This mission actually rewarded a Mario-universe Invincible Star. That thing gives you ten seconds of invincibility!
With that, doesn't it mean I can be an Invincible Mario for ten seconds? Even if Horus himself is resurrected, stuffed into a cream puff by the four gods, he'd just have to obediently stick his butt out.
Datch muttered to himself, then accepted the quest.
"Inquisitor, I'll help you fix the Geller Field and stop the daemons."
Greyfax's tense nerves relaxed ever so slightly. This mysterious, nameless Astartes had never failed before.
He always managed, by the strangest means, to produce bizarre but incredibly effective tools to complete his tasks.
With his word, the crisis might just be weathered.
Just then, nauseating, heavy footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor.
A pack of chattering, cackling Nurgle daemons appeared, carrying a rotting throne of decaying flesh, rusty iron, and writhing maggots.
Upon the throne sat a massive, mountain-sized Plague Daemon, its body oozing pus.
"Heh~ heh, pitiful followers of the accursed, surrender now! You're surrounded!" sneered the daemon, its rotten fat quivering.
"Daemon! In the Emperor's name, I will purge you utterly!"
Greyfax roared, her eyes blazing with defiance. Her bolter was already trained on the new threat, unleashing a hail of rounds.
Datch glanced at the obviously elite monster he knew he couldn't handle yet, and promptly abandoned any reckless ideas of fighting through.
He deftly opened his inventory, selected the Sadako videotape, and targeted the nearest playable terminal to the Geller Field core control room.
On activation, he vanished from the chaotic battlefield.
…
The Geller Field was humanity's key to safe navigation through the Warp.
Its technology originated in the earliest days of the Dark Age of Technology (M18).
The first purely mechanical versions used complex devices to generate special forcefield waves, creating a zone that suppressed warp energy and blocked daemons.
But after the Men of Iron crisis, humanity was devastated, and—scarred by the revolt of the machines—turned away from silicon intelligence, adopting biological "wetware" solutions instead.
Thus the wetware Geller Field was born: by plugging comatose psykers into the system, drawing and amplifying their dreams, it generated a "reality bubble" to protect ships in the Warp.
The mechanical version was nearly impossible to maintain except by senior Tech-priests.
The wetware version was easier; the main thing was keeping the "living batteries" (psykers) alive and stable.
Mechanical Geller Fields were usually reserved for Mechanicus ships or special missions.
The Pride of Hera was a regular warship, using the stable, cost-effective wetware Geller Field.
The psykers and the core control room were at the stern.
A loyal security squad desperately held the final line, fending off Nurgle's onslaught.
These twisted beings shrieked, trying to destroy the field generator and drag the ship wholly into the Warp's abyss.
The Imperials fought fiercely, taking heavy losses, but not one retreated.
"Requesting support! The enemy is breaking through!" the commanding officer tried to call for help via comms.
Only static answered.
"Damn it, have the daemons overrun the ship?" the officer muttered in despair.
A veteran of many wars, he knew all too well what happened when the Warp took a ship:
Death was not the worst fate; the worst was your soul never returning to the Emperor.
At that moment, on the blood-soaked edge of the battlefield, a monitor displaying system data flickered strangely, then stabilized, playing a bizarre black-and-white cartoon.
Several nearby Nurglings were distracted, cocking their pus-dripping heads at the odd sight, grumbling curiously.
Suddenly, a figure clad in a pumpkin-like suit of power armor, wielding a long staff, crawled out of an ancient well onscreen—and then instantly teleported right up to the camera!
The sudden "jumpscare" made the Nurglings shudder in terror.
By the Throne, these cursed ones were scarier than the daemons themselves!
As the Nurglings chattered in confusion, something even more shocking happened.
That pumpkin-armored figure actually... climbed out of the screen!
The little daemons were instantly dumbstruck.
Huh?! What kind of stunt is this?!
There's nothing in the warp rules for this!
Some daemons with quick reflexes attacked, spitting corrosive, stinking acid.
But the iron halo Datch wore projected a protective field, deflecting the acid, which splattered and hissed against the walls.
When traveling among friendly ships, Datch never activated this to avoid friendly fire.
But deep in enemy lines, there was no need for restraint.
"For the Emperor! For Lord Guilliman! For the Alliance and the Rift!"
Climbing from the screen, Datch shouted a battle cry no one could understand, swinging his staff at the nearest daemon.
With heavy thuds, several Nurglings' heads burst like rotten melons.
He carved a bloody path through the daemon horde, charging toward the besieged Imperial line.
The Imperials, their nerves stretched to breaking, almost mistook him for an enemy, but the commander, recognizing the nameless Astartes, quickly stopped his troops from firing and called for covering fire for Datch.
As Datch burst into the Imperial lines, bloodied, battered soldiers immediately saluted him with the Aquila.
"Emperor's Angel!"
Datch had no time for NPC formalities. His focus was locked on the highlighted core device.
Ignoring the raging firefight, he strode to the massive apparatus—tangled with pipes, housing the slumbering psykers—and drew a peculiar golden hammer.
Under the mixed gaze of hope and confusion from the officers and troops, he set to work.
"Clang clang clang~"—the rhythmic ringing of the hammer echoed crisply over the chaos of battle.
There's nothing a golden hammer can't fix. If there is, just hit it again.
…
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