"Emperor, judge us not by our lives, but by our deaths. Let our blood wash away the sins of Krieg. Let our bones pave Your path to victory. We are Your shovel, Your sword, Your shield. In death, we are whole."
---
The sunrise was faintly striking its rays through the thick, ash-filled skies of Orario. The so-called City of Heroes was now very much under siege and engulfed in destruction.
This was the second day of the seven days of blood.
All of it, the fire, the screams, the ruin, it was all the work of the Followers of Evil.
In the eastern district of the city, where devastation had spared nothing just like the other districts, a lone figure limped painfully through the rubble-strewn streets. The city's dark and choking atmosphere offered him no guidance, no hint of which path might be safer. But safety was never his concern.
Guardsman-38912-K could feel his body beginning to fail. The only thing holding it upright was his unbreakable resolve to see this cursed cesspit forsaken by His light ground to ash and ruin before he could allow himself to be claimed by His grace.
He required shelter to restore his strength, he was in no condition to deliver the Emperor's righteous judgment.
One leg was completely unresponsive, dragging behind him like a dead weight. His fingers were twisted, ribs cracked and stabbing him with every breath, and blood was trickling steadily from his sides and beneath the seal of his gas mask. The helmet did nothing to silence the pounding in his skull.
He did not care for the pain, but his mortal shell couldn't handle anymore of it.
"Emperor, guide me," he rasped, voice hoarse and muted beneath the mask. A prayer, whispered through a dried throat. A plea for Divine guidance amidst the chaos of this damned world.
And as if he was answered, his eyes caught something through the haze ahead, a shadowed silhouette, broken and quiet.
A building.
Its windows were dark, its structure fractured and decaying from abandonment. To most, it would appear insignificant.
To him, it was ideal.
Safe. Isolated. Defensible. Sanctuary.
38912-K also recognized it for what it was: a heretical church.
He clenched his fists tightly.
As quickly as his broken body allowed, he dragged himself toward the structure, every step a war cry against his failing flesh.
He reached the doors and flung them open with what strength he could muster.
'Emperor, protect this soul from corruption,' he prayed inwardly for protection as he stepped inside and slammed the doors shut behind him.
The son of Krieg collapsed just past the doorway, his legs finally giving out beneath him.
May He judge this weakness with mercy
He painfully forced his upper body upright and scanned the interior of the church, a wave of revulsion passing through him. The air stank of heresy.
The walls were lined with symbols and inscriptions, none of which he recognized.
Ahead, a platform clearly intended for preaching stood, facing rows of decaying seats. Dust blanketed every surface. The place had long been abandoned, but its foulness lingered.
At the back wall, partially crumbled, stood a statue of some kind of goddess.
False. Alien. Heresy.
38912-K wanted to spit on the floor. Not just in disgust but in defiance.
Disgusting abomination.
This place would serve as a temporary den.
He would make sure this shrine is first cleansed by the Emperors light.
---
The End
---
Alfia is going to be so pissed
Anyway back I guess
I'm having a little rest from my other fic so I'm updating this instead
Anyway question readers: do you want to see a complete Canon timeline? Like nothing changing except minor stuff that Krieg influences?
Or do you want me to make him shatter the timeline by being what he's best for: an attrition expert that will dry Both sides of the enemies without them knowing.
Anyway this was just a short chapter as a "welcome back"
Apologies for any 40k lore inaccuracies