---
The Dauntless class ship hung in the void, a leviathan of imperial technology, its decks alive with the pulse of reactors older than many worlds. Outside the viewport, the Plagueclaw loomed a grotesque behemoth, its hull a sick tapestry of warped metal and living rot, pulsing like a blighted heart.
Admiral Spire's voice cut through the bridge's thick, recycled air. "Stand by all batteries. Torpedo tubes at half charge. Shields to full."
Around him, the crew moved with the practiced urgency of those who'd faced death before. Sweat glistened on brows, fingers danced over cogitator runes, and eyes flickered nervously to the growing specter beyond.
"Macro cannons, prepare to engage," Spire ordered. The heavy guns thundered, spitting molten lead across the void.
The first salvo screamed outward, streaking through darkness to slam into the Plagueclaw's living hull. Flesh and metal tore apart in a sizzle of black ichor and molten metal, but the enemy's twisted armor churned and sealed wounds almost faster than they could be inflicted.
"Shields holding at ninety-five percent, but fluctuating," Farron reported, eyes locked on his screens.
The Plagueclaw answered with a roar warped plasma lances arcing from prow to broadside, painting the Ship in sickly green fire. The ship shuddered violently as energy slammed into the starboard shields, chunks of void plating blistering and vaporizing in the heat.
"Shields down to seventy five and dropping!" the vox-operator shouted.
"Divert all remaining power to shields and engine thrusters," Spire snapped, voice iron and urgency.
Power flickered as the ship groaned ancient circuits straining against the unnatural assault.
"Engines responding sluggishly," Farron hissed, fingers flying over mechadendrites. "Warp interference disrupting power grids. I'm rerouting, but it's slow."
The bridge lights flickered, shadows dancing across the grim faces of the crew. The warp tainted energy clawed into the ship's systems, like a poison seeping into the steel veins.
A sudden sharp klaxon shrieked Canons launchers primed.
"Firing Canons salvo," Spire commanded.
In the void outside, sleek projectiles, humming with kinetic force and tethered plasma, tore through the dark. They slammed into the Plagueclaw, exploding in cascades of fire and fracturing the corrupted hull.
The enemy twisted, throwing up warped energy flares that disrupted targeting arrays aboard the Ship. The hull pulsed, bloated with some unholy vitality. Spore like growths erupted along its surface, erupting in noxious clouds that drifted toward the cruiser.
"Spore clouds approaching sensors!" a technician gasped.
"Deploy countermeasures! Initiate scrubbers!" Farron barked.
The air filtration systems roared as powerful scrubbers engaged, fighting back the choking spores creeping into the vents. Still, a sour stench seeped into the corridors, a living reminder of the enemy's corruption.
—
The Plagueclaw retaliated missiles streaked toward the Ship. These weren't ordinary torpedoes; they screamed through the void trailing writhing energy tendrils that seemed almost alive.
"Missiles inbound! Evasive maneuvers, hard to starboard!" Spire ordered, hands tight on the command console.
The ship's massive engines flared, the hull groaning as it twisted and turned, narrowly evading the hellish projectiles. Two missiles detonated against the void shields in thunderous explosions that rocked the vessel. The third, a grotesque mass of writhing energy, slipped past and slammed into the aft hull, sending a shockwave rattling through the decks.
"Bulkhead three seven compromised!" Farron shouted. "Fire suppression systems engaged, but the damage is spreading!"
Sparks flew across the bridge as power surges cascaded through damaged circuits. Farron's mechadendrites twitched erratically the daemon presence warping his machine spirits.
"Systems glitching... reroute blocked... flux in servo control..."
His voice was tight with frustration and fear a rare crack in the stoic tech-priest's armor.
The Plagueclaw's hull pulsed again, and the corrupted warship released a wave of psychic energy a dark, crushing weight that pressed against the minds of the crew.
Faevelith hissed, clutching her head. "Psychic storm… it's trying to break us."
"Brace for mental assault," Farron muttered, voice grim.
Around them, crew members clenched teeth, some groaning in pain, others trembling but standing firm.
Spire's voice cut through the storm. "Hold steady! Focus on duty, on purpose! We're not done yet."
The Ship launched its own torpedoes massive warheads streaking through the black, guided by precise targeting. They struck the Plagueclaw with earth shattering impact, rupturing sections of its living hull.
But the enemy's response was brutal tendrils of warp energy spilled out, lashing like snakes, hacking at the cruiser's systems.
