The Bolter's muzzle spat deadly flames. Its shells tore through the air with a shrill roar, striking their target. The unlucky Genestealer was blown apart from the waist up.
The Chainaxe roared as it hacked through limb after limb, flesh and blood. The underground corridor was littered with corpses. Its gray and dark-brown walls had turned almost entirely crimson, as the artist of slaughter painted a picture of death in blood.
A Purestrain Genestealer crashed to the ground. The giant beside it, Bolter in hand, turned and shot down a Genestealer leaping at him. Its purplish-red blood splashed across his winged helmet, staining the black feathered plates a dull red. The Astartes didn't pause; he immediately swung his Power Sword and smoothly cut another Genestealer in half.
The Dark Angels Space Marine stood amid the shattered corpses. He raised his arm and, without even looking, shot an attacker preparing to ambush him. The Plasma Gun in the enemy's hands fell to the ground, and a shot struck an oil drum nearby, setting off a chain of explosions. The Dark Angel didn't even glance at the blast.
Flames illuminated his helmet as he lifted his head slightly to look at the Fenrisian Space Wolf approaching from the side. Ragnar carried his Chainaxe and fired as he walked, unhurried. Every shot hit its mark, taking down one enemy after another.
Compared with the panic, fear, and desperation of their enemies, the two Astartes were remarkably calm. They neither dodged nor made any sweeping movements. They simply stood there, taking aim and firing shot after shot. Each shot sent flesh flying, while the enemy's fire couldn't even scratch the paint on their Power Armour.
"Why are we cleaning up this trash?" Ragnar complained, taking aim and firing shot after shot. Beside him, Lancelot shrugged slightly, his finger working the trigger. The brilliant muzzle flashes glinted across their helmets.
"Weren't you always complaining that you were bored and wanted a fight? Well, here you go."
"Like hell. What's the point of fighting these guys? It's just a one-sided slaughter. Where's the glory in that?"
"I must remind you, Ragnar, that what we do is an extension of the Emperor's will, and a duty and responsibility to the Imperium of Man as a whole. That is what matters most, not your glory."
Bell's voice came through the communicator, mingled with bursts of gunfire and screams. But judging by his calm tone, it didn't sound like anything serious. Like the two of them, he seemed as relaxed as if he were out for a stroll, casually killing a Gretchin along the way.
"All right, Bell, you're always so boring. Speaking of which, why didn't Vito come down to practice his shooting with us?"
"Well, knowing him, he's probably either chatting and bragging with the local officials or having a more intimate conversation in bed with the new governor."
"Ah, then it's definitely the latter. You know him so well, Lancelot."
"Of course. We've been with him for so many years. Wait, how many years has it been? Does anyone remember?"
The two stood side by side, chatting as they fired with casual precision, as if they really were practicing at a shooting range.
Ragnar tilted his head slightly and pulled the trigger, blowing apart a fleeing enemy. "Damn, I forgot. We've been following him for ages—so long that I've lost track."
"I've even forgotten how old I am."
"We're Astartes, Ragnar. Time itself means little to us. Once more than twenty years have passed, humans forget the very concept of time. And every one of us has lived for more than a century." Bell's voice came through the communicator. The roar of a Heavy Bolter sounded in the background, then quickly faded back to silence.
Ragnar shrugged. It was true: time meant little to them. Astartes aged incredibly slowly, and years of war and training had long since made them forget the passage of time. It was precisely this that had created the Imperium's most efficient killing machines.
"But I'd say it's been at least a decade," Lancelot said, shooting down enemies one by one. "Oh, by the way, Ragnar, I remember your Chapter has a terrible relationship with the Inquisition. How do you get along so well with Vito?"
The Space Wolf tilted his head and lined up his sights, shooting a Devout Society sniper from a great distance. The sniper rifle couldn't have scratched Ragnar, but it seemed he'd become another diversion for Ragnar when he was bored.
"You mean the Month of Shame?"
"The Month of Shame? What the hell is that?"
"Oh, it was during the First Armageddon War. Our Chapter, the people of Armageddon, the Inquisition, and the Grey Knights wiped out fifty thousand World Eaters, along with countless daemonic armies of Khorne, and sent the traitor Primarch straight back into the Warp."
