Sanguinius's Sons Knew No Cowards

I don't know whether the Skull Vanguard had ordered it, but the Chaos Cultists seemed to be deliberately driving them toward the Hive City.

They surrounded every remaining route, leaving only the path leading into the Hive City.

The Greater Daemon laughed wildly behind them, pursuing them unhurriedly.

"Driving us into an encirclement." Cecilia supported Tyrennius's left arm and said coldly, "They're playing with us like rats."

They knew perfectly well that they were being driven into an encirclement, but they had no other choice now. This was the only path they could take.

As long as they held out for half an hour, the Blood Angels' main force would arrive.

Lin En activated Tactical Rehearsal for the first time, spreading the surrounding terrain map through his mind and simulating possible routes of escape.

If they would die by taking a route, he marked that fork with a red cross.

The result...

Tyrennius was gravely wounded, and Sister Cecilia alone was not enough to handle so many enemies. He and Iron Hammer had essentially zero combat power. Every route surrounded by enemies led to death.

Every blocked-off fork was marked with a red cross. In the end, only one green route remained—the path into the Hive City.

There was still a chance of surviving if they entered the Hive City. Taking any other route meant certain death.

After the Hive City had endured the bombardment back then and ten thousand years of abandonment, it had long since lost its structural integrity and could no longer be climbed to escape. Their only way to survive was to hold the passage from the cavern into the Hive City, endure for half an hour, and wait for the Blood Angels reinforcements to arrive.

There was no time for more discussion. They had to get inside first!

Sister Cecilia supported Tyrennius as they rushed through the passage into the ruins of the abandoned Hive City. Lin En and Iron Hammer covered the rear and planted explosives inside the passage.

Detonate.

"Rumble—" After a deafening roar, the collapsed boulders temporarily sealed the passage.

But this would not hold back the Skull Vanguard for long.

A deep tremor came from the ground, and the sound of impacts rose from beneath their feet.

Within Lin En's Danger Sense, a huge hostile signal was approaching.

Even the mountain wall could not stop it, let alone some rubble. Before long, the giant axe in its hands would grind the obstructing stones to pieces.

Behind that enormous hostile signal followed a dense mass of smaller ones—probably cultists, Chaos Hounds, and hordes of lesser daemons.

The Skull Vanguard led the way, followed by at least thirty lesser daemons. It was expected to clear the passage and enter the bottom level of the Hive City within five minutes.

The Blood Angels' Battle Barge had entered the atmosphere of Isstvan. At the fastest, launching from the Battle Barge to the surface in an orbital drop pod would take only ten minutes. After landing, reorganizing and searching for an entry point would take another ten minutes.

Perhaps they only needed to hold out for twenty minutes.

Just twenty minutes.

That was simple, right?

As long as they survived those long twenty minutes, they would win.

The impacts of the Skull Vanguard and the daemon horde drew closer and closer.

The radar screen of Danger Sense in Lin En's mind had already turned completely red. The Greater Daemon's signal strength pressed all the other hostile signals into indistinct background noise, leaving only the largest one, throbbing against his temples.

Sister Cecilia led them deeper into the Hive City's ruins.

If they hid well, perhaps—

At that moment, Tyrennius gently pulled his arm free from Sister Cecilia's grasp and turned to stand still.

He stopped retreating with Lin En and the others and stood between the three of them and the Hive City entrance. He said gently, "Go hide inside the Hive City. I'll hold them back."

His battered crimson Power Armor looked like a scorched flag in the colorless hall.

He still gripped his huge Chainsword. The Golden Light on it had long since gone out, and the blade was scarred with several gashes from the runic giant axe.

But the way he held the sword was no different from holding a holy relic.

We are the Emperor's Sword, the iron of the Milky Way.

As long as a weapon remained in hand, only death could mark the end of duty.

There was no way he could deal with the Skull Vanguard now. He simply wanted to die here in exchange for a chance that Lin En and the other two might survive.

He had calculated it. The passage could hold for five minutes, and if he fought with everything he had, he might be able to hold them back for another ten.

