Terra (52, Two Messengers, a Gem)

Ollanius Persson gripped his gun, leaped, and plunged into hell—not a metaphor or exaggeration, but the very real hell.

The air was thick with the smell of sulfur, and the intense heat was everywhere, scorching everyone who tried to pass through. The ground appeared to be a rough red at first glance, but it wasn't actually like that.

They were mountains of corpses and seas of blood, piled up one after another.

Constantine Valdor followed closely behind him, the guide's position subtly reversed. Unbeknownst to him, the Adeptus Custodes Marshal seemed to have come to regard Ollanius Persson as the one giving orders—a situation the veteran was not happy about.

The task was simple at first, he thought. It was just about finding four people on a bridge; even if one of them had an incredibly long name, he could refer to him with just two characters.

He was thinking this when he couldn't help but laugh.

"It's always like this, "Ollanius Persson thought helplessly. "As long as you work behind that person, this kind of development is inevitable."

Just like a certain uprising, Ollanius Persson remembered that at the beginning, the man only said that they were going to rescue two people from the prison. However, when Ollanius Persson came to his senses, they had already hanged the biggest slave owner in the area at the city gate.

When Ollanius Persson asked him what was going on, the man simply replied, "We just did what we were supposed to do."

Yes, it's that kind of tone, that arroganceless, self-righteous tone, that's truly disgusting.

Ollanius Persson stopped in front of a boiling, burning lake. It wasn't a sea of fire like lava, but a vast expanse of burning oil, with broken limbs floating and sinking within it, their skin gradually turning charred black by the intense heat.

Some shadowy Shadow, neither human nor human, were moving through the grease, stirring it with their long, thin, blade-like arms.

"We have to take a detour," Constantine Valdor said immediately.

Ollanius Persson nodded in agreement—this was certainly not the first time they had encountered these things that were neither human nor Daemon during their long journey.

They were the work of the madman who had possessed Horus Lupercal's body; the veteran could not comprehend how he had created such a new race. They were not inanimate, they did not possess that particular stench, but they were certainly not human either.

"Ollanius, we have to take a detour," Valdor said again, his voice very serious. "Perhaps we could fight our way through from another place, but not here. Even passing by the lake would likely result in an attack."

"First of all, Lord Valdor, please don't call me that," Ollanius Persson replied without looking up. "Secondly..."

He reached out and picked up the gem. Its faint light, now more apparent amidst the blood-stained dark green uniform, finally became more noticeable. The Adeptus Custodes frowned, but quickly relaxed his gaze.

"If this is his will," he said firmly, raising the Apollonian Spear in his hand.

They resumed their advance, choosing to circle around the right side of the lake. Just as Valdor had said, the creatures did indeed quickly spot them and launch an attack.

They burst forth from the bubbling grease, their movements comical and laughable, as if they had never experienced how to run before, some even falling over repeatedly. But Ollanius Persson and Valdor, of course, couldn't laugh; back to back, they prepared for battle.

Soon, these things approached them. Ollanius Persson's hands bulged with veins as he suppressed the urge to vomit. He raised his empty Boltgun at an angle, pointing the bayonet at the top towards the sky.

A Shadow approached him, its slender limbs and contorted body suddenly beginning to change. As if ruminating or "turning over," the pitch-black surface of its body gradually transformed into human flesh and hairy skin.

When the flip was complete, a bewildered civilian stood before Ollanius Persson and Valdor.

"M-Sir?" he stammered, looking at the Adeptus Custodes. "Where am I?"

Valdor refused to answer, shifting his gaze to another mother who had just "turned over," holding a child in her arms and beaming with joy.

"It's the Emperor's guards!" she told her child. "We're saved! The Emperor has sent men to rescue us!"

Valdor swung his spear, piercing her and her child together. Blood splattered, and the mother's face gradually changed from confusion, pain, and bewilderment to fear.

In her final moments, she managed to move her arm, trying to pull the child away from the sharp edge of the Apollonian Spear. She failed; the Adeptus Custodes, with absolute ruthlessness, withdrew their spears and severed her head.

Behind him, Ollanius Persson also thrust out his bayonet.

The three corpses fell at their feet.

Ollanius Persson tried to ignore them and told himself that it was all a lie. He tried to lie to himself, but he couldn't, because he knew very well that it wasn't a lie or an illusion; these people were indeed real human beings.

