Alex took a deep breath and pressed a hand to his chest.
"When we get back, I'll apply to the Administratum for retirement."
Perhaps he was destined never to receive the glorious death he had hoped for. Perhaps he would die in disgrace in bed, with a catheter shoved into him.
Alex thought bleakly. Just as he was about to return to his room for some sleep and consider how to physically negotiate with the Administratum, an untimely knocking sounded from outside the corridor.
It was the emergency assembly signal unique to Broken Sword.
Before Alex could react, Kovek opened the door first.
"Lieutenant, what is it?"
"An Astartes has summoned you."
The lieutenant reported.
"Also, five minutes ago, he ordered all warriors who could assemble to gather at the plaza by the central lift shaft."
Alex's heart skipped a beat, and the weariness in his mind was instantly swept away. Memories of Armageddon from more than two centuries ago began to surface.
"Did the Astartes summon me?"
He pressed.
"He ordered us to gather every warrior in the regiment who can be assembled."
The lieutenant replied.
"Take us there."
Alex turned and entered his room. Thirty seconds later, now wearing several more medals, he spoke to the lieutenant with a grave expression.
His eyes fell upon the steel Aquila and Winged Skull on the Commissar's chest, as well as the shining star-shaped badge. The lieutenant instinctively straightened his back.
"Yes, Commissar!"
Alex adjusted his uniform, carefully set his commissar's cap upon his head, and strode after the lieutenant.
Those soldiers who had already suffered physical mutations were surely beyond saving. But the remaining one hundred and sixty-nine—veterans who had survived such a battle—were precious assets every Astra Militarum regiment needed.
They were the hope for Broken Sword's future reconstruction.
Alex hoped he could protect these soldiers as best he could, even if their worth before the Emperor was not a ten-thousandth of that of an Astartes.
His hurried attitude seemed to infect the lieutenant. Thinking back on this sudden summons, he also recalled those units that had mysteriously vanished after taking part in certain wars.
The lieutenant's steps visibly faltered.
"Don't overthink it."
Alex lightly patted the shoulder of the lieutenant leading the way.
"You are loyal warriors who have passed the God-Emperor's trials!"
"But we..."
The lieutenant opened his mouth to speak, then swallowed the words that had reached his lips. After hesitating for a moment, he nodded. "We are all warriors loyal to the God-Emperor."
Alex silently withdrew his hand and hurried with Kovek toward the transport lift plaza.
Clang—clang—clang—
"What is our duty?"
"To dedicate ourselves to the Emperor's will!"
As he hurried into the plaza behind the lieutenant, that was the warriors' answer that greeted him.
"What is the Emperor's will?"
In the Central Plaza, broad enough to hold an entire Cadian armored regiment, the burly knight in black armor spoke.
He moved slowly among the soldiers, passing each one like a predator pacing through a forest, sniffing out the fear leaking from the weak.
The Commissar looked into the plaza and saw that the soldiers had been divided into two groups of unequal size.
Notably, the Astra Militarum soldiers in the larger group looked extremely weak.
These soldiers had been arranged into twenty-six ranks, and their condition was terrible.
Some had twisted limbs. Their exposed skin showed obvious decay, and abnormal limbs protruded from their wounds.
The skin on some men's faces had nearly fused together, taking on an unhealthy dark purple hue. Their mouths and eyes had been violently cut open by surgery, barely leaving them recognizable as human.
"Fight unto death."
Everyone spoke in unison.
The Commissar stepped closer, and a thick stench washed over him.
It was not a physical smell, but humanity's instinctive revulsion toward mutation, rising from the depths of the soul.
"Why fight unto death?"
The knight slowly reached the end of the formation. The thirteen Sisters selected from Holy Rose were chanting Ecclesiarchy prayers. Among the soldiers, some devout followers of the Ecclesiarchy also followed the Sisters' rhythm, chanting the prayers under their breath.
Cold fluorescent light fell from the ceiling, yet it seemed to cast the soldiers in a golden radiance.
"For the Emperor!"
The knight noticed the Commissar's arrival.
He turned slightly and gently supported a soldier who had listed sideways from exhaustion. Once the soldier had steadied himself again, he walked directly toward the Commissar.
"Can you fight for the Emperor?"
His stern, cold voice echoed through the plaza.
"Yes!"
Everyone cried out themselves hoarse.
Clang—clang—
"Commissar Alex."
The towering figure blocked the light, casting a shadow over him.
The knight stood close at hand. Whenever Alex's gaze shifted, he could glimpse the restrained yet luxurious patterns beneath the gray robe, behold the relief carvings that could leave countless artists breathless.
Most striking of all were the crimson lights glowing from the knight's faceplate, and the gaze fixed upon him like that of a majestic drake.
The knight asked him.
"Do you believe they can fight for the Emperor?"
"..."
Alex did not answer at once. He was stunned.
He had thought he had come here to witness a brutal execution.
He looked around at these young men whose appearances he could barely recognize.
These pitiful warriors had been exposed to the deadly influence of the Warp. There was only one outcome from contact with that world saturated with blasphemous divine power.
Mutation, followed by a painful death in mutation, with not even their souls able to receive salvation.
They were bound to die. They were unstable elements, seeds of disaster, Mutants corrupted by the evil power of the Warp—the threat the Imperium could least tolerate.
Once, on Armageddon, an Astra Militarum regiment on the other side of the continent had been cruelly abandoned. They had been gathered together, yet instead of honorable medals, Lances falling from the heavens had sent them to the God-Emperor's side.
Alex had thought he had made peace with that day. In this universe, sometimes a swift death was also a mercy.
But—
Alex met the gazes converging upon him from all around—gazes blurred by blood and ruined flesh.
Even as blood spilled from their eyes, they still held them wide open.
Even as their roars tore open their wounds and blood streamed down their trouser legs, pooling on the ground, they still did not fall.
They refused their comrades' support, because before the Emperor's Angel, before the Commissar and the Colonel, any trace of weakness was corruption!
Could anyone say that such warriors could not fight for the Emperor?
Who could say that such warriors could not fight for the Emperor!
Alex's expression froze.
He finally understood why the Angel of the Emperor stood before him.
He finally understood that the warriors would be given a better ending.
"Yes, my lord!"
Alex raised his head, then lifted both hands and solemnly gave the Emperor's Angel an Aquila Salute.
"They can!"
Before you continue