The underhive of Valthrex Prime festered like an infected wound, a labyrinth of decay carved beneath a dying world. In a crumbling refuge of scavenged plasteel and flickering lumens, Thaddeus Valen stood as a crimson sentinel, his Blood Angels armor battered by the ceaseless grind of war. The air was thick with the stench of rust, rot, and the acrid tang of ozone-a prelude to the Necrons' relentless advance. Beyond the jagged threshold sprawled a wasteland of shattered hab-blocks, their skeletal remains silhouetted by the sickly green glow of Necron pylons stabbing through the ash-choked sky. This was no sanctuary; it was a grave, and they were its last embers of defiance.
Thaddeus's twin hearts hammered beneath his chitinous shell, a rhythm of resolve amid chaos. His hand brushed the Crimson Veil, an adamantium cape draped across his shoulders, its weight a constant reminder of his oaths-to Sanguinius, to the Emperor, to the brothers who had fallen. He turned his gaze inward, to the refuge's dim interior, where Cassian knelt beside a battered auspex, its cracked screen spitting fractured data, and Vorn loomed like a wounded beast, his left arm a grotesque fusion of scrap metal and chanisword-a testament to their desperation-forged ingenuity.
Their armor was a mosaic of survival, ceramite patched with scavenged scraps, yet their spirits burned undimmed. Thaddeus's voice cut through the oppressive silence, sharp and unyielding. "Cassian, Vorn-we move at dawn. The Thunderhawk in Sector 7-G, Hangar 13, is our lifeline. We reach it, we secure it, and we tear free of this xenos tomb."
Cassian's head snapped up, eyes gleaming with fierce clarity despite the exhaustion etched into his face. "The auspex gives us a sliver of hope-minimal Necron patrols at first light. Speed's our only ally."
Vorn flexed his chainsword arm, the weapon snarling, a growl of defiance. "We've bled our way this far. We'll bleed our way out."
A spark of pride flared in Thaddeus's chest, warming the cold edges of his resolve. They were Blood Angels, forged in the crucible of endless war, their will unbreakable even as their bodies frayed. "We are the Emperor's wrath," he thundered, his voice echoing like a storm. "NO SOULLESS MACHINE WILL DENY US. FOR SANGUINIUS, FOR THE EMPEROR, WE WILL PREVAIL!"
Their reply was a unified roar, a vow etched in blood and iron. As dawn's faint light bled through the cracks above, they would march towards salvation or oblivion.
---
The underhive swallowed them whole, a twisting maze of shadow and ruin. Thaddeus led the way, his power sword humming softly, its azure light a blade against the dark. Cassian followed, bolter cradled like a sacred relic, while Vorn guarded their rear, his chainsword-arm twitching with restless hunger. Their steps were silent, their enhanced senses drinking in the world-the drip of stagnant water echoing like tears, the groan of strained metal overhead, the sinister pulse of Necron machinery thrumming beneath their feet.
They moved as a single entity, a trinity of war-tempered resolve, navigating the claustrophobic corridors with predatory grace. The air grew colder, heavier, as if the planet itself conspired to crush them. Then a chirp from the auspex, sharp and urgent. Thaddeus raised a fist, halting his brothers, eyes narrowing as he scanned the gloom ahead.
Five Necron Warriors emerged from the shadows, their skeletal frames glinting like obsidian knives, gauss flayers glowing with malevolent intent. Thaddeus's lips curled into a snarl. "FOR SANGUINIUS!" he bellowed, launching forward, his sword a blazing arc of death. The blade struck the first Warrior, cleaving its necrodermis with a tortured shriek, green sparks erupting as it staggered. He struck again, severing its spine, and it collapsed, twitching.
Cassian's bolter thundered, mass-reactive shells slamming into another Warrior's skull. The explosion painted the walls with ash and ichor; the xenos crumpled like a broken toy. Vorn surged past, his chainsword-arm roaring to life, its teeth sinking into a third warrior's chest. Metal screamed as he tore it apart, limbs falling still amidst a shower of sparks.
The remaining Warriors turned, their flayers unleashing jagged arcs of green energy. Thaddeus ducked, a beam grazing his pauldron, ceramite blistering under the assault. He lunged, his sword slashing through the air, bisecting one from shoulder to hip. Cassian rolled aside, firing point-blank into the last, its torso erupting in a burst of molten fragments.