"It was a glorious campaign. Thousands upon thousands of ordinary people fought alongside us, and together we defeated the horrors of the Warp. But afterward, the Inquisition planned to execute all those mortal soldiers, claiming they must have been tainted by the Warp after fighting the traitor Primarch. They had to be purged. That infuriated our Chapter Master, Wolf Lord Logan, so we ended up fighting the Inquisition."
"We escorted those civilians and soldiers as they evacuated the system, and we exchanged heavy fire with the Inquisition's fleet. We severely damaged or destroyed every Inquisition force on the scene. That made both the Grey Knights and the Inquisition furious. Afterward, they brought an army to Fenris to pick a fight and demanded that we undertake a Penitent Crusade."
"Then there was a whole lot of fighting. As I recall, it was Old Wolf Bjorn who personally stepped in and persuaded Chapter Master Logan to cease fire and negotiate with the Inquisition. That settled things, but we certainly don't like the Inquisition or the Grey Knights."
"So can you explain how you manage to hang around with Vito every day, let him mock you and boss you around, and not split him in half with your axe?"
Ragnar raised his axe and cleaved the Purestrain in front of him. He tapped his helmet thoughtfully with the axe, seeming to ponder the question, then shrugged. "I don't know. I just like the guy. I can't explain why. He's not like the rest of the Inquisition, is he? We've been with him for years, and we've never seen him kill people on a whim or issue an Exterminatus against a world."
"Vito doesn't like killing. Even I know that if he does kill someone, he has a reason, and it's to prevent even greater loss of life. He's not arrogant like those other Inquisitors, either. So yeah, I like him. Or maybe it's more accurate to say he doesn't seem like an Inquisitor at all."
Indeed, Vito was more like a carefree wanderer, roaming the galaxy and doing whatever he pleased. In some ways, he was a lot like Ragnar. Both were the type to treat discipline and rules like scraps of paper and do things their own way. Maybe that was why they appreciated each other.
"But I remember the Wolf Lord liked him, too. He visited Fenris a few times, and the Chapter's veterans treated him with great respect. Though I've forgotten why."
"Because Vito took part in the Month of Shame, too." Old Wolf Olaf's voice came through the communicator, his deep tone as dependable and solid as ever.
"Back on Armageddon, after we destroyed the Inquisition fleet, a fleet led by Vito suddenly appeared and surrounded us. By then, we'd used up our ammunition fighting the Orks and the Inquisition fleet, and our battle-brothers were exhausted after fighting the Grey Knights. Vito could have completely trapped us and wiped us out."
"But he didn't. Vito opened a route for us to leave and warned us not to take the refugees to any other world. He told us to bring them back to Fenris. Unfortunately, we couldn't shelter so many people, so we sent them to a few worlds willing to take them in."
"In the end, those worlds were attacked by the Inquisition, too. The refugees were executed, and some planets were even subjected to Exterminatus in the name of 'purification.' But I heard Vito managed to save a few worlds and, somehow, 'erase' those refugees on paper."
As Olaf spoke, a tremendous crash came through the communicator, as if he'd crushed something underfoot. Then he smashed something else with a punch.
"Later, on Fenris, he and Lord Bjorn also persuaded the Grey Knights' Supreme Grand Master and Logan to withdraw and cease fire. After that, he went all over the place, convincing the furious Lords of the Inquisition to abandon their war of retribution."
"I was there, too. Lord Bjorn asked him why he was helping us, why he was turning against his own colleagues. Vito told the Wolf Lord..."
"People have forgotten why the Imperium was founded. But someone has to remember. I hope there was once a time when hope existed in this galaxy."
"Lord Bjorn was silent for a while after hearing that. Then he led us in swearing an oath: even if the stars fell and the heavens changed, the sons of Leman Russ would always welcome him and would always give him every assistance."
As the Old Wolf spoke, static crackled through the communicator. Then an explosion rang out, and all fell silent.
Ragnar laughed and tapped his helmet with his axe. "I knew that guy was badass. Isn't that way cooler than those lunatics?" He shot another unlucky enemy dead.
"Indeed. Vito has a good relationship with our Chapter, too. Back then, I was assigned to join a force fighting the Orks. But halfway there, Lord Asmodai half-threatened and half-coerced the company commander into handing over command. He led us all off to investigate some rumor about an 'Exemplary Warrior,' leaving the Silver Skulls Chapter, who'd been fighting alongside us, beset on all sides and suffering terrible losses."
