Interlude 45: Burning Kamas

"May the Emperor protect us."

"Men of Iron" Korel, captain of the 1st Company First Company Kamas Defence Force Second Regiment, muttered to himself.

As he uttered those words, he was facing a vast, burning sky. In his memory, the sky over Kamas had always been a beautiful, deep blue. He had never imagined that this blue would disappear, but reality was reality, and the sky was shattered. An indescribably massive explosion silently erupted above the clouds, leaving painful spots of light on his retina.

After that, the gale, raindrops, and wreckage of warships arrived. The wind made him unable to move, and he could only grab the wooden stakes protruding from both sides of the trench. The flickering lights streaked across the sky at high speed, and the heavy, thunderous thuds forced him to barely open his eyes. He saw countless warplanes, gunboats, and all kinds of missiles.

Kamas's local air defense forces have been fully deployed, but he has no way of knowing the specific situation, or even contacting the operations command.

It all started thirty-six minutes earlier, when he was making preparations at the assembly point when a huge piece of debris fell from the sky and destroyed everything.

The object likely fell from the vacuum of space, probably wreckage from a ship that had been hit and disintegrated by the weapon arrays of a warship or space station. Kamas's gravity caught it, and the fragment landed happily, crashing heavily about two kilometers to the right of the 2nd Regiment's assembly point.

It caused a series of terrifying chain reactions, two of which dealt a fatal blow to the entire Second Regiment, which was still assembling.

The reasons are simple: first, an earthquake; second, communication disruptions. The earthquake paralyzed supply lines and armored units on the edge of the assembly point. Vehicle engines, grenades, ammunition, and various weapons stored in crates were all destroyed.

Second Company, they joined the destruction amidst the flames, and the disruption of communication made the restoration of order an utterly unattainable dream.

Korel could only watch helplessly as his company, his regiment, disintegrated in the horrific ordeal that lasted for more than thirty minutes—without even seeing the enemy.

This all sounds like a bizarre and terrifying joke, doesn't it?

Men of Iron sincerely hoped it was a joke; he genuinely wanted to convince himself that it was all just an illusion.

He suddenly had a mental breakdown. There was actually nothing wrong with the Second Regiment. He was sitting in his tent receiving treatment from the doctor and being verbally abused by the regimental commander, Feldman.

That bald old man would probably curse him as an incompetent coward. With the great battle imminent and Kamas invaded by Chaos, how could he, as the commander of the First Company, have a fit of hysteria at this crucial moment? How could he betray the Emperor like this?

"Wake up! You piece of trash!" Feldman roared at him. "Grip your gun tight, Captain! The Emperor needs you!"

These words struck him like a bullet, and saved him, as if Feldman were truly standing behind him, pulling him back from the edge of a cliff. However, when Korel looked back, he saw no one.

He groaned, feeling a headache coming on, and sticky blood gushed from his nose, sliding down onto his clothes.

A hoarse voice sounded from behind him, "Captain, the First Company has regrouped, totaling two hundred and twenty-two men."

"How much?" Korel asked.

"Two hundred and twenty-two people," the man replied, his face ashen and his eyes bloodshot.

Looking at him, Korel's headache seemed to lessen a little. He tossed his Boltgun behind him, patted his head as he walked forward, still asking more questions.

Where is the Commissar?

"He's dead," his current deputy said. "But we've met a new Commissar, and he's waiting for you."

Without a word, Korel walked to the end of the trench, where his soldiers stood waiting for him. All of them were wounded, many still bleeding. A man in Commissar's coat, wiping his hat in his hand, stood in front of them.

His left ear was missing, wrapped in a dirty bandage, his cheeks were taut, and his expression was serious. As he saw Korel approaching, the man put on his hat and gave an Aquila Salute.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain. I am Blake Modo, the newly appointed Commissar of the former Sixth Company."

"The Sixth Company is gone; they were a bit too close to Phosphex," Korel said dryly. "Now I'm inviting you to join us. Before the attack, we received orders from high command to move to the Radaton River, where there are sightings of Chaos. I need a Commissar."