Breathing hard, Thaddeus stood amidst the wreckage, his blade dripping with alien residue. "FIRST BLOOD!" he roared, his voice echoing in the darkness. But beneath it, a shadow stirred-an echo of dread, a whisper that this was only the beginning. They pressed on, the auspex their flickering guide through the underhive's depths, each step drawing them closer to Sector 7-G-and the jaws of destiny.
---
The path descended deeper, the walls closing in until they scraped against the Blood Angels' armor, a constant reminder of their precarious thread of survival. The auspex flickered, its signal growing erratic, then flared with a surge of energy that made Thaddeus's blood run cold. "Cassian," he said, voice low, "what do you see?"
Cassian adjusted the device, his fingers steady despite the tremor in his breath. "Warden, here." He nodded toward a fractured viewport, its surface streaked with grime. Thaddeus approached, peering through, and his hearts clenched like a fist.
Beyond the glass sprawled a cavernous expanse, a cathedral of ruin-and within it marched a legion of Necrons. Hundreds of Warriors moved in eerie lockstep, their silence a mockery of life; Immortals strode among them, gauss blasters gleaming like dark stars; towering Destroyers loomed, their cyclopean forms bristling with weaponry. At the heart of the horde, Hangar 13 stood, the Thunderhawk's last refuge now a fortress of xenos steel.
"They know," Thaddeus snarled, his voice a blade of fury. "They're guarding our escape."
Vorn's grip tightened on his plasma pistol, his chansword-arm growling faintly. "Then we cut through them. No other path."
Thaddeus nodded, but a splinter of doubt pierced his mind. Why? Why are we always outnumbered, always dancing on the edge of ruin? He crushed it beneath his will, jaw tightening. "We advance. For Sanguinius, we endure."
They slipped away from the viewport, descending further into the underhive's belly; the weight of their discovery was a suffocating shroud. The Necrons weren't just a threat-they were a tidal wave, and the Blood Angels were a fading ember daring to defy it.
---
The descent was a gauntlet, a crumbling bridge spanning a chasm of endless black. Halfway across, the auspex screamed-a swarm of scarabs erupted from the shadows, their beetle-like forms clicking, a skittering tide of metal death. Behind them, Necron Warriors phased into existence, their gauss flayers igniting the dark with green malice.
"AMBUSH!" Thaddeus roared, his sword flaring into a blaze of blue fury. The scarabs swarmed him, mandibles gnashing at his armor, seeking flesh. He swung, his blade a whirlwind, crushing dozens into sparking husks, but they were relentless, an endless wave. Cassian's bolter thundered, shells bursting among them, while Vorn's chainsword-arm roared, shredding constructs into fragments of ruin.
The Warriors advanced, their flayers unleashing a storm of green death. Thaddeus dove behind a shattered pillar, beams searing the stone inches from his helm. "Cassian, flank them!" he ordered, voice raw with urgency. Cassian sprinted to a side passage, his bolter spitting fire, drawing their attention.
Vorn charged, plasma pistol blazing, a Warrior's face melting under the onslaught. A gauss beam struck his leg, ceramite splintering, and he stumbled with a guttural cry. "VORN!" Thaddeus shouted, leaping to his side, sword flashing. Back-to-back, they fought, desperation fueling their strikes, blood and sparks mingling in the air.
Cassian's voice cracked over the vox, strained and desperate. "MORE COMING! WE'RE SURROUNDED!" Thaddeus's heart pounded, a drumbeat of dread. Why? Why does fate stack the odds against us? The thought clawed at him, a scream buried beneath a roar. "FIGHT, BROTHERS! FOR THE EMPEROR, WE STAND!"
The Scarabs thinned, but the Warriors closed in, their numbers swelling like a nightmare given form. Thaddeus's sword arm burned, his armor scorched and smoking, yet he fought on, each kill a defiance of the inevitable. The corridors shook with the violence of battle, the screams of battle echoing through the ruins - "AHHHHHHHH!"
---
They retreated to a crumbling alcove; the Necrons' advance stalled for a fleeting breath. Thaddeus slumped against the wall, his breath a ragged rasp, his body a tapestry of agony. Why? Why are we always one step from the abyss? The question gnawed at him, a relentless tide of despair. They were Blood Angels, the Emperor's chosen, yet here they stood-hunted, bleeding, broken.
