The ground shook beneath Fenrik's boots as he charged forward, bolter raised, senses sharp. The fog of war was thick, muddy, and reeked of burnt flesh and something far worse, something unnatural. He snarled, tasting the foulness on his tongue. Lasgun flashes and Ork shouts filled the air, but somewhere beyond, something even darker prowled.
Then he saw them – daemons, thousands of them, crawling and slithering, spilling over the battlefield like a flood of rot. Blue horrors, pink horrors, shapes that defied reason, sprouted from nowhere, twisting and gibbering, mouths where limbs should be, eyes gleaming with malice. He tightened his grip, his gauntlet creaking, eyes narrowing beneath his helm.
One of the daemons – a bloated, roiling thing that squirmed as if full of worms – scuttled toward him, its gaping maw wide. Fenrik fired, his bolter rounds tearing through it, but the beast only laughed, its form twisting, flowing around the impact like oil. It lunged, claws swiping. Fenrik sidestepped, then drove his fist forward, smashing through the daemon's face. His armor hissed as its blood sizzled upon impact.
The daemon crumpled, but in its place, two smaller, shrieking horrors appeared, eyes glinting. He cursed, leveling his bolter again, sending round after round into the swarm.
Behind him, a deafening roar shattered the air, and he whipped around, spotting a massive Ork Nob charging into the daemons with reckless abandon, its choppa swinging wide, hacking through limbs and torsos, ichor spraying across the ground. The greenskin grinned, yellow tusks gleaming, barely sparing a glance at Fenrik as it tore through the horde.
Fenrik's lips twisted in disgust, but there was no time to think – another daemon lunged, all teeth and claws. He slashed it apart with his chainsword, the weapon's roar matching the Ork's gleeful war cry. Around him, his fellow Wolves were locked in their own brutal battles, surrounded by horrors. They fought with a fury born of desperation, their battle cries lost amid the screeches and howls of the daemons.
A flash of light erupted behind him, bright and blinding, and he glanced back, just in time to see entire portions of the battlefield vanish, erased by some unnatural force. He gritted his teeth. The white-haired Curse User – he was the one behind this. This destruction. This chaos. Fenrik could see him in the distance, a figure draped in black, laughing as he moved through the carnage, his presence warping the very ground he walked on.
A daemon lunged at him, pulling his focus back. He swung his chainsword, cutting through flesh and bone, ichor splattering his armor. Another creature closed in, its limbs writhing, mouths opening in a twisted, mocking grin. Fenrik roared, smashing it aside with his fist, his teeth bared beneath his helm.
To his left, he saw another Wolf overwhelmed, buried beneath a mass of pink horrors, their claws raking across his armor, teeth gnashing. Fenrik charged forward, shoulder-checking a daemon, clearing a path, but by the time he reached his brother, it was too late. The daemons had ripped through his armor, his lifeless form slumping to the ground as they pulled him apart.
Rage surged through him, hot and unyielding, and he felt the familiar, primal call of his blood rising, his heartbeat pounding like war drums in his ears. He would make them pay. He'd tear each of these abominations apart.
Ahead, a massive blue-skinned creature loomed, its body covered in feathers, its talons dripping with fresh blood. The creature spread its wings, eyes glowing with a malevolent light, staring directly at him. Fenrik took a step forward, bracing himself.
Before he could act, the Ork Nob from earlier crashed into the beast, choppa swinging in wide, brutal arcs, its roars echoing like thunder. The daemon shrieked as the Ork's blade tore through its flesh, splattering the ground with sizzling ichor. For a moment, they fought side by side – wolf and greenskin, both lost in their bloodlust, both united by the simple act of survival.
The blue daemon recoiled, clawing at the Ork, but the brute only laughed, batting it aside and driving his blade deep into its chest. Fenrik wasted no time, lunging forward, chainsword revving as he struck, his blade biting into the creature's spine. The daemon screeched, its body writhing, its form collapsing under their combined assault until it was nothing more than a bubbling pool of ichor.
The Ork Nob looked at Fenrik, tusks bared in a fierce grin. "Nice cut, humie!"
Fenrik sneered but said nothing. They didn't have time for talk. Another wave of horrors surged toward them, clawed hands stretching, fangs bared. The Ork roared, charging into the fray with wild, unhinged laughter. Fenrik followed, his chainsword raised, his body moving on pure instinct.
Together, they tore through the horde, their movements in sync – one swinging wide, the other striking precise. Daemons fell in droves, reduced to piles of writhing flesh and ichor, yet more kept coming. They fought, back-to-back, surrounded by a storm of claws and teeth. The Ork took a blow to the shoulder, blood spurting, but he only laughed harder, the pain fueling his frenzy.
Another flash lit up the sky, and Fenrik looked up just in time to see the white-haired Curse User again, his hand raised, fingers forming a strange symbol. The ground trembled, and in an instant, a massive section of the battlefield disappeared, wiped clean. Dozens of Guardsmen, daemons, Orks – all erased as if they'd never been.
A cold fury settled in Fenrik's chest. This was more than war. This was slaughter, a one-sided massacre orchestrated by a monster who cared for nothing but his own amusement.
Beside him, the Ork grunted, glancing over at the destruction.
"Dat humie's mad as squig juice," it muttered, shaking its head before charging back into the daemons, swinging wildly.
Fenrik tightened his grip on his weapon, his jaw clenched. He couldn't fight that curse-user, not now, not alone. But he would fight these daemons. He would hold his ground, here, in this blood-soaked mud, alongside this crazed greenskin if that's what it took.
