Advancement
"Swoosh—!"
With a sickeningly sharp slicing sound, Sicarius swung his *Talassa Storm* power sword horizontally, leaving a trail of afterimages in the disintegrating force field shimmering along the blade.
A Nurgle Plaguebearer attempting to pounce was cleanly sliced in two at the waist.
The monster's upper body, still propelled by inertia, swung its rusty plague sword, while its lower half collapsed into the black sludge.
Bile and rotting entrails gushed out, splashing onto Sicarius's finely crafted power armor legs, causing a sizzling, corrosive hiss.
"Maintain formation! Do not stop! Varo, fill the gap on the right!"
Sicarius didn't even glance at the corpse. He roared, his voice barely drowning out the deafening explosions and monster screams of the battlefield through his external loudspeakers.
This was the only path to the Corrupted Core of Plenty III, a canyon sandwiched between walls of writhing flesh.
The ground beneath their feet was no longer firm; only layers upon layers of rotting matter remained, each step sinking in and leaving a sticky residue when pulled out.
This place had become a fully-fledged meat grinder.
As far as the eye could see, everything was a nauseating yellowish-green.
"For the Saint! Fire! Fire!"
Sergeant Varo stood on a protruding rock, his bolter spitting golden flames. He roared into the comms, "First Squad, cover fire! Reload!"
Beside him, two Astartes veterans swiftly stepped back, their movements as precise as machinery. They expertly ejected empty magazines, shoved new belts into the chambers, and fired—the entire process taking less than 1.5 seconds.
"Suppressive fire!"
The bolters roared again.
Blessed by a golden halo, each bolt fired trailed a streak of light, piercing the bodies of the bloated monsters before exploding rapidly.
*Bang! Bang! Bang!*
Unlike ordinary explosions, golden purifying fire erupted within the demons, instantly charring the rotting flesh attempting to reform.
But this was no easy feat.
The sheer number of monsters was overwhelming. They felt no pain, no fear, trampling over the corpses of their comrades like a relentless mudslide, frantically assaulting the Imperial forces' thin defenses.
"Damn it, there's too much filthy rotten flesh!"
A veteran Ultramarine was besieged by three Plague Marines wielding giant axes. His chainsword was stuck in the shoulder blade of one of the monsters, unable to be pulled out.
Another monster seized the opportunity, lunging forward, its mouth oozing acid, ready to bite into the veteran's neck armor.
The veteran didn't retreat, nor did he attempt to draw his sword.
He released his grip on the hilt, and his heavy ceramite-covered power gauntlet lashed out, clamping down on the monster's face.
"Go back to the cesspool!"
He roared, simultaneously causing the servo motors to overload and emit a sharp hum.
*Crack—Plop!*
The sound of a skull shattering under extreme pressure.
Under the pure power of the Emperor's Angels of Death, the Plague Marine's head was crushed like a rotten tomato by a single hand.
Red, yellow, and green splattered everywhere, covering his faceplate. He shook off the mangled flesh, drew his combat dagger from his waist, and plunged it into the eye socket of the third monster.
"For the Chapter!" he roared, drawing his chainsword again and throwing himself back into the fray.
But outside the Astartes' impenetrable defenses, the situation for the mortal support troops was rapidly deteriorating.
They lacked power armor and superhuman physiques. Even with Eileen's aura, preventing their lasguns from jamming or rusting, casualties were still heavy in this intense melee.
"Ah! Medic! I need a tourniquet!"
"My leg! I can't feel my leg!"
A young support soldier had his ankle bitten by a Nurgle rotter. Although he smashed the small monster with the butt of his rifle, the wound quickly turned black and festered.
"Don't worry about me! Hold the line!" the soldier screamed, stopping his comrades who tried to rescue him. He pulled the pin on the grenade at his chest, sacrificing himself along with several plague-infested zombies charging at him.
Eileen was protected by Cole and Sicarius at the very center of the formation.
She watched it all.
Watching those unfamiliar faces fall one by one.
Her face was ashen, cold sweat soaking her hair, strands clinging to her face. Her hands were pressed tightly against the increasingly hot and heavy ruby necklace at her chest.
Maintaining this high intensity of "purification aura" and "soul guidance" simultaneously was like carrying several tons while sprinting a marathon for her mortal body.
Every second, her strength was drained away. Each flash of golden light brought immense pressure to her body, her nostrils filled with the smell of rust.
But she didn't stop.
She didn't dare blink, afraid of missing a single glimmer of golden light.
"Left flank! There's a gap on the left flank!"
A frantic, terrified cry came through the comms.
The smoke suddenly billowed, and three enormous Great Unclean Ones, like playful puppies (though no dog grows into a mountain of flesh), leaped and bounded through the smoke.
The tentacled monsters with their enormous mouths looked rather endearing, even emitting what they perceived as playful noises.
But the slime dripping from their mouths could melt armor, and their friendly embrace meant certain death.
They charged into a squad of mortal auxiliary troops covering the flank.
"Aaaaah!"
Screams erupted instantly. Several soldiers, before they could even fire, were ensnared by the slippery tentacles.
The largest Nurgle demon excitedly pounced on the group, as if wanting to play. Its gaping maw, filled with sharp teeth, opened wide and swallowed two soldiers who were still firing.
They hadn't even been chewed.
A fatal gap had appeared in the defensive line.
If it wasn't plugged, these three tough-skinned monsters would charge straight into the inner circle, exposing Eileen directly to their acidic spit.
"I'll handle it!" Sicarius was about to turn and provide support when he was grabbed by two elite Plague Marines wielding giant axes. "Varo! Take some men and push forward!"
"Too late!" Varo was reloading, too far from the left flank.
Just at this critical moment...
