's the situation on your end."

"You want the professional version or the honest version?" If the strained quality of Henry's voice wasn't bad enough, the resounding cacophony of battle raging in the background more than confirmed how fucked things were. "Tell you the truth, I'm seriously having a hard time telling the two apart."

"The Lovecraftian monsters are converging on you guys," Damien deadpanned. "As in, the entire population of the slum is coming for your ass."

"And as much as I hate to say it, they're doing a good job of pushing us back," Henry admitted with a very audible groan, sprinkled here and there with pops and cracks of laspistol.

"Damien, if you're gonna pull out, you need to do it now," Erik entered the conversation, his calm timbre contrasting starkly with the raging gunfire. "The encirclement around our position are growing thicker, it'll make pushing through extremely difficult even for Astartes and Aspect Warriors. Also, according to the latest drone readings, a large contingent of Lovecraftian goons is heading straight for your position from multiple directions. In layman's term, make your choice quickly dude."

"Standby Erik, I'll get back to you shortly," Damien switched the transmission. "Yuki, come in, do you read me? What is happening up top? Which way is the fighting above swinging?"

"Badly," came Yuki's clipped reply, the Japanese exarch was calm in timbre. "We're trying to advance across the artificial landmass Nyarlathotep had summoned, and the progress is starting to stall."

"Wait, what?" Damien was taken aback by this latest update. "Why did you leave the wall and go on the offensive? Isn't it smarter to, you know, hold your ground and mow down motherfuckers who's attacking you?"

"Nyarlathotep is pulling off a summoning ritual," Laura entered the conversation boisterously. She sounded more a lot more unhinged than Yuki. "A fucking ebon pyramid just popped up in the middle of the sea and there are Titan size eldritch monsters converging on Hive Somnus. Staying still is suicide mate!"

"How do you know it's a summoning ritual?" Lita asked.

"Isha said so," Laura responded dryly.

"Okay, I'm not disputing that," Lita accepted the explanation. "What is Nyarlathotep summoning exactly?"

"Duh, his mates from the infinite cosmos of unimaginable horror," Laura shot back impatiently. "I don't know how he's doing it, but Nyarlathotep is trying to open up a fucking portal that will allow the Lovecraftian gods to manifest physically on this fucking world. And before you ask, orbital bombardment is out of the question because all of you are still under the ocean, and whatever magic Nyarlathotep is using its seriously fucking with our aiming apparatus."

"Shit, things are really fucked on your end. I'll get back to you in a minute, hang in there dude," Damien switched the transmission back to Henry. "Yo Henry, Erik, call for a general retreat and get the fuck back to the surface now, the guys and gals above need your help immediately, shits totally fucked yo."

"That's good and all, but what about you guys?" Henry asked. "Are you coming back our way, or are you using the crazy contingency plan?"

"The crazy contingency plan," Damien said. "So don't wait for us, we'll see you in a bit. Besides, it's way too late to be running back to the elevator now."

"Shit, when you're right, you're right," Henry groaned, not at all liking how quickly events were spiraling out of control. "Good luck Damien, don't you go dying on me now. All units, initiate tactical withdraw!"

"Coreth, come in," Damien contacted the former Night Lord pilot. "We need the Stormbird to extract us immediately."

"Roger that Brother Captain," Coreth responded crisply.

"Thank you captain," Damien tiled his head to the side and looked at Matuk. "Yo dude, how long?"

"Five more minutes Brother Captain," Matuk nodded at Damien. "We're just about done."

"Excellent news. Prepare to move out, hostiles are inbound," Damien put away his bolter and drew the thunder hammer again. He gotta conserve ammo for when he get back to the surface. "Henry, Erik, you guys might want to speed things up a bit. Because when the Stormbird gets here the entire ocean is gonna flood into the slum."

"The ten auxiliary elevators have been successfully evacuated, while the rest are already on the main elevator," Erik told him. "If anything, you're the last group still inside the lower Hive."

"Copy that, stay safe dude I'll see you soon," Damien terminated transmission and headed back toward the entrance, waving for Lita and the main characters to follow. "We're heading out now people, our ride is gonna be here any minute. Matuk, you done yet?"

"We are Brother Sergeant," Matuk and his posse rejoined their respective chapters, "the information within will be of great help to the inquisition, a more than substantial deterrent against the Lovecraftian gods."

"Many lives within the Imperium will be saved," Damien stated firmly as the Astartes and Aspect Warriors returned to the cathedral's courtyard, the stygian nimbus had taken on a darkly crimson hue courtesy of the many fires raging across the slum. Henry must've ordered a covering barrage before making his withdrawal. The illumination maybe limited by Damien can hear the howling of a thousand abominable voices drawing closer to the cathedral, so he turned to the main characters. "What's the situation on our ammo?"

"Enough to stall the onslaught," Gallus looked at the bolter in his hand. "I believe we have forty minutes worth of ammunition before we need to switch to close quarter weapons."

"I rather we conserve our ammo," Damien stroke his chin thoughtfully.

"I can use my power," Lita offered.

"Thanks for the offer, but we're gonna need that later too," Damien snapped his fingers then waved over Antalok and the Salamanders. "How many canister of promethium do you guys have left?"

"More than enough Brother Captain, per your orders we were extremely conservative," judging by the upward lit in his voice Antalok was more than obviously grinning. "You wish for us to create a wall of fire around the cathedral as we wait for extraction?"

"You sure you're not a Liberian Antalok, because you sure as fuck just read my mind!" Damien and Antalok traded amiable laugh. "Set the lower tier ablaze please, it wouldn't be long before the Stormbird arrive. Olatien, you and the Fire Dragons go with the Salamanders, let's see how big we can make the bonfires."

"I'm sure you'll be very pleased with the result," with the green clad Marines and the Fire Dragons, Olatien descended to the lower level. Within a minute furious blast of flame erupted around them, the roiling curtain rose high into the air, burning bright and furious around the cathedral. The Lovecraftian monsters roared, the timbre was one of anger at having been denied their prey.

"Very fucking nice," Damien commented as the Salamanders and the Fire Dragons rejoined the main characters. He was in the process of bumping fist with Lita when a twin orb of bright white neon appeared in the dark ocean outside. "And our ride is here."

The Stormbird's twin headlights slowed to a stop near the upper reaches of the glass dome, followed by scintillating flashes of combined plasma and armor piercing missiles bombardment. The kaleidoscopic flashes were muted by the distant, but Damien swore he could feel a faint vibration pounding in sync with the unleashed weaponries. He was starting to wonder how long it would take for the Stormbird to breach the Hive, the Lovecraftian horde had surrounded the wall of fire now, when the glass shattered louder than Stone Cold's entrance. There was no dramatic warning cracks snaking across the surface either, the entire structure just collapsed, the damage catastrophic judging by how wide the hole was. To make matters worse the entire ocean was rushing inside and widening the breach, the water thunderous roar was painfully deafening. By the time the Stormbird reached Damien, Lita and the main characters, a tall tsunami was already snuffing out the flames.

"That's one mighty timely arrival Coreth, thank you," Damien said as he and Lita leapt up the ramp, being the last to do so. He caught a glimpse of the Lovecraftian abominations bursting through the flame when the Stormbird took off and the ramp folded back up.

"Don't mention it Brother Captain, just doing my job," Coreth responded and the Stormbird sped up, the engine going into overdrive as it dove into the torrential breach. "Where to sir?"

"The black pyramid please."