"Signal! We've got the message!" the officer on the bridge shouted joyfully, like a small child, jumping up from his seat.
"Who?" even the cold-blooded Mologost, who had long ago submitted a request for help and was no longer waiting for an answer, immediately became alarmed.
- Astartes! Angels of Redemption!
And then Mologost's joy faded for a moment. The Angels of Redemption were a Chapter of Space Marines, formed after the reforms of Zhiliman, where for security purposes the loyalist legions were divided into Chapters of up to a thousand Space Marines. This was to decentralize control and thus make it more difficult for any heresy to spread, as had happened with the Traitor Legions, where entire legions had fallen at once due to the stupidity and weakness of individual leaders.
The Angels of Redemption were a loyal order to the Imperium, but their reputation left much to be desired. Mologost had heard much about them, and had witnessed some very strange actions by the Angels of Redemption himself. They clearly had some agenda of their own that they were hiding from others.
Because of this, Imperial forces sometimes refused their help, and the Inquisition condemned them altogether. They could simply start moving their forces in the middle of a battle. They could show up to help, and then suddenly leave. They are said to have even killed allied Imperial forces who learned too much. This is of course rumor, but the Angels of Redemption did not have the best reputation.
However, Mologost had no choice, so he nodded to the officer and personally asked for help. No other help would come, the turbulence of the warp had become too dense and only the Emperor's angels could influence anything or die trying.
*
The appearance of an unknown wanderer changed the whole situation radically and put the entire ritual at risk. It would seem that what or who could be more dangerous than the Space Marines and pose a threat even to Tzeentch himself, even if he did not reveal his full power due to the weakness of the conductor used.
However, as it turned out, the seemingly all-powerful and all-encompassing Chaos had one critical weakness. The Warp was nothing more than a reflection of the souls of mortals. Vivid emotions and feelings gave birth to unrest in the Warp, turning a potentially calm and quiet place into Chaos, consisting of all sorts of dangers. However, remove these emotions and in the void for the creatures of the Warp there will not even be a chance to influence anything.
Both the Imperium and hostile xenos territories had similar technologies capable of nullifying the phenomena of the warp. However, sometimes empty souls were born, the complete opposite of psykers. They had no reflection in the warp and their very presence next to a psyker, sorcerer and warp creature caused them great pain.
The power of the untouchables could vary, just like that of psykers. Some were simply unpleasant, while others negated even the strongest spells. And the mysterious wanderer brought a dozen of such untouchables with him. They created an impenetrable field around them, frightening even hordes of demons.
But that wasn't the horror, that was the horror. The mysterious wanderer had brought them in cages, using servitors to transport them. Children, women, even an old man - he hadn't asked if they wanted to help disrupt Tzeentch's ritual. He had shackled them, covered them in some kind of writing, and used them as weapons.
By the way, he himself felt bad from the presence of the untouchables, because even an ordinary normal person could not calmly be near an untouchable. He might not understand the reason, but still feel hostility, headache and disgust because of this aura. Therefore, many untouchables often turned out to be outcasts, their parents rejected them, they could not start a family and lived in the oppressive hatred of the entire surrounding world towards them, not understanding the reason for what was happening.
"Inquisitor..." the demon sitting inside me hissed vilely, giving up its position.
The letters on the cage began to light up, and among them I could see the familiar imperial symbols. On the imperial ship, many hung prayers in their cabins. Of course, the content was strikingly different, but the general style could not be confused with the chaotic drawings of the heretics. By the way, the forbidden letters of chaos were also present, which surprised me greatly.
However, there were many among the Inquisition who used the most radical methods of fighting Chaos. There were also those who turned demons to their side and practiced forbidden knowledge. And judging by the fact that the inquisitor did not wear distinctive signs and acted alone without his retinue... he had long been called a traitor.
For an unknown amount of time, he had been plowing through the border systems, eradicating heresy with his methods, and slowly sliding to the bottom. After all, even though he was in control of the situation for now, the day was approaching with each passing year when another radical would drown in the embrace of Chaos.
But for now he stood here and was going to stop the Tzeentch ritual at any cost, even if it meant personally destroying millions of people. After all, he had been watching what was happening for a long time and understood that if the Chaos gods succeeded, many more people could die. And he did what he had to.