He looked to Cassian and Vorn, their faces carved with exhaustion, their armor a ruin of scars. They had lost so much-brothers, years, fragments of their souls-yet still they fought. Is this our fate? To die on this forsaken rock, forgotten? The thought was a dagger in his gut, but he thrust it aside. NO. WE WILL LIVE. WE WILL FIGHT.
"Thaddeus," Cassian said, his voice a quiet tether amidst the storm. "We can do this. We must."
Thaddeus met his gaze, drawing strength from the fire in his brother's eyes. "Aye. We will."
They emerged from the alcove, the path to Hangar 13 a corridor of ruin and death. The ground shuddered as a horde of Necrons flooded toward them-warriors, Immortals, and a monstrous Canoptek Spyder, its spindly limbs dripping with menace. Thaddeus raised his sword, its light a beacon of defiance. "FOR SANGUINIUS!" he roared and charged.
The battle was chaos unleashed. Thaddeus fought with feral precision, his blade cleaving through necrodermis, green ichor staining the floor. Cassian's bolter jammed, and he drew his combat knife, plunging it into a Warrior's skull with a snarl. Vorn's chainsword-arm whirred, tearing through foes, but his plasma pistol overheated, searing his flesh with a hiss of pain.
Wave after wave crashed against them, relentless, unending. Thaddeus's muscles screamd, his lungs burned, but he pressed on, driven by a desperate need to reach the Thunderhawk. WE WILL NOT DIE HERE! he vowed, each strike a prayer, each kill a step closer to salvation.
The Spyder loomed, its claws slashing through the air. Thaddeus ducked, rolling beneath it, and drove his sword into its underbelly. It shrieked, collapsing in a shower of sparks, but more Necrons surged forward. Cassian bled from a dozen wounds, Vorn limped, yet they fought on, their resolve a flame unquenched.
---
As Hangar 13 loomed ahead, a shadow detached itself from the gloom-Zarathul, Necron Lord of the tomb world, his Staff of Light crackling wtih baleful energy. The air seemed to freeze, the very shadows recoiling from his presence. Thaddeus's blood turned to ice. "GO!" he bellowed to Cassian and Vorn, voice raw, desperate."I'LL HOLD IT!"
They hesitated, torn between loyalty and survival, but Thaddeus's glare was iron. "NOW!" he roared, and they vanished into the hangar's depths, leaving him alone in the ashen corridor.
Zarathul advanced, each step a thuderous toll of doom. The Necron Lord's eyes blazed with emerald fire, his staff humming with the promise of annihilation. Thaddeus drew the Crimson Veil tighter, feeling the weight of every oath, every fallen brother. The Red Thirst howled within him, a siren song of violence and desperation.
The Lord struck first, his staff a blur of coruscating light. Thaddeus met the blow with his power sword, ceramite gauntlets trembling from the impact. Sparks and shards of green lightning exploded where blade met staff. The Necron Lord's strength was inhuman-each strike sent shockwaves through the plasteel beneath their feet, fissures spider-webbing through the floor.
Zarathul swept his staff, unleashing a beam of searing energy. It carved a molten trench through the wall, vaporizing debris and sending a spray of glowing slag across the corridor. Thaddeus dove aside, the heat blistering his face, the Crimson Veil catching the edge of the beam. The cape sizzled, holes punched through it, the edges curiling and blackening. He rolled to his feet, the scorched fabric trailing behind him like the banner of a dying angel.
"AHHHHHHHH!" Thaddeus roared, charging. His power sword blazed with azure fury, each swing a hymn to Sanguinius. He hammered at Zarathul's necrodermis, scoring deep gouges, but the Lord's Phase Shifter shimmered, turning solid blows into glancing sparks. Zarathul retaliated with a sweep of his staff, the weapon's head slitting into whips of pure energy. One lashed across Thaddeus's pauldron, another tore through the Crimson Veil, leaving it in tatters.
The Necron Lord unleashed another beam, this time slicing through a support pillar. The ceiling groaned, slabs crashing down in a storm of dust and shrapnel. Thaddeus ducked, the world exploding aroung him. He burst from the rubble, sword flashing, and drove a thrust at Zarathul's chest. The Lord caught the blade with his staff, locking them in a contest of brute force.
