Chapter 84: Welcome to the Inferno |
Warriors bled, and Sisters wept.
These devout daughters of The Emperor, with hot tears in their eyes, peeled away the desecrated skin of the warriors, applying Holy Oil and Purity Seals onto the blood-soaked Black Carapace.
A body tainted by Chaos was incredibly dangerous when exposed to its dark energies; the slightest lapse in concentration could lead to forced possession.
The warriors closed their eyes in meditation, whispering low vows of vengeance.
Soon they would step into the Forge World, entering the sector known as the Calculation Array. There, they would slaughter the Word Bearers, slaughter the abhorrent Daemons, and slaughter every single enemy in sight.
Shadows continuously descended from the clouds above. The planet's anti-air defenses fired relentlessly, their munitions plunging into the dense, ashen rain clouds, only to ripple weakly against the onslaught.
The Tyranid Swarm had already begun its planetary landing. Magnified, those grey raindrops were revealed to be drop pods, each packed to the brim with lethal organisms.
"Karna, head back,"
Rameses instructed. "If Romulus comes under too much pressure, someone needs to hold the line."
But now, the plan had changed.
"Understood."
Karna nodded, leading the Space Sharks and Black Templars directly away.
As for the remaining warriors—
The Sisters of the Bloody Rose sought a glorious death, hoping to perish alongside these warriors.
The members of the Inquisition were driven by duty; they could not rest until they saw the prime culprits judged with their own eyes.
The Transmigrators chose not to stop them. They respected human rights, but they also respected the fates that others chose for themselves.
All they could provide were the blades of war, steering this conflict toward a victorious conclusion for their side.
Hiss—
As the radically modified exterminator armor enveloped their bodies and the thermonuclear reactors radiated blistering heat that scorched the air, the ninety-nine warriors of the Nemesis gained a brand new skin.
Phosphex weapons finished their assembly. The massive vortex weapons could now be wielded single-handedly thanks to the overwhelming power provided by the armor, and the super-combustion plasma ignited with the brilliance of a neutron star, reflecting in the flame-lit eyes of every warrior.
A path lit up on the tactical terminals. The flashing data stabilized in sync with the rising temperature of the reactors, pointing directly to a specific location within the Forge World.
"Avoid the path of the extermination squad. You are authorized to maintain your distance."
Arthur turned around and slowly drew his black sword. The Dreadwing weapon squad, controlled by Romulus, followed closely at his side.
"This operation is different from the past."
Aglaia raised an eyebrow. She recognized the sheer danger of these weapons and knew full well that the Codex Astartes forbade any Chapter from possessing them.
Yet she refrained from asking questions, simply leading her team behind the Nemesis forces.
[740M41-P am16:13 - Location: Piedmont Prime - Underhive Forge World Connection Node]
[Mission Objective: Destroy the Daemon ritual being conducted by the traitorous Inquisitor.]
"Tactical plan—"
Arthur paused, staring ahead. He narrowed his eyes, a chilling light flickering within them.
"Kill every enemy in sight!"
The Hive City spires behind them began to fade into the distance. As the Avengers set foot upon the steel hills choked with flesh, they were immediately greeted with a grand reception.
Tyranid organisms crawling from inferior spawning pools, mutated beasts, Daemons, the very flesh stuffed into mechanical structures—the entire machine world roared, frantically swarming the living intruders before them.
In return, the Avengers reciprocated their enemies' greeting with the utmost enthusiasm.
Without Arthur needing to issue another command, these warriors—inheriting the traditions of the Ultramarines Devastator Company—expertly deployed a squad of Nemesis to push the frontline.
The vortex weapons activated instantly. Vortices bloomed across the vanguard, violently shredding everything within their radius into fragments until the enemies were dismantled at the molecular level.
Monsters surging from all directions mindlessly threw themselves into the churning maelstroms. They used countless bodies of flesh and blood to neutralize the storms' effects, pressing on until the vortices weakened, right up until the second Nemesis squad unleashed their volley.
Phosphex weapons spewed blinding white flames. It was as if battleship engines had been placed directly in front of the enemy, incinerating both metal and monster alike into a grey mist.
Arthur and Rameses observed the carnage, occasionally employing their own martial prowess to eliminate enemies blessed by the Evil Gods who managed to briefly withstand the bombardment. Their eyes were filled with nothing but appreciation.
Compared to the Dreadwing squad under Romulus's control, they were just as formidable.
Whoosh—
The sky was choked with ash and smoke from incinerated flesh. The cold, pitch-black Avengers marched relentlessly forward.
