Chapter 77: Step Behind Me, Lady |
If there truly was a hell in this world, then the Mutants currently crawling out of the Underhive Rift were displaying its exact image right before their eyes.
Yulia watched the hideous creatures in sheer horror. The moment these organisms, previously thought to exist only in urban legends, swarmed into the Hive City, they thoroughly slaughtered the Refugees who had been squatting around her home.
Afterward, the Sorcerers wielding Bone Staffs performed a Blasphemous Ritual on the corpses.
Bloated tissue exploded from the dead bodies and clung to the Mutants. These wicked creations burrowed into their flesh, and amidst agonizing wails, birthed a horde of twisted monstrosities.
"Don't look."
Price's hand covered Yulia's eyes. The familiar warmth calmed her panicked heart ever so slightly.
"Pack your things. It is time for us to leave."
"Okay."
Yulia helped Sophia quickly pack some Ration Packs and water, along with a Pistol for self-defense. She then went back into the room, broke the picture frame, and tucked the Family Photo safely into her embrace.
Meanwhile, Price continued staring out the window at the encroaching shadows of the cultists. The fact that they were brandishing the impaled bodies of Refugees, skewered from bottom to skull on spiked bone tridents, clearly declared that this Block had already fallen into their hands.
For some unknown reason lately, activity in The Community had visibly decreased, practically vanishing altogether. At the same time, in the fringe areas where their home was located, cultist activity had become increasingly rampant.
There was a brief period when Price even heard the firing of an Imperial Baneblade, though he had subconsciously dismissed it as a hallucination.
He silently pulled himself back from the window, enduring the sharp pain in his chest as he inserted a magazine into his Crude Bolter. Taking one last look at Erica, who had already put on her blindfold, he led the girls through the emergency exit toward another Block.
They navigated through two Blocks with practiced ease, moving through an area Price had already scouted. However, before he could even offer a prayer of thanks for the Emperor's Blessing on their smooth journey, disaster struck.
Or perhaps, this was Fated.
With just a casual, inadvertent glance, the Sorcerer who now shared his worldview with demons spotted a shining Soul amidst the ruins.
It was round and smooth, much like a piece of amber cast from pure white resin.
"Catch them!"
The emptiness and ravenous hunger from deep within his soul urged him to shout. His command echoed like a shrill whistle, sending the twisted creations and Mutants at his side sprinting frantically forward.
Bang!
A bolt round blasted out, shattering half the body of an evil entity. Forcing through the agonizing pain in his back, Price yelled,
"Run! Run down the main road and do not stop!"
Yulia took the little girl to lighten Sophia's burden, and the two immediately broke into a desperate sprint.
Price then tried to raise his weapon again, but the piercing pain radiating through his entire chest prevented him from standing straight.
Left with no choice, he abandoned the idea of a fighting retreat. Instead, he rested the barrel on a broken pillar with one arm and laid down continuous suppressive fire against the enemy.
By this time, three Mutants had already closed the distance. The one leading the charge sported two distinct faces and possessed a ridiculously muscular build.
He preemptively took down the two slightly thinner enemies with explosive rounds, then fed the final two bolts in his magazine right into the massive Mutant's torso.
A sledgehammer caked in gore and flesh swung down with unstoppable momentum.
Enduring the severe pain, Price rolled to the ground just as his Crude Bolter and the stone pillar were both pulverized into fragments.
If this had been twenty years ago, Price was certain he could have effortlessly slaughtered this Chaos scum. But now, he was old and badly injured.
"Come on, you Chaos filth."
Standing roughly five meters away from the "Beast", Price slipped his Short Blade behind his back.
"My death will take you with me."
The "Beast" nodded numbly and prepared to lunge forward.
Just as Price prepared to make his final stand, another twist that had absolutely no business appearing in his fate suddenly materialized.
Riiip!
A dense hail of bullets formed a solid line, shredding the towering behemoth into bloody mist. An intersecting web of crossfire rapidly carved out a dead zone, barricading the charging cultists on the outside.
Price snapped his head around.
Heavy transport vehicles were rolling in one after another, positioned straight down the center of the road. Their mounted artillery cannons rained fury upon the surrounding Heretics.
But the most eye-catching sight of all was the towering figure standing near the middle of the convoy.
"It is an Angel, it is the Emperor's Angel!"
Yulia let out a soft cry of absolute delight.
Price, however, did not show much joy on his face.
Though the colors were unfamiliar, he had a very deep impression of the insignia etched onto that power armor.
Especially from the times he had witnessed them feasting on corpses across the battlefield.
Sigh...
Price could not help but sigh inwardly. He lamented why fate always played such cruel jokes on him. Why, when all his comrades of the same age had passed on, was he left alone to guard the treasures they had left behind, struggling on a planet half a Galaxy away from home?
"Move closer! Get closer to their convoy!"
He shouted with the very last ounce of his strength before collapsing to the ground.
At this point, taking a gamble was their only option.
