Chapter 22: I Have Arrived

Amidst the roaring flames and thick fog, Sicarius and his fellow loyalists strode forth from the drop pods, plunging into the fray.

His power sword hissed as he swung it, cleaving two cultists asunder in a single stroke before charging toward a Plague Marine clutching a rusted bolter. The foe attempted to fire, but Sicarius evaded the shots with ease. His swordsmanship was exceptional, and his combat instincts were among the finest of the Ultramarines. Augmented by his power armor, he closed the hundred-meter distance through incoming fire in mere seconds. Upon reaching the traitor, he ducked beneath a sweeping blow from the enemy’s battle-axe and countered with a backhand strike into the creature’s bloated abdomen.

The entire sequence was crisp and decisive, devoid of hesitation—a display of pure, lethal artistry. The Plague Marine stared at its abdominal wound in disbelief, and before it could recover, Sicarius delivered a finishing blow. The blade decapitated the foe; the severed head hit the ground, eyes wide with shock. Deprived of its head, the massive body of the Plague Marine collapsed with a heavy thud. Foul pus leaked from the wound, and maggots writhed within the gore.

Sicarius pulled the trigger of his bolter with his other hand, sending a relentless hail of vengeful rounds into the chest of another traitor. The Plague Marine’s archaic armor shattered, spraying putrid ichor and maggot-ridden flesh. Its chainsword, fused with living meat, fell to the ground; the eye at the hilt expressed terror, and its grotesque mouth emitted a silent scream. Bereft of its host, the daemon dwelling within would slowly perish.

Sicarius and the other warriors surged toward the artillery battery.

"For the Master of Ultramar!" Sicarius roared, his bolter barking rhythmically at the cannons and Plagueburst Crawlers.

"For the Master of Ultramar!"
"For the Emperor, for Guilliman!"

The other warriors joined the war cry. Their bolter fire tore into the artillery, the sheer impact detonating the shells and power modules within the breeches. The explosions triggered a chain reaction among the stockpiled munitions and energy cells nearby, creating a hellish inferno of cascading detonations. The Plagueburst Crawlers that were not torn apart by the initial volleys were quickly swallowed by the flames, their screams echoing from within the firestorm. Soon, the enemy’s artillery position was nothing more than a smoldering ruin.

"Primary objective complete. Executing secondary objective: wipe them out. Let us strike from the enemy's rear to support our Lord," Sicarius signaled.

Few Plague Marines remained; the majority were cultists deceived by Chaos and cowards who had sold their souls for a few extra days of wretched life. The cultists rushed the Space Marines in droves, armed with an array of makeshift weapons, their faces marked by the brands and twisted tattoos of the Ruinous Powers.

Sicarius showed no mercy. He swung his power sword, cutting down any who dared oppose him. Mortal or Plague Marine alike, they were dispatched with ruthless efficiency. The servants of Chaos fell in waves, their fragile bodies shredded by the assault bolters and power weapons of the Space Marines. More cultists, bewitched by Chaos and devoid of fear, swarmed from every direction, their numbers replenished with alarming speed.

Yet, Sicarius and his men remained undaunted. The battlefield was soon a landscape of mangled flesh, splattered with severed limbs and gore. His azure power armor was entirely obscured by blood. The loyalists moved in perfect coordination, pushing forward steadily and establishing interlocking fields of fire that annihilated all resistance.

Soon, the bravest of the Chaos servants lay dead. Only a few continued to hurl themselves at the Space Marines in desperation, while the majority fell to their knees, begging for mercy.

"Please, I only wanted to live!" a woman knelt on the blood-soaked earth, pleading with the Angel of the Emperor before her.

"There is no mercy for Chaos. It is better to die twice than to betray the Emperor. You made the wrong choice. Your flesh shall be erased, and your soul shall be banished. Die, you shameless traitor."

Sicarius pulled the trigger. A flash of muzzle fire erupted, and under the massive impact of the bolter round, the woman before him was reduced to a heap of mangled meat. Any mercy shown to the traitors of Chaos was an insult to the fallen loyalists. The other kneeling wretches met the same fate, cut down by the Space Marines’ assault bolters, power fists, and power weapons. Before long, nothing remained where the traitors had knelt but crimson stains and broken corpses.