The corridor was a frunace of destruction-walls scorched, floor shattered, the air thick with thestench of ozone and burning cloth. Zarathul's Lightning Field crackled, arcs of energy lashing out, searing Thaddeus's armor and sending agony lancing through his nerves. He gritted his teeth, refusing to yield, even as the Crimson veil was shredded by another blast, its remnants fluttering like the wings of a dying seraph.
Zarathul's eyes flared. He triggered his Chronometron, time itself stuttering-Thaddeus felt his limbs grow heavy, every movement a battle against the crushing weight of slowed reality. The Necron Lord advanced, staff raised for the killing blow.
"NO!" Thaddeus roared, summoning every ounce of will. He broke free of the temporal drag, swinging his power sword in a desperate arc. The blade bit into Zarathul's arm, sparks flying, but the Lord was relentless. He hammered Thaddeus down, staff smashing into his helm, sending him crashing to the ground. His sword spun away, clattering across the rubble.
Zarathul loomed, staff poised, emerald lightning dancing along its length. THIS IS IT, Thaddeus though, despair flooding him. I'VE FAILED THEM. I'VE FAILED THE EMPEROR.
Then-a roar split the chaos. "FOR THE ANGEL!" Cassian and Vorn charged from the smoke, bolter and chainsword-arm blazing. Cassian's knife plunged into Zarathul's back, Vorn's chainsword-arm hacked at the Lord's legs, sparks and ichor spraying. Zarathul faltered, turning mechanical fury.
Thaddeus, battered and bloodied, crawled to his sword. He seized the hilt, forced himself upright, and with a last defian scream -"AHHHHHHHHHHH!" drove the power blade through Zarathul's chest. The necron Lord convulsed, emerald fire guttering in his eyes. His form shuddered, then collapsed into ash, the Staff of Light clattering to the ground.
The corridor was silent, save for the ragged breathing of the Blood Angels. Thaddeus stood, the Crimson Veil in tatters, armor scorched, but unbowed. He took the Staff of Light of Zarathul, he will rise again in a few hours, better not leave the staff here.
---
They stumbled into the cavernous hangar, the Thunderhawk looming ahead-a battered angel of deliverance, its hull pitted and scarred from war. But hope was a flickering candle: Necrons poured in behind, gauss flayers charging with lethal intent, their metallic forms glinting in the sickly green light. "DEFEND THE SHIP!" Thaddeus rasped, voice shredded by exhaustion and pain.
Cassian broke away, sprinting up the ramp and vanishing into the cockpit. The Thunderhawk's interior was a tomb of silence, consoles dark, the Machine Spirit slumbering. He slammed into the pilot's seat, blood streaking his face and began the ignition sequence with trembling hands. Warning runes blazed red. "Come on, you ancient beast," he snarled, stabbing at the controls. The engines coughed, then whined, struggling to life as the gunship's systems flickered and groaned.
Outside, Thaddeus and Vorn took position at the base of the ramp, bolters roaring, power sword and chainsword flashing. The Necrons advanced in a relentless tide-Warriors, Immortals, even a looming Canoptek Wraith slithering over shattered crates. Gauss beams lanced through the gloom, melting holes in the deck, sending showers of molten metal sparying across the hangar. "AHHHHHHH!" Vorn screamed as a beam tore through his thigh, ceramite hissing, blood pooling at his feet. He staggered, but kept fighting, chainsword shrieking as it bit into necrodermis.
Thaddeus's helmet was blasted from his head by a glancing shot, the world erupting in noise and agony. His vision blurred, blood streaming down his brow, but he roared in defiance, power sword cleaving a Warrior in half, green ichor splaattering his battered armor. The Crimson Veil, already charred and torn, fluttered in the storm of fire, its edges burning away.
Inside the cockpit, Cassian fought the Thunderhawk itself. The Machine Spirit resisted, systems flickering, engines sputtering. Outside, the Necrons surged forward, gauss fire hammering the hull, punching through armor, setting warning klaxons blaring. The gunship's heavy bolters spat fire, cutting swathes through the xenos ranks, but it wasn't enough. Cassan slammed his fist on the console. "START, DAMN YOU!"