He stared fixedly ahead, completely ignoring the bone javelin thrown by the cultists that violently pierced his thigh.
He wanted to see how this would end. He could not accept his and his comrades' treasures being so easily snatched away.
"Damn you, you have taken away my most perfect prize!"
The distant Sorcerer let out a piercing shriek. A surging torrent of dark magic gathered in his hands and was hurled straight toward Yulia, who was still clutching the little girl.
"No!"
Price screamed in pure despair.
A towering shadow suddenly cast itself over the fleeing Yulia.
Clang!
The demonic magic struck the pauldron, biting a jagged notch into the metal and causing The Angel's massive frame to shudder.
Only then did Yulia realize that she had just brushed shoulders with death.
"Step behind me, lady."
The Angel did not turn around. That broad, unyielding back stood between Price's family and the abhorrent evil, standing tall like an impregnable fortress wall.
He raised his weapon. Muzzle flashes ignited the air, instantly followed by an overwhelming barrage of suppressing fire.
And that was the final conclusion Price saw.
"I am not dreaming, am I?"
Blinding lights pulled Price back to reality. He gently rubbed his chest, which no longer held a trace of pain, and observed his surroundings.
There were Ecclesiarchy Enforcement Squads patrolling everywhere, an orderly crowd, a hall that was not exactly spotless but was by no means chaotic, the fragrant aroma of food, and the fresh bandages currently wrapped around his chest.
The ones who had rescued him were a squad of Armed Zealots deliberately patrolling the edges of the upper hive, tasked with gathering those who were still displaced.
Everything felt incredibly surreal.
The brightness in his vision suddenly increased slightly.
Price glanced back and noticed that the young man who had been standing in front of him had bolted away as if fleeing for his life.
He hurriedly stepped forward and sized up the figure sitting upright in the chair. Aside from having turned into an Old Geezer, every single feature perfectly matched the Commissar from his memories.
Price often lamented the sheer vastness of the Galaxy, a vastness that prevented him from returning home. Yet sometimes, he could not help but marvel at how incredibly small the Galaxy could be—to the point of Meeting an Old Friend in a Foreign Land.
"You cut the line."
Staring at the roster in his hand that was not even a third full, Commissar Alex of the "Broken Sword" spoke without even lifting his head.
He was in the middle of a recruitment drive, enlisting soldiers to serve as Auxiliary Forces assigned to operate the non-critical elements of every Tank Crew.
Because the Cadian forces had now completely transitioned into Heavy Armored Units, the physical requirements for soldiers were not overly demanding. What mattered most was a resolute will to fight, something strong enough to ensure they would not make critical errors while reloading or aiming under fire.
"The kid in front of me could not handle your pressure."
A scarred and heavily wrinkled hand slid a torn piece of yellow fabric forward.
"Armageddon Steel Legion, 141st Regiment. John Price."
The Commissar looked up, his eyes landing on an old man wearing a faded yellow trench coat.
The elderly man simply stood ramrod straight in front of him, meeting the Commissar's terrifying gaze without a single shred of fear.
"Price?"
The Commissar asked again, testing the waters.
"It has been a long time, Alex."
Price chuckled. Running into a familiar face so far from home instantly eased the long-standing tension that had been gripping his nerves.
The Commissar checked his watch, left a blank spot on the registration form, and motioned for his Old Comrade to wait to the side. It was only after finishing another two hours of registration and screening that he finally handed the duties over to The Adjutant coming to relieve him.
"It has been a long time."
Leading him to the edge of the formation, the Commissar extended his hand.
Two equally aged and weathered hands clasped firmly together.
"It really has."
Noticing the Commissar's graying, mottled hair, Price could not help but sigh.
"The ageless Commissar has finally grown old."
"My great-grandson is older than you,"
the Commissar shot back with a faint smile. He flipped open his cigarette case and asked, "How did you end up here?"
"After an expedition ended, our unit suffered catastrophic casualties. The remaining few hundred of us were not considered worth the extraction costs, so we were dumped here. I missed out on the good times when you were around."
Price chuckled as he held out his hand. A Tech-Priest approached, using an Instrument to draw a single drop of blood. A moment later, a blue light flashed on the device.
This signaled that he had passed.
It was a Gene-Scanner capable of detecting humans infected by the Genestealers. Within this massive sanctuary holding millions of the Imperial Populace, every person underwent such testing on average once a day.
Suddenly, Price felt that this old Commissar belonged right here.
Price rubbed away the bead of blood seeping from his fingertip.
In his mind, even the best possible outcome for his family would have been countless times worse than their current situation.
Price then pushed away the cigarette the Commissar offered him.
"I quit smoking and drinking."
he stated flatly.
"Settled down with a family?"
The Commissar promptly stubbed out the cigarette he had just lit.
"Yeah. My wife passed away early, so she did not have to experience this awful mess. She left me a daughter named Yulia. She always hoped I would live a long life, so much so that I have managed to outlive all my old buddies."