With the artillery battery fallen, the Plague Marines lost their anti-air support. Stormbirds, Thunderhawks, and other battlefield aircraft were deployed, slicing through the plague-laden clouds to begin bombing runs and drop reinforcements. Dreadnoughts, heavy tanks, Knight Titans, and Emperor Titans joined the battle, unleashing a torrent of devastating firepower that the Plague Marines could not withstand. The tide of battle, led by Guilliman’s Space Marines, shifted rapidly in favor of humanity.

Elsewhere, the Plague Marines, cultists, and traitors invading the fortress were conducting their final slaughter. Ghorlo stood silent amidst the ruins, like a bloated statue. His armor was covered in fat plague flies; as he moved, the insects stirred, creating a constant, droning buzz. Before him, mounds of corpses were piled high, blanketed in a thick layer of flies. His second-in-command poured a special, vile plague liquid, invoking the power of Nurgle.

Ghorlo looked toward the distant, screaming humans and smiled. "Only a little remains. The Warp ritual is nearly complete. Guilliman will find he can do nothing. This planet belongs to Grandfather Nurgle, as do those selfish souls."

"Protect the civilians! Get them to the west!" Jian shouted. His honor guard fired their carbines and blast guns, cutting down the plague-ridden corpses. Even with the defense line broken, Jian was prepared to die, yet he did not yield to despair or suicidal recklessness. Instead, he did his utmost to protect the civilians and facilitate their escape.

Hundreds of men and women, dressed in tattered, grime-stained Imperial Guard uniforms, resisted the enemy with everything they had, centered around his position. Their skin was pale as wax, marked by the scars and wounds of plague and war. Every one of them knew that even if they survived the battle, they would die in agony from the lingering effects of the pox. Yet, their faces remained resolute; though they knew their end was near, they felt no fear.

"Praise Him."

A voice filled with both agony and relief rang out across the chaotic battlefield. A female soldier, tackled by a plague corpse, uttered her final prayer and pulled the pin on a high-yield grenade. The thunderous explosion instantly swallowed all the corpses and traitors within a dozen meters. Countless fragments of flesh rained down like a storm of blood.

"Rest in peace. May the Emperor have mercy on your soul," Jian whispered, his laser pistol continuing to fire at the approaching corpses and cultists as he retreated.

"No!"
"Run, Andy! Run like you used to, run like the wind!"

The terrified cries of a child mixed with the agonizing screams of an old man reached Jian’s ears. He looked toward the sound and saw an elderly man clinging desperately to the legs of a cultist, while nearby, a young boy lay in a pool of blood with his skull shattered. A little girl was stumbling forward, sobbing.

"Damn beasts!" Furiously, Jian turned his aim, fired at the cultist, and rushed over to scoop up the little girl. He did not know why he did it; he knew full well that saving the girl only meant she would suffer for a little while longer.

BOOM!

An explosion rocked the area, and the two soldiers beside Jian were vaporized. Two Plague Marines appeared on the field, their bolters reaping the lives of the surviving soldiers. As the former angels of the Emperor, their combat prowess was unquestionable; mortal men were nothing more than fodder before them. Accompanied by heavy, rhythmic footsteps, a Dreadnought, corrupted by plague-flesh, emerged from behind the two Plague Marines.

Jian looked at the Plague Marines and the corrupted Dreadnought marching toward his last remaining squad, his heart filled with despair. His unit could never withstand these terrifying monstrosities.

"Foolish servant of the Corpse Emperor," the Plague Marine intoned. "Welcome the Grandfather's gi—"

Eh?

Before it could finish, the Plague Marine noticed a shadow on the ground, growing rapidly. Confused, it tilted its head upward, its pupils dilating in an instant.

A giant, wielding a burning golden sword, descended from the sky and brought his blade down upon it. Before the traitor could react, the flaming golden sword cleaved it from head to toe.

"I have arrived." The giant’s roar was heard clearly across the entire battlefield.