Only Victory!

The morale of the 43rd Regiment saw a significant boost upon catching sight of the angels.

However, to Arthur's perception, these dutiful soldiers were in a state that could hardly be called good, at least not by their outward appearance.

After all, he was no blind man; while he himself felt no ill effects from the Warp's influence, he could still detect the exceptionally violent reality-warping phenomena occurring here.

Because the strike cruiser's outer hull had been breached by the greenskins' iron monstrosities, the ship was now home to more than just the grotesque and terrifying creations roaming the corridors.

The Warp corruption, present within the ship at every moment, continuously affected the surrounding environment, including the living beings within it.

Even with the Geller Field still operational, these soldiers, having endured massive exposure to Warp energies, could not avoid symptoms like mental disorientation and involuntary muscle spasms.

In more severe cases, visible mutations had even appeared on their skin; the armor of the wounded in the rear had fused with their flesh, leaving even the medics at a loss for how to proceed, eventually resorting to violent cutting. The horrific sight beneath the armor was enough to make even Arthur's heart ache.

Beyond a rough humanoid outline, it was becoming difficult to tell that these warriors were still human.

Worst of all, in the areas where the wounded were being operated on, the shed tissue did not lose its vitality but instead fused with any inorganic matter it touched, looking like tumors growing from the surface of their skin.

Arthur watched expressionlessly until the medic, having finished treating the wounded, very hardcore-ly picked up a flamer to have a go at these tumors.

Only after confirming that the medic had burned the mutated tissue to ash did he put away his bolter, which he had kept ready to fire, and turned his head toward the massive breach in the bridge.

If the greenskin ship had rammed any deeper, the steel beneath their feet might well have turned into living flesh.

He could still hear the sounds of battle between the Imperial forces and the enemy; even the roar of the autoguns could not drown out the war cries of the loyal Imperial soldiers, though they carried a hint of fear being warded off.

A mere brief contact was enough to cause such alienation of the living flesh; it was hard to imagine what consequences this power would have if it were applied to the mind.

Having experienced the unique cruelty of Warhammer 40k firsthand, his wariness of the Warp deepened, and his respect for the Astra Militarum, who could continue to fight in such an environment, grew significantly.

He only hoped these soldiers could adjust their state soon, as the results of the upcoming operation would require them to exert their strength to maintain.

As Arthur pondered in silence, the two arrived at the temporary command post inside the defensive line.

Before they even entered the room, a woman's voice reached them.

"Are you saying that without confirming the enemy's specific troop strength, equipment composition, or combat deployment, we are to lead the troops to force a breakthrough to the Geller Field Generator after losing contact with the Deathwatch kill team?"

The voice was full of skepticism, yet it was not born of fear, but of a rational assessment of the current situation.

"We should wait for the return of that Ultramarines warrior. Under that lord's leadership, we should concentrate the remaining mobile forces of the entire regiment to launch an assault, securing key nodes to establish a defensive line that leads directly to the Geller Field and allows for mutual support between nodes."

"Correct. And what we are sending is not the entire legion, but a squad composed of elites selected from various units under my leadership. Those unverified pieces of information are exactly why we must act. This is a sacrifice for Emperor; to return one's soul to the Golden Throne is an honor."

Facing the questioning, the Commissar was explaining with great patience.

In this place filled with the evil influence of the Warp, any extreme emotion that might arise was easily stoked by wicked things; only calmness and a firm faith in the great Emperor were the path to survival.

Of course, there were also those aggressive, cold-blooded Commissars who threatened execution at every turn, but such people rarely lived long in an environment like this.

"But without you, how can the morale of the entire regiment be guaranteed?"

The Canoness looked worried. She had fought on the edge of the defensive line earlier and naturally knew the grim reality there.

When fighting against heretics and xenos, these battle-hardened soldiers would not fear; even with bayonets at their throats or raging fires consuming them, these brave warriors would not hesitate to swing their entrenching tools at the enemy.

But fighting within the Warp, where physical mutation and the whispers that constantly lingered in one's ears were the greatest challenges to military morale, was not something mortals were meant to endure.