Price's smile was laced with self-deprecation.
"Though I do not know if I should call it lucky or unlucky, it seems I will actually get to die on the battlefield in this lifetime."
"Sir, you failed the test. Please step aside!"
Just as the Commissar was about to say something else, a commotion drew their attention.
It was a young soldier arguing vehemently with The Adjutant.
Judging by his uniform, he belonged to the local Planetary Defense Force.
The Piedmont Prime Planetary Defense Force had been scattered during the initial skirmishes. Because their high command had already been infiltrated by Genestealers, the entire force was deliberately thrown into the most brutal sectors of the battlefield to eliminate any potential threat they might pose to the brood.
"I was part of the Reconnaissance Company in my batch. I believe my professional skills are more than sufficient for this duty."
"We evaluate more than just professional skills, sir,"
The Adjutant said, staring coldly at the young man. Noticing the way the soldier instinctively averted his gaze, The Adjutant sighed inwardly.
'With someone this hesitant, how can you expect him to pull the trigger and save your life when you are fighting demons?'
"If you merely wish to serve the Imperium, you can enlist with the Ecclesiarchy's Armed Zealots or the Enforcement Squad. They offer decent treatment as well."
As soon as The Adjutant finished speaking, a middle-aged man pulled the young soldier aside.
"My name is Skjold. I am a technician, highly proficient in using las-weapons."
The Adjutant maintained eye contact, his falcon-like gaze devoid of any emotion.
"What do you fight for?"
The middle-aged man stared indifferently right back into The Adjutant's eyes.
"For my family."
"Very well. You are enlisted."
Meanwhile, the young soldier who had been shoved aside nervously tugged at his cuffs, as if trying to hide something, or perhaps merely displaying pure panic under pressure.
When he heard the word "family," his expression visibly darkened.
The Commissar narrowed his eyes.
"Cornwall!"
Price shouted abruptly.
The young soldier looked up in pleasant surprise, but that joy was quickly eclipsed by panic, causing him to freeze right in his tracks.
"Uncle Price."
he called out uneasily. However, Price's next words instantly restored his joy.
"Sophia is here. You can go see her."
"Where is she?"
Cornwall asked, completely thrilled.
"In the engraving section of the Holy Sanctum. She is there making steel rubbings."
Price yelled, "Remember to report your identity and your relationship with Sophia to the Sisters, unless you want to end up strung up on an execution rack!"
"Understood!"
Cornwall hurriedly turned around and vanished into the bustling crowd.
"There is something wrong with that boy. You need to send someone to tail him,"
Price muttered in a low voice to the Commissar.
The Commissar remained noncommittal but secretly made a quick hand gesture to his subordinates.
"He is unfit to be a soldier. His heart is utterly consumed by confusion, and he has far too many Bonds. He lacks purity and strength."
the Commissar assessed critically.
"Yeah, the kid was never cut out to be a soldier. The only reason he became a fighter at all was for Sophia."
"Exactly how many kids do you have?"
"I cannot help it. My buddies all passed early. How does that Chogorian slang go again? A Fated Lone Star, destined to bring ruin to his comrades."
Price chuckled bitterly at his own expense.
"Where were we?"
"Regarding the recruitment of the Astra Militarum Auxiliary Forces."
The Crusade Force boasted massive numbers. These Armed Zealots and mobilized civilians were capable of maintaining order and stabilizing the defense lines. While no one expected them to face Chaos head-on, they could still fight off Xenos and Heretics, at least holding out until actual Fighting Forces arrived.
This considerable reserve of Combat Power had successfully achieved Liberation for the Guard Militant and the Cadian armored regiments.
These highly mobile forces were now relentlessly assaulting areas in the lower hive where the Word Bearers were suspected to be hiding, as well as the forge worlds that had been choked with corrupted flesh. Inevitably, they were sustaining heavy casualties.
After a grinding half-month of severe losses, the Cadians had no choice but to begin drafting fresh recruits.
Fortunately, in these circumstances, purely mechanized units did not demand exceptionally high physical fitness. This allowed them to cut down on the screening process and easily absorb retired veterans who had already been forged in the fires of war.
As long as they could fire their weapons at the Chaos Traitors with a steady mindset, they were useful. If enlisting one auxiliary could achieve Liberation for a single Cadian, moving them to a combat station operating heavy armor, it was considered a victory.
"Count me in."
Price said. His voice was completely calm, sounding as if he were oblivious to the fact that they would soon be stepping into an absolute Inferno of a battlefield.
"You will die."
The Commissar stated it as a simple, unvarnished fact.
If he died, his treasures would lose a father's protection.
"I know."
Price had only one reason for standing here.
His and his comrades' treasures were now safe. As for himself, an old soldier who had long since fulfilled his obligations—
For the Emperor, and to defend this Sanctum that housed his precious treasures, it was time to pick up his gun once more and serve the Emperor to the bitter end.
The two men looked at each other.
Everything was understood without a single word being spoken.
Just like the old days.