Day 299, 986, 41st Millennium
Upper Hive
Front Line, Near the Main Elevator of the City of Hive
Shortly after the appearance of the heavy tank Benblade, piloted by Gensteeler, many PDF soldiers panicked. But before they could react, the Benblade inflicted devastating damage on the PDF forces. Its heavy machine guns easily wiped out infantry, and its massive front gun destroyed one Lemanrus tank and several infantrymen with a single shot. The main turret's gun was equally terrifying; a single shot destroyed the Lemanrus, inflicting severe damage. The metal armor warped from the gunshot, a large hole was found in the hull, and the turret was gone. But the PDF forces did not stand idly by; they engaged immediately, even though many of their weapons were ineffective against the tank's thick armor, and they lacked powerful Lemanrus tanks like the Lemanrus Executioner with its massive plasma cannon or the Lemanrus Vanquisher with its high-penetration combat gun.
Seeing that the PDF were at a disadvantage, the Gensteeler cult exacerbated the situation by sending in more infantry and tanks.
Father Samael gritted his teeth in frustration. He glanced left and right, then charged at the Benblade tank, ignoring the incoming bullets and Gensteelers.
The battle, which should have ended quickly and victoriously, dragged on, the situation worsening, and morale plummeting, though mostly high. The PDF forces were still holding on, but they couldn't last much longer if the situation continued.
_____________________________________________
Eric ran swiftly through the wreckage of tanks from both sides, finally pausing to catch his breath behind a detached tank turret. He took the opportunity to survey the chaotic battlefield once more. His eyes slowly… swept across the bloodshed around him.
'Breathe in… breathe out… Don't panic… Don't panic,' he murmured repeatedly to himself, trying to control himself and prevent himself from panicking too much. But now, he was curled up, trembling with fear, behind the tank construction site, his gun gripped tightly.
Everything he saw confirmed the madness of this dark future world. The wreckage of PDF tanks and mutants littered the battlefield. Some tanks were torn apart by the massive cannons of those giant tanks. The lifeless bodies of PDF infantry lay scattered, some with faces contorted with fear, but most were filled with hatred and fanaticism, their bodies too mutilated to be recognized as human.
In the distance, he saw Chaplain Samael shouting praises to the Emperor before charging into a tank, ignoring the artillery fire, machine gun fire, and the charging mutants. The other space marines, witnessing this, were powerless to do anything but stand guard, providing cover for their comrade.
In Eric's mind, this was a brutal and bloody battle. The four days of fighting to reach this point, this Elevator Fortress, had cost countless ordinary lives. Throughout the battle, he knew that advancing block by block in the city could cost the lives of dozens of soldiers, depending on how strong the defenses were. And the fight for this massive elevator would likely result in massive casualties; in Eric's opinion, if he could download an estimate of the death toll, it would be in the thousands, at least...
_How did I get to this point?_ Eric thought wearily. He remembered the feeling of seeing the disgusting, pus-filled green zombies, the fear and surprise of the Tech-Priest who looked like something out of a cyberpunk movie, the disgust at the Genestealer (alien and mutant), and the dread of the Chaos Cultists he'd encountered before. Everything was an extreme manifestation of the darkest imagination.
(And he wouldn't count that blue-armored, tentacled space marine; that bastard was a nightmare for him.)
Initially, he managed to reach the upper floors, which were far better than the lower ones. ...If he survived, he would have a more comfortable life and a better future... if nothing went wrong... And now... this giant tank had appeared, blocking the path to victory that seemed so close... If they destroyed this tank... If they seized this elevator... the advance wouldn't be halted, victory would come sooner, and the lives of the survivors might be safe... including his, who might have a better chance of survival.
Eric's gaze swept over the giant tank once again. Its main gun continued to fire at the remaining PDF tanks, causing another tank to explode into a massive fireball.
