Chapter 83: Stand Up, Let Us Take Revenge |
Boom!
Just as Domenico waited with absolute confidence for these successors to fall into his trap, a torrent of fire spewing from a heavy volkite cannon completely shattered his dreams of victory.
As if he were directly facing the sun, the air was torn apart with a piercing echo.
He felt the oncoming scorching heat as the thermal torrent completely swallowed the gathered Word Bearers. The sheer force of the air scoured away the flesh from their bodies like a tempest, causing their breathing and heartbeats to drastically slow down in its wake.
Domenico's eyes suddenly snapped clear.
'Wait, is our weapon the Exterminatus Weapon, or is yours?'
He widened his eyes, only to see a mass of twisted metal undulating with the tremors upon the magma surface at the far end of the fortress. Not far away, a Blade-Flyer was turning its cannon, aiming at the next location it needed to strike.
'And how did you even bring a Blade-Flyer in here?'
'Is the path to the fortress even as wide as its tracks?'
'And is this level of firepower supply something that contemporary Adeptus Astartes, restricted by the Codex from using heavy vehicles, can even command?'
Domenico subconsciously felt that this group must be their old rivals in disguise coming to mess with them. He hastily glanced around, only to discover that The Broodlord had already disappeared.
Rameses sensed the Word Bearer's astonishment and sneered. Who had the time to play fair with them? So what if the space was narrow? Their weapons and equipment could be materialized on the spot.
They were not Role-Playing Fundamentalists anyway. With their abilities, who in their right mind would fight a grueling street battle like this?
They would try to make the process as reasonable as possible, but they certainly would not let that process restrict their actions.
Following that, he handed control of the materialized Blade-Flyer over to Romulus, while he himself was swallowed by a psychic rift, moving to assist his companions in encircling the Genestealer Broodlord.
"No Pity! No Remorse! No Fear!"
Orlando charged zealously at the vanguard, trampling across the lava. His majestic Battle Cry boomed from his vox-grille, vibrating the very air around them.
In the past, The Priest would always warn him on the communications channel to keep his voice down. Now that electronic communications were unusable, he could finally shout to his heart's content.
He had the clear and precise command from the Elders, and thankfully, that eyesore Tyberos was nowhere to be seen.
That massive guy had been left behind to guard Lord Romulus. After all, Lord Romulus's melee combat abilities were...
A bit hard to put into words.
He certainly was not weak, but calling him truly strong felt like a stretch. He seemed to lack something; at the very least, quite a few people had managed to beat him in the first three duels.
"Only The Emperor!"
He roared, swinging his Power Hammer to deflect a Warped Chainaxe chopping toward him, smashing the traitor into pieces along with the weapon.
Then, he leaped into the inner walls of the fortress. The Acheron Terminator armor perfectly complemented his martial prowess and physical constitution, allowing him to slaughter the Word Bearers who had been left staggering by the volkite cannon's shockwave. He tore through them as if there was no one there to stop him.
"Is my Divine Protector!"
The Black Templars followed him with fervent enthusiasm.
Only The Priest remained calm, observing their surroundings and constantly using the words of the Elders to pour cold water on the hot-blooded warriors.
Sometimes, The Priest truly felt that he and the Marshal should swap positions.
'A bunch of useless trash!'
The Broodlord's brain began to scream.
Looking at those Word Bearers being slaughtered like livestock, she could not understand what kind of madness had possessed her to grant Divine Protection to these useless creatures.
"Trash, absolute trash!"
She muttered to herself. It was one thing for several hundred of them to harbor ulterior motives, but they could not even manage basic communications. They finally gathered together, only to be wiped out by a single blast. They boasted of fighting for ten thousand years, yet they did not even know what equipment their ten-thousand-year-old enemy possessed.
She had not seen a single shred of their contract fulfilled, and now her so-called allies were practically all dead.
Had she known earlier, she would have taken this fortress deep into the planet's core and waited for the Master of the Stars to leave before considering her journey to other worlds. Now, she could only take the risk of rebuilding her Psychic Link, and then drag those captives out to use as a threat...
Her train of thought was instantly interrupted as a familiar presence approached from behind.
She fiercely snapped her head back, throwing up one of her left arms.
Whoosh!
A Power Lance hurtled from afar, violently slamming into her Force Field. Amidst the twisting friction of colliding energies, the weapon continuously dug deeper inward.
However, the hurled Power Lance was destined to be a Rootless Drifter. After a brief advance, its momentum ceased.
But the very instant the spear stalled, the sprinting crimson angel crashed ruthlessly into the tail of the weapon.
Clang!
The Broodlord subconsciously attempted to use her psychic powers to deflect the strike, only to spot a black sword sweeping in from behind. Forced to immediately reallocate her psychic energy, the entire monster froze stiff in place.
"Caught you."
In that fleeting moment of stalemate, a hand silently appeared behind her and pressed against the carapace on the back of her head. In that instant, The Broodlord felt her Psychic Link with her brood become infinitely clear.
"All is dust."
Accompanied by a heavy sigh echoing deep within her soul, the surging power from The Empyrean began to spread across the network, accurately pinpointing every single node within it.
Synaptic Meltdown.
Under the astonished gazes of the cover team, the brains of the Genestealers across the entire fortress ignited simultaneously. The extreme heat incinerated their brain tissue, reducing the abominable Xenos into silently screaming Burning Skeletons one by one.
"Well done, brothers."
Casually tossing aside the fully cooked body of The Broodlord, Rameses, having obtained the information he desired, was the first to turn around.
At the same time, he spoke to Orlando and the others who had just concluded their battle.
