Awakening

Awakening

A mind without resolve wanders through the dark wilderness like a purposeless beast.

Endless darkness, a terrifying darkness, with no light deep within consciousness, a darkness that brought peace. Could he finally rest?

Sure enough, only death could bring true peace to the life of a great warrior.

He instinctively reached for that familiar spot, but the power hammer that had accompanied him for centuries was gone.

Not just the hammer, for nothing existed in the void except darkness.

So this was death. Yet the words in his mind were so clear; who could defy life and death, pierce the void, and whisper right beside him?

The Emperor's will shall be your torch, shattering the shadows before your eyes.

The Emperor already knows, and watches on.

The void still held no color, but he had long since regained consciousness.

It was the Emperor once again protecting the subjects of the Imperium! Long live the Emperor! Long live the Imperium! he roared involuntarily in his mind. He finally remembered his identity: a great Space Marine, lieutenant and squad leader of the 7th Squad, 2nd Company of the Raven Revilers, Angus.

He wondered if Nova IV had been overrun by those damned greenskin brutes. In his daze, Angus had already forgotten the fact that his death had occurred, and within his consciousness, he seemed to hear a different voice once more:

I walk amidst the fires of war

Dozens of drop pods trailed long, fiery tails across the sky, screaming as they violently slammed into the green sea of monsters.

Each landing drop pod kicked up a shockwave tens of kilometers in diameter, and rising mushroom clouds swept across the land like tactical nuclear detonations.

Almost no Orcs remained intact within the blast radius, and even the crystallized earth could not withstand this terrifying assault.

After a continuous shudder, the flesh and blood on the ground were reduced to powder. The long-range assault batteries began yet another salvo, pulse cannons painting fiery grids across the sky before finally mingling with the smoke of battle.

I strike at the anvil of strife

Terrifying killing machines continuously leaped from the landing drop pods, skillfully forming battle formations. The green Orc horde had their offensive rhythm disrupted by the preceding strike, and subsequent Orc forces surged forward like a wave under the warlord's command.

Wielding the Ultimate Pattern Mark 3 power hammer in his left hand and a storm bolter in his right, he instantly emptied one hundred and twenty-eight bolt shells. With a thought, he activated the energy shield on his armor and Angus led his squad straight into the green tide.

Wherever the power hammer swung, the Slugga Boyz were struck as if by a massive siege hammer merely from the rushing wind; their shattered bodies were jolted into fine powder by the kinetic energy. As for the battle-hardened Ork Berserkers, to be touched by it was to be blasted to pieces, and a mere graze sent brains spilling and blood flowing.

Even the Nobz wailed as they were sent flying, chest armor caved in and limbs brutally torn apart. These powerful Orc warriors were not even a match for a Space Marine's single blow.

The pale-blue armored energy shield caused the Orc attacks to be completely ignored; bursting arrows and roaring rockets required no deliberate evasion from Angus. A desperate, heavy slash from an Orc warrior produced nothing more than a faint ripple. The chieftain had to personally step forward to face this peerless reaper just to barely check the advancing pace of the Space Marines. Viewed from above, it looked as though green waves were crashing against these black reefs, yet the reefs pressed forward against the current.

The tactical display before Angus's eyes clearly showed that the Imperial Defense Force in the rear was now clearing out the Orcs that had breached the fortress, urgently withdrawing from the surface installations.

A harsh warning tone told him that little time remained.

Soon, the cruisers of the Imperial Navy would enter low orbit, eradicating all life within the target zone. He had to enter the Imperial Guard fortress before then. Silent orders rippled among the struggling Space Marines.

The Raven warriors collectively burst forth with a massive energy shock, causing the Orc offensive to stall for a moment. Taking advantage of the gap, they rapidly shifted into a withdrawal formation and headed toward the fortress. As lieutenant and squad leader, Angus naturally took the rear-guard position.

We are the Ultramarines, the most loyal warriors of the God-Emperor, and our valor is beyond doubt! The lands of war are where we worship, and the roar of bolters is the sound of our prayers. Our bolters are loaded with death, and all Space Marines swear aloud: "It is the holy wrath of the God-Emperor!"

The Orcs were not a race to surrender easily. As the Imperial Guard continuously retreated into the underground fortress, the heavy Orc units suppressed by long-range firepower also entered the field of view. Grot tanks mixed with Kill Burstas accelerated in an attempt to bypass the retreating Space Marines and storm the Imperium's underground stronghold. Now, without looking up, one could hear the thunderous engine thrusts of the cruiser Retribution, and the countdown to the orbital bombardment had begun.

"All personnel retreat at full speed, Squad 7 cover the rear. I repeat, all personnel retreat at full speed, Squad 7 cover the rear." As Angus spoke, he leaped forward, bringing his hammer down upon the leading Orc tank.

He converted all the energy from his armor into a miniature black hole bomb; he only needed to stall for a few seconds to ensure all Space Marines could safely retreat, while allowing the base's underground fortress defense systems to fully activate against the terrifying planetary bombardment.

Angus's power armor temporarily lost its mobility due to overload, leaving him to passively weather the attacks of the greenskins. The capacitor banks of the Retribution reached maximum output capacity, and in the next second, surging white particle energy swept across heaven and earth. At the end of the battle, only shouts filling the sky could be heard:

Waaagh!!

Vinctorus aut Mortis! Angus calmly uttered his final words before losing consciousness entirely.

732.M41: The Blood Hand Clan of Orcs raided Nova IV in the Altair System. After thirty-seven days of stubborn defense by the Imperial Defense Force, the Raven Revilers intercepted the signal, completely annihilating the invading Orc forces and safeguarding the peace of the Imperium.