Suddenly, Eric saw Chaplain Samael, having run through the artillery fire and successfully closing in on the tank. Eric watched the scene intently, his eyes wide with hope. Could this space marine be able to destroy this giant tank?
Chaplain Samael climbed onto the tank, ignoring the barrage of laser beams and assault rifle bullets wielded by the mutants. But that didn't slow him down at all. Chaplain Samael climbed onto the tank's turret, grabbed the gunner's head, and crushed it in one blow like a watermelon smashed by a hammer. He then stood up and pulled something from his belt. It was a grenade, and judging by its color, it was a Krak grenade, an armor-piercing bomb powerful enough to destroy even enemy armored vehicles... though it only killed the crew inside and didn't inflict further serious damage.
Eric and several others witnessing this were encouraged and about to rejoice that the tank was about to be destroyed.
But just as Eric was about to witness the spectacular scene, Chaplain Samael suddenly twitched and stopped, surprising everyone. His hand had gone limp, and the grenade had been released. The bomb missed its turret and instead ricocheted off, severely damaging one of the last cannon turrets and rendering it unusable.
"Horus!!!!" Chaplain Samael roared, his voice filled with hatred, before charging behind the lines and charging into the horde of mutants. He began slaughtering them with his bare hands, displaying extreme brutality—so much so that one might not have seen Chaplain Samael tear a large alien in two with his bare hands.
"What the hell is going on?!" Eric thought to himself, extremely confused and anxious. What just happened? Why did Chaplain Samael suddenly go berserk and savage like this? Right when they were about to win! It's unfair and illogical!!!!
"Die traitor!!!!" Chaplain Samael roared, using both hands to crush the large alien's head with his hammer, then slamming his backhand into another mutant, sending them flying several meters away. He was now covered in bullet wounds and his armor was severely damaged. As everything became chaotic, the mutants began to lose their composure due to the rampaging Chaplain on their front lines.
Seeing this, the PDF forces immediately retaliated. They tried to take advantage of this opportunity, but were still hindered by the massive tank.
_I should go back and rejoin the others,_Eric thought to himself. But when he turned around and saw several PDF soldiers running back to rejoin the line of fire, only to be shot dead by their own side, he immediately abandoned the idea.
_Damn it._Now he couldn't find a safer place. On one side was a horde of mutants ready to kill him, and on the other side were groups of extremists ready to kill him as well.
Eric looked behind him again and saw that those PDF soldiers were filled with anger, hatred, and rage. The mutants were no different... He looked at the many soldiers again, thinking about the lives lost on their way to this elevator. Everyone lost their lives fighting against the evil mutants who wanted to kill and slaughter humans, or worse. Even though many of them were just civilians, and some were thugs... they fought with courage, or the closest thing to courage they could muster... And then he turned to look at himself.
Eric admitted that perhaps he was being selfish and paranoid (Writer's note: The selfishness part is probably just his own... but the paranoia is real). But what he did wasn't evil, and he didn't intend to hurt anyone directly. He was just scared and confused by this brutal place. He simply wanted to survive. Eric glanced at the tank again, then back at the PDF's defenses, which were slowly crumbling like earthen embankments eroded by water.
_Damn it!! I can't retreat!! There are mutants in front, and fanatics behind—_ Eric thought to himself, clutching his head in stress.
Eric slowly lowered his hands and took a deep breath as he made a decision... He wanted to cry, laugh, and pity himself for making such a decision...
It was probably the stupidest decision he'd ever made.
Then his gaze fell upon the underside of the tank, a component that didn't seem to be as heavily armored as the rest of the giant vehicle. He began processing the information rapidly. He tried to recall the basic knowledge of vehicles and mechanics he had before coming to this world.
"...Its armor must be so thick that even the tank's main gun can't do much damage to it. The weapons I have now are no match for it... Unless... and oh..." Eric muttered to himself, ignoring the fierce and bloody battle outside. Suddenly, he noticed a small piece of damage to the turret of the Lass Cannon, destroyed by Chaplain Samael's explosion. The hole was large enough for him to see everything inside from a distance... and large enough for him to throw a tank-destroying grenade! Or maybe use an anti-tank rocket or other anti-tank weapon to finish it off from this range.
