Mental Torment

"Hold the line! They're coming!" The commissar's booming voice rang across the broad defensive lines held by every regiment. A turbulent tide reeking of Demons surged toward them, setting every soldier's nerves on edge.

A twisted Demon draped in human skin was the first to emerge beneath the Gate lights. The writhing tentacles dancing wildly over its body granted it unimaginable speed.

"Walalaaaaaa!" Amid shrieks like phlegm-laden wails, more and more Demons emerged from the shadows.

The first to react were the Tarantula turrets deployed in the deck's inner levels. Programmed with simple targeting routines, they cared nothing for shock or horror. They simply locked their targeting lasers onto every Demon at once and unleashed their fury.

Tarantula turrets

The heavy laser and heavy bolter fire net formed by hundreds of Tarantula turrets intercepted the tidal wave of Demons, blasting them into clusters of bizarre colors that vanished into thin air. Only then did the Astra Militarum and Navy ratings, jolted awake by the gunfire, react and raise their weapons to join the shooting.

The searing beams of Lasguns and the rain of bullets from automatic weapons painted a dazzling scene across the wide Gate. The tank formations behind the soldiers also adjusted their cannon barrels and side-mounted bolter machine guns, searching for any troublesome Demons and blasting them into fragments and mist.

The situation seemed quite favorable for the Astra Militarum. Though the Demons appeared overwhelmingly powerful and numerous, very few could break through the lethal fire net.

But at that moment, hundreds of streams of green and purple vomit and energy bolts suddenly spewed from the pitch-black shadows, smashing viciously into the Astra Militarum's positions.

The howls of those corroded by the vomit and the sight of others twisted into fleshy monstrosities by the energy bolts dealt a crushing blow to the morale and will to fight of those around them.

"Damn it! Damn it! Aim at them! Fire flares and light up that damned darkness!"

"Tarik, Tarik, save me! My intestines! The bugs are eating my intestines!"

"God-Emperor above! Kark has turned into a giant ball of flesh!"

Chaos erupted! Resolve faltered! Several gaps opened in the once-dense fire net under the Demons' relentless bombardment, while the dutiful turrets exploded one after another under concentrated enemy fire. The Demons' savage laughter and the dying screams of the Astra Militarum formed the bloodiest, cruelest contrast.

But the battle would not end so easily. Endless reinforcements behind them filled the line, while medics moved through explosions and corpses in search of anyone fortunate enough to be saved, doing their best to carry them back to the field infirmary.

The swift, nimble lesser Demons grew fewer and fewer across the battlefield. With the aid of flares, the tanks' cannon fire harshly punished the Demons shooting from afar. After the last evasive Demon had its head pierced by a precise laser shot, its struggling body turned into streams of colorful light and disappeared.

The entire roaring battlefield suddenly fell silent. Only the groans of the wounded, the cries of those suffering mental collapse, and the occasional gunshots of deserters being executed remained. Yet no one relaxed because of this temporary quiet. They could instinctively sense the far greater, more terrifying malice approaching their defensive line with slow, heavy steps. An even harder battle was about to begin.

Captain Biyue looked over the line he had been defending. It was littered with dead bodies and the Demons' filthy, stinking vomit. Emperor knew how those horrifying green pools were mixed with tiny, bloodthirsty maggots. He had seen with his own eyes a poor man struck directly by the vomit. Swollen yellow and green pustules had erupted across his skin almost instantly, while the maggots greedily devoured the flesh from his body. He rolled about in agony, howling through a throat like a torn sack, until a flamer trooper with a free hand granted him a merciful end. Intense flames instantly swallowed his twisting, convulsing body, burning the maggots and vomit into charred black lumps just like him.

Damn it.

That was the only thing Captain Biyue could think of. Any description or metaphor seemed pale and powerless before such madness. Only this simple curse, one that had accompanied humanity for countless ages, could best express the terror in Biyue's heart.

After raising his weapon and shooting dead a trembling mutated soldier who was about to crawl to his feet, Captain Biyue leaned against the armored barricade's bulkhead, clutching his Lasgun tightly as tears of shame slipped down his face. He wiped away the tears continuously welling from his eyes with shaking hands, only to find his vision growing blurrier and blurrier.

"You coward!"

After cursing his own incompetence and cowardice, Biyue realized how badly his voice trembled and how hoarse it was. Hearing boots thudding across the deck, he poked his head out and looked toward the Gate they were defending. An entire fresh company was running swiftly toward his position to reinforce the line, though Biyue could see that their expressions were ugly and their movements awkward as they ran.

They were terrified too.

Biyue comforted himself. This kind of fear was normal, wasn't it? Everyone was afraid. If there had been anywhere to run on this ship, he had every reason to believe that many soldiers would have fled the moment they saw those things. After all, their training had never mentioned fighting horrors that surpassed all reason.

With a graceful flip over an obstacle, a figure leaped neatly into Captain Biyue's trench.

"Hello, Captain. How many survivors are left in your position? And how many heavy weapons?" The newcomer glanced at the insignia on Biyue's shoulder and quickly asked about the situation.

"Isn't it obvious?" Biyue snorted irritably at the newcomer. "There's not a living person left on the whole line. Everyone's dead. The heavy weapons have been twisted into disgusting things by those damned creatures too. If you're not afraid of dying, go use them." As he spoke, he glanced toward a heavy bolter machine gun that had grown teeth and eyes.

Lin Fan looked at the captain who had given up on himself and found it difficult to mock him. After all, he was still holding his position. That was already commendable enough. One could not ask someone like him to do any more.

Lin Fan's 37th Regiment had been relaxing in the commercial district of the middle decks after finishing their training when the highest-level alarm on the ship sounded. According to the shipfolk who had lived aboard the vessel their entire lives, they had never heard an alarm so urgent. Lin Fan immediately sensed that something was wrong. Warp Demons had likely infiltrated the ship, and in considerable numbers. The orders they received from Kasare Legion Command soon proved that Lin Fan's instinct had been correct.

"A Warp rift has opened in the D1347 passageway. All regiments are to proceed immediately to defend the C0, C10, C20, C40, and C50 Gates. While ensuring that the positions are not lost, advance toward the D1347 passageway. Seal the Warp rift at all costs."

Lin Fan and 3rd Company assembled immediately and hurried to the C0 Gate without wasting a moment. They rushed toward the nearest position, only to hear the terrible news that every soldier originally stationed there had been killed.

"Sir, I don't mean to interrupt, but those things are coming again."

Old Jock's booming voice rang beside Lin Fan once more. He threw a grenade at the mutated bolters, blasting them into twisted heaps of ruined metal, then set up his heavy bolter machine gun atop the sandbags.

Lin Fan pulled Captain Biyue, who had been sitting against the wall, to his feet and looked into the distance through his binoculars.