"Sector... static... Command, this is... bzzt... requesting backup."
Countless distress signals were screamed into the void, beaming out toward the far reaches of space.
They were begging for any Imperial Fleet in the vicinity, Astartes Chapters—hell, any armed force—to pick up the signal and rush to their aid.
But it was a waste of breath. The Warp blockade had completely severed all psychic and electronic comms between ASH-3 and the Imperial Center.
As for the Astra Militarum's XXX Regiment stationed on ASH-3? Against the invading Chaos Legion, they were about as effective as wet paper.
War ravaged the planet's surface. Cities were leveled, settlements butchered. It was a horror show, playing out second by agonizing second.
The enemy they faced was the strongest of the four Ruinous Powers: Khorne, the Lord of Skulls, master of war and slaughter, leading his brutal Chaos Legion.
Legions of Khorne flooded in, hacking heads off anything that breathed, offering oceans of blood to their dark god.
ASH-3, Coordinates XX, "The Garden of Thorns."
This was the final line of defense between humanity and the Chaos demons. What used to be the planet's most beautiful plain was now a meat grinder.
You couldn't even count them. Like a plague of locusts, the Khornate demon army poured endlessly over the horizon.
"Dammit, there's too many of them! We have to pull back!"
Frank's voice was barely audible over the roar of his bolter. The gun kicked and screamed against his cheek, a pile of hot shell casings stacking up thick around his boots.
"Shit! God-Emperor above, where the hell are we supposed to retreat to?"
Roy shouted back, pressing his helmet down with one hand while his lasgun never stopped spitting fire at the enemy.
He was right. There was no 'safe zone' left on this rock. They were less than a thousand feet from those freaks.
Originally, a whole squad of Imperial Guard was holding this trench. Now? Just the two of them. Fingers glued to triggers, hearts ice-cold, the only warmth coming from their overheating gun barrels.
"Do you hear that weird noise?" Frank asked, eyes darting around.
"Yeah... wait." Roy heard it too. "Sounds like it's coming from upstairs."
They caught a glimpse of the sky out of the corner of their eyes.
What the hell is that?!
Deep in the clouds, a crimson shadow churned. The sheer size and wild, terrifying aura of the thing was enough to make your mind snap.
A deafening boom rolled down from the heavens—just the sound of its massive, sun-blocking wings beating against the air. The smell of sulfur and thick, metallic blood instantly choked the atmosphere.
Crimson skin covered in steel-hard scales, decked out in enchanted brass armor forged by the War God Khorne himself. The armor bore the mark of the "Eight Pillars of Khorne," proving its rank: A Bloodthirster. A Greater Daemon.
"FOR THE GLORY OF THE BLOOD GOD!!!"
The Greater Daemon let out a roar that shook the earth. Its red eyes burned like literal fire.
Wherever this tyrant of destruction looked, the plains echoed with its fury.
"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!"
The Chaos demons went wild. The bio-cannons in their legion, gorging on the evil Warp energy, swelled up in size. Countless red beams of destruction screamed from the Chaos lines, slamming into the Imperial steel defenses.
Mobile artillery and bunkers melted like snow in a furnace, turning into rivers of orange, molten iron.
A blast of demonic energy hit way too close to Frank's position, knocking them both out cold.
When Frank came to, he didn't even have time to wipe the mud off his face. He instinctively rolled to the side. A split second later, a massive sword hacked into the spot where he had just been lying.
"Bloodletters!"
Frank was scared out of his mind. Just looking at these twisted monsters was enough to traumatize a normal person for life, let alone having one step out of a textbook and stand right in front of you.
The humanoid monster loomed over him. Below two massive horns was a dried-up, crimson skull face. Needle-sharp teeth lined its jaw, and a snake-like tongue flicked in and out.
It effortlessly yanked its greatsword out of the rock. The blade, burning with demonic fire, was a "Hellblade"—standard issue for every Bloodletter.
"Argh!"
A blood-curdling scream cut through the air. Frank jerked his head toward the sound.
What he saw made his eyes go red with rage.
Roy wasn't so lucky. While he was unconscious, another Bloodletter had gutted him with its claws. The sheer agony had woken him up just in time to scream.
The unlucky soldier was hoisted into the air. Blood and organs spilled from his stomach directly into the Bloodletter's open maw.
Not satisfied yet, the brutal demon shoved its long tongue into the gaping wound, stirring it around. After it had its fill, it would hack off the head as a trophy for the Blood God.
Yeah, waste not, want not.
Bloodletters were the grunt infantry of Khorne's army, and they were everywhere.
"You filthy bastards!"
He wanted those two demons dead!
Frank spotted his lasgun half-buried in the dirt nearby. He tried to scramble up, grab it, and fight back.
The thick, sweet scent of blood in the air instantly got the Bloodletter in front of Frank excited.
His hand barely brushed the gun when a sharp flash cut the air. The scorched earth was instantly painted with a fresh spray of red.
The Bloodletter used its Hellblade to slice Frank's left arm—and a chunk of his torso—clean off.