He looked at the area filled with corpses and wrecked tanks around him. Most were destroyed Leman Russ tanks. Some had bent cannons, others had missing tracks. But then he saw something that sparked an idea in his mind.
Eric picked up his Lass Pistol and stared at it for a moment. He knew he was a good pistol shooter, but in this situation, it wouldn't be very useful. He pulled out the pendant with the Mechanicus symbol from his pocket, then silently prayed to the Emperor for something he thought didn't exist, seeking courage and morale.
Finally, he saw a large bomb on the soldier's body. It was as big as his thigh and undoubtedly incredibly powerful.
Without hesitation, Eric grabbed the heavy bomb, clutching it tightly, and started running! He held a pistol in his right arm and the bomb in his left. It wasn't a graceful run, nor a heroic sprint, but a crouching, weaving traversing the rubble as best as his Flak armor and exhausted body could manage. He moved along the gap between the Space Marine fire and the wreckage of the destroyed PDF tank.
"Oh my god! What possessed me to do this!?" he yelled to himself, dodging flying metal plates from the explosion.
"I should have crawled away! I should love myself more! Damn it!" Eric shouted, his body scrambling as he ran and dodged the wreckage. Every step was a rapid assessment of risk. He zigzagged, dodging behind wrecked tanks when enemy fired... heading towards the gap created by the Space Marines clashing with the Genestealer Hybrids.
Whoosh! Bang!
Laser and machine gun fire from the Cultists surrounding the Baneblade tank began raining down on him. He was the only moving target separated from the group. Eric's eyes widened in genuine shock. He had never been the center of attention like this before. And a target for small arms fire and bullets at that! And he hated it!
"Damn it...!" he groaned, his face pale beneath his helmet.
But then... the gunfire changed! Several laser rifles from the PDF rear began firing at the group of mutants aiming at Eric. Some PDF soldiers, noticing this reckless act, either out of admiration or pity, decided to provide him with covering fire.
The sound of the cannons and the sight before him filled him with fear. This surge of adrenaline made Eric feel lightheaded. The mix of courage and panic propelled him faster. He lunged towards the giant tank, which was slowly rotating its turret to find a new target.
But near the Baneblade's tracks, the heat from the engine and the crushing sound of the tracks were deafening, making it impossible for him to communicate with himself. A number of mutants were guarding it, and he couldn't destroy the tank as long as they remained.
Eric drew his laser pistol, aimed, and fired with a speed that even a well-trained human couldn't follow with the eye. He instantly killed five mutants. Now he was in a good position. He didn't care that he was in the shadow of a massive tank with a huge cannon that had just inflicted devastating damage on the PDF forces. With trembling hands, he quickly released the safety pin of the grenade he was holding.
"Hurry! Hurry!...Take this!!! For the Emperor!!" Eric shouted, praising the Emperor, and pulled the time-delay fuse! Before swinging himself and throwing the grenade with all his might, aiming for the weakest or least unarmored target.
Luckily, the grenade Eric just threw was a Melta grenade, and even luckier, it landed perfectly in the gap left by the damage caused by Chaplain Samael's Krak grenade.
Without hesitation, Eric lunged to the side at maximum speed, but he only managed to move less than 10 meters.
BOOM!!!
The explosion was louder than any cannon fire he had ever heard. The Melta grenade had exploded right in the tank's ammunition storage area. The Baneblade tank was destroyed from within its turret, sending it flying tens of meters into the air. The shockwave slammed into his small frame. Eric's condition was immediate. His Flak armor couldn't withstand the close-range blast. Eric felt like he'd been hit by a truck; his body was uncontrollably thrown into the air. A sharp pain shot through every fiber of his being. The chaotic battle unfolding before him distorted into a fiery red before everything went dark and silent. The Baneblade tank was destroyed, and the PDF forces had advanced rapidly, regaining the advantage. As Eric's body crashed to the ground, he lay motionless.
