Smoke and gunfire filled the outskirts of the High City's imperial palace.
Hastur Sejanus led his delegation through the ruins, the thunder of bolters never letting up.
But there were simply too many enemies.
The human soldiers seemed endless.
Sejanus and his men fought a desperate retreat through the sprawling palace complex, every step feeling like a struggle through a sea of blood.
Gold-armored soldiers poured out of every corridor and doorway. Their elaborate armor gleamed beneath the palace lights as they charged forward with standard-issue lasguns.
Every time one wave fell, another took its place.
They showed neither fear nor hesitation, as though dying in battle were merely a shortcut into their Emperor's embrace.
Their flashy golden armor might have looked ridiculous, but it was surprisingly effective.
Sejanus suspected it was made from some kind of composite steel. A lasrifle shot would leave little more than a blackened scorch mark. It took at least two consecutive hits to penetrate the armor.
The energy rifles carried by the invisible warriors, however, were another matter entirely.
A single shot could melt a fist-sized hole through a wall.
Sejanus watched as three energy beams struck one of his personal guards squarely in the chest.
The man didn't even have time to scream.
The beams burned straight through his torso, sending his lifeless body crashing forward and leaving a gruesome trail of blood across the floor.
He had been a veteran Sejanus personally selected from the Solar Auxilia attached to the 63rd Expeditionary Fleet.
Seventeen planetary invasions.
Three medals for valor.
And now he lay dead right in front of him.
Sejanus's jaw tightened for a moment.
But he didn't stop.
His bolter roared steadily, every round finding an enemy who was raising a weapon to fire.
Against .75-caliber bolt shells, the golden armor might as well have been made of paper.
One shot punched straight through.
One enemy down.
Quick and clean.
"Brother Sejanus! On your left!"
Lone Wolf's warning rang out.
Without even looking, Sejanus rolled to his right while swinging his bolter left and firing blindly.
Three shots.
Three kills.
Three invisible warriors materialized out of thin air, blood pouring from the gaping holes blasted through their chests.
Sejanus sprang back to his feet and kept moving.
He glanced across his remaining formation.
The ten elite Luna Wolves Honor Guards still maintained a flawless combat formation, their white power armor splattered with enemy blood.
Their bolters thundered relentlessly. Whenever an enemy managed to close the distance, a chainsword would swing out and tear the unfortunate soldier apart.
The ordinary soldiers' lasguns could do little more than scorch their armor. They couldn't even penetrate the outermost layer of ceramite.
Only concentrated fire from the Invisibles' energy rifles posed a serious threat.
Fortunately, Easton somehow always managed to spot those invisible bastards before they opened fire.
Sejanus had no idea how the kid did it.
But he knew one thing for certain.
Without Easton's warnings, at least three to five more members of their group would already be dead.
Unfortunately, the rest of his personal guard hadn't been nearly as lucky.
The elite mortal soldiers he had painstakingly selected from the 63rd Expeditionary Fleet were falling one after another.
Their tactical movements were textbook perfect. Their reflexes were sharp, and their combat skills were exceptional.
But surrounded on all sides and facing invisible enemies who could appear out of nowhere, none of that was enough to keep them alive.
One guardsman barely managed to dodge three energy beams before a gold-armored soldier tackled him from the side.
His combat knife plunged into the attacker's throat.
At that exact moment, at least five energy beams struck from different directions, punching through his body.
Another guardsman was ambushed from behind while reloading.
An energy blade pierced his back and burst through his chest.
He collapsed into a pool of blood before he could even scream.
Sejanus gritted his teeth.
But he couldn't afford to stop.
The moment they stopped moving, the enemy would surround them completely.
And then everyone would die.
So they kept fighting.
Kept retreating.
And kept watching the human brothers who had followed them into battle die one by one.
--
Lone Wolf followed closely behind Sejanus, his bolter firing with practiced precision.
His face remained expressionless.
Inside, however, his emotions were a complete mess.
Fuck.
These are real, living people.
They're not NPCs.
They have families. Friends. Dreams.
And now they're just... dead.
In the stories, they're nothing more than background characters. Casualty numbers mentioned in passing during some grand, epic battle.
But these men...
They're actually giving their lives to protect people they believe are more important than themselves.
His finger tightened around the trigger, and another gold-armored soldier attempting to charge them dropped dead.
