|3rd POV|
The situation on Atoma Prime turns from bad to apocalyptic.
The manifestation of the Great Unclean One immediately changes the atmosphere of the entire planet. A green miasma spreads at a terrifying rate, consuming the world in mere minutes.
People begin to fall ill. Their bodies change from the inside out.
Within moments, casualties reach into the billions. Those humans are no longer human—they become pus-filled zombies that crave nothing but to please the Plague God. They charge into the hail of bullets without any care in the world. They no longer feel anything and instead feel pleasure as their bodies are covered with holes from the bullets. Only those carrying the medallions containing [Banishing Fire] are able to resist the miasma long enough to retreat to the Sanctuary, where a blue barrier protects the entire city.
ROB's blessing works overtime, ensuring the presence of the Great Unclean One does not shatter the last bastion against the Warp.
Even the Astartes must don their best protective gear just to survive as the miasma spreads.
"Retreat! We need to regroup with the others! Give the Emperor's Mercy to the infected! Rescue those who are not infected!"
As Salamanders Space Marines, it is their duty to protect the backbone of the Imperium—Humanity. They understand, however, that they cannot save everyone. Still, they are more than willing to put their lives on the line to rescue those trapped on the battlefield. As long as they draw breath, they will keep fighting for them.
There is only one group they cannot save. Those infected by the Ruinous Powers.
There is only one mercy left to give.
So, they burn them. That is the only mercy they can give. Burn them until nothing remains for the Ruinous Power to defile.
The hiss of promethium fills the battlefield as the Salamanders cleanse the infected while retreating toward the Sanctuary to retrieve heavier weaponry. Their heavy flamer burns anything on their path, and their Melta weaponry melts anything blocking their path.
High above, Kael fights in the air, already in his Balance Breaker form, battling the Greater Daemon as it laughs gleefully at his efforts. His attacks fail to land with the power he expects.
Even his [Banishing Fire] struggles against the being in front of him.
The sacred flames fight against the thick, rotting power of Nurgle's chosen, unable to fully consume the foul energy pouring from Bolothrax's bloated form.
"Fofofofofo~ Struggle! Keep struggling, human! Your soul will be more delicious the more you resist!"
Kael grits his teeth and raises his arm, deflecting an incoming wave of warp energy.
"Boost! Boost! Boost! Boost! Boost!"
Five more boosts surge through his body. His power spikes—but even now, his flames only burn away a thin layer of Bolothrax's diseased second skin. It is not enough to hurt the Great Unclean One.
Still, it makes the Greater Daemon wary. Bolothrax is wary as he doesn't know how much boost Kael can take. After watching him fight, Bolothrax knows that each boost increases Kael's power by one hundred percent. Something that his God wants for himself, hence the reason why he wants to sacrifice Kael for Nurgle.
Bolothrax is also angry. Angry at how Kael dared to cleanse his Grandfather and creator's blessing on his body.
With another jolly laugh, Bolothrax releases a massive wave of green energy that crashes into the barrier surrounding the Sanctuary like a tsunami hitting a city. The impact shakes the entire Sanctuary like an earthquake.
Outside the Sanctuary, the wave is catastrophic.
It melts people from the inside. Even Salamanders in full armor cannot withstand the full power of a Greater Daemon. Nearly half of the Space Marines caught in the blast dissolve into foul sludge. Worse still, the ooze seeps into their abandoned armor, reanimating it into creatures of pure Warp energy and Nurgle's blessing.
"Bring heavy flamers! Get as much melta weaponry as you can! We cannot let this thing break the barrier!"
Sergeant Major Marrow barks orders, fear tightening his chest. If the barrier falls, everything falls with it.
He does not know the truth, that the barrier was created by a being even more powerful than the God-Emperor of Mankind.
"What about reinforcements from the Mourningstar?! What about the Salamanders' fleet?! We need orbital bombardment!"
"We don't know, sir! They say they'll fire in a few minutes, but we've lost contact! They have gone silent!"
"Frakking hell! Tell the others to manufacture more ammo! Get the Tech-Priests to bring up heavier weapons! We need everything!"