"Look around us. The evil power of the Warp is gnawing at you and me every moment. Time is not on our side. Even if we fall, we should fall on the road to charging at the enemies of Emperor."

The Commissar said earnestly. His face, largely covered by machinery, showed no expression, only a sense of resolve in his eyes. Time was running out for them, and even if they found a path and the main force reached the Geller Field Generator, the chance of them seizing victory was one in ten thousand.

But clearly, this was the best strategy for breaking the deadlock he could conceive.

Sending soldiers into areas with no intelligence to engage in urban warfare was extremely irresponsible regarding their lives, but war always forced them to make decisions they had no choice but to make.

"As for the defense of the elevator entrance, I believe Colonel Kovek himself can fulfill that duty well."

"But..."

"Clatter~"

Arthur and Romulus entered the command room before the messenger could arrive, breaking the escalating standoff.

Under the influence of the Warp, all communication equipment had long since devolved into a state of emitting only a series of blasphemous, evil sounds, directly resulting in the legion's command having to rely on the inefficient method of physical delivery by messengers.

The Astra Militarum did not refuse the use of information equipment; in conventional warfare, their level of informatization allowed them to achieve joint air-ground advances with other Imperial forces.

But now, with the ship's audio arrays destroyed and communication gear compromised by scrapcode, such an inefficient method was a last resort in the face of cruel reality.

Arthur's gaze swept over the people present, marveling at the completeness of the command structure, and finally landed on the silver-armored sister who had just been arguing with the Commissar.

The emblem on the sister's chest was a blooming sacred rose.

Oh, she's from the Order of the Sacred Rose. No wonder she's so rational.

The Order of the Sacred Rose emphasized discipline and the restraint of one's own desires.

Even the fury often emphasized by the Battle Sisters was calmly and restrainedly unleashed upon the enemies of Emperor through bolter fire and flames. Among the various, often eccentric, orders of the Sisters of Battle, they were considered a very easy group to communicate with.

"My Lord."

Noticing the gaze of the angel of Emperor, the Canoness looked ashamed.

Admittedly, she had sufficient reason to advise the Commissar, but for the Imperium, no reason was an excuse to choose to avoid battle; sacrifice should never be feared.

"..."

Arthur shook his head slightly to indicate it was fine, keeping as silent as possible.

His grasp of Low Gothic was not yet proficient.

Arthur certainly held no ill will toward the caution of the Sisters, for these ecclesiastical forces, who frequently dealt with the Inquisition, understood the Warp far better than a Commissar hailing from the Schola Progenium.

Arthur had also witnessed the carnage on the front lines; in such an environment, the threat came not only from cultists and xenos, but from the very ship itself, where the flesh on the corridors and the jagged protrusions could become weapons to kill you.

Rashly leading a squad of mortals to clear a path would result in a short life, and they would never last long enough to reach the Geller Field Generator.

"My lords."

Colonel Kovek, who had been directing the battle and had not intervened in the argument, stepped forward to salute, his signature purple eyes revealing his heritage.

"The 43rd Cadian Regiment, 'Broken Sword', salutes you!"

Arthur and Romulus returned the salute by striking their chests.

Neither of them carried the airs of angels; after all, only a few hours ago, both had been ordinary humans of the M3 era.

Their arrival naturally dissolved the discord within the command center.

All the previous arguments had been predicated on the assumption that the Astartes had not yet arrived; now that they were here, it meant all the scenarios previously proposed would be overturned.

Even the morale issues that had worried everyone were no longer a concern; the mere presence of the Astartes standing there was far more effective than a thousand roars from a Commissar on the front lines.

All eyes converged on the two Astartes, the gaze of those who had felt powerless in the face of the current situation now finding their backbone, as if in their eyes, the Astartes would surely lead them to victory for Emperor.

This was the weight the Astartes carried in the hearts of the Emperor's subjects.

Arthur exchanged a glance with Romulus at his side, both feeling the pressure in the other's eyes.

Unlike their past lives, they were now the tallest ones present, the ones who had to stand tall and hold up the sky when facing a crisis.

"My apologies, my lords."

The Commissar apologized to the Astartes.