Black narrowed his eyes and nodded. "I'm in, Captain."

Without much conversation, the First Company set off from the northwest corner of the assembly point, embarking on their journey to the Radaton River. Communication was occasionally restored, but most of the time, only static could be heard on the channel.

Korel seized those hard-won opportunities and learned that the Second Regiment was not the only one that had survived; half an armored company and several other companies had also made it through.

However, due to ground subsidence caused by the earthquake, they were temporarily unable to reunite with the First Company and could only hope to meet at the Radaton River. One hour and forty-four minutes later, the First Company, with all its members wounded, arrived at their destination.

The Radaton River was now stained red with blood, countless corpses floating from upstream to downstream. On the opposite bank, flames roared, flashes of light appearing intermittently, and some deformed mutants or hybrids would rush out, attempting to cross the river. Machine guns already set up on the firing positions would stop their advance and then shred them into pieces.

Seeing this, Korel finally breathed a sigh of relief—the Radaton River position was still firmly in the hands of the Kamas, which meant that the support line had been established.

Once communications are restored, targeted bombing can be carried out in coordination with rear forces. At that point, the position can truly be secured, which is fantastic news for the cities behind the lines.

"Something's not right," the new Commissar he had invited to join suddenly said seriously.

"Really? What's your opinion?" Korel asked as he grabbed his gun and jumped into the trench designated for the First Company by the garrison command.

He walked briskly, glancing around to check if the area was up to standard. Black Mordo followed closely behind him, his Chainsword gleaming violently at his waist. The soldiers of the First Company immediately began setting up weapons, clearing observation ports, and preparing grenades. The series of actions were carried out in an orderly manner, and their rigorous daily training came in very handy at this moment.

"I don't believe that Chaos, which has officially launched its attack, would send only these pathetic, hateful bastards to fight us. They're just cannon fodder at best, Captain."

"Moreover, the Supreme Command has clearly stated that the enemy we are facing in this war is a group of traitors who are used to being space pirates. The flames of war have already spread to the surface of Kamas. Where are they? Even if this is just a smokescreen to attract our attention, how long can these cannon fodder hold out?"

Korel turned around, paused for a few seconds, and asked again, "So, you mean—"

Before he could finish speaking, a loud bang from the sky interrupted their conversation. Korel immediately looked up, but a gust of wind made him squint. At the same time, a similar burning pain returned to his retina.

In the last moment before he closed his eyes, what he saw was a huge, dazzling, pale purple mist, its shape distorted like a diseased organ inside a human body.

Then came the rain, an indescribably filthy rain.

Commissar Blake roared from his chest and dragged Korel into a sunken defensive bunker. At the same time, gunfire erupted from the other side of the position.

A continuous stream of screams echoed from the makeshift communication network built with some instruments. It was not a report from an officer or communications soldier, but something else entirely. Just listening to them sent chills down Korel's spine, even with his eyes still closed.

Ignoring Black's attempts to stop him, he rubbed his eyes and crawled out of the fortifications with bloodshot eyes, never expecting another explosion to occur, and this time, it was even more terrifying than the last.

Korel's head throbbed with pain. For the second time in his life, he felt he was going insane. He couldn't take it anymore. Otherwise, how could he have mistaken the Commissar and soldiers in front of him for lumps of flesh and blood torn from their skin? How could he have identified the explosion as a long, drawn-out scream, filled with both agony and pleasure?

He frantically raised his head, his face blurred with tears, snot, and blood, and caught a glimpse of a descending figure in his rapidly turning, trembling eyes.

In his eyes, the man's face was deathly pale, and his eyes were as black as Ghost's. A naked beast was being trampled under his feet, its chest ripped open by something, blood, entrails, and other things flying out with the force of gravity.

The man appeared for less than a second before vanishing completely. No matter how hard Korel searched, he couldn't find a Shadow of him, as if it were just his imagination. But the beast was real, and there was definitely more than one of them.