Faint outlines of wreckage remained on the ground, but as the bloody, metallic wind scoured the empty husks, even those traces vanished completely.
Unlike other tactical doctrines, the Dreadwing's method of warfare sought pure, unadulterated destruction. There would be nothing worth salvaging on the paths they tread, and the enemies they faced would leave no remains.
Ten thousand years ago, this force was mockingly dubbed the Dreadnought Reserve by their old rivals, the Space Wolves.
Their combat capabilities were so overwhelmingly dominant that their mere appearance practically guaranteed victory—while also guaranteeing that the assaulted area would be reduced to scorched earth.
As a result, Dreadwing warriors rarely died in combat.
Instead, the warriors who operated these Exterminatus weapons would completely lose their bodily functions within decades due to radiation and various complications. Ultimately, with total tissue necrosis, they were forced into Dreadnought Sarcophagi, waiting within Stasis Fields for their final glorious burn.
Even their Dreadnoughts were the most berserk among all the Chapters.
Absolute cruelty, igniting themselves along with the entire world.
"Savior, is that you? Savior."
The blazing inferno came to a halt.
Within the ranks, the mage hovering in mid-air froze. The advance paused, and the knight lifted a steel plate.
There was a mouth embedded within the Wall of Flesh, and its eyes hung from the ceiling above.
He was lucky; both his eyes and his mouth were left exposed.
And he also had a hand.
A hand draped over the knight's arm guard. The scorching temperature seared the flesh, yet the hand did not let go. Instead, it clung tightly to the knight's arm, as if entirely oblivious to the pain.
Or perhaps he could no longer feel pain of this magnitude?
"Ah, I feel peace. My Savior, O Emperor, please take me away. I feel the peace of my comrades. Please take me away!"
The voice screamed shrilly. That soul infected the others mashed together with him, and the Wall of Flesh immediately let out a piercing shriek.
The mangled flesh lunged toward the knight. They wanted release, and so they attacked.
They only wanted to die!
To die in peace.
As the exterminator squad resumed spraying their phosphex weapons, the twitching masses of flesh finally fell still.
"Ah, thank you. Thank you, my Savior."
The data at the bottom of Arthur's vision shifted, though it did not quite match his usual readings.
"Savior."
Arthur shook his head, suddenly finding the word incredibly ironic.
Even with their transcendent power and their ability to isolate the influence of the Warp, they were still powerless to change the fate of these lives.
Was delivering death truly considered a Boon?
He had just witnessed Chaos's humiliation of humanity's heroes, and now he beheld its cruelty toward ordinary civilians.
Truly...
Chaos really deserved to die!
Arthur quietly clenched his fist, crushing the remnants in his hand into fine powder.
In the past, these people might have toiled under a Slave Master on a feudal world, or struggled as mere Gears in the factories of a civilized world, but Chaos would not even grant them the chance to survive in such misery.
They were melted down into monsters by Blasphemous Rituals, hovering on the border between life and death in endless agony, only to suffer torment at the hands of Daemons once they finally passed.
It was a truly sorrowful sight, one that filled the heart with profound depression and ignited a singular desire—
To kill.
To mercilessly slaughter all the malice that brought about such senseless suffering.
The deeper his loathing, the calmer his mind became, for mere hatred could no longer adequately describe this emotion.
"Apologies. I shouldn't have interfered,"
Rameses's voice rang out. He shouldn't have secretly offered Divine Protection to those Souls, exposing his companion to such a cruel scene.
Moreover, he had utilized a certain trait of his comrade to isolate those agonized Souls on such a massive scale.
Otherwise, those Souls wouldn't have called Arthur their savior.
"No, you did the right thing. You did exactly the right thing."
Arthur smiled, leading the squad as they resumed their high-speed advance.
"Whether they are Adeptus Astartes or ordinary people, their worth is assigned by this universe, but their lives intrinsically hold no distinction in nobility or baseness."
"As for us... for us, this world still has room for mercy. All I know is how to swing a sword, how to lead others to swing their swords with me, and how to watch why others swing theirs."
"And as for you, just do what you must."
Brilliant golden eyes widened slightly as the mage looked at the knight who had always isolated himself from the entire world.
"...I understand."
'We all live in the past, but you are the one who cares about the past the most.'
'So much so that the influence of the present can never even touch you.'
Rameses withdrew slightly, feeling far more confident about this operation.
'Do what is within our power. Do what we will not regret.'
As for the result?
Arthur didn't know.
He much preferred focusing on something productive.
Like sending every monster in his line of sight straight to hell.
Hundreds of meters were covered in an instant.