A gauss beam punched through the cockpit canopy, slicing across Cassian's arm. He screamed, pain white-hot, but kept working, blood dripping onto the controls. The Thunderhawk's engines finally roared, turbines howling, the deck trembling with power. "ENGINES ONLINE!" he voxed, voice hoarse.
But outside, hope was dying. Vorn dropped to one knee, his armor a ruin, wounds smoking. Thaddeus fought with primal fury, bare-headed, face streaked with blood and ash. "WE CAN'T HOLD MUCH LONGER!" he shouted, voice cracking as Necrons closed in, their eyes burning with soulles hunger.
The Thunderhawk shuddered as a barrage of gauss fire struck its flank, hull plates buckling, warning runes flaring. Cassian yanked the flight stick, the gunship lurching sideawys, almost toppling. For a heartbeat, it seemed the Thunderhawk would be destroyed, crushed beneath the xenos tide.
Despair clawed at Thaddeus and Vorn. They fought back-toback, every muscle burning, every breath a battle. Vorn's chainsword sputtered, blood pouring from a dozen wounds. Thaddeus's vision tunneled, the world narrowing to the flash of his blade.
Then, through the chaos, the Thunderhawk's engines howled-a sound like the voice of angels. The battered gunship surged forward, ramp lowering, Cassian at the controls, face pale but blazing with determination. "GET IN!" he shouted through the vox, his voice a beacon in the storm.
With the last of their strength, Thaddeus and Vorn sprinted for the ramp, gauss beams scorching the air aroung them. Vorn stumbled, falling to one knee again, but Thaddeus seized him, dragging him up the ramp as Cassian fired the dorsal cannon, vaporizin a squad of Necrons in a thunderous explosion. The ramp slammed shut, sealing them inside as the Thunderhawk lurched skyward, gauss fire hammering the hull, alarms screaming.
The gunship bucked and shuddered, nearly torn from the sky by the storm of fire. Cassian fought the controls, blood smearing the flight stick, the Machin Spirit roaring in defiance. For a moment, the Thunderhawk seemed doomed, spiraling toward the ground-but Cassian wrestled it level, engines screaming at the edge of destruction.
They burst through the hangar doors, trailing fire and smoke, Valthrex Prime shrinking below-a world of death left behind.
---
The battered Thunderhawk soared through the blackness, leaving the poisoned skies of Valthrex Prime behind. Inside the wounded gunship, silence reigned-a silence so deep it seemed to swallow even the distan rumble of the engines. The three Blood Angels sat slumped in their restraints, the red glow of emergency lumens painting their battered armor in the colors of old wounds.
Cassian's hands trembled as he finished bandaging Vorn's side. The cockpit was a ruin, glass spiderwebbed, warning runes still flickering. Vorn0s head lolled, eyes half-shut, his breath shallow but steady. Thaddeus sat opposite, helmetless, face streaked with blood and grime, his gaze fixed on the stars beyond the viewport. The Crimson Veil hung from his shoulders in scorched, tattered ribbons, its once-proud crimson now blackened by war.
No one spoke. There were no words left.
They had spent seven years in the underhive hell of Valthrex Prime-sven years of darkness, of endless running, of fighting for every breath. Seven years since the traitors had turned on them, since the brotherhood had shattered. The traitors were gone now-some slain by their own ambition, others devoured by the Necron tide they had awakened. The rest? Lost, scattered, their names already fading from memory.
The Blood Angels had survived, but the cost was written in the lines of theri faces, in the wounds that would never fully heal. They had buried brothers in the ash and rot, watched hope gutter and die a thousand times, felt the weight of the Emperor's silence pressing down on their souls.
Now, as the Thunderhawk limped through the void, every muscle screamed with exhaustion. Their minds drifted, numb and battered, to memories of golden halls and the laughter of brothers long dead. The silence was a living thing, heavy and absolute, broken only by the ragged sound of their breathing.
Thaddeus closed his eyes, the stars blurring into a river of light. He felt so fucking tired-so fucking tired that even the Red Thirst was a distant echo, drowned by the ache in his bones. Cassian's head drooped, eyelids fluttering. Vorn's had twitched, fingers curling reflexively around the haft of his chainsword.
They had escaped hell, but the scars would never fade.
The Thunderhawk flew on, three broken angels adrift int the dark, carried by nothing but stubborn defiance and the faintest ember of hope in silence.