A creature lunged at him, its face splitting into dozens of fanged mouths, and he swung, severing it in one clean strike. Another beast with twisted limbs and multiple eyes lashed at him with serrated claws. He sidestepped, driving his chainsword into its side, feeling the crunch of bone and sinew.
For every daemon they cut down, it felt like two more took its place. Yet he kept moving, the rage in his veins an unquenchable fire, each swing of his weapon punctuated by a growl or a snarl. He was a Wolf, and he would not yield, not to daemons, not to orks, and certainly not to the damned Curse User laughing in the distance.
The Ork, still laughing, bashed a daemon's head in with a single, brutal swing, then looked over, tusks gleaming. "Dis is a good scrap, eh humie?"
Fenrik ignored him, focused on the swarm in front of him, his breathing heavy, his muscles aching. His armor was streaked with ichor and blood, dented, but he didn't care. This was a fight, raw and unfiltered, the kind he was born for.
But still, even as he fought, he couldn't shake the image of the white-haired figure in the distance, erasing lives with a flick of his hand, a grin on his face.
A blur of movement forced Fenrik's attention back to the battlefield. Another daemon, this one lanky and with elongated claws dripping with a sickly green venom, lunged at him from the side. He swung his chainsword upward, the teeth biting into the daemon's arm, severing it with a wet snap. The creature shrieked, writhing as its limb dissolved into the mud.
The Ork beside him bellowed, bringing down his choppa in a wild arc that cleaved two more daemons in half. The ground shook beneath their feet, each impact sending up sprays of tainted mud and ichor. The Ork laughed as he fought, a manic gleam in his eye. It made Fenrik's skin crawl. This wasn't just combat to the greenskin; it was sheer, reckless joy.
A flash of blue lit the sky, and for a brief second, the entire battlefield went silent, save for the low hum of cursed energy. Fenrik didn't need to turn to know who was behind it. The Curse User. That damned white-haired heretic who moved through the chaos like a specter, untouched by anything around him. Fenrik watched in horror as the beam of energy expanded, ripping a massive swath through the ranks of both daemons and Space Marines alike.
Bodies folded inward, crushed by an invisible force, their remains scattering in the wind like dust. Fenrik's fingers tightened around his chainsword. He could feel the heat from the energy, the wrongness of it. Even with all his training, all his conditioning, a chill ran down his spine.
The Ork beside him spat on the ground, shaking his head.
"Dat humie's the craziest humie I've ever seen." he muttered, his eyes still wide with battle-lust. "He knows how ter fight tho."
Fenrik wanted to laugh, but the sound came out more like a growl. The Ork wasn't wrong. The Curse User was no god, but he wielded power that made even the Warp-born horrors seem tame.
More daemons surged toward them, drawn to the living warmth of Fenrik's and the Ork's blood. They came in waves now, their bodies twisting and contorting, mouths opening and closing in an endless chorus of screams and laughter. He felt his heart hammering in his chest, the rage keeping him moving, keeping him from buckling under the onslaught.
"Stay close," he barked, his voice a sharp growl that even the Ork seemed to heed. The greenskin grunted, falling into step with him as they tore through the daemons side by side, their weapons biting into flesh and bone. For the first time, Fenrik felt a strange sort of camaraderie with the brute, both of them fighting in a hell that neither could understand.
The ground rumbled again, and suddenly, a towering horror loomed over them. A beast with wings of fire and a head like a bird's skull, its eyes burning with a sickly green light. The creature spread its talons wide, casting a shadow over both of them.
The Ork glanced up, a manic grin spreading across his face. "Let's smash this one, yeah?"
Fenrik didn't respond. Instead, he raised his bolter and fired, his shots punching into the daemon's chest with a burst of foul-smelling ichor. The creature screeched, its wings flaring as it took to the air, circling above them like a predator sizing up its prey.
The Ork howled, leaping forward with his choppa raised. "WAAAAGH!"
The daemon descended, its talons outstretched, ready to tear them apart. Fenrik braced himself, bolter still aimed. The Ork leapt, his choppa swinging wide, and for a brief moment, he actually managed to land a blow, severing one of the daemon's wings. The creature screeched, twisting in midair as it plummeted, thrashing in the mud as it tried to rise.
Fenrik took his chance. He lunged forward, chainsword roaring, and drove the blade deep into the daemon's skull. Its shriek faded, the body convulsing before slumping, lifeless, into the mud. He withdrew his chainsword, ichor splattering across his armor.
But there was no time to celebrate. Another pulse of blue energy lit the horizon, and he glanced up, his heart sinking. The Curse User was still there, cutting through the battlefield with brutal efficiency, erasing humans and xenos alike with that twisted power of his.
The Ork followed Fenrik's gaze, squinting at the distant figure. "We gonna do somethin' about dat one?"
Fenrik's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. Every instinct screamed at him to charge, to face the heretic, to tear him apart. But he knew better. He'd seen what that power could do. Even a dozen Space Wolves might not stand a chance, not with that damned energy.
"Not yet," he muttered, voice low, his eyes still fixed on the figure in the distance. He could barely make out the Curse User's expression, but he could sense the mockery in that grin, the pure, unadulterated arrogance.
Another daemon leapt at them, pulling his attention back. He swung, his chainsword tearing through flesh and bone, even as his mind lingered on the Curse User. Somewhere deep in his gut, a fire burned, hotter than anything the battle could stoke.
He would find a way.
AN: Chapter 60 is out on (Pat)reon!