This is Warhammer.
This is war.
This is... the reality these people have to live with.
Lone Wolf took a deep breath and tightened his grip on his bolter.
He couldn't let those deaths be meaningless.
He had to get Sejanus out of here alive.
That was the promise he'd made to his Imperial faction brothers.
By the time the delegation finally reached the palace's outer perimeter, only twelve people remained.
Eleven Luna Wolves.
And Lone Wolf.
Sejanus raised a hand, signaling everyone to halt.
His gaze cut through the smoke toward the enormous gate leading out of the palace.
A massive army stood waiting beyond it.
At least ten thousand gold-armored soldiers filled the space inside and outside the gate, packed shoulder to shoulder, every lasrifle trained on their position.
And from Lone Wolf's perspective, things looked even worse.
Behind those soldiers, at least five hundred Invisibles flickered in and out of his vision.
Sejanus's expression didn't change.
He simply turned around and looked at the eleven blood-soaked figures behind him.
The elite Luna Wolves Honor Guards returned his gaze.
There was no fear in their eyes.
No hesitation.
Only something else.
The pride of the XVI Legion.
Sejanus slowly studied their faces.
He knew every single one of them.
The warrior standing at the front had fought alongside him in more than twenty campaigns. He was a brother who had once saved his life from an Ork warlord's cleaver.
The one leaning against the wall was a soldier Sejanus had personally promoted from the recruit barracks and trained himself.
The warrior reloading his bolter was someone he had personally commended after the Battle of Gorro.
And then there was the young warrior standing silently at the rear, his face smeared with blood.
Asmodeus Easton.
A faint smile gradually appeared on Sejanus's face.
It was barely noticeable.
But there was a certain warmth behind it.
"We're not getting out."
His voice was calm, as though he were simply stating an obvious fact.
The eleven warriors straightened their backs.
Nobody spoke.
There was no need.
Sejanus continued.
"We've already sent a distress call."
"Father will send someone to rescue us soon."
He paused, letting his gaze travel across those familiar faces.
"But until then..."
"We have to stay alive."
"And while we're trapped in this palace with these traitors..."
"We might as well give them a proper lesson in guerrilla warfare."
Eleven voices answered in perfect unison, their response powerful enough to make the air tremble.
Standing at the rear, Lone Wolf also struck his right fist against his chest.
But internally, he was losing his mind.
Guerrilla warfare?
Bro, you're calling this a lesson?
There are twelve of us against at least ten thousand enemies.
This is basically PUBG!
And we're playing on Hell difficulty.
No airdrops. No cheats. No backup.
Our only advantage is...
Lone Wolf glanced at the Luna Wolves around him.
Each of these absolute monsters can take on hundreds of enemies.
As long as we have enough ammo, we can eventually grind those bastards down.
Wait.
Do we have enough ammo?
Lone Wolf quietly checked his five-slot inventory.
Three slots contained stacks of ten bolter ammunition crates.
Five hundred rounds per crate.
That should keep these monsters shooting for quite a while.
Unlimited ammo? Pretty much.
Lone Wolf silently reassured himself.
Don't you guys worry about a thing.
Just keep pumping out that damage.
I'll handle the logistics.
At the front of the formation, Sejanus's expression sharpened as he quickly issued his next orders.
"This palace is enormous."
"Plenty of rooms and complicated passageways. Perfect for guerrilla warfare."
"We'll split into three groups, covering each other as we fight and fall back."
"Lure them inside. Use the terrain to our advantage and wear them down little by little."
"Understood?"
The ten Luna Wolves nodded in unison.
Watching them, Lone Wolf couldn't help but think:
So this is Sejanus.
Even when everything looks hopeless, he can make a decision instantly, keep everyone calm, and turn a scattered group of survivors back into a fighting force.
No wonder he became the most levelheaded member of the Mournival.
No wonder he could balance Abaddon's ambition, Little Horus's fanaticism, and Torgaddon's humor.
Sejanus turned toward him.
"Easton."
His voice softened slightly.
"Stay close to me."
"Don't fall behind."
Lone Wolf nodded.
"Got it, brother."
Sejanus drew a deep breath and tightened his grip on his bolter.
Then he turned and marched back into the depths of the palace.
Eleven figures followed close behind.
--
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