Before you could even curse, the Khorne Berserker with a pair of "rabbit ears" protruding from its blood-red helmet had already locked onto you with its Augur Array.
You tried to pull your legs free from the knee-deep snow and fight back.
Roaring, the Khorne Berserker cast aside the corpse, raised its terrifying Chainaxe, and charged at you.
You struggled to pick up a fallen Lasgun and desperately pulled the trigger.
The scorching laser fire, enough to annihilate flesh and blood, merely left several tiny dents in the Khorne Berserker's Power Armor.
The Khorne Berserker was less than five meters away.
The roar of the Chainaxe's spinning teeth rattled your eardrums, while the stench of blood assaulted your nostrils.
You fell into despair.
You held down the trigger, trying to overload the Lasgun's power cell in the hope of inflicting at least some damage before you died.
You regretted not praying to The Emperor for protection before descending here.
You were about to be torn to pieces. You were on the brink of death.
At the critical moment, an orange-red melta blast that vaporized a swath of snowflakes punched through the Khorne Berserker's Power Pack, triggering an incomparably violent secondary explosion.
At that instant, the roaring Chainaxe was only half a meter away from you.
The terrifying shockwave from ahead sent you flying.
Blood sprayed from your mouth and nose. Your head spun, and you were about to lose consciousness.
Before your eyes closed, you vaguely saw several elite soldiers in sealed helmets rising from the heavy snow ten meters away.
Each of them held a devastating Inferno Gun. They fired execution-style shots at the still-living, roaring Khorne Berserker, every blast striking its "rabbit-ear" helmet and completely vaporizing its head.
You sank into darkness and lost consciousness.
You were severely wounded, but you barely survived.
As you gradually woke from your coma, you discovered that the pain in your internal organs had vanished.
You tried to get up and inspect your surroundings, but a hoarse male voice stopped you.
Turning your head, you saw a bearded man in Carapace Armor inside an ice-and-snow shelter, repairing and assembling an Inferno Gun. He was chewing rations, crumbs scattered throughout his brown beard.
You first thanked him for saving you, then declared your loyalty to The Emperor.
The bearded man did not look up. After swallowing his food, he said that your courage had saved you. Being able to pull the trigger in the face of a Chaos Astartes charge showed more than enough loyalty.
You wanted to get up and continue speaking with him, but before you could open your mouth, a still-warm ration pack was tossed into your arms.
Hunger gnawed at your stomach. You began eating before you had time to thank him.
The bearded man stopped his repairs, stared at you as you wolfed down the food, and gave you two choices.
You could return to the Imperial Station. Someone who had fallen from the sky like you would surely receive a warm welcome from the 412th Cadian Shock Troops, along with the Inquisition's "friendly" hospitality.
Or you could accept General Sturn's orders and follow them on a grueling mission that might well be a one-way trip.
Death would become routine. Khorne Berserkers were merely appetizers before the meal. The roaring Orks eager for a fight would be your partners on the dance floor, while sharp ears lurking hungrily in the shadows would accompany you into sleep... if you lived to see the next day.
You did not hesitate and chose to carry out the mission.
The bearded man frowned slightly and asked why you had made that choice. The Inquisition's threat was useless against you, and the Cadian Shock Troops would protect your life.
You vaguely described your past combat experiences.
When he heard that you had once joined the Death Korps of Krieg and the Valhallan Ice Warriors, the hesitation in his eyes gradually turned into shock.
The bearded man chose to believe you and concluded that you were The Emperor's messenger.
You watched the battle spirit in his eyes gradually blaze hotter and did not refute him.
On the first day, you followed the bearded man and met the other members.
This was a six-man Combat Squad. The bearded man was a Sergeant Major and the squad's commander.
You received several bloodstained sets of standard Cadian camouflage uniforms. Their former owners had been Cadian soldiers who gave their loyalty.
Without the slightest disgust, you changed into the clothes to ward off the ever-present cold.
Bearded Sergeant Major gave you a Lasgun and three Frag Grenades.
You tried to get more weapons from him.
The other squad members let out low chuckles, and Bearded Sergeant Major had no choice but to explain.
The mission was urgent. Since you had chosen to join the squad, you had to become a human pack mule. Carrying more weapons and equipment would be your responsibility.
You did not hesitate and gladly accepted the position.
You believed you were merely a coin of The Emperor and needed no special treatment.
On the second day, your squad was surrounded by a group of Orks.
They came from the notorious Goff Clan, terrifying greenskins who loved close-quarters brawling and stickbombs. They were stronger and taller than ordinary greenskins.
Faced with the sudden attack, the squad you had joined displayed an exceptionally efficient fighting style and disciplined coordination.
You lay prone in the snow, without even having time to remove the supplies on your back before the battle was already over.
While clearing the battlefield, your curiosity got the better of you, and you asked about the squad's true origins.
Bearded Sergeant Major merely smiled without answering. A young squad member proudly declared,
They were the elite of the Cadian Shock Troops and the supreme pride of the Cadian people. They were... Kasrkin.
On the third day, a blizzard blanketed heaven and earth, but the squad remained safe.
The journey was difficult, and the heavy supplies left you exhausted.
The squad members intended to share your burden, but you firmly refused.
You believed they needed to preserve their strength to face more dangerous enemies.
You also discovered that you could recover from fatigue and injuries through sleep. This had to be The Emperor's protection.
While the squad rested, Bearded Sergeant Major entered your snow pit and told you the true mission.
Not long ago, an Emperor-class Titan, Dominatus, had fallen on this planet.
It was one of the Imperium's most powerful weapons and one of the Adeptus Mechanicus's most precious creations. No loss could be tolerated.
The Kasrkin squad you had joined was only one of many. More Imperial forces were on their way to the rescue.
Through several days of grueling action, you had once again proven your loyalty.
The Sergeant Major hoped you would prepare yourself mentally and remain ready for battle at all times.
Your squad was about to face an unimaginably brutal and terrifying war.
During the first week, your powerful recovery ability allowed you to adapt to the freezing environment.
You began asking Bearded Sergeant Major and the other members about Kasrkin combat techniques and battlefield experience.
Everyone in the squad exchanged looks, deeply envious of your formidable stamina and energy.
You gradually learned techniques for killing Chaos Space Marines and Orks.
For example, when facing Khorne Berserkers, give them a Melta Head Wash. When facing large groups of greenskins, kill the leaders among the Orks first.
During the second week, the squad struggled into a vast forest blanketed in ice and snow.
Intelligence from the Imperial Station showed that you were nearing the crash site of the Emperor-class Titan Dominatus.
Bearded Sergeant Major ordered everyone to remain vigilant and replenish their strength and ammunition.
You removed the supplies and equipment, calculating how much to distribute to each person.
A faint whistling sound suddenly reached your ears.
Sharp, crystal-clear projectiles embedded themselves in the supply crates before you, destroying most of the supplies.
You instantly recognized them as standard Aeldari weapons: ammunition fired by a Star-dart Thrower.
"Enemy attack—" you shouted at the top of your lungs.
Thanks to War Fortress 9 for the 500-point donation.
Thanks to Jiu Luo Xing Yu for the 500-point donation.
I'm going to grab a bite to eat. I'll write the next chapter right away.
Before you continue