With a furious scream, the daemon in me gave the order to attack, and the little creatures rushed to their death. The dense null field tore them apart, and with the loss of their connection to the source of power, they either dissolved immediately or became so weak that all that was left was to fire a control shot into the mouth or head, depending on what form the warp spawn took.
The Inquisitor continued to move forward slowly, bolt pistol in one hand, sword in the other, as the servitors pushed the cages of soulless forward and occasionally supported their master by riding forward and taking the enemy's attacks.
At that moment, the demon in me went berserk. I didn't know what rank he occupied in his hierarchy, but in his anger, he immediately completely subjugated my soul and literally stunned me, returning total control over my body. In the process, my physical shell began to disintegrate. All because the process of subjugation was extremely rough, the demon actually had to go straight ahead, and sometimes I also resisted.
However, even if I were covered in the most powerful writings and my body was much better, the demon would still not succeed. After all, the inquisitor had too many trump cards. Having dedicated his entire life to serving the Emperor, he rooted out enemies throughout the galaxy, went from a worthless mortal to an interrogator, and then to an inquisitor. And even this was not his limit, because at some point he realized that he could be much more effective if he broke some of the rules.
And his most dangerous violation was the subjugation of the demonhost.
"Cherubael," the inquisitor said quietly, after which all the tunnels began to shake.
The demon broke through several meters of rock and almost pierced my chest with his claws. The demon inside me barely managed to intercept my hand, after which my fear merged with his.
"Demon Prince?" the demon inside me whispered in horror, sensing who was imprisoned in the inquisitor's victim.
And after that Cherubael pierced my side with his other hand and flew up sharply, breaking through several more meters of rock with my back, collapsing the arches of the tunnels and causing cave-ins in other places of the mine. The fight was quick, largely because the demon sitting in me decided to quickly retreat, and Cherubael was again summoned by the master to fight a new target.
I, with a pierced side, with a practically torn liver, slowly crawled along the tunnel. There was practically no pain this time, largely due to the fact that the nervous system was already practically dead, and there was nothing in the blood except adrenaline. In addition, the implants at least helped to prolong my life a little, even with such a terrible wound. Without losing the wound, I crawled and crawled until my soul attracted other demons who were rushing into the physical world to have a feast.
"Get away," a voice suddenly said, after which some of the demons immediately retreated.
On the one hand, being prey to Tzeentch is bad, but on the other… he just, like before, stopped other warp spawn from devouring my soul. He had other plans for me, and in fact, I just needed to die in order to be reborn. However, in such a situation, in a rather strong panic, only instincts guided me, in particular the instinct of self-preservation.
The closer death came, the more I feared it. The understanding that I would be reborn somehow had no effect on anything. The body itself mobilized all its resources, the heart pounded only faster, and the brain feverishly sent and received signals about how bad everything was. It screamed and demanded that I do something and I did: I tried to crawl somewhere forward.
The battle below continued, but I could barely hear the sounds. After all, the battles on the surface thundered much louder, where several sides met in hellish battles. Few of them saw a chance for victory, most were simply trying to survive or at least take their enemies with them to the next world. And some had already resigned themselves and looked with empty eyes at the fiery rain falling from the sky straight at both enemies and allies.
At some point, my strength practically left me and my consciousness began to float away. I was dying, it was obvious. And then my brain literally began to switch off, it was no longer possible to continue the fight and instead of instincts, universal indifference and apathy to what was happening began to take over, when suddenly I was abruptly torn out of the warp flow.
"Kill the traitor," came the voice of Tzeentch.
- Whom?
- Detrius must die by your hand. Right now he is suffering a crushing defeat right on the battlefield. Fulfil my will.
- I have already performed it, but I did not receive any award.
- Don't make me waste precious time explaining such elementary things as that any help I receive will be worthily rewarded. Do it.
I didn't argue any longer than necessary, because I wanted to get even with Detrius. Tzeentch, it seems, decided to choose me as a tool to humiliate Detrius as much as possible, who dared to think that he could outplay a god. In addition, Detrius would be very surprised by such an outcome, which in this case was also an act of demonstrating superiority. Tzeentch could destroy the queen even with a pawn like me. Although it is not very correct to compare Detrius with a queen.
My flesh began to melt rapidly in the rainbow fire. Very quickly it became covered in crystal and in the rainbow glow I began to resemble a demon of Tzeentch. However, despite all this I felt excellent and light. I no longer needed to breathe, my skin was replaced by strong armor, my internal organs were rebuilt and pain and suffering went away along with my frail, weak mortal body.
