Chapter 68: Shattering of the Illusion |
"By the Four-Armed Emperor, what in the world is happening?"
Tremors continuously rocked The Building, causing the overhead lights to flicker wildly.
The Preacher, a bald woman, gripped the railing to steady herself.
"Careful, my lady!"
A comrade tackled her to the ground. By the time she opened her eyes again, a massive slab of stone had already crushed the man who saved her.
"Oh, no."
The Preacher dropped to her knees in sorrow, staring at the man who had risen all the way from the Underhive to this very position.
"Why did it have to come to this? Why would you sacrifice your noble life just to save mine?"
"Because we are equal."
"It is my duty to save you. Not out of some hierarchy of status, nor the chains of obligation, but simply because we are comrades. Because my life could save yours."
"Yes, we are equal. Your sacrifice saves me, and my sacrifice will go on to save others. This is the noble character bestowed upon us by the Emperor."
Tears welling in her eyes, The Preacher cradled his now-lifeless head.
"Today you saved me; tomorrow I shall save another."
The surrounding workers, still busy clearing the area, could not help but turn their attention to the heartbreaking scene.
Boom!
A violent tremor from above The Dome shattered the tender moment.
Crash!
The ceiling ruptured, and the black knight plummeted down, riding the heavy, mutated bulk of a monstrous creature.
Rumble.
Rubble cascaded down, accompanied by a massive plume of toxic dust billowing from the rift—thick enough to instantly poison a small animal.
The Preacher looked up, her bright purple eyes fixing upon the pitch-black knight who had already risen to his feet.
At that exact moment, the knight also raised his gaze to look at her.
Reflected in the emerald eyes behind his Crimson Visor, The Preacher saw her own figure.
'He knows me. He wants to kill me!'
In a split second, The Preacher understood her enemy's goal.
She turned and fled.
With a deafening roar, Arthur charged straight toward The Preacher's retreating back.
The brilliant light streaming through the breach in the ceiling struck his back, casting a massive shadow ahead.
As that darkness threatened to swallow her whole, The Preacher stared at the doorway ahead, desperately trying to outrun the rapidly approaching shadow.
"Protect me!"
Instinctual panic spread from the depths of her heart. She, who had always believed she was merely one of the Savior's flock, let out a piercing shriek.
"I command you to protect me!"
Her voice carried a Psychic Scream, piercing through the smoke, penetrating the walls, and striking straight toward the comrades at the very peak of the iron tower.
Every single one of the Genestealers, previously engaged in a frenzied assault, suddenly froze.
In their perception of the world, everything around them turned utterly bizarre. The deafening roar of gunfire grew muffled, leaving only that pitch-black figure in crystal-clear focus.
In perfect unison, they turned around and sprinted toward The Preacher's location.
They moved with absolute, blinding speed, tearing their own fascia and wrenching their joints apart. The Killing Gene within their bodies fully ignited at this moment, squeezing every last drop of energy from their flesh.
It was the absolute maximum speed the Xenos could achieve by exhausting their entire potential.
But was it of any use?
Within the Mechanicus Sanctum, the Astartes who had carved a bloody path were now holding down every corridor. They unleashed a brutal torrent of firepower, blasting the swarming clusters of Xenos to bloody ash.
Inside the Administratum Hall, The Sharks surged out from all directions, butchering and dicing any Xenos that dared to impede the knight's advance.
Boom!
A gargantuan beast, far larger than any typical aberrant, lunged from behind the hall's heavy curtains—only to be violently tackled to the ground by a massive Shark who dwarfed the other Astartes.
"Hiss—"
The Preacher let out a bloodcurdling roar. Terrifying psychic energy poured from her body, fully exposing a face that was rapidly mutating under the surging power.
She had originally been a noble and elegant Ascetic, but now she wore the hideous visage of a monster.
The Pureblood!
