The bishop lay on the ground, wisps of steam rising from his head. To be honest, for a Psyker, his death had been downright pathetic. He hadn't died in a psychic duel or some spectacular clash of magic. Instead, an inside man behind him had blown his head apart with a single shot from a Plasma Gun.
But Vito had neither the energy nor the inclination to waste time celebrating his perfect one-shot kill of one of the enemy leaders. The other side's big boss was already charging him.
The Patriarch rose to its feet, its enormous frame looming over Vito like a mountain. It roared and swung a claw down at him. The nimble Inquisitor rolled aside, dodging the blow that shattered the floor, then sprang up and immediately opened fire on the Patriarch with the Plasma Gun that had formed from his right arm.
But the nightmare of a monster was far more nimble than it looked. It leaped high into the air, soaring over Vito as if it could cross the heavens, then slammed down behind him. The moment the Inquisitor turned his gun with lightning speed to fire, the Patriarch reacted even faster.
Its razor-sharp claws neatly sliced off the Plasma Gun muzzle at Vito's wrist. Cursing, the Inquisitor leaped backward. He watched several Purestrain Genestealer guards rush past the Patriarch and charge at him with a roar.
Vito didn't hesitate. He retracted the Plasma Gun muzzle and turned to rush toward a Devout Society guard who was firing at the invading gang army from atop a platform.
The guard spotted Vito too, and hurriedly swung his gun around and fired repeatedly. Not a single bolt of light hit Vito. The Inquisitor charged up to him and punched him in the face. The instant the man lost his balance, Vito snatched his Lasgun and blew his head apart with a shot from beneath the chin.
Vito casually shoved the corpse off the platform, then immediately turned and opened fire on the Purestrain Genestealers. The monsters charged at him, but the Inquisitor didn't panic in the slightest. Calmly taking aim, he fired. Every shot pierced the unarmored, vulnerable spot beside each Genestealer's head, where its carapace joined its back.
Laser beams flashed one after another, and Genestealer after Genestealer crashed to the ground. But amid their corpses, the Patriarch thundered toward him with the strides of a giant beast, raising its claws high to strike Vito.
The Lasgun's sustained fire did nothing to stop the monster. The laser beams only polished its carapace. It charged up to Vito, and its enormous claw swept in, slicing through the Lasgun as easily as a hot knife through butter and leaving a gash in Vito's arm.
Vito flung himself aside, narrowly avoiding the next crushing blow. He rolled to his feet and glanced at his bleeding right arm with a wry smile. "Whoa. This might be a bit harder than I thought."
The Patriarch turned around. Viscous saliva sprayed from its gaping maw as it roared. With the Patriarch's furious bellow, the Genestealers and their followers—thrown into disarray by the loss of their bishop and the disruption of the node control—regained their order. They stopped fleeing in every direction or blindly charging the invaders, heedless of their lives.
They began to counterattack in an orderly fashion. Using the frenzied cultists charging ahead as living shields, the Purestrain Genestealers rushed at the gang members who had seized a large area.
The Underhive gang warriors stared in terror at the nightmare creatures. In a panic, they opened fire, but the nimble monsters dodged, darted, and charged at full speed until they reached their opponents.
In almost an instant, dozens of gang members were torn apart by the Genestealers. The cultists surged over them and swallowed up the rest. These fearless fanatics charged toward the great hole like a raging ocean.
"Hold the line, you idiots! What are you panicking for?!" Mal cursed as he blasted a Genestealer off one of his men. It had knocked the man down and was about to rip his guts out. Still cursing, Mal fired again and again, blasting down wave after wave of fanatical cultists.
But as he focused on clearing away the fanatics, he failed to notice a cunning Genestealer speeding toward him from the other side. Its claws tore through several people who tried to stop it, and it reached Mal in a flash.
"Shit!" Mal cursed, staring wide-eyed as the monster leaped at him. But when he instinctively raised his arm to defend himself, he felt no pain from torn flesh.
Mal lowered his arm in bewilderment. Then his shock turned to amazement as he saw a huge hand gripping the monster by the throat. A towering, heavily armored giant stood just behind him.