The gemstone had given him inspiration not long ago.

He swung his Boltgun again, his bayonet brutally slicing open a man's throat. The man, his face flushed, whimpered and fell at his feet, his dying expression a mixture of terror and barely concealed anger.

Ollanius Persson forced himself to ignore the incident, stepped back, and leaned against Valdor's back. He brandished his weapon defiantly and began to drive the crowd away. "Get out of here! Get out! Stay away from us!"

"They are traitors!" someone shouted. "The Emperor's guards have betrayed us! And that soldier! He betrayed us too!"

"Traitor!" a woman cursed as she charged at Ollanius Persson, her face filled with Dreadnought courage. "How dare you do such a thing?!"

Ollanius Persson knocked her to the ground with the butt of his gun, then retreated several steps to avoid the woman's hands that tried to grab his trouser leg.

Behind him, Constantine Valdor silently brandished his spear. Compared to Ollanius Persson, his methods were far more ruthless; anyone who dared to approach was killed.

They began to move slowly through the crowd, their cursing never ceasing, and some in the crowd were already stirring with impatience.

Ollanius Persson saw it clearly; he understood what was about to happen, and therefore he was extremely anxious.

"We must leave quickly, Valdor," Ollanius Persson whispered.

"I know," the Adeptus Custodes said.

He knew for certain that he had accelerated the killing, and more people were falling beneath his spear. Ollanius Persson certainly didn't want to see this happen, but what could he do?

They could only run; they couldn't even explain themselves to these people. They had tried, but it was utterly useless. They couldn't use force to calm them down either; the moment there was physical contact, those damned shadows would instantly return.

Then, they spread upwards along the limbs they touch, moving extremely fast, almost completely enveloping a person in less than half a second— Ollanius Persson was "preyed" in this way once.

If Valdor hadn't reacted quickly, using the Apollonian Spear to slash through the shadow and pull him out, the consequences would have been unimaginable.

Ollanius Persson could probably guess his fate.

He walked on in silence, offering no response to the overwhelming curses and hatred. He was at his wit's end, able only to conceal himself with this silent facade. He knew that Constantine Valdor was the same.

"Luckily, I wasn't a hero to begin with," Ollanius Persson thought to himself with a self-deprecating smile.

About ten minutes later, they left the fiery inferno and stepped back into the darkness.

It's always like this; before reaching the next hell, you always have to pass through this small patch of darkness that seems to come from nowhere. Ollanius Persson doesn't know the reason behind it, and he doesn't care. Darkness is darkness, it's better than having no chance to breathe.

He began to take deep breaths; his hands, which were gripping the gun, had lost all feeling.

"We'll encounter more," Constantine Valdor said calmly. "This is a trap that monster has carefully laid for us. It won't stop unless we die or are assimilated by those things."

Ollanius Persson remained silent; he was too exhausted to know how to respond to Valdor's attempt to start a discussion. Maintaining rationality had become difficult enough, let alone using it for thinking.

The old soldier closed his eyes tightly, his heart filled with anguish. He walked numbly forward, and soon his closed eyes sensed a light. He opened his eyes, but saw no trace of his nightmare.

At this moment, the scene before him appeared to be a wasteland, the sky a gloomy gray, almost like the eye of a storm. Ollanius Persson slowly moved his gaze and saw a blurry black dot at the edge of his vision.

"Something's different here," Valdor said beside him.

At this moment, even the Adeptus Custodes finally showed some doubt. He seemed unable to believe that they had actually escaped the trap so easily—but both he and Ollanius Persson could actually sense the subtle differences. The most obvious one was the relaxed atmosphere.

While they were still walking through hell, the air was so heavy it was almost suffocating. Despite this, Ollanius Persson remained vigilant.

He couldn't see the specifics of the battle. Although any change in the imagery would likely signify a new phase in the fight between the Master of Mankind and the monster, the power of Chaos was always capricious and adept at Deceit.

What if this is another trap?

"Can you see that thing?" Ollanius Persson raised his gun, pointed it at the blurry black dot on the horizon, and asked Valdor.

"That's a tree," said the Adeptus Custodes Marshal. "Probably."

There was a hint of hesitation in his voice.

Ollanius Persson frowned, pondered for a moment, and finally took a step forward, heading in that direction. They had no way back, and stopping to rest would be an extremely foolish idea.

