For betraying humanity, you are giving yourself up to death," the captain of the Angels of Redemption company said angrily, and with his own sword he cut off Mologost's head from his shoulders.
The Angels of Redemption did not bother to examine the background. The xenos had always been the Imperium's ancestral enemy. Even before humanity was born, they had laid claim to the galaxy. The Emperor had fought many of them, and many he had managed to destroy almost entirely. However, there were still xenos in various corners, trying to drown the young human species in their own blood.
Some organized full-scale wars, others did not have such power and simply bit the clumsy colossus, taking advantage of the fact that the Imperium did not have time everywhere at once. Draekernor was one of such worlds, where the xenos had long been plotting to declare independence and possibly enslave people in order to avenge old grievances.
And although Mologost had no bad intentions and was going to start developing a rare metal to create new engines, the rules were the same for everyone. He could not make decisions on his own, he betrayed humanity, he let down the Imperium and the Emperor. For his connections with the xenos, he was given a death sentence. After which the Space Marines took over his fleet.
Many did not like this, but they could not go against the Astartes. Besides, everything was now held together by the Angels of Redemption. The Draekernor problem could not be solved quickly, but it was possible to localize the problem and not let it spread. Therefore, having requested more help, the captain of the arriving company began the total destruction of everything hostile at any cost. It was decided to forget about the other goals of the Rogue Trader fleet.
The Cult of Tzeentch was crushed by professional troops, the Plague Drop fleet fought and supported the forces stationed on the planet. I ran as far as I could, tried to shoot myself with a stub-weapon a couple of times, but each time I was surprised at my own survivability.
"I could use a bunch of plasma grenades right now," I complained, reaching the forest, in which all the trees had lost their lush crowns due to the effects of the warp.
Tzeentch lost all interest in me. Apparently he had much more important things to do, since he didn't want to spend even a fraction of his attention on me. But you can understand him, he had many servants, as well as many things to do. He was more than sure of my imminent death, so he let everything slide.
So my wandering in search of a suitable death dragged on. On the one hand, I understood that I needed to stay as far away from the Inquisition and the Space Marines as possible, because they definitely had the ability to take me alive and put me in some kind of stasis field, after which they would stretch out the interrogation and torture for eternity. On the other hand, getting to the same tank with a full set of ammunition was also not possible. On the third hand, I was not completely sure that I would not flinch at the last moment, so it would be better to find not just a tank, but a tank with a crew and a cumulative projectile that would definitely tear my head off. After all, it is one thing to just shoot yourself in the crystal forehead, being almost sure that nothing will work, and quite another to detonate a projectile under your ass, realizing that this is much more likely to kill you.
- How complicated it all is... Tzeentch, take this armor off me! Drop a meteorite on my head! Blow up the planet! Please!
The magic word didn't help either, so they had to move on, straight to the city, where Lir was trying to hold the central quarter, pulling together the rest of their forces. There were countless wounded, there was no time to mourn the dead, and the inhuman howl of people deprived of everything did not stop for a second. The only reason the city was still holding out was because Chaos had started killing itself.
The Warp Storm created by Tzeentch was constantly opening rifts, allowing all manner of daemons to escape into the mortal realm. All were pursuing their own vile goals, often to satisfy their basest instincts. Blood flowed, skulls were torn off, and Khorne laughed loudly as his mad hordes slaughtered everyone, starting with the strongest.
At the same time, Slaanesh was putting obstacles in the way of all three opponents at once. Nurgle was losing ground more and more and seemed to be planning to just play the long game. His ships even retreated slightly, and the ground forces regrouped so that the hordes of the warp would wear everyone else out. Tzeentch himself finally retreated, having lost all interest in Draekernor.
"These are the ones I need," I said, noticing a flock of demons prowling around in search of the greatest battle.
And as if noticing me, one of the demons stopped and turned around. Its appearance inspired unbearable horror for human perception, if not for the actual death of my nervous system, I would have been paralyzed with fear. However, the altered physical body and the gifts of Tzeentch allowed me to calmly look straight into the eyes of the creature.
Its skin was the color of blood, and its eyes burned with the fire of war, resembling burning coals. The strength of such a creature was incredible, and all the fallen enemies lay in different places behind them, as they literally tore people to pieces. As weapons, the daemon used hellish long serrated blades, thickly glowing with the energy of the warp. And these swords were sharp as the hatred of Khorne, as the daemons themselves were a representation of the ruthlessness and violence to which the Lord of Skulls gave form and purpose.
The Bloodthirsters were the most numerous of Khorne's beasts.
"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls to the throne of skulls!" the demon roared and rushed straight at me.
His sword flashed and the tip pierced my chest. However, for some reason I did not die, and the crystal began to cover the bloodletter's sword.
"And this is a blow to you?" I asked, swinging my crystal fist. "What a blow!"
There was far more pathos in my blow than force. With a jerk, the demon pulled out his sword and was about to slash my head off when a shot suddenly rang out. The bolt pierced the creature's face, and before I could react, a blow from the power sword cut off my leg. Then the other.
Without having time to understand anything, I had already begun to fall, while they were already cutting off my legs. At that moment, the warp in me should have burst out in a destructive scream, but suddenly the hellish pain of my soul being torn apart overshadowed everything. The Inquisitor still caught up with me. He had lost most of the untouchables, but he had chained a still living victim to his own back, over his power armor, which created the necessary void field.
There was an incredible cruelty in this, as the woman on his back continued to scream, and in the process of the fight, she lost her legs. However, the Inquisitor silently cauterized her wounds, and then rushed into battle. His heart was deaf to the cries of pleading, for his goal was to fight the enemies of the Imperium. He did what he had to do, and only his incredible will could compare in scale with the amount of blood spilled.
At the last moment, losing connection with the warp and the only reason for my continued life, I suddenly saw the soul of the inquisitor himself in the immaterium. He was a psyker, not as strong as Detrius, and probably even I could have defeated him. However, despite this, it was still unbearably painful for him to be surrounded by untouchables.
Then I suddenly realized that he was not a sadist, not a maniac, and not a madman. He probably wasn't even a fanatic, because one way or another he had renounced the imperial teachings and, having desecrated the faith in the Emperor, had touched forbidden knowledge. He was ready to give everything, including his soul, just to save humanity. And on the scale of humanity, all these sacrifices paled. What is the life of a dozen untouchables? Even if several worlds burn to the ground, he will save even more.
And he didn't intend to kill me. After all, in the end I didn't die from my wounds, I just lost consciousness.