A secondary power failure hit the weapons arrays.
"Main battery offline!" a technician gasped. "Cannot bring macro cannons to bear!"
Farron cursed under his breath, working furiously. "I'm fighting the daemon code, but it's adaptive… we may lose the main guns."
The bridge plunged into red emergency lighting. The hum of life support dropped briefly, then surged back.
---
The battle stretched on. A terrible dance of fire and weaponry in the void. The Ship's armor was shredded, systems flickering like dying stars.
The Plagueclaw seemed endless, an unholy nightmare of living metal and hatred.
Spire's orders came sharp and unyielding, his presence the only anchor for a crew stretched thin and fraying.
They watched as the ship burned, healed, and burned again. Every pulse of the ship was a desperate prayer a promise to stand against the darkness, no matter the cost.
---
Cassian stood on the assault deck, visor down, fingers flexing on the grip of his chainsword. Around him, the breachers checked gear with brisk, practiced movements fingers dancing across mag locks, auto loaders, and purity seals that fluttered like tattered prayers.
Void sirens wailed, drowning out even thought. The boarding craft shuddered as maneuvering thrusters fired, drawing them in closer to the warped hull of the Plagueclaw. Beyond the narrow viewport, Cassian caught glimpses of corruption made metal: hull plating swollen with tumorous growths, oily smoke curling from wounds that refused to die.
Someone crossed himself, words lost in the roar of the engines.
Cassian only breathed once, slow and cold, warp sight flickering behind his eyes. The future fractured into a thousand razor thin splinters paths of bullet, blade, and blood. He chose one without blinking.
Then, the vox barked the final order, flat and iron hard:
"Board."
The boarding clamps slammed home, teeth sinking into rotten ceramite. Deck plates quaked under boots; red battle lamps threw sweating faces into stark relief.
A Breacher beside him a woman with augmetic hand and the number seven burned into her cheek murmured: "Emperor willing, we come back with legs attached."
Cassian only nodded, knuckles white on the grip.
The vox barked, voice raw from too many drills:
"CUT IT! MOVE!"
Melta torches screamed. The hatch blew inward with a shockwave of stink and heat.
They plunged through boots splashing into ankle deep pools of filth, air thick with rot so strong it burned the nose.
Chaos was waiting.
A corridor scabbed over with fungal blisters and rust‑carved runes. Plague Space Marines, massive as statues, turned as one: bolters fused to flesh, ichor dripping from cracked pauldrons.
The first salvo killed a Breacher outright a bolter shell hit center mass, his torso came apart in wet ruin. Another staggered, screaming, hand clapped over shredded gut.
"MOVE! MOVE!" the sergeant bellowed, voice cracking.
They moved. Cassian moved with them, shielded by the press of bodies and smoke.
The Fight Started Ugly
Shotguns roared, scattershot spalling rust from ceramite. A boarding axe bit into a plague slick thigh, barely slowing the Space Marine before a second Breacher jammed a melta charge against the corrupted plate.
Cassian caught the Space Marine's backhand power fist big enough to break a man in half on his chainsword, teeth shrieking, the impact rattling through his spine. He stepped close, free hand crackling with warp lightning, and slammed it into the Space Marine 's weak point armour.
The stink of scorched corruption filled the air. The Space Marine reeled, and Cassian's chainsword punched into the gap under the arm, tearing foul meat and wiring apart.
Another Breacher vaulted over a corpse, shotgun muzzle pressed to a plague helm the shot splashed brains and pus across the bulkhead.
Behind the Plague Space Marine's, pox ridden cultists stumbled from shadowed alcoves half naked, skin slick with sores, swinging rusted cleavers and stubbers that barked wild, inaccurate shots.
A shrieking psyker, skin sloughing in wet strips, raised blistered hands. Warp light flared, raw and wrong, Borrowing power from the grandfather.
Cassian turned felt the skin tighten at the back of his skull. His own power surged up like hot oil. Lightning spat from his palm, a jagged arc that burned through cultist, psyker, bulkhead alike.
A Breacher swore, half in fear, half in relief.
"Emperor Above…!"
Cassian didn't fight alone. The Breachers kept coming: shotguns roaring point‑blank, axes hacking through plague flesh, boots stamping cultists back into the sludge.
One Space Marine slammed a Breacher against the bulkhead the man's ribs caved, wet crunch. Another Breacher jammed a melta charge against the Space Marine 's back; flash of heat so bright it blinded, Space Marine collapsing in steaming ruin.
