Fully armed and towering like gods among men, the Emperor's Angels strode down the warship's corridors, with squads of Guardsmen and Battle Sisters advancing steadily behind them.
Arthur carried his storm shield like a holy relic, its solid bulk absorbing enemy fire. Through the gaps behind him, bolter rounds and lasblasts shot past with lethal precision, cutting down the charging cultists.
The traitors were torn apart by every kind of weapon, reduced to mangled flesh. Severed limbs and bloody fragments whipped through the air as if swung by an invisible mop.
With a wet crunch, Arthur's sword slipped back behind his shield and swung out again, never pausing. Anything strong enough to push against his bulwark was instantly decapitated. Then his iron boot rose and crushed the warped, defiled bodies without hesitation.
Every step forward pressed gore into the clogged vent shafts underfoot, which oozed out foul-smelling fluids.
Behind him, Romulus maintained steady fire support. At every intersection, he planted a bright yellow glowstick into the wall.
After advancing only a few corridors, the supporting fire behind them grew thinner and thinner, until it disappeared entirely. Arthur and Romulus had to stop at a junction.
Not because they wanted to, but because of the Guardsmen following behind.
Arthur stomped out a writhing cultist and leaned against a shattered ceiling panel for cover. He raised his flamer and burned out cultists crowding the passage, while Romulus held the other side.
Holding a junction took little firepower. With the chokepoint secured, enemies could be locked into a narrow kill-zone.
The Guardsmen had heavy duties. Following the Astartes' spearhead, they had to build defensive nodes along the way, blocking enemies spilling out from other corridors. With comms disrupted, even Colonel Kovek's masterful command needed time to filter through.
The truth was that even a Guardsman running at full sprint could not keep up with an Astartes storming through heavy weapons fire.
So the Guard inevitably fell behind whenever Angels of Death broke into a rapid assault.
Moments later, Arthur's power pack was empty. As he swapped cells, a bolter round zipped past him. Battle Sisters in power armor arrived at the junction.
A little after that, Colonel Kovek appeared at last with his most hardened company, blood staining his armor.
"My lord"
Shaking crimson from his chainsword, the colonel's face burned with shame.
The Gellar field generators could only be secured with Astartes breaking the line, yet here the Guard had become the weak link.
The Astartes were simply too fast, like hurricanes.
"Every five junctions we capture, we will wait."
Arthur spoke. He understood why the Guard lagged behind.
It was not from lack of effort. These soldiers wrung every ounce of strength from their bodies, making their coin yield maximum value for the Emperor before being spent. But the biological gulf could not be bridged.
"My lord, you must not wait"
Colonel Kovek urged loudly, forcing himself to match the slowed pace of the Angels.
"Please press forward. We can endure the heretics' challenges on our own."
A veteran of more than a dozen worlds, the colonel felt a strange discomfort at the Angels' consideration. From one view, it filled him with unease. From another, it left him with a sense of unworthiness. Why should Angels bend their stride for him
The heart of this operation was to support the missing Deathwatch kill team at the Gellar generators. Only by holding the generators would the defensive positions built along the way mean anything.
If the generators fell, no matter how perfect their fortifications, no matter how low their casualties, the mission would still fail. And failure meant extinction for them all.
The colonel had already prepared for heavy losses. Yet now the Astartes deliberately drew attention, cleared each junction, left glowsticks for direction, and even paused to let the Guard catch up.
So far, not a single Guardsman had died in the push.
Shame burned on Colonel Kovek's face.
He and his soldiers felt like infants being carried in swaddling cloth.
"You mean we should not consider your safety, and you will push ahead"
Romulus repeated the point.
Their human values from a past life made them care deeply about protecting others, especially now as Astartes. Both instinctively believed their role was to shield these mortals first.
"Correct."
Colonel Kovek answered. "The Gellar field is the key."
He knew the Guard could never match the Angels or the Sisters in their powered plate. He could prioritize what mattered.
"You are certain"
Arthur tilted his head slightly.
Astartes were superhuman, but not omnipotent. If they pushed forward, Guardsmen would face some of the horrors alone.
"We will bleed, but we will not let victory slip through our fingers."
With the Astartes cutting the path, it was enough. The Sisters would follow with them to reinforce. The Guard only needed to hold the gaps.
The storm's aftermath already bought them precious breathing room. That was enough.
Their role was to hold gains, build defenses, and free the Angels from worry.
They were mortals, but they were also the backbone of the Imperium.
The Emperor's Angels needed only to seize victory, not pause for coins like them.
Faith was terrifying. It could drive men to disregard their own lives.
Arthur fell silent. For the first time, he and Romulus faced the clash of two worlds' values. They exchanged a glance.
"What do we do"
"Trust the professionals."
Romulus reasoned that if circumstance forced them into this corner, the best choice was to respect the Guard's judgment, complete the mission as fast as possible, then return to support them.
They all knew how foul the Warhammer universe was. As transmigrators, they had the sense not to let their own good intentions make things worse.
Together, the two nodded.
__________________________________________________________
To read more advanced chapters and support me, go to:
patreon.com/ArchSovereign