Therefore, whatever awaits them ahead, they have no other choice.

The wasteland was barren, devoid of even soil, and littered with stones. The dim light flickered, refracting into the air and creating distracting illusions.

They didn't have any specific shapes, just some blurry, flickering Shadow. Some of them even happened to block their path. Ollanius Persson approached cautiously, not rushing past, but observing them first.

He got nowhere; even as the distance closed, the illusions remained blurry and utterly indistinguishable.

Ollanius Persson then turned his head and nodded to Valdor. The Adeptus Custodes Marshal stepped forward and gently thrust out his spear.

As if it were destiny, or something they had been waiting for, a bolt of golden lightning suddenly descended from the sky and struck them in front of them.

The dazzling Radiance forced Ollanius Persson to close his eyes. When he opened them again, the earth before them had completely cracked open, revealing huge scars on the stone ground of the wasteland, and the illusions had vanished.

Valdor was unharmed; he dodged the lightning with superhuman reflexes and even had time to return to Ollanius Persson's back.

Smoke rose slowly, spreading from the cracks in the earth and drifting into the sky. They looked down and saw countless demonic nightmares twisting and dancing wildly within, yet they dared not appear, restrained by the power of the lightning.

Ollanius Persson instinctively gripped the gem on his chest.

"He's helping us, but he doesn't have the time or inclination to look after us while doing this," the veteran said softly. "Looks like we've come to the right place."

He looked at Valdor, who silently withdrew his spear, using it to support himself, like an old man nearing his end—what kind of suffering could have made him so weary?

Ollanius Persson pursed his lips, then walked closer to him and patted Valdor's arm guard with the butt of his rifle in a comforting gesture.

"Let's keep going," he said.

--

Cassidorius, panting, stretched out his right hand toward the top of the cliff.

A damp, cold mist was spreading below him, and the wind howled, creating a terrifying sound between the cliffs. Half a second later, his hand was grabbed, and a tremendous force came from above, pulling him up.

Van Cleef nodded to him, completing the communication with a brief gesture of courtesy.

Above them, the sky was witnessing the wondrous spectacle of day and night. The moon and stars still hung in the heavens, the sun had not yet risen above the distant horizon, but its Radiance had already pierced through the clouds, bringing a mesmerizing and awe-inspiring Radiance.

Sidorius knew that the sun would soon be fully risen, and the mountain they were on would be able to witness its splendor—but that wasn't the most important thing.

"How is it?" Van Cleef asked.

This is just a routine inquiry.

Cassidorius numbly lowered his head and looked at his chest.

Because he was wearing Power Armour, he couldn't directly take the gem out to examine its condition. Fortunately, the priest who designed the Power Armour for him had obviously considered this and designed a small viewing window, which was placed on the neck guard of the armor.

By simply looking down, Cassidorius could determine the color of the gemstone from the color of the hard crystal inserted into the viewing window.

And at this moment, it is radiating a dazzling golden light.

It took Cassidorius a long time to realize what this meant.

Finally, finally.

The last descendant of the del Kunas Family seemed to have lost all his strength, and suddenly knelt down. He covered his face with his hands, and soon tears welled up between his fingers and streamed down his fingernails.

Van Cleef didn't disturb him, but slowly removed his helmet and threw it on the ground. The sound of metal hitting the ground was incredibly dull, almost like a war drum, and carried far across the cliff.

Before the sound had even faded, Van Cleef had already gripped his Chainsword —the engine roared for a split second, and the serrated blades struck precisely a tall figure hidden in the mist.

It let out a mournful cry and collapsed beneath the First Company. It wasn't Daemon or anything else, but a kind of spirit that only appeared in the morning mist.

They are highly susceptible to the tears of grieving people, and if left unchecked, they will attach themselves to those people, gradually consuming their life force. Such harsh predatory conditions meant that these creatures existed for only a few hundred years before becoming extinct.

Unfortunately, they were currently living in a time when their tribe was still relatively intact.

The First Company commander continued to wield his sword with unwavering focus, without the slightest hesitation, and quickly wiped out the small group of monsters, thus contributing to their extinction in this fictional history.

Cassidorius also recovered at this moment. He stood up, every muscle in his face twitching. Ecstasy and grief alternated, and without saying a word, one could directly see the suffering his heart had endured.