Cassian lunged forward, chainsword biting into a second Space Marine's gauntlet, shearing off fingers of the plague‑caked power fist. The Space Marine bellowed, foul breath steaming through cracked vox‑grille. Cassian twisted, torque of his warp enhanced muscles ripping the sword upward through the helm.
The others saw. Not at first too busy fighting, bleeding, screaming. But when the plague clad giants began to fall, ceramite split near to the gorget by that single figure in black, heads turned. Breath caught.
A grizzled breacher, face slick with blood, whispered hoarse disbelief:
"By Sanguinis…he cuts them down like wheat."
Another spat, half prayer, half curse:
"Emperor above… is he one of His sons?"
It was no hero's chant, no polished salute just raw, shaken awe in scarred killers who had seen everything, and now saw something greater.
---
The Plague Space Marine s didn't break. They kept coming, implacable. Bolters roared, shells tearing men apart. Cultists scrambled over the dead, shrieking praises to Grandfather. Parasites dropped from rust eaten ceiling beams, biting through visor seals.
"PUSH! KEEP THE GODSDAMN PRESSURE!" the sergeant howled, voice hoarse.
A Breacher on Cassian's right fell, blood geysering from neck. Cassian stepped over the corpse, chainsword howling, teeth spraying rust and plague rot as he split a cultist from groin to sternum.
It wasn't just killing. It was massacre.
Cassian didn't hesitate. Chainsword swinging, warp lightning crackling from free hand, scorched bone and pus in his wake. Every motion efficient, brutal, deliberate.
Another saw Cassian shoulder check a Space Marine hard enough to stagger the hulk, before ramming the chainsword up under the corrupted pauldron, carving his rotted flesh like pinata
Their fear turned slowly into something like belief. The line held. Shotguns barked again. Boarding axes rose and fell in ragged rhythm.
From the gloom, lesser daemons oozed into sight: squat things, bellies split with laughing maws, rusted cleavers in blistered fists. Nurglings skittered between boots, biting at ankles. One Breacher screamed as rot blossomed up his leg, flesh sloughing away.
Cassian pivoted, warp charged punch bursting a daemon's face to green paste. Another lunged Cassian slammed it into the bulkhead, chainsword rising and falling until it stopped moving.
Breathers rasped wet behind visor seals. The air burned lungs, thick with spores and char.
A Breacher jammed a melta pistol into a daemon's mouth; flash, wet pop, ichor sprayed Cassian's helm.
They were dying, these men and women but they were fighting. And beside them, Cassian kept cutting. Bones splintered under warp fed strikes; chainsword teeth gummed with black filth, then bit again.
They punched deeper. A corridor ankle deep in pus slick water, alive with squirming parasites. Cassian led, chainsword chewing open the last Space Marine 's chest, showering the deck with steaming ruin.
Only then as the noise fell away, breath loud in helm vox did the Breachers look around.
They saw the dead, saw themselves alive, saw the corpses Cassian had left: plague hulks cut nearly in two, daemons pulped, psykers burned black.
Their awe wasn't loud. It was quiet. Raw. A man swearing softly, another drawing a shaky sign of the aquila.
The woman with the augmetic jaw, breath ragged, muttered:
"That's not just muscle."
They stood a moment in that steaming, rotted corridor the air still stinking of burnt warp taint and hot metal.
A few caught their breath, shoulders heaving. One man bent, hand on knee, just staring at the ruin Cassian had carved. Another wiped grime from his face, eyes fixed on Cassian like he wasn't sure if he should speak or bow.
The woman with the augmetic hand that had talked with Cassian spat blood, voice low, half prayer, half confession:
"Never seen anything walk like that through Astartes…"
Cassian turned, helm steaming, chainsword dripping filth and black ichor. His gaze swept them quiet, steady, almost distant.
Nobody cheered. Nobody dared. Instead: a man stepped back to let him pass, another clapped his chest plate in wordless salute. The youngest Breacher, shaking like a leaf, made the sign of the aquila, head lowered.
No words. Just a raw, silent reverence: killers recognizing something beyond them something that walked through death like it was smoke.
And then, breath still ragged, they moved on. Following him deeper into the dark.
—-
Word Count: 2272
Hey, if you're enjoying the ride, do me a solid follow, review, and favourite this story. It keeps the fire burning on my end and makes sure it doesn't get buried under a mountain of other fics.
Thanks for reading and if you're hungry for more, check out my patreon.
patreon.com/Kratos5627