"Stand by your current positions now that the battle is over. Do not wander off alone."
"Yes, my lord."
Orlando replied.
He then locked his eyes onto the Sorcerer, a vile creature that evoked pure disgust the very second one laid eyes on him.
This damned Sorcerer kept repeating, "This is not the Five Hundred Worlds..." "Why isn't Lord Perturabo here..." "Why are the Thousand Sons here..." "How can these old relics still be alive..."
Orlando swung his Power Hammer. The words of Chaos were nothing but blasphemy, dripping with foul betrayal.
He focused intently on his entranced opponent, taking a mere three strikes to completely shatter the traitor's skull.
——————
The clamor of war was slowly fading as the three of them stepped into a massive Altar.
"..."
The three of them stared at the scene before them, instantly rendered speechless and choking on their words.
Whenever they felt the Imperium was rotten enough, Chaos always managed to show up at the perfect time to remind everyone that things could be much worse.
This was an Altar constructed entirely from Flesh Pulp and Minced Meat. Scattered within it were humans who had their skin flayed and their eyes brutally gouged out. Every conceivable occult torture involving demonic possession could be witnessed here.
And upon the high platform of The Altar...
Adeptus Astartes, stripped entirely of their armor and clothing, were strung up high on the suspended beams. They were hung as if they were no longer human beings, but mere livestock waiting for the slaughter.
The facial organs of every single warrior had been viciously carved out, leaving their exposed, still-pulsing brains to declare the horrifying truth that they were still alive.
Directly beneath these mutilated warriors, on a floor slick with their dripping cerebrospinal fluid, exactly ninety-nine Adeptus Astartes were bound by heavy chains to the Steel plating. Their bodies were completely covered in crawling, heretical runes.
"..."
The three of them took a deep breath, deeply regretting the fact that they had eyes at all.
Rameses forcefully slammed his staff into the ground. Brilliant golden flames completely swallowed the Adeptus Astartes who were too far gone to be saved, sending their Souls directly to The Golden Throne.
He then wielded his psychic power to shatter the chains, freeing the warriors who had been marked for demonic possession. Tearing open a spatial Rift, he made a show of pulling out large robes, using his telekinesis to drape the fabric over their exposed bodies.
Arthur and Karna quickly stepped forward, supporting the weakened warriors and helping them to their feet.
"My lords..."
A warrior of the Nemesis Chapter looked at the knights before him, then down at his own body wrapped in the simple robes. Instantly, tears streamed down his face.
The three transmigrators remained entirely silent.
This was the first time they had ever seen an Adeptus Astartes shed tears.
At the same time, they knew exactly what these Adeptus Astartes had lost.
Honor, Dignity... everything that defined them as Adeptus Astartes had been completely defiled.
Even though they had survived, their gene-seed would never be used again. Neither they nor their Chapter would ever allow the slightest taint to corrupt their lineage.
"Take them away first. The fleet has already engaged the Tyranid Swarm, and the Ground Defenses need to contract."
Romulus's voice rang out over the comms.
"Understood."
Karna helped the warriors to their feet.
"We will leave first."
"My lords..."
The Nemesis warrior stared at the iron hooks that had impaled his fallen brothers. His legs—legs that would have never knelt to weakness under any circumstances—now refused to stand, no matter how hard he tried.
"..."
Arthur silently turned around, grabbing Rameses by the arm and dragging him away.
"Did you find out where the Old Inquisitor is?"
"I've caught all the Souls of those Word Bearers. We just need to sift through them to find the ones who know his whereabouts,"
Rameses replied. "I need the anchor points of their physical bodies to do so."
"Alright, I'll help you look."
Arthur quickly accompanied Rameses back to the battlefield.
"The one in charge here was a Chaos Sorcerer of Tzeentch."
Rameses replied after crushing a few screaming Souls in his grasp.
"Got it."
Under the utterly bewildered gazes of Orlando and the others, Arthur hauled up the headless corpse of the Sorcerer. Rameses quickly used the physical remains to confirm the identity of the Soul he held in his hand.
"Found him."
Rameses immediately transmitted the extracted information to Romulus, who quickly processed it and sent a designated route map straight to Arthur.
"Romulus, rally the Sisters of Battle and the Inquisition. I am requesting the deployment of Dreadwing Exterminatus Weapons."
Unlike The Angel, whose combat style was pure and unadulterated...
There were six distinct combat doctrines designed around Arthur, completely mirroring the organizational structure of the Dark Angels' six wings.
"Request granted."
Arthur moved swiftly to the control core of the incinerator and fully opened the massive dumping vents leading to the upper levels of the Hive City.
Having done all of this, Arthur returned to The Altar.
"Stand up."
He commanded the fallen warriors of the Nemesis Chapter.
Dozens of Dreadclaws plummeted from the sky. They punched straight through the massive gap created by the shifting modules of the Hive City and slammed brutally into The Altar, completely obliterating the blasphemous ritual runes etched into the floor.
CLANG!
The heaven-shaking tremors finally jolted the Nemesis warriors from their spiral of despair and self-loathing.
Clack—
The deployment pods—relics of a bygone era that no longer belonged to the modern Imperium—slowly unfolded. Housed inside were genuine Exterminatus Weapons. They were suits of Exterminator Power Armor pushed to their absolute limits; terrifying combat gear that, once donned, would instantly place the wearer's very life on an irreversible countdown.
"Stand up, sons of vengeance."
Arthur tightly gripped his sword, a blazing fire igniting within his cold, stern eyes.
"Let us take our revenge together!"