A blade aimed at the heart

Assaulting the enemy's core was a talent etched into the genes of the sons of the White Scars.

Where was the core? Wherever the most defenders stood.

Deika led his First Company veterans swiftly toward the heart of the warship, guided by seasoned experience and a keen instinct for battle. Two Dreadnoughts followed behind.

The other two Dreadnoughts led a company of warriors in search of the Shadow Venom Blade Chapter.

The World Eaters at the very center uncharacteristically held their positions instead of charging out with a roar. After the Shadow Blades boarded, Chaos Space Marines from the other Battle Barges also boarded to reinforce them, trapping those unfortunate sons of Ferrus Manus in the middle.

The Green Templars boarded next, followed by more enemy defenders arriving as reinforcements, creating a multilayered sandwich.

More than thirteen hundred Astartes had gathered aboard a single Battle Barge. Fighting and corpses filled every corner. Their numbers would increase further, because Skaro was leading three hundred Storm Will warriors into battle in a fury.

Deika broke through the enemy's first few defensive lines with ease. These Chaos World Eaters who had boarded from the other Battle Barges clearly had no Helbrutes-Dreadnoughts-and their hastily constructed defenses crumbled under the attacks of the two Dreadnoughts.

Passing through the shattered barracks, Deika successfully linked up with the surviving warriors of the Shadow Venom Blade Chapter. Another Green Templars force cut through the recreation area, bringing everyone together.

The Shadow Blades now numbered fewer than eighty. Their specialty, frontal siege warfare, had cost them dearly under the crossfire of several enemy Dreadnoughts. They had lost too many Dreadnoughts in a major battle forty years ago and received no replacements, leaving them with only two now. Their firepower was utterly outmatched by the defenders.

Fortunately, the World Eaters were exceptionally belligerent. The Shadow Blades built defensive positions where they stood and threw a few taunts across the lines. The World Eaters promptly switched from defense to attack.

"Skulls for the Skull Throne! Blood for the Blood God!"

Had the enemy been the scheming Sons of Horus, they might have flanked and surrounded them in any number of ways, or even ordered another Battle Barge's bombardment cannons to shell the area directly. But the Sons of Horus who had arrived as reinforcements were now being stubbornly held back by the Green Templars, while the bulk of their force had been smashed to pieces by the Storm Will Chapter.

Although the World Eaters commander, Brussels, repeatedly stressed that they must hold the line, he could not stop scattered groups of bloodthirsty World Eaters from losing their minds and charging forward. Fortunately, the Helbrutes-Chaos Dreadnoughts-remained relatively stable. More precisely, the metal chains restraining them were strong enough. They had not lost their minds, or perhaps they had never had any sanity left to lose.

But this couldn't go on. Hadn't I spent all this time taking a beating just waiting for you Sons of Horus to reinforce me? Now that you're here, hurry up and help me get away! But no, you had to set an ambush. Of all the people you could ambush, you attacked an Imperial Fists successor Chapter. Isn't that just asking for pain?

(The Sons of Horus had no idea this was an Imperial Fists successor Chapter. That reckless stunt of skipping across the Warp was downright insane, like something a drunken Space Wolves pilot would pull. Every level of their strategists had ruled out the possibility that the enemy were sons of Rogal Dorn.)

What now? What now? Time to see who's more ruthless. Whatever the cost, this ship must break out.

Astartes from every warship were boarding this most important Battle Barge. Everyone knew this vessel was the key.

Then let every other ship be destroyed!!!

The Dreadnought Morgkin watched the Storm Will Battle Barge plunge into the melee as well, with large numbers of warriors boarding the enemy ship. Something felt wrong.

Unfortunately, I'm not a Librarian. Otherwise, I could divine an answer.

Morgkin stroked the ancient warship. Back when he had still held office, he had sweet-talked the Salamanders Chapter into giving it to him. It had served as their mothership for many years now.

Neither frozen in stasis nor fighting a battle, Morgkin was in agony, both physically and mentally. For a son of the White Scars, being placed in a Dreadnought was unbearable. They were warriors like the wind; confinement within a lumbering Dreadnought was worse than imprisonment.

Evan sat alone in the armory. Now he could take whatever weapons he wanted. William was no longer there to wrap his entire body in ammunition. Gajie was no longer there to choose the same Chainsword as him every time. Kshevich was no longer there to swing a Power Sword a few times to test its feel. Shi Zhengxiang was no longer in the corner, silently wiping down his Chainaxe.