_____________________________________________
Lower Hive
Amidst the corpses of chaos cultists lying scattered and the lingering smell of Bolter gunpowder, Argus of Alpha Legion, clad in his signature blood-stained sea-blue armor, stood staring at the processing screen on his detector. The green light from the screen reflected on his helmet. Beside him, Warpsmith Vatheg Mechadendrites was hacking into the wreckage of the machinery in the ceremonial chamber.
"The signal is still stable... Vatheg, are you really sure that idiotic planet governor was 'lucky' enough to acquire this level of Xenos technology in a single transaction through a Rogue Trader? This kind of thing shouldn't have fallen into the hands of corrupt nobles on a fringe planet like this," Argus asked uncertainly, tapping his fingers on the detector periodically.
"Lucky? Hmph... There's no such thing as coincidence in this universe, Argus. The data I've pulled from the soul-machine network confirms it's some kind of Necron technology that's still highly stable and functional. I don't care how it got here." "I only care that it becomes part of my killing machine," Vatheg said in a hoarse, metal-crushing voice from behind his mask, as he focused intently on what he was doing.
"But is it worth the risk? The deeper we go, the riskier it becomes. The lower levels could be teeming with Genestealers... and you know how dangerous they are." Argus peered down into the dark crater of the Under-hive.
"Afraid of the Xenos, Argus?" Vatheg asked with a hint of sarcasm.
"I'm not afraid of them, but I'm thinking about another 'variable'... A strike group from Deathwatch was sent down before us. Information says there are only four of them. Their goal is clear: to recover that technology and eliminate the Genestealer Patriarch to stop the invasion." Argus replied with a slight chuckle. In truth, he knew how terrifying they were, especially the Genestealers.
"Hmph... Four of the Emperor's pups, and those Xenos in their own territory." "Do you think they'll survive?" Vatheg replied, which was actually quite reasonable. Who would send only four people on such a dangerous and life-threatening mission? The mission was unlikely to succeed, or at least had a very low chance of success.
"That's the point... The Deathwatch aren't likely to survive. No matter how skilled they are, facing the Patriarch in such a confined space is practically suicide. But what worries me is, if they make a mistake and cause an explosion or destroy that technology before they die, we'll waste our time." Argus didn't know how to argue, so he put away his detection device and checked his Bolter before offering another suggestion.
"Then we need to get down there faster than they die... Let the Deathwatch be the decoy, drawing the attention of the insects, while we go in to reap the benefits from the wreckage of both sides. For example, find any surviving space marines, and have the Chaos Sorcerer extract information from their memories. Since they were assigned this mission by the Inquisitor, they should have more detailed information than we do. After that, we'll implant new memories into them and have them report to their master that there's no such Xenos technology as claimed... If we do this, we won't be..." "The inquisitor is hunting while we've already obtained what we want... I'm truly a genius," Vathek said with a slightly conceited tone. His machandrite began to move rapidly, preparing for battle.
"A wise choice... Then let's go, before all of the Imperial servants become food for Xenos," Argus said jokingly before the two burst into soft laughter.
______________________________________________
Under Hive
Hakron's labored breathing echoed through his cracked armor. Thick red blood seeped from the gaping wound on his now empty left arm. The systems in his armor struggled to inject painkillers and blood thinners, causing him to feel a scorching heat coursing through his body. He tightened his grip on the Lightning Claw in his right hand. Flashes of turquoise electricity flickered in the blood-red eyes of Genestealer Patriarch, the colossal monster towering over the corpses of his Deathwatch comrades.
