Relying on sheer willpower and his overstrained arm muscles, Klein forced apart the jaws that sought to swallow him whole, rolled out of that furnace-like rift in the void, and landed on the cold sand.
He was too weak to fight any longer, but that did not matter.
The rifts had vanished, and so had his pursuers. Like any dream that disappeared upon waking, Klein lay trembling for a while in a hollow behind this remote town.
His injuries from the night before were worse than he had imagined. Not only were his hands torn and mangled, but most of his fingers could not bend, either swollen too badly or broken.
Though the armor on his tight sleeve had blocked the Killer's dagger, his forearm was still covered in dark bruises.
His face ached and throbbed, swollen around his broken nose until he could barely open his eyes. His nostrils were packed with black clotted blood, and the spot at the back of his head where he had struck something was so tender he dared not touch it.
His heart had hurt terribly the night before as well, but at least it had been a short night.
There had only been killing and being killed.
After the Battle of Tyre ended in defeat, he had not been punished for failing his mission. Instead, he had been given a new assignment—protect Yushikin, the Imperium's general.
This great hero had swiftly led the Imperium's legions out of defeat, rebuilt a solid defensive line, and repelled more than a dozen harassing Ork attacks.
Rather than suffering because of the battle's defeat, his reputation had continued to rise. Even some who were dissatisfied with the current state of affairs had begun gathering around him.
Rumors began to spread, mostly focused on the Imperium general's