He hurried forward, taking two steps at a time, rushing towards the end of the mission in hopes of relief, but then suddenly stopped. His abrupt halt was strange and unexpected, but Van Cleef was not surprised at all.

At that moment, Cassidorius turned to look at him, his expression gradually changing from ferocious to calm.

"It can't be that easy," he said, his voice so soft it was almost a murmur, making it unclear whether he was speaking to Van Cleef or to himself.

"How can it end like this? Where is that thing? Where is it?"

Van Cleef did not answer, but strode forward, like a silent sword cutting through the mist. His footsteps were silent, but his armor began to hum.

He and Cassidorius walked through countless years in the ever-repeating cycle of human history.

At first, the scenery they experienced was relatively normal. However, with the appearance of the monster, everything began to turn into the worst possible scenario, as if they were walking in a nightmare. Even when there was nothing around them, they had to worry that the trees might turn into its shape.

Van Cleef accepted it entirely; it would have been abnormal for him not to. In a sense, he was more of a monster than the thing itself.

But Cassidorius was clearly no match for him; he was only a mortal, and his mind had a threshold of endurance—once that threshold was exceeded, he would go mad. In fact, he had already oscillated between lucidity and madness many times.

Van Cleef offered no comment; he had no reason to demand too much of Cassidorius. No matter how resilient a mortal's mind, it could not ultimately withstand such torment, but he had to endure it; he had no choice.

He went mad and woke up, woke up and went mad again. His mind was forged by suffering over endless years, becoming a piece of steel with a twisted shape.

For the current Cassidorius Ciunas, the clear line between madness and sanity has completely disappeared. He is constantly in a state of madness, but also constantly in a state of reason.

Otherwise, how could he have noticed that one blind spot amidst such extreme joy and sorrow?

Van Cleef calmly raised his sword with one hand and slashed horizontally. The Chainsword sliced through empty air, but blood suddenly gushed out.

Something that didn't exist was hurt by him here, and anger surged. The First Company's face began to shatter with unprecedented force and speed.

Behind him, Cassidorius stumbled along. A gust of wind rose, and the world underwent an indescribable transformation at that moment.

Van Cleef was still standing empty in front of him, but he knew that a madman was now standing before him.

The First Company could see its outline, but only a corner of it. Its shape was enormous and insane.

It is the sum of all the darkness that Cassidorius, as a messenger, endured throughout the endless past, a monster born to oppose him, a conspiracy meticulously crafted by Chaos. It is a lingering affliction, always pursuing them, never giving up, never ceasing.

Now, it stands in their final way to complete their mission.

Van Cleef slightly raised his head and glanced at the sky. The sun had not yet risen, but gold was already spreading across the sky.

This is a kind of answer, or an agreement.

"You can't kill me unless you kill him." The monster gradually took shape, becoming solid and real. Van Cleef looked at it coldly, shook his head indifferently, and then raised his sword.

In the next five minutes, he killed it 1,555 times. But just as it had said, it returned from the darkness time and time again, blocking Van Cleef and Cassidorius's path.

It wasn't even bothering to resist.

"I cannot fight you, Chosen One of God. But I need no violence. I am his opposite, his antithesis, the endless torment a mortal endures throughout eternity. As long as he lives, I live, and you cannot pass through. But if he dies, your mission will also fail."

"Take my corpse with you!" Cassidorius suddenly roared. "Don't be Deceit by this thing! Come back and kill me, Van Cleef! It doesn't matter who delivers this jewel!"

Van Cleef shook his head.

"That's not a gemstone, so it can't be judged by common sense," he said calmly. "Haven't you realized its true nature yet, Cassidorius?"

He raised his sword, pointing it at the blurry yet enormous shape.

"It is the echo of the endless darkness you have endured, but have we only endured darkness along the way? Our rule was to avoid communicating with people as much as possible, and we did not abide by it. So, do you remember how many people we have walked with?"

"That Easterner who tried to save everything, that young man burned at the stake by religion, that frail woman who stood between her mother and the beast—you were not merely a messenger, you were also a witness. We have measured human history with our own feet, and you, Cassidorius— "

He turned his head slightly, and his face suddenly shattered at that moment.

"--How many heroes have you seen already?"

Flames of fury rose, and a fierce wind howled. The cliffs began to change; the earth trembled and shifted, then was baptized by artillery fire that seemed to come from nowhere, until it became a gloomy wasteland. The sky shifted and the stars moved, day and night endlessly alternating, and a torrential downpour suddenly fell. A scarlet and enormous eye slowly emerged from behind the dark rain clouds.