"Yes, sir!"
Marrow clenches his fist.
"What is happening up there…?"
==| A few minutes earlier — above Atoma Prime |==
Emora Brahms grits her teeth as reports flood the bridge. The situation on Atoma Prime has gone from dire to nightmarish. She has deployed every crew member she can spare to the surface—and even sent down heavy weaponry from her ship.
It has not been enough.
Now a Greater Daemon stands on the planet, and she can see the green miasma swallowing the world with her own eyes.
She has already received a request from Sergeant Major Marrow to perform an orbital bombardment to reduce the infected population. The command she reluctantly obeys. She doesn't want to waste more ammunition, but she understands that it is something that she needs to do.
"Tell the others to prepare orbital bombardment. Send the coordinates to—"
"Ma'am!"
"What?!"
She snarls at the interruption. The officer flinches at her tone and expression.
"Sorry, ma'am! But this is urgent! Warp-jump signatures are appearing near us!"
"What?! Who are they?! Are they from Terra?!"
Hope surges in her chest. Their current forces cannot defeat a Greater Daemon. They need overwhelming firepower. That means they need more ships. Especially ships that carry bigger orbital bombardment, something that an Imperial Navy Regime carries.
"No, ma'am! It's the Moebian 6th! They've arrived from the frontier!"
"I see. That is good. How many of them?"
"The sign tells us there should be ten of them!"
"Good. Good! That should be enough for now."
After she said that, ten warp tears rip open near the fleet. One by one, voidships emerge. She watches ten ships emerge from the warp, and two of them near the Mourningstar.
But instead of relief, dread crawls up Emora's spine. Trusting her instincts, she turns and roars.
"Void shields to maximum! Now!"
"Ma'am?"
"Now!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
She watches shimmering barriers flare to life around her fleet.
It is just in time as the Moebian ships open fire. Their cannon roar and torpedoes hit the void shield of the Mourningstar.
Most target the Space Marine vessels. While the one near Mourningstar focuses their guns on her ship.
Emora grips her command throne and barks another order.
"Fire torpedoes, port side!"
"Yes, ma'am! Volley one away!"
The ship shudders as dozens of torpedoes streak into the void. Each one of them hit the void shield of the heretic ship.
"Second spread loaded! Target locked! They are still within optimum range, ma'am!"
"Fire!"
The Mourningstar fires again.
"Their void shields are down, ma'am! Third spread loaded! They're attempting to retreat! The optimum range for torpedoes will be lost in five seconds!"
"Don't let them escape! Prepare the front lance! Fire the third volley!"
More torpedoes slam into the heretic vessels, crippling them—but they keep moving. They are getting away. She knows her ship cannot chase them and has already prepared for this scenario.
"High-energy turn! Face the enemy! Lock that ship! How is the lance?!"
"High-energy turn engaged! Target locked! Lance is ready, ma'am! Ready at your command!"
"Fire. Kill that heretic."
The lance beneath the Mourningstar glows.
"Firing in five! Four! Three! Two! One! Firing!"
A blue beam tears through space and punches straight through the enemy ship. It detonates in a brilliant explosion. Emora Brahms nods her head in satisfaction and turns around.
"Commend the gunner crews. Give them extra rations and an additional ten minutes of rest this sleep cycle. They earned it."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Before she can continue, the ship jolts violently.
"What now?!"
"Ma'am! We're being boarded!"
"Frak! Take our best men and kill every bastard who dares step on my ship! Seal off all critical sections—do not let them reach the core!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
Like the war below, the void becomes a battlefield. Sadly, she and the others do not notice additional heretic reinforcements emerging from the far side of the planet. All of them are ready to wreak havoc and destroy them.
But hope arrives.
Three new warp tears split open near the newly arrived heretic ships, catching them off guard.
From them emerge six massive warships. They are reinforcements from Terra.
At their center flies a colossal golden battleship bearing a symbol that inspires awe, hope, and fear in equal measure.
The symbol of the Adeptus Custodes.
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