While Angus—or rather, Angus's consciousness—remained immersed in the glorious battle, the entire void began to slowly distort. The endless barriers of the void began to fracture, and numerous aetheric shards continuously entered Angus's body. Although he was merely a consciousness, the discomfort of foreign objects entering his flesh made him realize he was absorbing something.

The endless wilderness was filled with farmers tilling the land, unexpectedly holding hoes and pitchforks from the Iron Age.

A towering lighthouse stood by the boundless ocean, and a two-masted wooden sailing ship drifted upon the sea surface; even the sailors cleaning the deck of the ship were clearly visible.

Dappled tree shadows fell as a horse-drawn carriage traveled along a paved stone street, and outside the window, on-duty guards leaned lazily against their longspears, dozing off.

A chaotic crowd, weeping women and children, crowded the port, where sailing ships packed with fleeing refugees jammed the water. The air reeked entirely of the fires of war.

A somewhat dilapidated wooden cabin, a warm campfire, diligently practicing swordsmanship, and a small, tender hand passing an apple from behind.

An underground skeleton framework wobbled to its feet. A warrior who had died heroically charged forward with a blinding red glow toward the comrades he had fought alongside moments before. The green Orc army roared as they shattered the human defense line, red lizards in the sky breathed forth flames as people fled desperately, and in the distance, a pitch-black mass of ghouls and gargoyles launched a frenzied assault...

Angus's consciousness was gradually filled by these endless fragments of memory. A Space Marine who had experienced the cruel battles of several millennia still maintained complete peace within his heart. Only upon seeing those familiar greenskin brutes did a tiny ripple stir within him—how he longed to once again slam his warhammer into those buck-toothed, ugly faces and stomp down fiercely.

These visions were so vivid, as though Angus had experienced them personally himself, but how was this to be explained?

Had his soul arrived in the Warp after death? Was Slaanesh stirring up desires within his heart? Or was this the false yet lifelike illusion of Tzeentch?

As Space Marines valued above all others by the Emperor, this group received the closest attention from the dark gods. Remembering the tragedies of history, Angus began to silently pray to his liege, while the fragments of memory in the void grew increasingly numerous.

A warmth so tender it stirred nostalgia in his embrace, a tiny head suckling with all its might, a growing body, the deeply reassuring presence beside a beautiful woman. Was this, was this Angus's mother?

A face covered in rough stubble pricked him into a fit of tears. Though it was only a shoulder, sitting upon it felt as high as sitting atop a mountain peak, and swords twirled into several flashes of light in those hands, turning a piece of wood into a tiny wooden sword. Then this mountain-like man was likely Angus's father.

Angus felt waves of intense pain at that moment, as though his soul had been torn apart before being crudely stitched back together. Space Marines underwent the highest-grade augmentations, their pain receptors largely excised; both flesh and consciousness could rarely feel such intense agony anymore.

Yet the visions before his eyes grew increasingly real, and Angus abandoned the thought of continued resistance. Whether facing the minions of the dark gods, greenskin beasts, or damned traitors, a Space Marine would always charge forward bravely. If this was hell, then let the Emperor's wrath continue to burn within it!

The illusions before him did not end; the Orcs defeated the human forces, and the capital city was also breached by the enemy.

After retreating to the small seaside town, his father was conscripted again to continue the fight against the Orcs. The baby girl his mother had adopted along the way also needed care, and smiles gradually faded from the woman's face, replaced by the weathering of years.

Through the long war, the Orc forces began to suffer continuous defeats. Everyone anticipated news of victory, and the whole family simultaneously awaited the father's return. In the end, besides victory, all they waited for was a ring left behind by their father.

His mother, worn out by years of toil, was finally struck down by such devastating news. After losing his respected father, Angus lost his dearest mother, too, and grew up slowly, depending on his adopted sister for mutual support.

Yet the world grew even more dangerous. The Orcs fled to another continent, a plague swept across the entire kingdom, the prince murdered his own father and destroyed the Kingdom of Lordaeron, the town was filled with panic, and bewildered knights had no idea where they should go.

No longer resisting, Angus could no longer feel the pain brought by the fusion of the fragments. The person in the illusion was him, and the former Space Marine was also him. Then, should the real Angus be the same person as the Angus in the illusion? The Angus in the illusion had once heard a gentle female voice say, "Let's name our child Roderick, Roderick Northumberland."

His consciousness felt pain once again, and even faint whispers began to ring in his ears. Angus vaguely heard low sobs, and the sounds turned clearer instead.

"Has Roderick woken up yet?"

"The church priest has already treated him. Big brother will be fine, wuu..."

"It's all Arnold's fault for running off to the beach. If it weren't for him, they wouldn't have run into so many Murloc, and Roderick wouldn't have gotten hurt."

"I'm sorry, wuu, it's my fault. I'm the one who got Roderick killed, wuu..."

"Shut up, Arnold. Big brother won't die, wuu..."

"Roderick, you need to wake up. All these children need you, and Southshore needs you even more..."

The entire void began to spin and rise, and correspondingly, Angus's consciousness body began to sink. Roderick, the name sounded so familiar. Was someone calling him? As the speed continuously accelerated, the entire void world crashed and shattered into countless fragments, and dazzling light instantly filled his vision, causing him to blink involuntarily.

"Wuu, big brother..."

"That's great, he's finally woken up."

"I'll never dare to go out on my own again, wuu... Roderick."

"Quickly go call the priest over. I'm going to make Spiny-whiskered Catfish chowder, and you kids be careful..."

Is this a new life? Roderick closed his eyes involuntarily.