"Disgusting…" burst from my lips.
Still, despite all the advantages, there was something unnatural about it. It was hard to explain what exactly, it was just that the inner barrier refused to accept this appearance. It was not aesthetic, full of chaos and change, and my human mind craved peace and predictability. Therefore, being here made me experience psychological stress. Maybe if I get used to it, then all this will pass, or maybe I will simply go crazy, and in this practical body only a mentally ill mind will remain.
One way or another, my plan was to survive until the moment of Detrius's murder. Therefore, I did not torment myself too much about what had happened and, rising to my feet, rushed to the exit of the tunnel. Immediately, an artillery shell exploded in front of me and I was thrown onto my back with a roar. However, the fragments only slightly penetrated the crystal covering me, after which they completely fell off, and the crystal immediately grew together.
So, having gotten up, I ran further, maneuvering between the equipment and craters, trying not to appear in the line of fire once again.
"Your mother, your mother, your mother…" the young planetary defense soldier, who had only been issued a uniform a week ago, whispered quietly.
I jumped right into his crater. He almost lost consciousness from the sight of me. He didn't throw away the weapon. He just kept squeezing it with his hands, which seemed paralyzed. He couldn't throw the rifle away, or point it at me and pull the trigger, he just looked at me with a dazed look, and his hair was turning gray right before his eyes.
After waiting for another volley, I jumped out of the crater again and rushed on. After capturing the capital, the cultists gained access to the captured equipment and warehouses. Detrius intended to crush the Imperials with this army, and then deal with the cult of Nurgle. However, everything went in the same place from the very beginning and his forces were quickly divided. Detrius had weapons, but no experienced commanders. He simply led everyone to the slaughter, relying on his personal abilities, which were also inferior to almost everyone. He believed in himself too much, became arrogant and made another critical mistake.
- NO!!! DIE!!! - he screamed, ordering the cultists to throw new demon shells into the battle.
Creatures were released from cages right on the battlefield, often simply devouring those who stood closest to them. These someones were usually the Tzeentch cultists themselves, who quickly lost their fortitude and fled, abandoning their equipment and weapons. And there was no one who could inspire them.
In addition, the Emperor's own Space Marines entered the battle. In landing pods, tearing the sky, they plunged right around Detrius, which had already lost air superiority and all air defense systems. And immediately the Angels of Redemption ran out, acting as a single whole. With unprecedented fury and cruelty, they destroyed everything in their path, passing death sentences, including on deserters.
Detrius hid in cover and attempted to destroy the company captain with a psychic attack. Thanks to the gifts of Tzeentch, I literally saw his psionic form break out of his physical body and begin to try to tear apart other souls. It was the perfect moment for me.
The aviation in this area was silent or fired very accurately so as not to hit the space marines, so during another run I rushed forward at full speed. Cultists sometimes appeared in front of me, I knocked one down with my shoulder, breaking his skull, another tried to empty his entire magazine at me, but half of the bullets hit the target, and the rest did not cause any harm.
Jumping the trench, I crushed another cultist with my landing and ran, trying not to expose myself to the Angels of Redemption, whose bolters fired bolts, small rockets, the caliber of which was comparable to some anti-aircraft guns. A hit from such a weapon could end very badly for anyone, even a daemon.
- GET DOWN!!! - the cultists I was rushing towards shouted.
And at that moment the explosion raised a bloody rain, into which I rushed. Guts clung to the sharp corners of my new body, a large fragment from a grenade launcher shot lodged right in my skull, piercing my eye. However, I still rushed forward and at full speed grabbed Detrius, who was sitting in the dugout.
He returned to his body too late. The last thing he saw was my new crystal face. And then I broke his back over my knee, after which I crushed his head with a kick and tore out his spine just in case. I did all this extremely quickly and immediately started running.
The Space Marines had every chance of taking me alive, which was unacceptable. It was better to find some tank and blow up along with its ammunition than to believe that an experienced battle-hardened Astartes would immediately decide to put a bolt through my head.
How ironic, who would have thought that even with the search for death I could have problems. Or maybe it was worth staying to live in a new body and move to the warp?
More chapters on my P@treon: https://patreon.com/OOOTEN