"Get out of my way! You monsters!!"
A roar, almost manic, even tinged with a hint of joy, exploded forth.
It was from an auxiliary sergeant named Hans.
He had been accidentally sprayed with acid during the recent battle; the flesh of his left arm had completely dissolved, exposing the stark white bone. He should have collapsed, should have succumbed to the excruciating pain.
But he didn't.
On this hellish battlefield, bathed in golden light, he felt no pain.
With his remaining right hand, he pulled the pins on all the Krak grenades at his waist.
No fear, only overwhelming rage.
In his bloodshot eyes, there was only a red light that even the Nurgle demons feared.
"For the Emperor!! For Lady Eileen!!"
Hans charged like a cannonball towards the largest, rampaging Nurgle beast.
The monster, thinking he was just playing, happily opened its mouth wide, ready to deliver a fatal "wet kiss."
Hans didn't dodge.
He leaped forward, throwing himself into the nauseatingly foul-smelling maw of the abyss, plunging deep into the monster's throat.
*BOOM—!!!*
A muffled explosion resounded from within the monster's body.
The Nurgle's bloated body instantly swelled into a sphere, then burst open like a balloon filled with pus being punctured by a needle.
Green rain poured down, mixed with bits of flesh and shrapnel, smearing away the surrounding Nurgle demons as well.
The battlefield seemed to freeze for a moment.
There was no sorrow.
Every Astartes present, every mortal, instinctively raised their heads in the next instant, looking towards the center of the group.
*Buzz.*
The ruby necklace on Eileen's chest burst forth with an unprecedentedly dazzling light.
A pure, dazzling golden streak, like the midday sun, shot forth from the mangled wreckage.
It was Hans's soul.
This loyal soul felt no pain, even a hint of a victor's smile, as it saluted its remaining comrades in an Aquila salute.
It traced a graceful arc through the air, ignoring the Warp shadows that tried to reach out their claws, and plunged directly into Eileen's necklace.
*Clang.*
The crisp sound drowned out the battlefield's clamor.
"He has returned to the Emperor's embrace!!"
Another auxiliary soldier wiped the blood from his face, laughing as he pulled back the bolt of his lasgun, his eyes burning with fanatical fervor.
"Hans is back! He's watching us from the Emperor's Light! There's nothing to fear! Death is a return! He goes to meet the God-Emperor with honor!"
"Kill! Kill all these filthy things!"
The previously precarious left flank suddenly erupted with terrifying fighting power because of this scene.
The mortal soldiers no longer hid; they even dared to use their bayonets to block the plague-carrying swords of the infected, and dared to detonate bombs while being bitten in the throat.
They knew that the radiant girl behind them would catch them.
Their souls would never fall.
"Is this... the power of mortal faith?"
Cole's power halberd swung like a golden windmill, crushing all the flies and poisonous creatures that tried to approach within five meters of Eileen.
The Imperial Guard commander's golden armor was also stained with a thick layer of blood, and a flicker of vibration flashed in his electronic eyes.
Cole had witnessed the Astartes' fearlessness before, but the explosive, soul-deepening fanaticism of these mortals still shocked him.
"Advance! Do not let them die in vain!" Sicarius finally cut down the two troublesome opponents and charged to the front.
"Tactical coordination! Wedge formation!"
"First Squad, bolts to suppress the flanks! Second Squad, heavy flamers forward! Burn a path through them!"
"Yes, sir!"
The six Ultramarines instantly changed formation. Their coordination was so perfect that they needed no words, not even eye contact.
Six bolters fired simultaneously, forming an impenetrable wall of bullets, slicing away a layer of the zombie horde in front.
Immediately afterwards, four veterans wielding heavy flamers strode forward—the Terminators had arrived as reinforcements.
"For the glory of Macragge! Burn!"
*Whoosh—!!!*
Four golden fire dragons roared forth. These were "holy flames," enhanced by Eileen's aura, their temperature several times higher than ordinary promethium fuel.
The flames slammed violently into the wall of flesh—rotting corpses, fungi, and blood—that lay ahead.
The crackling of the flames, the hissing of evaporating moisture, and the stench of burning flesh instantly filled the passage.
The once incredibly resilient Nurgle vines twisted and carbonized in the golden flames until they turned to ash.
"We've broken through! The path is open!"
Sergeant Varo shouted.
"Charge!"
Sicarius took the lead, executing a classic tactical maneuver.
Like a human tank, he smashed through the still-burning wreckage and plunged into the smoke.
"Keep up! Protect the Saint!"
The team, like a sharp dagger, disregarded their own wear and tear and fatigue, plunging straight into the heart of the enemy.
Eileen was hoisted up by Varo and carried across the burning defensive line.
After passing through that wall of flesh, the world suddenly changed.
The deafening sounds of battle seemed to be blocked behind them by an invisible wall.
It was no longer crowded.
It was a vast, empty plaza.
The ground was no longer fleshy, but a solid, rusty gray metal floor. At the end of the plaza stood a magnificent granary, now twisted into a blasphemous shape.
The massive metal structure was covered with thick fungal tubes, pulsating rhythmically, emitting a "thump, thump" sound, like a giant, diseased heart.
The air became unusually thick, as if filled with glue.
Eileen's legs buckled, and she almost fell to the ground.
The shadows in this subspace were ten times higher than outside. The nausea was no longer olfactory; it affected the very soul.
"Have we arrived…?" Eileen gasped for breath, blood dripping from her nose onto the ground.
She looked up at the massive building and the clearing shrouded in swirling green mist.
It was too quiet.
No walkers. No flies. No Nurgle laughter.
Only deathly silence.
Then…
From the depths of the mist, a long, deep, deathly bell tolled.
*Ding—*