Gone. They were gone. All of them were gone.

Evan stood alone before the weapon rack.

Evan took down a Bolter and hung it at his waist. Ammunition... Every type. I'm taking them all. I don't care what enemy stands before me. I'll tear them all apart. He strapped a Power Sword and Melta Bombs to his waist as well, choosing the equipment he handled best. To other Astartes, it might have seemed excessive, but that was fine. William trained me specifically for this.

The jump pack... that too!

Only one of the familiar ion pistols remained in the armory: the green one William had always refused to let them use. He had said the previous Chapter Master had given it to him after he slaughtered his way across a battlefield years ago. Evan stroked the weapon.

"Did you know? William died in battle. I'm the only one left from Squad Three. Let's avenge them, all right?"

There was no sacred oil, but the machine spirit was pleased. Victory in this battle was assured.

Everyone gathered before the assault pod. Even the severely wounded warrior who had finally regained consciousness came. They were the only troops on the entire battlefield who had not yet been committed, the Imperium's last available force.

The Vengeful Sword now had only one usable assault pod left, just enough for the nine warriors. As for the former Chapter Master Morgkin, his massive Dreadnought could not operate an assault pod. Fortunately, the two ships were close enough now.

The apprentice Techmarine stripped all ammunition from a barely intact fighter and suspended the old Dreadnought beneath it. The only two loyal pilots left alive aboard the entire Strike Cruiser would carry out this suicidal mission. Once they dropped the old Dreadnought onto the enemy Battle Barge, they would have nowhere left to return.

Although the apprentice Techmarine had been unable to immediately fit mechanical prosthetics to the severely wounded warriors, he had employed an ancient technology from Old Terra's 2K era—a wheelchair.

The Dreadnought Morgkin's gaze passed over each warrior. Their faces were filled with anger and defiance. When his eyes reached Evan, his pupils suddenly contracted. Was this truly fate?

That green ion pistol had been passed down to Morgkin by his Chapter Master. After he entered the Dreadnought, the pistol had passed to the next Chapter Master. Later, during a battle against the Necrons, he had been awakened from his ancient stasis. Morgkin had personally witnessed the Chapter Master of that time being killed by the Necrons, and a Space Marine beside him desperately picking up the green ion pistol and firing. After that... after that, he had never seen the gun again. Not until today.

Morgkin looked at Evan with conflicted eyes. It seemed he might become the next Chapter Master. Or perhaps the Green Templars would perish here, with no hope of survival.

Images came through on the real-time holographic space battle map. Through the intermittent signal, they could see the enemy's two Battle Barges and heavily damaged cruiser ram straight into their three Battle Barges. All manner of enemies piloted transports, assault pods, and Drop Pods toward the hangar of their last remaining Battle Barge.

By the Emperor's bath towel, you like playing rough, do you? Then none of you are leaving.

"Orders: once the assault pod launches, do not engage acceleration mode. After it has fully cleared the Strike Cruiser, the Vengeful Sword will ram the enemy hangar."

If the collision struck either ship's Plasma Reactor or Void Shield generator, the resulting explosion would very likely set off a chain reaction and destroy both vessels. If it missed those systems, however, the smaller ship would most likely be the one destroyed.

Everyone stared at Morgkin in shock. "Former Chapter Master, Chapter Master Deika is still aboard that Battle Barge..."

"I know. That's why we're not aiming for the Plasma Reactor. He's been inside for fifty minutes. Unless he's useless, he should already have broken through to the core. Now listen. We have only one way to survive: seize this Battle Barge and kill every enemy aboard it. This will decide both victory and who lives! Do you all understand?"

"Victory will belong to the Emperor!" Everyone boarded the assault pod.

Though this was neither the largest naval battle in history nor the battle involving the most Astartes or their greatest losses, it was undoubtedly the most brutal naval engagement.

After linking up with the Shadow Blades, Deika was discussing how to launch another assault. The tall, broad hall ahead made it difficult to circle around for a surprise attack or cross the upper decks to reach the enemy's rear.

Suddenly, everything lurched and spun. Even the Dreadnoughts nearly lost their footing and fell.

"Now! Everyone, charge!"

Deika's roar thundered through the communications channel. His keen instincts told him this was the perfect moment. The two Green Templars forces and the Shadow Blades force launched their charges, each led by two Dreadnoughts.