This was an advanced entity, born only after five generations of breeding following the initial infection of human hosts. A creature capable of employing Psychic Manipulation to enslave endless hordes of Genestealers to its will.
Of course, in the presence of a Broodlord, these beings might not even be aware of their own true identity.
"Die!"
In the next moment, psychic light flared brightly.
A Psychic Blast, powerful enough to instantly ignite a human brain, slammed toward the knight.
The knight raised his Shield. Deep green Psychic Filaments crashed against its surface, instantly dispersing harmlessly. His back-mounted Plasma Thrusters glowed with an eerie blue light, propelling him forward at breakneck speed.
The scattered psychic energy hissed, frantically writhing forward just like the master who commanded it. It desperately sought to inject its searing heat into the enemy's brain, frantic to dispel his chilling aura of death.
But it could not touch him.
No matter what, it simply could not connect.
It was as if—
He was untouchable?
For a brief moment, The Preacher couldn't find a better way to describe it.
Why would he be untouchable?
Clang!
Her consciousness hesitated for a mere fraction of a second, but the knight had already torn through the light, arriving right before her.
The Blade chopped toward the alien's skull, only to be deflected by psychic energy. The Pureblood instinctively lashed out with its razor-sharp claws, but the moment they breached the Force Field, they were mercilessly severed by the flashing steel.
It yanked its bloody stumps back in agony. While psychic spells continued to rumble and bombard the path ahead, the remaining Genestealers swarmed forward fearlessly.
Even as they were torn limb from limb by The Sharks, they spat mouthfuls of bloody froth, throwing themselves into the meat grinder just to buy The Preacher a few precious seconds.
But The Preacher no longer had a second chance to escape.
The solid shield smashed into the psychic Force Field, shattering the spells completely. The Backpack behind him spewed trails of blue flame as the black knight plowed the Pureblood straight into the Plasteel Plates on the load-bearing pillar.
The Blade thrust forward, its tip flashing with a disruption field. It pressed relentlessly against the very edge of the Force Field, a mere inch away from skewering The Preacher's skull.
Sizzle—sizzle—
In this brief, brutal deadlock, The Preacher burned through all of her psychic energy. She stared wide-eyed at the longsword mere inches away, as the arcing light radiating from its power field began to lick at her carapace.
It focused even more intensely.
For the sake of survival, it had no choice but to push its focus to the absolute limit.
Crack—
A fragile snapping sound echoed out as the Relic Shield crashed directly into the carapace on The Preacher's body.
Its psychic energy could no longer maintain an omnidirectional defense.
!!!
Before The Preacher could even react, Arthur abandoned the Blade, whose forward trajectory was still being halted by the psychic barrier. Channelling his full strength, he drove a seemingly ordinary straight punch right at its head.
Bam!
Bulging muscles erupted with desperate, life-preserving power. The creature grabbed the ceramite-encased fist, forcefully redirecting the lethal straight punch so it slammed into the right side of its head instead of the center.
Clang!
The punch, grinding through flesh and bone, smashed into the plasteel behind it. The two were pressed flush against each other.
Had it somehow survived the fatal blow?
But was it truly over?
Just as The Preacher prepared to launch a counterattack, emboldened by its survival, it realized something horrific. The Blade—the black sword that should have plummeted to the ground under the pull of gravity—was now tightly gripped in his left hand, the edge already resting against its throat.
Whoosh!
In that split second, the vector nozzles of the Power Pack pivoted, spewing out azure flames and propelling the knight into a violent spin.
The Blade sank inch by inch into the Pureblood's throat, slicing through tissue and cleaving through bone, before finally leaving a long, deep gouge in the plasteel wall behind it.
The knight spun to the ground, snatching the shield out of the air before it could fall, and seamlessly reattached it to the mounting slot on his left arm.
Clink!
A crisp echo rang out, resounding throughout the entire Administratum Hall.
Behind him, amidst the lingering smoke and dust, a headless corpse slumped to its knees.