Frank collapsed, clutching the wound, his face twisted in agony as blood sprayed like a fountain.
"Damn it..."
Through the waves of pain, Frank felt himself being lifted off the ground by the demon.
Fighting to stay conscious, he gritted his teeth. With his remaining right hand, he tried to fish a grenade out of his vest. The plan: wait for the bastard to open its mouth, then drop the pin.
But then, something unexpected happened.
SPLAT!
Pitch-black liquid sprayed all over Frank's face. Bitter, tasting like old pennies, it flowed into his mouth.
He dropped to the ground, right alongside the Bloodletter. That's when Frank saw the real "killer," and it shocked him even more than the demons.
The thing that had just ripped the Bloodletter's head clean off its shoulders was another unit from the Chaos Legion!
Strictly speaking, it was friendly fire. Back in their home turf, the Realm of Khorne, demons ate each other all the time. But when deployed as a Legion? It was rare. Their discipline was usually ironclad.
"God-Emperor above... I was just saved by a Flesh Hound?!"
Frank couldn't believe his eyes, even as he lay dying. He thought he was hallucinating. He'd sooner believe a tiny Grot knocked out a Space Marine with one punch.
Standing there was a wolf-like monster, bigger than a rhino, covered in red scales. Its fangs were as thick as a human hand. A frill, like a lizard's, flared around its neck, which was adorned with a brass spiked collar and armor plates.
This Flesh Hound was special. It was a Gore Hound—an alpha. Bigger, meaner, and hit way harder than the rest.
But this so-called "loyal servant of the Blood God" seemed to have a loyalty issue. The brass collar around its neck had three deep claw marks scratched right over Khorne's symbol.
That was blasphemy of the highest order. Enough to make any Khorne worshiper lose their mind with rage.
The Gore Hound held the Bloodletter's head in its mouth for a second, then spat it out with a look that was almost human—pure disgust.
The other Bloodletter, the one eating Roy, noticed something was wrong. It dropped the corpse without even taking the skull—showing just how pissed it was—and charged at the Hound, Hellblade roaring with fire.
Facing the charging demon, the Flesh Hound just snorted. It looked... unimpressed.
It raised a claw, shimmering with a cold light, and blocked the strike.
CLANG!
The Hellblade smashed into the claws, sparks flying everywhere.
The Hound twisted its paw, locking the blade between three of its talons. The Bloodletter only had one weapon, but the Hound had four limbs, each packing lethal claws. Without hesitation, the Hound drove its other paw straight through the Bloodletter's exposed chest.
Talk about wearing your heart on your sleeve. Or, well, someone else's sleeve.
From start to finish, the Hound killed two Bloodletters in under fifteen seconds.
Stepping on the dead demon's chest, the Hound pulled its claws out. It didn't eat them. Instead, it let out a low, rasping screech.
Suddenly, all four corpses burst into crimson flames, burning to ash in seconds.
Job done, the Flesh Hound stretched lazily, like a dog after a nap, ready to find the next fight.
But then, it froze. The lizard-frill on its neck stood straight up. It sensed a lethal threat.
It looked toward the Imperial fortress—the last stronghold. By day, it was a steel bastion of guns and tanks. By twilight, it was a cratered ruin of scrap metal and limbs.
Humanity had lost. The planet was doomed.
But the Hound felt a sharp, prickly sensation—like a needle against its skin. It realized what was coming. The entire beast panicked and immediately bolted, running full tilt away from the battlefield.
"Go to hell, demons!"
In the fortress command center, the Planetary Governor, face like stone, watched the demons breaching the walls. Without hesitation, he keyed the codes into the base's self-destruct sequence.
"The Emperor Protects."
BOOM!
A pure, blinding gold fireball erupted over the "Garden of Thorns." The ruthless "Devouring Flame" engulfed everything within a two-thousand-mile radius. From space, it looked like the sun had crashed into the continent.
---
[Simulation Ended]
[Beginning Settlement: Warhammer 40k World]
Location: Far East Sector: ASH-3 (Destroyed)
Difficulty: LV.10 (Hard)
Faction: Khorne (Chaos)
Kills: Flesh Hounds: 20, Bloodletters: 18, Bloodcrushers...
[Overall Grade: A (Excellent)]
[Rewards settled. Automatically deposited into inventory. Please retrieve promptly.]
[Mind Transfer in progress... 10%... 30%... 70%... 100%. Consciousness returned!]
---
In a regular bedroom, warm sunlight filtered through the blinds, dappling the floor. It looked like a nice day.
A handsome teenager lying in bed suddenly snapped his eyes open. He stared at the familiar ceiling, his ragged breathing slowly calming down.
"I'm... back?"
Suddenly, the boy remembered something. His face went pale green. He clamped a hand over his mouth and sprinted out of the room. A moment later, the sound of retching echoed from the bathroom.
On the desk, inside a picture frame, a girl with bright eyes and white teeth smiled, as if watching over everything silently.
---