The Hero's End

Clang—

A heavy sound echoed, the sound of the Apothecary collapsing onto his knees.

This naturally drew the attention of Arthur. He scanned the battlefield, confirmed there were no living enemies left, shook the blood from his arms, lowered his shield, and reached out to steady the Apothecary.

Slap.

However, the Apothecary swatted Arthur's hand away, then retrieved a long, narrow box from behind him and pressed it heavily into Arthur's palm.

"My lord."

His blurred gaze pulled away from the ornate armor and shield, and the Apothecary spoke.

His voice was accompanied by a distinct wheezing sound; clearly, the massive gash in his chest had severed his trachea.

"..."

Arthur wanted to say that now was not the time to talk, that he should lie down and have his wounds treated, but looking at the wound on the Apothecary's chest—which had nearly split him in two and was only just beginning to ooze blood—he didn't know what to do.

"This is... the legacy of my brothers. I... cough, cough... I have guarded their honor."

Arthur knelt on one knee. He noticed the surrounding Deathwatch warriors who had been almost entirely hollowed out, then looked at the box in his hand that was still emitting a chill, roughly piecing together the process of this duel.

After the Khorne warband had achieved victory, they had used the bodies of the warriors to forge this gladiatorial pit. As the defender, the Apothecary was forced to face one challenge after another from the heretics, with the prizes being the Gene-seed of his battle-brothers and an even stronger opponent.

Whether it was the Apothecary himself or those Gene-seeds, they were all merely parts of this profane ritual.

The moment the Apothecary failed, both he and the Gene-seeds he had won would be sacrificed to the Blood God, ultimately becoming a part of the sacrificer's power.

It was a duel destined for failure.

But, at this very moment, now that his life was draining away.

A warrior had descended from the sky, shattering this profane ritual. Countless Bolter rounds rained down, dragging the spectators who thought they had secured victory back into a bloody battlefield.

The explosive fire reflected in the eyes of Cypheris Gage. In his daze, Cypheris felt as if he had seen a cold sun.

He had won.

"Mm."

Arthur nodded earnestly.

He reached out, intending to take the Gene-seeds, but found his palm unmoved.

"My lord, please swear an oath."

Cypheris met Arthur's gaze and said weakly, "You shall be loyal to Emperor, and fight for humanity until your final breath."

Arthur could not imagine how he was still managing to speak.

He was silent for a moment, then nodded solemnly.

"...I swear."

"You shall guard the secret of the brothers' Chapter Gene-seed with your life, and never let the heretics catch even a glimpse of it."

"I swear."

"You shall not hesitate to carve a bloody path through swarms of enemies to reach your brothers, and even if it costs your last drop of blood, you shall bring back the honor of your brothers!"

"I swear."

"Hoo—"

Cypheris let out a long breath, as if he had lost all his strength in that instant, and his right hand pressing down on the Gene-seeds sank slightly.

"My lord, for Emperor... for Macragge..."

Arthur listened patiently until that thread-thin voice faded away, until his superhuman hearing told him that this body no longer had the slightest rise and fall.

The scarred gauntlet slid to the ground. Arthur could clearly sense that the heroic soul within the shell had already departed.

"..."

Ignoring the numbers going wild on his display, Arthur laid the Apothecary's body down.

He reached out to pick up the Apothecary's instruments, connected them to his system, and followed the operation manual provided by his armor's system to carefully extract the Gene-seeds from his body.

Zzzzt—

In the dueling pit, after Romulus finished off the remaining enemies, he directed the Space Marine units to return and reinforce the Astra Militarum, while he himself entered the Geller field core to begin an investigation.

Aside from the roaring flames released by the Sisters to incinerate the heretics and the low, deep prayers filled with rage and sorrow, there was only the sound of a chainsword cutting through steel.

As the chainsword sliced bit by bit through the armor of the fallen warriors, Arthur learned the origins of these Gene-seeds from the information transmitted to him by the Apothecary.

Gene-seed: Crimson Fists-4, Mantis Warriors-4, Nemesis-3, Astral Claws-2, Space Wolves-2, Blood Angels-1.

And—

As the needle pierced the gland and sucked out the Gene-seed, a string of data appeared before Arthur's eyes.

[Cypheris Gage]

[Apothecary of the Deathwatch, stationed at the Eternal Hunt watch station.]

[Former Chapter: Ultramarines.]

Click.

The storage case clicked shut, and the data before Arthur's eyes refreshed.

Ultramarines-2

He stood up, cradling the storage case as carefully as if it were a piece of fragile glass.

A total of eighteen Gene-seed.

He placed it into the compartment at the small of his back, tucked beneath the power pack where it was least likely to be damaged by enemy fire. Only when the case's internal system connected to his armor and began displaying the Gene-seed data in real-time did Arthur let out a long sigh of relief.

Recovery complete.

He then rose and looked toward the sister not far away.

"Sister."

"My Lord!"

The Canoness, who was still purging heretics with promethium, ejected the smoking canister and reloaded her flamer with a fresh solvent pack.

Hearing the call of the Angel of Emperor, she set aside her work, approached Arthur, and performed a devout Aquila sign.

"Your name, Sister."

"Arabella, my Lord."

Saint Arabella, founder of the Order of the Sacred Rose and the Living Saint worshipped by the Order.

Those who bear this name are typically sisters of great prestige within the Order.

"Sister Arabella, I ask that you pray for my brothers and guide them on the path to the Golden Throne."

Arthur felt that these warriors should not depart in silence, burdened by the shame of desecration. However, he was not well-versed in the rites of the Space Marine, and as someone who had never been religious, he could not arrange a dignified departure for these warriors whom the Ecclesiarchy had imbued with divine status.

Thus, he could only turn to the Sisters of Battle for help.

In a world where faith truly had tangible effects, there were no greater experts in prayer than the devout Sisters of Battle.

"It is my honor, my Lord."

The Angel's words were stiff and concise, yet to Arabella, they were a supreme glory.

Every Space Marine Chapter possessed its own unique culture, with differences far exceeding those between the various factions of the Ecclesiarchy.

Coupled with the unique nature of the Gene-seed, Space Marines placed immense importance on death, and rarely could anyone other than a Chaplain from within their own Chapter preside over their funeral rites.

Therefore, for any subject who worshipped Emperor, being able to preside over the death rites of an Angel of Emperor was a profound honor.

Even a Canoness capable of commanding over a thousand Sisters of Battle would never refuse such a request.