'If I had insisted on getting eight more men, or even a support team, we wouldn't end up in this filthy pit,' Hakron cursed inwardly, cautiously backing away. His mission was a complete failure. His teammates were all dead, and he was about to die too. As Patriarch crouched down, preparing to deliver the final blow,
suddenly, a Bolter gun roared from the surrounding darkness. Bullets slammed into the Genestealer minions surrounding him, mangling their flesh. The muzzle flashes forced Hakron to squint.
"Space Marines? Reinforcements?" A glimmer of hope flickered in his mind, though he was skeptical, as there were no other Space Marine groups in this area besides their own. That hope vanished instantly when he saw dozens of warriors in bluish-green and sea-blue armor emerge from the shadows. They wore no chapter insignia he recognized, only the intricately carved Hydra patterns.
Alpha Legion...
"Retreat! You heretics!" Hakron tried to raise his lightning claw in defiance, even though his body was severely wounded and near death. He wouldn't let them get their way; the traitors deserved to die. But suddenly, the air around him began to distort, and the stench of ozone and sulfur was nauseating.
"You've fought enough..." "Servant of the Emperor," a whispered voice, tinged with mockery and teasing, seemed to emanate from within his own skull.
Wrapsmith Vatheg and another warrior stepped forward, with a mysterious cloaked figure advancing. The Chaos Sorcerer, his fingers moving in the air, unleashed a wave of dark purple energy that bound Hakron, rendering him immobile. Even his Power Armor rumbled in protest under the pressure of his psychic power.
"Argus... deal with that Xenos. I will 'deal with' the memories of this Emperor's servant myself," Sigmund, still using his psychic powers to restrain Hakron, said in a low voice. Hakron's eyes widened as he watched Argus approach the injured Patriarch with a calm but unhurried pace. As the Chaos Sorcerer drew closer, his gloved hand touched Hakron's helmet. A massive surge of psychic energy assaulted his mind like a thousand needles.
He struggled to resist what was being done to him, praying to the Emperor. He tried to resist their invasion of his mind, but he couldn't... he was too injured to do so, and he had been utterly defeated.
The reality began to distort... the image of Alpha Legion was erased, replaced by emptiness. The image of Necron technology was reduced to worthless scrap metal.
"Listen to me... you came here... you found it was a misunderstanding on the part of the planet governor... what the Rogue Trader brought was expensive junk... you and your team have successfully eliminated the Patriarch, even at the cost of your brothers' lives... you are the sole surviving hero... return and report to Corvin Hale in this manner..." The mage's voice echoed in Hakron's shattering consciousness. Hakron's awareness faded, and the last sound echoed in his ears before everything went black...
_____________________________________________
Hive Spire
A bloodcurdling scream, barely human, echoed through the soundproofed interrogation room. The stench of burning flesh mingled with a faint smell of sulfur. Inquisitor Korvin Hale stood motionless, one hand gripping the plasma gun at his waist, the other adjusting a knob on the control panel of the neuro-excruciator.
Before him stood the Star Governor, once clad in luxurious silk garments, now tattered and his body covered in burns and bloodstains from intense interrogation. He thrashed about in his restrained chair, tears and snot streaming down his contorted face, consumed by extreme fear.
"Please... Inquisitor! I don't know! I swear!" the Governor screamed. "I just wanted to collect oddities and rare items... That Rogue Trader said it was just... just ancient works of art!" The Star Governor's excuses were futile.
"A work of art?..." Inquisitor Korvin Hale repeated the words in a voice colder and more terrifying than a shout. "You brought an object, an artifact and technology of Xenos, into the territory of the Imperiam. A metal coffin with green electrical circuit patterns... Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I don't know what might be inside? It could be nothing but useless junk, or technology capable of erasing this planet in an instant!"
"I don't know! I thought it was just an empty coffin! I... Aaaargh!" Hale twisted the knob again, sending a direct electrical shock to the governor's nerves. Another scream of pain rang out.
"And now... because of your greed, the Genestealer Cult stole it and sent it into the Underhive. If 'that thing' awakens, or if those human scum know how to activate it..." "Death would be the greatest mercy I can offer you...who knows what lies ahead?" He tried to explain to the planet's governor, hoping he wouldn't do this again...even though he wouldn't get a second chance.
