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Chapter 80: Word Bearers: Where the hell did you send me? Is this still 40k?
🕑 Added 2025-08-10 14:22:01 +0000 UTCChapter 80: Word Bearers: Where the hell did you send me? Is this still 40k?
"I have seen your soul, Cornwall. The faith that surrounds you shines brightly and has ultimately dispelled the malice of Chaos," Ramesses said, his voice heavy as he stared into Cornwall's eyes. "But I am not qualified to forgive you. Because if falling to Chaos can be forgiven, that is the greatest insult to the loyal."
With that, Ramesses exchanged a glance with his companions, then continued, "You need not worry that your actions will affect your family. Your daughter is exceptionally gifted. I will take her as my apprentice. You do not have to fear that everything you cherish will perish with your death."
"You will die. But you can choose to die silently at my hand, or you can take up a weapon and die on the path of firing upon the enemies of Mankind. Then, let the Emperor judge your sins."
"Now, it is time for you to choose."
Cornwall blinked, a sense of absurdity washing over him. He wasn't being turned into a Penitent Servitor, wasn't being publicly executed in front of everyone. He was standing here, and he could actually choose the manner of his own death?
I have a choice?
This... this was too much of a luxury.
"I pray for battle," Cornwall said, his voice filled with hope. "I will die on the path."
"I will atone for my sins. I will make the heretic suffer and the xenos know pain!"
Inside the armored transport, Cornwall clutched a melta charge, whispering under his breath. Around him were soldiers, all clad in void armor, fully armed. They all looked with curiosity at this comrade on the very edge of their formation, a man with no weapon, no armor, only a single melta charge and a tattered uniform.
Penitent Legions were not uncommon, but this kind of cannon fodder was usually assigned to unimportant units and thrown into unimportant battles. They would never operate alongside the main force.
Unless this person had been "certified."
Price glanced at his comrade's child, then finally gripped his long-las.
The war was about to begin!
An armored force, consisting of three thousand Cadian Astra Militarum, eight hundred Astartes, and over a hundred Sisters of Battle and Inquisitorial Stormtroopers, after a thirty-six-minute march, arrived at the incinerator complex that required the Emperor's great wrath.
And their enemies were the xenos and cultists entrenched within, along with an estimated six hundred-plus Chaos Marines of the Word Bearers.
SQUELCH!
The Carcharodons cut down the scouts, a mix of Genestealers and cultists. As the rumbling of the war machines shook the outer walls of the incinerator, the war was declared.
BOOM!
The war began with the roar of a Sabre's twin volcano cannons. The crystals inside, serving as the ammunition, crackled loudly. The melt-stream, powerful enough to pierce a Titan, slammed into the thick metal of the incinerator's outer wall, carving two massive breaches.
"Enemy attack!" a skull-servo shrieked. As the torrent of molten metal engulfed the high platform, the Genestealers, who had just rediscovered a bit of fear, were frozen on the spot, looking at the dense mass of war machines at the end of the road. They ran to sound the alarm, trying to turn the heavy stubbers on the platform, but among their enemies were peerless superhumans. A few heavy bolter rounds flashed, distributing the wounds of death equally and selflessly among their bodies.
A dense hail of fire poured through the breaches. The ground shook, and the metal that formed the building let out a twisted wail.
"He has shown me the way. He has given me the path to redemption."
Cornwall, who had been muttering his creed the entire way, stood up. Under the watchful eyes of his comrades, he armed the melta charge. He ran forward, charging into the breach, through the wall of burning flames. The instincts of a fine soldier allowed him to avoid the lines of fire, his cheap fatigues whipping in the hot wind.
"For everything I cherish!"
The melta charge detonated, the extreme heat engulfing the soldier and the enemies around him, melting them into the molten metal beneath their feet.
"Terminator fireteams, advance. Assault troops, prepare to charge," Romulus commanded from his remote command post, watching the firework display die down.
BOOM!!!
The Grey Knights Terminators, equipped with Cyclone missile launchers, fired their thermobaric warheads. These ancient but effective weapons, aided by Peritarch-pattern targeting systems, precisely locked onto the concentrated enemy forces within the incinerator. The pressure wave from the explosion, as it destroyed the enemy, also extinguished the flames on the molten metal.
Screech—
The entire roof of the building finally let out a groan of protest. The ceiling collapsed, and the defenders could only watch in horror as the iron dome above them caved in.
It was, literally, gut-wrenching.
"Get up! Prepare to fight! For the Lord of Change!" a heretic centurion roared, his decadent voice subconsciously inspiring obedience in the men around him. He directed the leaderless troops to charge towards the breach. "You deserters! The enemy is over there!"
He then fired a few flares over the heads of his still-disoriented allies, then dragged his broken leg and limped towards the interior of the incinerator, which had been converted into a fortress.
CRASH—
A Mastodon slammed directly into the ruins. The side doors slid open, revealing, inch by inch, the warriors within.
Power weapons crackling with arcs of electricity, heavy support weapons and storm shields. The Tartaros Terminators were ready.
"The enemy is there! This—" the centurion stammered, before a power weapon split his nine mouths.
Thump—
He fell to his knees, and the flames began to lick at his body.
The charging cultists around him watched their centurion be cut down. It was only when the sound of lasers from the Astra Militarum line melting flesh startled them that they remembered they should be diving into the ranks of their allies.
Fire superiority, continuous suppression. Central breakthrough, full-scale advance.
It was a simple, unadorned assault, but it was brutally effective and impossible to counter.
Because they simply did not have this kind of firepower, did not have these kinds of vehicles, and did not have these kinds of warriors!
A pincer attack from the front and back. Hundreds of Tartaros Terminators leapt down from the high platforms, a rain of bolter fire pinning the enemy down as they tried to flee. The few who dared to resist were crushed by the advancing Terminators the moment their limbs moved.
The Chaos and Genestealer forces were thrown into complete disarray.
"Gods above," a Word Bearer said from within the fortress. Thinking their allies had betrayed them, they had quickly torn apart the Genestealers who had been working hard beside them and opened the fortress's observation slits.
Fully equipped Tartaros Terminators. On one side, Imperial Fists Huscarls. On the other, Ultramarines Invictarus Suzerains and Grey Knights Terminators...
A fully mechanized force, Astra Militarum in void armor—
Huh?
"Am I still in the Five Hundred Worlds?" the Word Bearer asked his comrade in confusion, looking at the scene before him.
"..."
But his comrade could no longer answer him. His head was gone.
