Calth's Blood (V)

004. M31, Calth Ground, Leptis Numinus.

"Move, you damn stupid machine!" Terrence Lyon, the security chief of the old governor's palace, roared at the Cogitator in front of him.

Marius Gage sat on a pebble beside him, intending to tell the latter that such shouting was of no use to the Cogitator Array, but he was too tired to make a sound.

The underground security fortress of the old governor's palace is not connected to the cave system; the former is too old, and the latter is a recent, impromptu addition. Therefore, you can imagine what he went through to obtain those three sets of equipment.

Gage lowered his head, dust swirling down, the grayish-white dust scattering on his Power Armour and head, making him look old and haggard, like an old man in his twilight years. But this was only an appearance; beneath this exterior, he was still Marius Gage.

A battle- Ultramarines Chapter, a superhuman, Roboute Guilliman's loyal heir, and one of the Emperor's blades.

Therefore, he was still able to hear the explosions coming from the ground, the sound of artillery firing across the sky, and some kind of frenzied chanting, thanks to his excellent hearing.

He would rather be bombed than hear the last one, but he couldn't help but hear it because the Word Bearers were attacking the place—so he was being bombed at the same time as he heard the song.

If you think that doesn't sound scary enough, then Marius Gage has another thing to say.

The Word Bearers have arrived, and they have tanks, artillery, and armored vehicles—they have everything, even poison blades. If this weren't Leptis Numinus, and if they hadn't immediately reactivated the shield system, this place would likely have already been breached.

A few minutes later, security chief Terrence Lyon finally reconciled with the Cogitator array, which produced its calculations amidst extreme lag.

Overjoyed, the safety supervisor ran towards Gage with the calculation report in one hand. He handed the report to Gage, who glanced at it briefly and put it down.

"Fifteen minutes?" he asked. "I thought that since I brought back three sets of equipment, we could immediately restart the communication system, like magic. You know magic, Terrence?"

"This, sir, I—"

"--I was joking when I said that, didn't you realize?" Gage looked at him expressionlessly.

He was indeed joking, but he was too exhausted to smile.

"So, fifteen minutes, Terrence?" he asked again.

"Yes, sir," the security chief said through gritted teeth.

Looking at him, Gage suddenly felt that if it were possible, this man would eat the Cogitator and then become the Cogitator himself.

"Very good." Gage stood up. "Give me the microphone. I need to record something. Once the communications system is restored, you start broadcasting immediately, around the clock. I want everyone to be able to hear it."

"Understood, sir," Terrence Lyon said. He ran to the Cogitator and pulled a microphone from the complex equipment. It was old, rudimentary, and even chipped. Gage looked at it and suddenly laughed.

He reached out and took it.

"This is Marius Gage, First Chapter Master of the Ultramarines. The following words are for all loyal followers who hear them."

He held the microphone a little further away, and Terrence Lyon saw him smiling. The security chief didn't understand why Marius Gage could still smile, but he soon did.

"I was ordered by Roboute Guilliman to go to Calth to rebuild the communications network. The Macragge's Honour still shines, and Calth has not fallen. Whether it falls depends on whether we give up the fight."

"Therefore, whether you are a local resident, a soldier in the Imperial Army, or a member of the Thirteenth Legion, I hope that all loyalists who hear this message will realize one thing."

"The Word Bearers came not to conquer Calth, nor to take revenge on us; they came for extermination. They wish to utterly destroy our will to live, our souls, and everything else that matters."

"That way, they can hide in the shadows and comfort themselves with peace of mind. They want to see us crumble in the face of destruction; they want to derive pleasure from it."

"Before the war, they schemed and plotted, using every means to seize the initiative. They were utterly despicable and shameful, but they forgot who we are and where we are."

"This is Calth, and we are among the Ultramarines, the Ultramar Auxilia, and the inhabitants of the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar. We are one of the millions of brilliance that make up Roboute Guilliman's Radiance. He is proud of us, he is fighting on orbit, and he will never give up. So are we."

"And I'm sure you've all heard the adage, 'If you're going to kill an Ultramarines, you better make sure he doesn't get a second chance.' Now I'd like to correct that adage: 'If you're going to kill an Ultramarines, an Ultramar Auxilia, or a Calth native, you better make sure they don't get a second chance.'"