"I thank Emperor for His guidance, which prevented me from making a flawed decision."

Arthur silently stepped aside; he was still largely ignorant of the current situation, and it was clear that Romulus was better suited to deal with these soldiers.

"No apology is necessary, Commissar. It was I who spent too much time searching for my battle-brothers, wasting the preparations you had made to purge the enemies of Emperor."

Romulus nodded gently, his voice solemn and grave, which eased the tension among the group.

He then reached out, his metal-clad fingers smoothing the creases on the map, waiting for the gaze from behind to sweep over this meticulously planned route as projections appeared within his helmet.

"Hm?"

The accompanying Tech-Priest looked at the projection equipment covered by the map, his eyes behind the goggles showing surprise.

The Machine Spirit, previously infected by scrapcode, seemed to show signs of recovery.

The tactical plans discussed by those in the command center entered his mind, and he quickly completed the optimal configuration, the image projected inside his helmet instantly narrowing down to the best route.

"Colonel Kovek, is the Auspex in the command post still operational?"

Romulus, who had paused for only three seconds in the eyes of the mortals, stood up.

The Colonel gripped his Chainsword and picked up the Auspex hanging at his waist.

"It is operational."

He gave a definitive answer.

"This proves that Emperor is watching over us."

Withdrawing his gaze from the information transmitted by the Auspex, Romulus did not miss this opportunity to boost morale, speaking to those present.

"The Astartes will act as the vanguard for a high-speed assault to draw the enemies in the surrounding area toward our position, while the Sisters of Battle and the Astra Militarum fire teams will be responsible for clearing the path and establishing defensive nodes."

After the brief summary, Romulus looked around at everyone.

"Now, please follow us forward. My battle-brother and I will charge at the very front to carve out a path to victory for you."

There was no long-winded pre-battle mobilization. Although he had only just stepped onto a real battlefield, Romulus, who had deeply internalized the spirit of war through his past education, knew that action was the best example.

The magnificent warrior, wearing a golden laurel, stood up first after confirming the mission objectives and picked up his Heavy Bolter from the side.

Click—

The bolt was chambered.

"For Emperor!"

Standing tall among the crowd, the Commissar solemnly uttered the slogan that was always on the lips of the Emperor's subjects.

"For Emperor!"

The mobile forces responsible for the assault had already completed their assembly before the final push; they gripped their weapons tightly, their voices filled with burning rage toward the enemy as they answered.

They had sworn to Emperor that today they would surely slaughter these heretical lackeys who dared to blaspheme the glory of humanity.

Failure?

Arthur scanned the soldiers, who were filled with fighting spirit.

The soldiers were not pristine; the terrifying intensity of the war meant that even these troops, kept as a reserve assault force, could not avoid being stained with blood. Their armor gaps were full of grime, and their dark under-suits were stained with spreading blood.

But he could clearly feel that these soldiers were different from when he had first entered the camp, as if in this short time, the heavy pressure that had constantly surrounded them had vanished.

Under the dim light, only their sharp eyes and the Aquila on their chest armor remained gleaming.

Confusion had vanished, leaving only courage in its wake.

Faced with such a sight, even Arthur, who was encountering them for the first time, could not help but marvel.

He turned, taking the lead into the previously sealed intersection, moving along a corridor that had once been adorned with exquisite patterns, sculptures, and portraits, but was now marred by blasphemous heretical symbols and masses of congealed flesh.

Leman's ears and the internal sensors of his helmet picked up the faint sounds within the passage—hasty and chaotic, accompanied by the patter of footsteps, sketching out one clear silhouette after another for him in the darkness.

Shing!

A blade slashed, and a corpse hit the ground.

It was a statue possessed by a daemon, its interior stuffed with pulverized flesh.

Rustling noises emerged from behind; the enemies, drawn by the sudden commotion, were swarming in.

Arthur paid them no mind.

Lasers and bolter rounds flew from behind, and the swarming, twisted heretics were eradicated by the mortals at the same speed as their triggers were pulled.

Facing those special entities blessed by Chaos, capable of shrugging off gunfire, Arthur whispered.

"Only victory!"