Chapter 34 : The Hammer of the Emperor Descends
Commissar Yarrick stood tall atop the massive Baneblade tank, his bionic eye glowing as he surveyed the battlefield. With his power fist raised high, he roared,
"Crush the alien scum beneath their own heads!"
At his command, the armored column surged forward. Dozens of Leman Russ main battle tanks advanced across the scorched terrain, flanked by waves of Chimera APCs carrying the disciplined ranks of the Cadian Shock Troops. These were the best of the Astra Militarum—battle-hardened soldiers from a world that had stared into the Eye of Terror for generations.
"For the Emperor! For Kenthelion!" came the rallying cry, echoing from the throats of thousands of men and women.
Overhead, Commissar Yarrick's vox crackled with urgency as he requested immediate deployment of the Legio Metalica—an Imperial Titan Legion whose god-machines would soon thunder across the battlefield.
Meanwhile, among the Space Marines, one warrior from the World Eaters Legion began to lose control. The Butcher's Nails embedded in his skull flared to life, pumping his mind with a frenzy of bloodlust. His breathing grew ragged, his eyes burned red.
"Hold him back!" shouted Drek'nul, a towering Urg'nok warrior. "Don't let him slaughter our own allies!"
But it was too late.
"Blood for Emperor Kenthelion! Skulls for the Throne!" the berserker bellowed, charging headlong into the enemy ranks.
The World Eaters became the tip of the spear, smashing through the Urg'nok defense lines with terrifying brutality. Their chain axes sang songs of carnage as they carved a path into the heart of the enemy formation.
From the front lines, a black-skinned Urg'nok soldier stared in disbelief as a Space Marine caught a cannonball mid-air with his bare hands.
"What kind of monster is this…?" he muttered, his voice trembling.
Then the screams began—shrieks of terror and disbelief. The sudden realization of what they were facing spread like wildfire.
"Damn it! Fall back! Retreat to the governor's palace! Request emergency reinforcements from the Bloodmaw homeworld—NOW!"
Fire from the Sky
A black-skinned Urg'nok commander stood at the defensive line, his armor scorched and dented. His eyes widened in horror as he watched the capital city burn and crumble before him. With shaking hands, he activated his comms.
"Command! Do you read?! We need reinforcements!"
But only silence answered. No voice. No orders. No help.
"What am I supposed to do?! What now?!" he screamed, panic rising in his voice. "How do we stop this?!"
Before he could think of an answer, a wave of fire engulfed the entire sector. Explosions lit up the battlefield as a raging inferno tore through Urg'nok troops. Hundreds were burned alive—no screams, no escape.
Out of the smoke and flame, a towering figure stepped forward.
A Space Marine of the Salamanders Legion, clad in emerald-green power armor, emerged with calm, deadly grace. In his hands, he held a flamer—a holy weapon of purging fire. Each step he took unleashed destruction.
Silently, he recited a battle mantra within his mind, honoring the machine spirits and fallen warriors.
One trembling Urg'nok soldier dared to speak, voice shaking:
"What… are you?"
The black-skinned commander snarled, firing his laser pistol at the Space Marine, only for the bolts to fizzle uselessly against his energy shield and armor.
Then the Salamander spoke. His voice was calm. Heavy. Inevitable.
"Humanity."
Without hesitation, he raised his flamer and pulled the trigger.
Holy fire roared once more.