A damp plague-wind blew in from the west. Balk curled his lip in disgust and spat.
Overhead, the sacred creation known as the Black Tower kept the filth of the Warp outside, but it also passively revealed the nature of that wind to them. Everyone in the trench could see the wailing little monsters hidden within it.
They were not Demons, but rather some manifestation of malice.
Balk admitted that after seeing it, goosebumps had risen all over him.
"By The Emperor's holy sword."
A soldier in the trench cursed under his breath. "What the fuck are these damned things?"
"Don't ask," Balk said with a hint of warning, raising the Lasgun in his hands.
The Astartes fighting alongside them had brought some new weapons, ones specially issued to the Auxilia, but there were not enough of them after all, so Balk was still holding the famous M35 Lasgun.
He had no complaints about that. In his view, the M35 was already more than enough for him to vent The Emperor's wrath on His behalf. This reliable weapon would never go out of date, at most only lacking a little firepower.
In any case, he was a good shot. He was always a good shot. His marksmanship scores ranked among the best in the entire Konor Sector, and that had won him the responsibilities of a company commander.
"Prepare to fire," Balk said. "These sons of bitches dare attack Ultramar? Who gave them the nerve?"
"Wasn't the fart I just let out, anyway."
Someone made a crude joke, loosening the atmosphere a little. Balk snorted in disapproval, and the signalman's voice came over the comms channel in his earpiece. "Stand by. The artillery positions have carried out a precise saturation strike."
The moment he heard that, Balk immediately ducked back