The giant crushed the Genestealer's throat in one squeeze. Blood sprayed everywhere. He casually tossed the corpse aside, then turned and used the Bolter in his other hand to shoot down the Genestealers and the fanatics around them with precise shots.
Mal stared, dumbfounded, at the giant—the black armor, the roaring Bolter, the Power Sword. All of it belonged to one kind of being, the most consummate killing machines in the galaxy.
Astartes.
The black-armored giant fired with heavy, measured shots, each one perfectly aimed. Clouds of blood and fragments sprayed everywhere. Heavy iron footsteps rumbled in Mal's ears, and he stared in amazement as three more Astartes appeared. They had simply materialized out of nowhere, without a sound.
They had emerged from behind the great hole. The Emperor above! Had they followed him here? How had nobody noticed these four giants, each three or four meters tall, right behind them?!
But this clearly wasn't the time to wonder about that. The four giants strode past Mal, their Bolters and chainswords unleashing destruction among the enemy. The giant wielding a Power Sword and a chainsword plunged into the enemy ranks, swinging his weapons at a speed utterly at odds with his massive frame. He became a whirlpool of death, grinding everything around him to pieces like a meat grinder.
"Cover us, commander," one of the giants said as he passed Mal. An eerie lightning pattern glinted across his armor. Mal nodded almost at once, without hesitation or a second thought, just as the crazed xenos traitors did when they received a signal from their central mind.
But Mal's obedience came from the heart. It wasn't driven by some gene or psychic signal. The Emperor above! An Astartes was giving him an order. That was enough.
"Cover the Angels of Death! Kill those Imperial traitors!" Mal roared, raising his shotgun and opening fire. The giant beside him planted one foot on the ground. Countless bolts of lightning raced along the floor into the enemy ranks, flashing through countless bodies in the blink of an eye and burning them to charred husks.
The remaining gang members regained their fighting spirit too. Seeing four of the Emperor's Angels of Death charge into battle, courage and fervor blazed in their hearts. To be honest, it was nothing short of a miracle for a bunch of godless gang members like them.
Like Astra Militarum warriors charging alongside Astartes amid the sea of stars, the gang members swept the heretics with a barrage of fire, shouting as they followed close beside the giants. Together, they advanced steadily like an iron wall.
The Patriarch seemed surprised by the sight. It chattered out a string of clicks, but its hesitation didn't last long. A bolt of light struck it in the head. The shot couldn't kill the monster, but it could certainly enrage it.
The Tyranid Monstrosity turned to face Vito, who had somehow gotten hold of a Lasgun. He looked at the Patriarch with mocking defiance. Enraged, the monster charged him, its feet crushing a Genestealer corpse beneath them as it went. Flesh sprayed everywhere, painting the entire floor red in its wake.
The beast charged up to Vito and swung its great scythe down like a falling meteor. Another massive claw swept toward him from the side. There was nowhere for Vito to dodge. In an instant, he would be smashed into a pulp.
But suddenly, a flash of light flared. A dazzling force-field shield appeared from nowhere, surrounding Vito and instantly deflecting both claws.
Without hesitation, Vito rolled to the side. Then he suddenly thrust out his palm at the Patriarch. The giant beast seemed to take the full force of a shock wave, staggering backward. At the same time, Vito grabbed a Meltagun off the ground, dropped into a crouch without a second thought, and fired at the Patriarch.
The melta shot struck the temporarily off-balance Patriarch in the joint of one of the claws beneath its abdomen.
The monster shrieked and slammed its claw into the floor. Countless sharp cuts and pits appeared in the ground. The claw beneath its abdomen dropped to the floor as its gaping maw roared at the ceiling, its coiled tongue whipping about like a lash.
The Patriarch roared toward Vito, its massive feet crushing concrete and bricks beneath them. But suddenly, it stopped. It heard a sound: the rumbling of heavy iron feet pounding across the ground.
The Patriarch jerked its head up and looked toward the Land Bridge. It saw a towering Astartes Space Marine wielding a Chainaxe, howling like a Space Wolf as he tore through the entire cultist line and charged this way. Another Space Marine wielding a long sword charged alongside him.