Suddenly, an alarm sounded from the Servo-skull hovering beside Inquisitor Korvin Hale's shoulder. Its mechanical eyes blinked rapidly.
"Contact from Deathwatch assault unit. Code: Hakron."
Inquisitor Korvin Hale froze, stopping abruptly. He turned his back on the governor, who was breathing heavily. Worry was evident in his eyes. This mission was far too risky. Sending only four men into the Geenstealer Patriarch's lair to kill him and recover such a high-level artifact was reckless. But he had no choice; the other space marines were divided up for other combat and missions.
"Connect the line," Inquisitor Korvin Hale ordered sternly.
A blurry hologram appeared in mid-air, revealing Hakron, his armor heavily damaged and his left arm missing. Blood seeped through the cracks in his helmet. The Space Marine's breathing was heavy and hoarse.
"Inquisitor...mission...completed...Alpha-level Xenos target...Genesealer Patriarch...eliminated." Hakron's voice trailed off.
Inquisitor Korvin Hale held his breath for a moment, his heart pounding.
"And the artifact? The Necron Coffin?" he asked, his voice slightly softer, at least his subordinate Space Marines wouldn't blame him, and there might be good news.
Hakron was silent for a moment, as if processing newly overwritten memories. "We found it...in the beast's lair...my team...all my brethren...sacrificed themselves to clear the way for me to reach it..."
"Hakron! Report the status of that object immediately!" Inquisitor Korvin Hale demanded, his fists clenched.
"It...is nothing, sir...it's a fake...or its power core has been removed centuries ago...it's just an empty metal coffin..." "No energy reaction... No dangerous technology... Just junk that Rogue Trader tricked into buying for that fool..." Hakron replied with a strangely confident tone, lost in that false memory.
Inquisitor Korvin Hale sighed heavily. The heavy feeling in his chest was almost halved, replaced quickly by relief. Although instinctively skeptical—an empty coffin? Such a huge investment for junk?—the report from Deathwatch, the most honest and only survivor, was the best evidence right now.
"Understood, Hakron... You did well... I salute your fallen brethren. Their sacrifice protected this planet." Inquisitor Korvin Hale spoke in a slightly softer tone.
"Hold your position. I will order the tech marines to bring the Overlord to you now."
Inquisitor Korvin said in a low voice before the communication was cut off. He stood still for a moment. A fleeting sense of grief over the loss of four Space Marines who had served him for so long flashed through his mind. (Writer's note: And those were all Space Marines from chapters with rather questionable reputations.) But as an Inquisitor, the outcome was paramount... The threat was eliminated, and the artifacts were just a misunderstanding. He slowly turned back to the planetary governor, who remained trembling in his chair. A cruel smile reappeared on Inquisitor Korvin Hale's face.
"It seems you're telling one truth, Governor... it was indeed just a worthless collectible... But..." Inquisitor Korvin Hale slowly approached the planetary governor, asking a thought-provoking question... but certainly not in this situation.
"Your audacity in engaging in the trade of Xenos technology, bringing catastrophic risk to the planet Imperium... the crime has been committed, and there is only one punishment."Inquisitor Korvin Hale slowly approached the planet governor, intending to ask a thought-provoking question… but certainly not in this situation.
"Your audacity in trading Xenos technology and bringing catastrophic risk to the planet Imperiam… the crime is complete, and there is only one punishment." Inquisitor Korvin Hale said, slowly and lightly unlocking the plasma gun from the holster on his belt.
"No! No! You said it's safe! Spare my life! I'll give you everything!" the planet governor cried, panicking, his despair and fear evident.
"…The punishment is death…" Inquisitor Korvin Hale said in a cold, emotionless voice, raising the gun and aiming it at the governor's forehead.
Whoosh!!! Bang!!!