The beast blocking Van Cleef's path lowered its back, paying homage to its owner. It mumbled words like "master," its body trembling as if in fear.

Van Cleef looked up at the sky without fear. The raindrops had quietly stopped, and the clouds rolled in, forming a majestic yet sinister face.

Horus Lupercal's face.

Although it existed for only a brief moment before being completely dispelled by the golden lightning, Van Cleef was certain that he had discovered them.

This was certainly not good news, Van Cleef no longer hesitated. He raised his sword again, flames of anger rising from his eyes and gradually engulfing his entire body.

Suddenly, a soft murmur filled the air. Cassidorius unconsciously listened intently and discovered that it was actually a hymn, a religiously charged chant. Before he could even ponder what this phenomenon meant, he felt a genuine fear welling up from the depths of his bones.

The messenger looked up sharply and found that Van Cleef was no longer there; in his place stood a gigantic Daemon.

It was very tall, at least ten meters high, and held a ferocious giant sword wrapped in jet-black lightning in its right hand. It wore tattered armor, with multiple chains wrapped around it, forcibly keeping the dark red, menacing armor on its body. It had huge spiral horns on its head, and its white hair, like sideburns, fluttered in the gale.

The Daemon spoke slowly—or rather, swore an oath.

"I ask you to be my witness." It raised its sword, its voice deep and resonant.

Who? Who witnessed it?

The question flashed through Cassidorius's mind, but he couldn't grasp it. He had temporarily lost the ability to think and could only passively accept these things, like a safe that only takes in and never comes out. Then, a chill ran down his forehead.

Instinctively, the messenger looked up, only to find that it was snowing in the sky, pitch-black snow.

"I will exact my Vengeance on this beast," the Daemon said calmly and clearly. "I will hunt it down from this moment until the end of time. It will never have a day of peace, living only in fear and torment. I will slaughter it, I will gut it, crush its bones, and cut off its head to throw it into the sea."

A dark red hue flashed across the sky and disappeared in an instant.

"You can't do it--!" the beast roared in response, a hint of fear appearing in its voice for the first time, though not very obvious, but it was indeed fear.

As soon as it finished speaking, its enormous form began to crumble. Countless monsters leaped out of the void, surging towards the Daemon and engulfing it like a tidal wave.

The earth trembled, Cassidorius fell to the ground, the world spinning around him amidst a deafening cacophony. Everything before his eyes transformed into a massive vortex, within which all that had passed began to flow.

Cassidorius coughed up blood and saw that crimson eye again. He seemed to understand—it was the great traitor Horus Lupercal, the traitor had come for him. He didn't know how he had done it, but...

But I have to run.

Filled with unprecedented fear, Cassidorius abruptly stood up.

I must run, I cannot fall into his hands, this gem—he reached for his chest—I cannot let it fall into his hands!

A burning pain rose from his hand, and before he could do anything, Cassidorius was dragged to the ground by an incomprehensible force.

He rolled around a few times in a disheveled state, finally landing beneath a stone tablet. The messenger looked up in disarray and saw a man with his eyes tightly shut. He was bound to the tablet, and blood, seemingly from nowhere, trickled down his body, forming a small stream at his feet.

Cassidorius stood up tremblingly—for no apparent reason, he already knew who the man was. He walked over, shaking as if he were having an epileptic seizure, intending to rescue the man, but a voice behind him commanded him to stop in his tracks.

"He thought he'd hidden you well," the voice said casually. "He had complete faith in you; he saw you as his source of hope—how interesting."

Cassidorius's blood began to burn within his veins.

"Turn around," the voice commanded.

He turned around and saw Horus Lupercal, and the one-sided truth he was deliberately revealing—but what was the truth?

The truth is, this wasteland and this stone tablet do not actually exist.

These images are merely metaphors, illusory scenes created later in life. They exist for only one purpose: to be bearable by mortal reason, to be seen and understood by mortal eyes.

Horus Lupercal had just revealed the truth to him.

Cassidorius saw the stars—bleeding, wailing, screaming, and sickly stars—and Horus clutching them in his hands.

Then he saw the Emperor.

His the Emperor, his shield, his sword— the Emperor whose flesh was gnawed away, half his face reduced to bones.