Gage took a deep breath.

"The following words are for all those Word Bearers." He closed his eyes. "I am Marius Gage, and I am in Leptis Numinus."

He exhaled.

"Come on," he said.

He put down the microphone, put on his helmet, and walked upwards with the Ultramarines, stepping into Hell.

Security chief Terrence Lyon clenched his fists and began staring at the Cogitator. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him, but Terrence suddenly felt the device move faster. He stared at the screen, trying to determine if he was going insane.

He didn't.

The speed of the Cogitator array began to increase.

--

004. M31, Calth Orbit, Soul of Night.

The Night Lords are always adept at boarding maneuvers; honestly, what could be more conducive to unleashing their talents than this?

Hunting enemies in dark, narrow corners, spreading fear, wielding blades. Every Night Lords is a master of gang warfare; this isn't something learned through training, but a choice born from their genes, an innate instinct.

A primal urge to kill.

The same was true for Fer Zalost, except that he never expected that he would one day become the target of a defection, especially by Daemon, which was truly strange.

Yes, the Daemon are coming— Fer's feeling was right, something was indeed chasing after him.

They leaped out of every porthole of the Soul of Night; if other legions were here, they might feel somewhat bewildered by the situation.

But the Night Lords wouldn't; each of them had anticipated this and accepted it. Some of them even heard whispers from the void when they killed Daemon, Fer was one of them.

Moreover, he knew what it was and what it represented. But he didn't have time to deal with it for the time being, so he began to let it be.

So he started killing faster and faster.

"Honestly, I think we can start considering electing the next Third Company Captain," said Adebiman Basley, Fer's adjutant.

Behind him lay corpses, some killed by him, some by others, but most by Fer alone. The Third Company Captain, whose swordsmanship was not outstanding among the Night Lords, had suddenly become a master swordsman, as if Richter Nair of the Eighth Company had suddenly possessed him—it was terrifying.

"I think you're not long for this, Company Commander. Considering my position as adjutant, I'll recommend myself first."

Can you please stop talking?

Fer finally spoke in response, simultaneously raising his sword and killing a Daemon that resembled a hunting dog.

The creature fell beneath his sword, its body twisting and contorting before suddenly bursting into a blazing inferno of black flames. In those flames, it vanished without a trace. At the moment of its complete disappearance, everyone heard a trembling bark, the sound of a hunting dog filled with terror.

Adebiman gave a flippant whistle, firing towards the end of the corridor as he told his company commander, "I can, but could you recommend me first, sir? I think I'm very qualified."

Fer ignored him, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

He had actually been prepared for this for many years, but he never expected it to feel like this.

He gripped the sword tightly, and his thoughts suddenly soared to a higher perspective, where a pale palace began to burn fiercely before his eyes.

The dead rose from the distant wasteland. Some approached him, whispering their thanks and telling him things. Others stretched out their withered fingers, healing his wounds with black flames, but demanding that he kill more.

Fer didn't respond to any of them, whether it was thanks or requests; he ignored them all. He simply gripped his sword and told himself, "I'm going back to kill more."

The next second, he opened his eyes.

"Company commander, your eyes are blazing! Wow, I never expected to see something like this," Adebiman said. "Am I going crazy?"

"Yes, you've had a mental illness for a long time," Fer told him. "Would you like to know about the treatment?"

"You want me to be the Third Company Captain?"

"You bastard," Fer said. "Take the men back to the bridge and tell Captain Djoko and the escort fleet that we're about to move."

Where to?

"Get close to the Macragge's Honour, prepare to board. The Ultramarines need our help, or rather, they need my help," Fer said.

His eyeballs had completely disappeared, the grayish-white color was gone, leaving only two burning black flames, incredibly intense.

"Then we might as well just prepare a shuttle for you. You sound like a really arrogant jerk," Adebiman sighed. "Alright, Third Company Captain. Don't forget I'm your adjutant."

"Get out of here!" Fer yelled at him. "I won't die today!"

Yes, he will die, but not today.

This chapter has 3k views, today's total is 9k. Let's fight again tomorrow.

Tired, going to sleep.