Within the labyrinthine Forge World, the Avengers moved, burning a path of nothing but ash straight toward their destination.
The Battle Sisters and the Inquisition Guard, clad in anti-radiation gear, ignored the potential dangers to provide supplementary firepower for the Emperor's Angels.
They bypassed no traps. They dodged no enemies.
They were slaughtering as many foes as possible, spilling as much blood as they could.
In the eyes of the Warp Daemons being crushed beneath their boots, a scalding mist of intermingled gold and crimson swirled around their forms.
The mouths and eyes on the walls shrieked that it was the Emperor's Wrath.
The trampled Daemons wailed that it was the Blood God's Roar.
The all-consuming squad advanced over the ashes, guided by a singular purpose as they let out a roaring battle cry.
"Vengeance."
"Vengeance!"
——
"It is time for us to leave, Grand Inquisitor."
Within the Forge World's Calculation Array, The Leader of the Word Bearers' Terminator Squad spoke to the old man who was still glaring at the instruments.
He had been waiting for this Inquisitor to initiate the ritual, using it to open a Rift so his subordinates could complete their transfer and escape this accursed place.
But this Inquisitor was too greedy, too ignorant. He sought to use the accumulated suffering of humanity to bargain with the Evil Gods, completely unaware that the Dark Gods delighted in such spectacles.
For every additional second of agony endured by the trillions of souls turned into mechanical stuffing, the Evil Gods savored even more delicious despair.
Now, The Leader could firmly conclude that this Inquisitor, who called himself The Seeker, was nothing more than an idiot blinded by ambition.
Whether this ritual would calculate the answers The Seeker desired or serve some entirely different, sinister purpose was impossible to say.
He might as well go hide in the planet's core with those morons trying to possess bodies using Tzeentch's Sacrificial Ritual.
"...Get lost!"
From amidst The Altar adorned with six Aeldari Archon's Heads, the Inquisitor, striking a contemplative pose, shot the Chaos Traitor a sidelong glance.
He constantly preached his faith in the Imperial Truth, yet he wielded a Daemon Weapon in his hand and bore the twisted, mutated growths of Chaos on his body.
If he hadn't wanted to avoid unnecessary complications, he would have executed this mutated traitor long ago.
'Look at him, trapped on the precipice of Chaos, entirely blind to his own depravity.'
They turned their backs to each other simultaneously.
'Yes, I am but a man, yet I stand above the petty tricks of the gods. I never bow to their will. I merely use their power pragmatically and with purpose, rather than succumb to their influence.'
They thought in unison.
"We need to leave."
Returning to his Warband, The Leader gave the order.
"Why?"
The Adjutant asked, bewildered.
"We are no match for those Lackeys of the False Emperor,"
The Leader murmured. "Those are the Dreadwing's armaments. We do not have sufficient firepower, our ammunition reserves have always been at the bare minimum, and we are in no condition to win this fight."
He had spent years painstakingly assembling this Terminator Company to prove that they could survive without relying on Chaos or the Imperium. He wasn't about to throw their lives away here.
"We can!"
The Adjutant roared. "If you would just stop forcing the False Emperor's curse upon us! If you would let us embrace what rightfully belongs to us!"
"No!"
The Leader turned around, speaking with icy resolve.
"Never bring this up again! We will not be enslaved by the False Emperor, and we certainly will not be enslaved by the Dark Gods!"
"What enslavement?!"
The Adjutant shoved The Leader's arm aside and struck him hard with a brutal punch.
"Have you seen the Chosen? Have you seen the Possessed Marines? What do you see in them?"
Before The Leader could answer, the Adjutant continued with manic fervor, "I see power!"
"If we only opened our hearts to serve them, we would have gained a thousand times our current strength long ago! You all know I'm right."
"..."
An unsettling silence took hold.
The Terminators exchanged glances, none of them uttering a word.
"...You are dragging this entire Warband into an Inferno!"
The Leader gritted his teeth. These fools, their brains thoroughly rotted by Warp energy, had forgotten who gave them the standing they held today.
"We have always been in an Inferno!"
Before The Leader could react, The Adjutant thrust his hand forward with impossibly blinding speed.
Squelch!
He looked down. A dagger entwined with writhing flesh had pierced entirely through his body.
'A Daemon Weapon... it's my Daemon Weapon...'
The Leader opened his mouth. For an Adeptus Astartes, such an injury would normally be considered a minor flesh wound, but at this moment, he found himself utterly unable to speak.
A grotesque, exaggerated smile twisted the corners of The Adjutant's mouth.
"Welcome to the Inferno, Leader."