If Lin En and the other two hid well enough inside the Hive City, perhaps they could remain concealed for five minutes without being found by the daemons.

Five minutes plus ten minutes, then another five minutes. Perhaps that would be enough for them to wait for the reinforcements.

"..." The hall fell silent for two seconds as Cecilia and Iron Hammer stared at him in disbelief.

Lin En clenched his fists. For the first time, he felt his mouth move faster than his brain. "What are you going to use to hold them back?"

Tyrennius said nothing. He merely looked at them with gentle determination.

Lin En grabbed Tyrennius's arm. "Don't go."

Tyrennius still did not take him seriously.

He thought Lin En was merely expressing reluctance or some other emotion.

He had heard that kind of reluctant pity—Don't go and throw your life away—many times before: on battlefields, in front of civilians he had rescued, and during all those moments when he had been forced to exchange his own life for others.

Pity for a companion's life was only human nature.

But they were the Emperor's warriors. Their duty was to protect the weak.

Lin En clutched Tyrennius's arm. The Ceramite armor was hard and cold. His first sensation was pain in his fingers. It was heavy—truly, incredibly heavy.

Like the responsibility borne by an Astartes.

"Tyrennius, you and Sister Cecilia hide in the back. Leave what comes next to me. I'll hold them back, all right?" Lin En was still blindly optimistic, trying to send Tyrennius and Sister Cecilia behind him while he held the front.

"..." Tyrennius looked down at him, thinking he had gone mad.

That was the Khorne Vanguard.

Lin En was a frail mortal of flesh and blood who could barely lift his shoulders or hands. What could he possibly use to hold them back?

Lin En had not told them everything about Thirty Days, but he had colorful traits. During the first thirty days of fighting any enemy, he could not die no matter how hard he tried.

His health was locked. He regenerated. Even if he was reduced to a single point of health—or none at all—he could still crawl back up and keep running.

He was very powerful!!

A real man did not fear pain. At worst, he would be hacked apart for ten-odd minutes!!! It was fine—even if he was smashed to pieces, he could still grow back! Once the pain passed, he would still be a good man!!!

Lin En gritted his teeth, made up his mind, and said to Tyrennius, "I'm not joking. My vitality is extremely tenacious. No matter what enemy I face, I can last thirty days without dying."

He gritted his teeth and hardened his heart, then added, "If you don't believe me, try cutting me once."

It could count as helping him get used to it in advance.

But Tyrennius fell silent for a moment before asking Lin En quietly, "Are you connected to Nurgle?"

Nurgle was the god of plague, but he also held the position of the god of life. One ability among Nurgle's blessings was Immortality: even if reduced to a puddle, one could still writhe across the ground and say, "I'm still alive."

That sort of Immortality truly sounded like a blessing from Nurgle.

Lin En hurriedly shook his head. "No! Absolutely not. This is only my supernatural ability. I can remain alive in battle for thirty days, but I'll still die after thirty days."

It definitely had nothing to do with Grandfather!

Tyrennius asked again, "You can only remain alive for thirty days?"

Lin En said, "Yes."

Tyrennius looked at Lin En. He did not blink, merely watching him calmly.

"What does 'remain alive' mean? What if the daemons eat your limbs, internal organs, and head? What if they dismember you and swallow every piece of your flesh and bone?"

Lin En froze.

He opened his mouth to answer, but no answer came out.

He suddenly hesitated too.

I would still remain alive... right? Would I? I should.

He asked the system in his heart: System bro?

[Thirty Days is a concept. If it says you will not die, then you will not die.] the system replied.

Thirty Days was a concept, so he would not die even in that situation.

A conceptual trait like Thirty Days was invincible in one sense. But just as he could exploit loopholes, the trait could be exploited too. In another sense, it was extremely one-sided.

Would being eaten still count as not dying?

If his consciousness remained and his flesh retained its vitality, then of course it counted as not dying.

But what state did Immortality actually mean? Would his consciousness disperse into every daemon's stomach?