Above it, even more filth followed and fell.

Yes, it's raining.

"Did you see it?" Korel asked, trembling.

Black didn't answer, but forcefully pulled him down and drew his Bolt Pistol from his waist.

Ironically, in that instant, Korel noticed that the pistol was in remarkably good condition; its barrel had even undergone special treatment, and its gleam was undeniable—so he wanted to shoot me? Because I saw something I shouldn't have?

The captain's wild thoughts were answered a second later. The Commissar pulled him up again, and then, gunfire erupted.

Korel turned his head and saw through the blurry observation window a large horde of Daemon surging towards them like a tide. The machine guns that had already been set up and the soldiers on various positions were firing. A rain of explosives and lasers blocked their first wave of attack, and the readily available mortars followed suit.

Smoke and dust flew everywhere, blood and flesh splattered, and Korel instinctively pulled his Boltgun from behind, switched off the safety, aimed at the demonic tide, and pulled the trigger all the way down in one go—but, whether he really went mad or not, the hallucination actually came back.

He saw the Ghost again. The first round fired, a flash of light, and the Ghost stood in a corner of the battlefield. The spent cartridge hit the ground, Korel instinctively began to exert force to counteract the recoil of the Boltgun. The Ghost vanished from its spot.

The second and third explosive shells were fired at the demonic tide. The images captured by Korel's eyes were finally transmitted to his brain. The biological signals were analyzed, and the existence of the Ghost began to tear at his sanity once again.

He stared wide-eyed, turned his neck to look at the right end of the line, just as a pile of severed limbs flew into the air.

All of this happened in just three seconds. In the fourth second, Korel emptied his magazine. In the fifth second, he returned to his bunker and began to gasp for breath.

"I'm insane!" he roared at Commissar Blake. "I saw a—"

"--What?!" the Commissar roared at him.

Korel didn't speak. He suddenly realized that if the Ghost was killing Daemon, then it wasn't someone he should be afraid of. With a click, a new magazine was loaded, and the captain of the First Company instinctively cocked the gun with wide eyes.

He stood up again and faced the enemy once more, but instead of firing all his ammunition at once, he aimed at the Daemon charging at the front and fired short bursts. Within eleven seconds, he emptied another magazine, but he didn't see Shadow Ghost again.

Just as he was beginning to doubt his own sanity, large swaths of rain suddenly rose from behind the demonic tide.

Rain? No, probably not. There was no rain carrying broken bones and flesh.

Korel froze, jolted awake by the Daemon's shrill roars. A gust of foul wind hit him like a punch to the face, sending him staggering backward, nearly causing him to fall. He staggered against the cold wall, his back aching, but then noticed the gunfire gradually subsiding.

What's going on? Have they attacked?! He quickly looked around, but there was no sign of close combat on the position. The gunfire had subsided simply because the soldiers had stopped firing.

He gazed across the riverbed to the opposite bank, his gaze passing over the blood-soaked ravine filled with corpses, and saw a faint white mist, and countless twisted Shadow surging within it.

Those were the Shadow of Daemon, without a doubt, but they were falling one after another. There were no gunshots, no bombings, no roars of chainsaws, only the continuous sound of flesh being torn apart.

The sound was incredibly loud, carrying from the opposite bank of the river all the way to the front of the position. At least Korel himself heard it clearly, and, for some reason, he didn't feel afraid.

Recalling that pale face, he felt not a trace of fear.

Minutes later, the fog began to slowly dissipate. The soldiers raised their guns again, aiming at the opposite bank. But this time, what they saw was not Daemon, but a man covered in blood.

He wasn't wearing any armor, but rather a shirt with the sleeves comically rolled up to his elbows, as if he had just been working. He glanced at the opposite bank of the river and then quickly disappeared.

Korel let out a long breath. He didn't know if others had seen the Aquila emblem pinned to the man's right breast like he had, but he had definitely seen it, and very clearly; it was definitely not his imagination.