Harkus's red-glowing bionic eye stared intently at the artillery piece, which looked as though it might blow its barrel open at any second. As a rigorous Techmarine, he truly wanted to stay behind to verify the Tech-Priest's prediction—to see if that barrel would genuinely scrap itself at the exact thirty-minute mark.
However, the situation on the battlefield waited for no one.
"Brother Harkus, keep up," Sicarius's voice echoed in the vox-channel. Though still authoritative, it held a faint hint of impatience. "We have defense lines to inspect. We cannot waste time waiting for a cannon barrel to burst."
"Yes, Captain," Harkus replied, reluctantly retracting his gaze as he fell into step with the squad with heavy strides.
The Ultramarines navigated through the intricate system of trenches and arrived at a strategic high ground controlling a vital pass. The view here was expansive, fortified with numerous heavy firepower emplacements.
Behind a bunker constructed from sandbags and camouflage netting sat a battle-scarred Leman Russ Main Battle Tank. As the blue giants appeared on the rise, the tank's top hatch was shoved open, and a Helldiver commander leaned halfway out.
Seeing the rows of tall, imposing Ultramarines before him, the commander froze for a moment before instinctively raising a hand in salute. The words slipped out: "Holy crap, that many Astartes? Looks like I'm about to die a glorious death."
Carrying the psychological shadow left by the earlier artillery piece, Harkus paid no mind to the mortal's exclamation. Instead, he reflexively scanned the massive steel beast.
That single glance yielded data that sent another tremor through his neural processor.
"This Leman Russ—" Harkus stepped forward, his metallic fingers gently brushing over the varying depths of scratches and patched weld seams on the armor. "Its metallic structure is ancient and fragile. It appears to have been in service for a very long time."
"Yes, sir," the commander patted the tank's turret, his tone filled with the affection one holds for an old comrade. "This Leman Russ has been in our order of battle from the very start. Honestly, this old buddy has outlasted most of our tank crews."
The commander sighed, a trace of nostalgia surfacing in his eyes. "Several generations of crew members have quit the game cough—I mean, lost their lives—but this vehicle keeps fighting.
Can you imagine? Among the armored vehicles that first charged into the Governor's Palace to battle those Slaanesh Space Marines back then, he was there. Repaired and patched all the way to the present day, it's been nearly two hundred years, give or take."
At this point, the commander seemed lost in memory, muttering thoughtfully to himself, "Speaking of which, this game has been running for twenty irl years already? Time really flies... I remember back when I was still a student—"
Harkus paid no attention to the second half about "games" or "running." His mind was completely captured by the first part.
He blurted out, "A Leman Russ in service for two hundred years! And continuously on high-intensity frontlines like this? By the Omnissiah, it can still run?"
"Barely, to be honest," the commander shrugged, pointing behind the tank. "That's why we used a transport vehicle to haul it all the way up to this high ground. To protect that aging engine, we must save every single turn of its gears. We only start the engine to face the enemy when we make contact, need to charge, or have to fire."
"This is simply—"
Harkus looked at the tank, covered in scars with severely worn tracks, and shook his head repeatedly.
His voice was thick with disapproval. "This is an excessive exploitation of a sacred machine! You should have preserved it safely!
Whether on Holy Mars or in Ultramar, an armored vehicle with two hundred years of combat history and illustrious battle honors deserves to be placed in a museum or the cloister of a monastery, meticulously maintained!"
The Techmarine grew increasingly heated as he spoke, opening his arms as if to shield the tank from the ravages of war.
"It should enjoy the anointing of sacred oils, the chants of servitors, and be used to instruct recruits or demonstrate glorious history to future generations—not thrown here like a single-use disposable—"
BOOM!!!
Before Harkus could finish his sentence, a massive noise resembling a wild beast's roar suddenly echoed from inside the silent Leman Russ.
Immediately following, the engine produced an extraordinarily restless and violent rumble. Two thick plumes of black smoke, dense as ink, erupted instantly from the chassis and exhaust pipes.
Standing too close, the still-ranting Harkus was completely engulfed head-to-toe by the cloud of black smoke.
"Cough! Cough, cough!"
The helmet that theoretically should have filtered out waste gasses failed to work. A grand Astartes Techmarine was actually choked into a fit of coughing, hurriedly waving his servo-arm and hands to fan away the dense, oil-reeking smoke in front of him.
A layer of black soot instantly coated his red power armor.
The engine continued its low growl, as if protesting in dissatisfaction, and the hull shuddered violently alongside it, like an old wolf desperate to break free from its leash.
Watching this awkward scene, the commander narrowed his eyes, spread his hands, and looked at the soot-covered Techmarine with an innocent expression.
"Uh... seems like he doesn't quite agree with your viewpoint, sir. This old fellow has a terrible temper. Rather than retiring to a museum, he seems to prefer dying on a charge."
While Harkus was still waving his hands to disperse the choking smoke before him, an urgent shout from the vox operator suddenly echoed from inside the Leman Russ, carrying clearly through the open hatch:
"Commander! The auspex has a reading! They're at the foot of the hill! A massive horde of zombies is approaching!"
Hearing this, the commander showed no fear. He slammed his hand against the hatch rim and cheered loudly, "Good! I knew this tank wouldn't start its engine for no reason. This old buddy's instincts are even sharper than the auspex!"
With that, he quickly ducked back inside the turret. "Move out! Crush the horde! Let these Nurgle scumbags taste a veteran's wrath!"
Accompanied by a deafening roar, Harkus felt the ground beneath his feet tremble violently.
Under his dumbfounded gaze, this Leman Russ tank—whose engine was theoretically long aged, whose drive system should have been completely worn out, and which ought to have possessed virtually no motive power—charged out like an instantly enraged bull. Its tracks kicked up mud furiously, accelerating in a manner that entirely defied physical common sense.
How did this look like a two-hundred-year-old relic? This was fiercer than a brand-new Leman Russ straight off the assembly line! It charged down the slope at full speed, tracks crushing rocks, its turret rotating nimbly in search of prey.
The only flaw, perhaps, was that it made far too much noise.
The roar of that engine sounded like it was repeatedly jumping on the edge of an explosion. The two rolling plumes of black smoke dragged behind the hull rose straight into the clouds like twin black dragons, visible even from ten kilometers away. Coupled with its exterior—covered in patches, rough weld seams, and even hung with scrap metal armor picked up from who-knows-where—
Harkus watched the receding rear of the speeding tank, his lip twitching madly.
If one ignored the Imperial Aquila emblem on it, looking purely at the black smoke, immense noise, and battered frame tearing forward at breakneck speed, anyone would believe it if told this was a dirty vehicle stolen by Orks!
"This is unscientific—"
Harkus felt his worldview suffering a tremendous impact. Gloomily using his servo-arm to wipe the oil stains off his bionic lens, he watched the tank dive headfirst into the Death Guard corpse-tide below, beginning to crush them furiously like a meat grinder.
The Ultramarines Techmarine let out a long sigh, issuing a question from the very depths of his soul: "Why are the machine spirits of Perditia so hyperactive?! What kind of magic does this place have?!"