The Patriarch understood everything. It roared furiously at Vito, then darted nimbly toward a corner of the Shrine to escape. Vito watched its retreating back in utter exasperation. "Why are you running?!"
"Ah, damn it." Vito rubbed his head and cursed. It looked like the thing had seen through his delaying plan. He threw away the gun and took a deep breath, arcs of brilliant lightning flickering across his palm.
But just as Vito was about to strike with his palm, he stopped. He heard the sound of a gun being cocked beside him. With a wry smile, he let the arcs of lightning in his hand slowly fade.
"Henry, buddy, you really shouldn't be here." Vito turned with a wry smile to face the gun barrel. Henry's finger rested on the trigger, the deadly muzzle aimed at Vito's head.
"Vito!" Ragnar and Lancelot charged over, both giants immediately aiming their Bolters at Henry. But Vito simply swept his arm toward the Patriarch. "Forget about this! Go after it! Don't let that bastard get away!"
The two Deathwatch Space Marines nodded at once and charged off without hesitation. Vito watched them go, then slowly stood up and gave a wry smile to Henry, who still had his gun pressed to Vito's forehead.
"You're a traitor," Henry said. But Vito only smiled and looked down at the chaotic gathering below. "You're having doubts, aren't you? You hesitated when you called me a traitor, didn't you?"
Henry said nothing. His finger remained on the trigger. But, unexpectedly, Vito dropped his Lasgun and looked straight into Henry's eyes past the muzzle. "When the bishop died, you saw the truth, didn't you? The Patriarch, and what all the bastards here really look like."
Henry still said nothing, keeping his pistol pointed at Vito's head. Vito remained perfectly calm. He pointed at his own head. "You're a Psyker, Henry. You just don't realize it. Crimson Essence has very little effect on you, and the Tyranid's node control hasn't worked as intended either."
"I don't know why, or whether the Emperor is protecting your soul, but that's why the Tyranid never fully infected you. Its influence never completely took hold, so you were able to doubt the cult and question them, instead of blindly believing everything like everyone else."
Henry still said nothing. He still didn't lower his gun. He frowned and gripped it tightly.
"When the bishop died, the Tyranid's psychic screen failed, didn't it? You saw everything. In that instant, you saw the whole truth, Henry. They're Tyranids."
"That so-called Lord of Redemption came to devour everything in the entire star system, to eat us like snacks. It was never redemption at all, just a lie told to those poor fools."
"I know you've lost faith in the Imperium. That's normal. But, brother, this planet's political order will be turned upside down soon. In a few days, those vermin will be purged. A new future is waiting for you and the others—a chance to make your ideals real, right here in front of you. I promise the Imperium won't treat you as traitors. They're the traitors."
Brilliant flashes from countless guns flickered all around them, like an epiphany in a dream. They stood amid a riot of colors, while explosions and shouts seemed to fade into indistinct illusions. Time itself seemed to stand still.
Henry looked at Vito, and Vito looked back at him. The Lasgun's muzzle remained pressed hard against Vito's head. Henry frowned, and his finger tightened on the trigger, squeezing it until it clicked.
Vito could hear the Lasgun's energy cells hissing as they charged. The beam was gathering. In a few milliseconds, it would fire, and everything would be over.
The gun fired. Its laser beam shot past Vito's ear. A Tyranid-infected man climbing onto the platform took the shot straight through the head. He fell from the high platform, plummeting to the distant ground.
Vito watched Henry lower the gun. Henry gave him a slight shake of the head. "I don't care what the Imperium thinks of me. I don't care whether I can rise into the upper ranks of power, Vito."
"I don't care whether I'm a traitor. I won't worship The Emperor anymore, or any other god. I won't believe in anyone's promises again. I'll decide my own fate."
"But these monsters will destroy my home and slaughter my people. So I'll help you today—not for The Emperor or the Imperium."
Vito smiled and nodded slightly, then turned his gun and shot down another Tyranid-infected man. Whatever they looked like to Henry now, his thoughts were clearly still his own.
"Go after the Patriarch. Do what you have to do," Henry said, then turned and walked away. Vito watched him go with a smile, then broke into a run toward the front.
Before you continue