Respecting Judgment

Fully armed and as hulking as gods among men, the Angels of the Emperor marched through the warship's corridors, followed by the steady, disciplined advance of the Astra Militarum and the Sisters of Battle.

Arthur, wielding a sturdy shield, used his solid relic Storm Shield to block the enemy's fire. Through the gaps behind him, Bolter rounds and a relentless barrage of Lasgun fire flew with astonishing efficiency, slaughtering the charging cultists.

These traitors were blasted into pieces by the variety of weaponry, their flesh and blood mangled, limbs and gore flying about as if whipped by an invisible mop.

Squelch—

With his blade stowed behind his shield, he paused for nothing, decapitating any heretical monstrosity that managed to push through the fire to reach his shield, before raising an iron boot to crush the mutated, profane flesh into pulp without hesitation.

With every step Arthur took, the ventilation ducts on the floor, already clogged with viscous chunks of corpses, overflowed with foul-smelling, thick fluids.

Romulus, providing fire support from behind, never forgot to plant a bright yellow glow-stick on the wall every time they passed an intersection.

After pushing through only a few sections, the support from behind grew increasingly sparse until it vanished entirely, forcing Arthur and his companion to stop at a Defense Node.

It was not that they did not want to continue, but because of the Astra Militarum trailing behind.

Crushing a struggling cultist underfoot, Arthur found a piece of collapsed ceiling to use as cover, raising his Volkite Gun to incinerate the cultists in the corridors, while Romulus held the other side.

Once the node of an area was controlled, only a small amount of firepower was needed to pin the enemy into a cramped space.

The task of the Astra Militarum was heavy; while following the Astartes to break through, they had to constantly construct Defense Nodes along the way to intercept enemies attacking from other passages. Coupled with the lag in information transmission, no matter how brilliant Colonel Kovek's command was, it inevitably consumed more time.

Normally, the running speed of an Astra Militarum soldier could not keep up with the speed at which an Astartes breached a heavy weapons fire net.

Consequently, the Astra Militarum would inevitably be left behind by the Astartes during assault operations.

After a dozen breaths, Arthur emptied his battery and was reloading when a Bolter round whizzed past his side; the Sisters of Battle, clad in Power Armor, arrived at the node.

Another dozen breaths later, Colonel Kovek, stained with blood, and his most elite company finally arrived, albeit late.

"My lords!"

Flicking the crimson blood off his Chainsword, Colonel Kovek wore an expression of shame.

The reclamation of the Geller Field Generator relied on the breakthrough of the Space Marines, but now, they—the Astra Militarum—had become the weak link in this mission.

The Astartes were simply too swift, like a hurricane.

"We will wait every five nodes we capture," Arthur said, understanding the situation of the lagging Astra Militarum.

It was not that the soldiers were not trying hard enough; all of them were squeezing every ounce of potential from their bodies so that this copper coin could produce greater value before sacrificing itself for the Emperor, but the vast physiological gap was ultimately difficult to bridge.

"My lords, there is no need to wait!"

Seeing this, Colonel Kovek urged, struggling to keep up with the two Angels who had deliberately slowed their pace, and spoke loudly.

"Please proceed ahead. Although we will encounter the challenges of the heretics, we can take care of ourselves."

As a veteran who had walked across a dozen worlds, Colonel Kovek felt an awkward discomfort at the approachability of the two Angels; in a sense, he felt an inferiority complex, wondering how he was worthy of the Angels' consideration and tolerance.

The core of this operation was to support the Deathwatch squad that had lost contact in the Geller Field Generator area. Only by securing the Geller Field Generator would the outposts they established along the way have any meaning.

Before that, if they could not wipe out the invading Chaos Space Marine before the field was destroyed, no matter how perfect their defensive layout was or how few casualties they suffered, it would be useless, for the price of failure was the annihilation of the entire force.

Therefore, he had been prepared to suffer heavy casualties when the operation began. Yet now, the Astartes were deliberately creating noise to attract the enemy, concentrating on clearing each node area, thoughtfully leaving behind glow-sticks to guide the way, and were even willing to stop for them.

So much so that, until now, the entire mobile force had not lost a single man during the breakthrough!

A flush of shame burned on Colonel Kovek's face.

He felt that he and his soldiers behind him were nothing more than infants protected in a cradle.

"Are you saying that we should stop worrying about your safety and prioritize the advance?"

Romulus emphasized the point.

The simple values cultivated in times of peace placed great importance on human life, not to mention their current status as Space Marines.

Influenced by their unique military culture, both men tacitly agreed that, given their current status, it was only right to prioritize the safety of these ordinary men.

"Yes," Colonel Kovek replied. "The security of the Geller Field is the key to the mission."

He knew full well that in terms of physical stamina, the Astra Militarum could not compare to the Angels or the Sisters of Battle, all of whom were equipped with Force-feedback Power Armor, and he understood the urgency of the situation.

"Are you certain?"

Arthur tilted his head slightly.

Although Astartes were supermen, they were not omnipotent; choosing to prioritize the breakthrough meant that the Astra Militarum would inevitably have to face certain horrors alone.

"We will bleed, but we will not let the glory of victory slip through our fingers."

The breakthrough of the Astartes was enough; they were the sharp blade that needed to lead the Sisters of Battle to rescue their comrades.

The mere aftershocks of the storm passing through had already bought them an invaluable window of opportunity.

And that was enough.

Maintaining the results, establishing defensive lines, and ensuring the Angels had no worries behind them—they would certainly achieve this.

They were mortals, but they were also the pillars of the Imperium.

The Emperor's angels, in their quest for victory, had no need to pause for the sake of mere copper coins like them.

The power of this faith was truly terrifying; it could make a person hold their own life in such disregard.

Arthur fell into a brief silence. Having encountered the clash of values between two worlds for the first time, he exchanged a look with Romulus.

"What do you say?"

"Trust the professionals."

If being constrained by the current situation meant falling into the awkward position of having to make a choice, then Romulus felt the best option was to respect the other party's opinion first, complete the mission as quickly as possible, and then return to provide support.

After all, everyone knew just how much of a shithole the Warhammer World was, and as Transmigrators, they naturally possessed the self-awareness not to let their own wishful thinking make matters worse.

The two nodded in unison.