"Damn, you guys really don't know the meaning of honor," Ragnar quipped. For once, Lancelot didn't argue. He merely shrugged, then swung his sword to kill an enemy at close range.
"Lord Asmodai is just that insane. Even among the First Company, the Second Company, and those lunatics in the Chaplaincy, he stands out. He was barking orders as he dragged us to a militia camp fighting the Orks. There we found that Exemplary Warrior: Vito, who was leading the local militia against the Orks."
"Lord Asmodai asked him a whole bunch of questions in his usual insane way. Somehow, Vito managed to convince Lord Asmodai to fight the Orks with him first. And somehow, Lord Asmodai actually listened. I swear, that was a galaxy-level miracle! That lunatic wouldn't even listen to Chapter Master Azrael."
"Afterward, Vito brought the badly battered, furious Chapter Master of the Silver Skulls to Caliban to demand an explanation. I don't know how he convinced the Chapter Master to accept Chapter Master Azrael's apology. The matter wasn't pursued any further, and the two Chapters didn't become mortal enemies over it."
"Just like your Chapter, Chapter Master Azrael respected and was grateful to him. Later, he even helped him resolve a few wars. I think they fought the traitor Alpha Legion a few times? Though it was the Ravenwing and the Deathwing who went, alongside Vito."
Wow. Vito certainly had a way with words. Or maybe he had another method—sharing a little secret or trading something, perhaps? One of his usual tricks. It seemed to work on everyone.
Ragnar chuckled as he inserted a fresh Bolter magazine. "Yeah. That's why he's better than those idiots who do nothing but scream about killing people on one side and scream for Exterminatus on the other."
"Lancelot, Ragnar, the Old Wolf and I have driven the rest toward you. Get ready to hunt them down," Bell said. By now, the roar of Bolter fire was loud enough for the two of them to hear directly.
Ragnar rolled his shoulders, then strode over to a Heavy Bolter. He kicked aside the corpse lying on top of it, picked up the heavy weapon, and walked to the doorway.
Lancelot raised his Bolter and aimed it at the doorway. Soon, a horde of alien enemies came into view, fleeing toward them in panic. They were so focused on the hunters behind them that they'd overlooked what lay ahead. By the time the first in line noticed the two giants, it was too late.
Ragnar pulled the trigger. The Bolter roared like a storm, unleashing a hail of shells into the enemy ranks. Flesh and wreckage flew everywhere as blood poured down inside and outside the doorway.
When the Heavy Bolter's belt fed its final round, the deadly weapon of death finally fell silent, thin wisps of smoke rising from it.
Ragnar casually tossed the Bolter aside. Two of his brothers emerged through the doorway, walking out of a mountain of corpses. The four giants stood before the entrance, surrounded by the remains of countless aliens and heretics.
Before any of them could speak, their communicators sounded. Cole's voice came through every helmet.
"Everyone, get back to the surface."
The Governor's Palace certainly had a huge, comfortable bed. Roman bed curtains hung from the high canopy, and the soft, fluffy blankets felt so warm and cozy. This really was the kind of luxury only a governor's residence could offer.
Vito leaned against the pillows, sinking deep into their softness, relaxed and comfortable. His arm rested around Olivia's bare shoulder as she lay tucked beneath the blankets, half her body leaning against him. Her slender fingers rested lightly on his chest.
Vito smiled at the beauty in his arms. He sighed contentedly and rested his head against the pillow, closing his eyes as if savoring the peaceful moment.
No one was going to disturb Vito and the beautiful woman. The servants had been told not to come unless it was important. Well, at least they hadn't so far.
The communicator on the bedside table began to beep. Olivia opened her drowsy eyes and sat up to look at it, her long, tousled hair falling carelessly over her shoulder.
Vito sighed, reached over, picked up the communicator, and switched it on. "Cole, I hope you really have something important enough to interrupt me."
"The Ultramarines have arrived. Third Company Captain Kayle Fabian has brought five Space Marine companies. Get dressed right now and meet me at the landing field."
Cole's voice cut off. Vito smiled playfully. It seemed Cole knew what he'd been doing. Well, Vito rubbed his head and looked at Olivia, who was staring at him in surprise.
"Throne preserve us."
Before you continue