If the daemons ate and swallowed him, in what form would he exist? A lump of flesh retaining its own consciousness, soaking in the strong acid of a daemon's stomach, with his health locked at one point so that he could not die even if he wanted to?

After the daemon was banished back into the Warp, would he fly out of its stomach and reassemble, or would he return with the banished daemon and remain in the Warp forever, becoming part of that disgusting daemon?

Going deeper, when his brain was chewed to pieces and slurped down like monkey brains, would he truly still be able to retain his own consciousness?

Fine. Even if his will was truly strong enough that this did not drive him mad...

Would he really not become an idiot and then defect to Chaos?

...As long as a human soul remained bound to the body, the brain's degeneration would not be swayed by human will.

If he became a daemon, Throne Liberation might never be drawn again. The system might even become an aid to Chaos.

By then, Throne Liberation might turn into a weapon that allowed the Emperor to ascend into a daemon.

The entire Milky Way was already rotten enough. Everyone was struggling desperately to prop up the Imperium. Adding a troublemaker who had once been humanity's cheat code but had now become an inverted cheat code...

Wouldn't that make him a traitor to humanity?

It was practically the plot of an entire horror-movie franchise. Everyone had been holding on just fine, and then this troublemaker stirred things up until they all rotted in a sea of blood.

Lin En fell speechless.

...Locking his health did not mean locking his consciousness. Immortality did not mean immunity to madness.

In the hands of something that enjoyed torture, Thirty Days would become thirty days of lingchi execution.

All the strength drained from Lin En's body. He felt as though he had fallen into an icy pit, and the fingers resting on Tyrennius's arm turned cold.

He had always thought he was useful. But now, it seemed he was still just as useless.

The gray daylight of the Hive City ruins fell through cracks in the ceiling and landed beside his feet. The daemons' roars in the distance drew closer once more.

Lin En lowered his head and stared at those whitening fingers as though they belonged to someone else.

He did not know what to do.

The excited howls of the daemon horde sounded like a school of man-eating piranhas closing in.

Only now did he truly understand why this Warhammer 40,000 world was called a cesspit.

On the forums, people posted every day about "the darkest sociology in the Milky Way," "being alive is suffering," "the Golden Toilet," and "swimming in a cesspit." He had seen all those memes, laughed at all of them, and used them to trade pictures with his online friends.

But now that he was truly standing here, watching an Astartes he had only just met—a genuinely good man—prepare to die to protect them...

Only now did he understand why, among so many cruel worlds, only Warhammer was called a cesspit.

Why did anyone still persist in a place like this?

This world was too dangerous, and humanity had it too hard. They had to rely on sacrificing part of themselves to ensure the survival of the rest. One would realize that these unbearable things were not mistakes, but necessities.

Humanity could only survive by accepting them. No sacrifice was too great to endure.

But to the people left behind after that exchange, it was an earth-shaking event.

What did humanity's struggle amount to in such a vast universe?

It was not even worthy of being called dust.

Yet this dust had endured millennium after millennium throughout the galaxy. As long as those willing to sacrifice themselves had not all died out, they would continue holding on forever.

"Lin En, you may be far more useful to the Imperium than I am. I shouldn't be the one you protect."

Tyrennius said this quietly, straightened up, and picked up his sword again.

He raised his free hand and pressed hard against the crack in his chest armor, apparently activating some kind of emergency treatment or adrenaline injection built into his Power Armor.

His eyes slowly reddened. As though nothing had happened, he said, "So grant me your blessing once more, then go behind me."

"The Blood Angels will never let a civilian stand in front of them. I can delay them for another ten minutes. With the Emperor's blessing, I may not die. If I fall, you can take my place then. It won't be too late."

Ten thousand years ago, Sanguinius had stood before the Emperor and guarded the Eternal Gate alone, holding back the entire tide of Chaos.

Ten thousand years later, his son stood before civilians.

He would uphold his promise to his gene-father and support a sliver of hope for everyone.

The huge Chainsword lit up again.

The Golden Light was dazzling. Layers of golden flames wrapped around it, burning from the pure-gold sacred-wing emblem on the hilt all the way to the tip of the blade.