The Librarian Grand Master unleashed the Psyker Power net he had spent so long gathering, sending it sweeping over the enemy defenders. Its destructive power did not matter. Obscuring their vision and covering his comrades mattered most.

When two armies clashed, the brave prevailed. Although the Imperial forces had the advantage in numbers, the World Eaters' berserk fighting strength gave them an enormous edge in melee.

Now crimson blades flashed right before their eyes. Life and death would be decided in this clash.

Power Swords crossed with Chainaxes. Bolter rounds and grenades flew everywhere. Even the Dreadnoughts activated their power fists and flamers, engaging the enemy Helbrutes in close combat.

Deika led the way. His sacred Chainsword shone with green light. This relic, which had existed since the Chapter's founding, unleashed terrifying power and instantly cleaved the enemy before him in half. A power claw was fitted to his other hand. This master-crafted weapon, forged by the Salamanders Chapter, had accompanied him for countless years. Now its machine spirit plunged into a frenzy once more.

An enormous World Eater-or perhaps a small daemon-hurtled toward Deika with a howl. This ancient World Eater had almost completely transformed into a daemon.

Wings had sprouted from its back, and a pointed tail had grown behind it. Its twin horns were longer than those of its brothers, and the claws on its feet had grown too long for it to wear power-armored boots.

Its entire left arm had swollen into a bizarre shape bearing seven or eight claws. Only its right arm remained relatively intact, and that hand held a Power Sword flashing with red light as it attacked.

Deika refused to yield, leaping up to meet the enemy with a slash. Their great blades crashed together, and the power claw on his other hand seized the opening to strike at the enemy's lower body. The enemy raised a leg to block it.

Their first exchange over, Deika landed again. The Chainsword in his hand spun faster, as though unwilling to accept a mere draw.

The daemonized World Eater in the air saw that one of its foot claws had been severed, and fury immediately surged through it.

"Servant of the False Emperor, take your nail clippers and go meet your master." It swooped down from the air once more.

This time Deika did not jump. Instead, he crouched slightly, slowly concealing his mighty Chainsword behind him and positioning his power claw for a backhand strike.

At the instant before they met, Deika spun. His Chainsword met the enemy's Power Sword. Both exerted every ounce of strength as the descending attack collided with his spinning slash. Deika swung his power claw out in a backhand blow, smashing it into that grotesquely daemonized left arm and instantly tearing apart many of its strange talons. But two crossed claws caught Deika's power claw between them.

The daemonized World Eater saw its chance. Its horns flashed red as it brought its head crashing down.

"Hey, you bastard. If your horns break, do you lose a lot of power?"

Before the enemy could react, two blades concealed on Deika's Nuclear Power Pack snapped out. The daemonized World Eater could not dodge in time, and a small piece of one horn's tip was actually sliced off.

The World Eater roared. Strange things flew toward Deika from afar, but the Green Templars' Librarian Grand Master intercepted them.

The daemonized World Eater circled overhead, spinning faster and faster until even Space Marines struggled to aim at it. Red light seemed to radiate from its entire body.

Deika was preparing to meet the attack when countless furious shouts suddenly rose behind him. Bolter rounds streamed into the unfortunate creature overhead as though ammunition cost nothing.

"By the storm, for the Golden Throne!" A group of Storm Will Chapter warriors charged toward the enemy in panicked flight-no, "valiantly."

Of course they did. They had barely boarded when they discovered enemy boarding reinforcements behind them. They were about to fall back on their specialty, establishing defensive positions to hold them off, when a chain of mountain-shattering, sea-filling explosions erupted behind them. Some blind pilot of the Emperor's had driven a ship straight into them.

And so the valiant sons of Rogal Dorn performed the magnificent feat of shattering the enemy's tightly packed defenses with a mass charge.

Everyone became embroiled in the melee. The terrifying power of Dreadnoughts battling Dreadnoughts even cleared the enemies around them. One of the Shadow Blades' Dreadnoughts, an ancient veteran who had existed for who knew how long, smashed an approaching World Eaters company captain to pieces with a single power-fist strike, then fired every remaining missile straight at the enemy Helbrute Dreadnoughts.

The sons of Rogal Dorn-the valiant Storm Will warriors-were on the verge of breaking through the enemy line even before Deika, turning the tables and surrounding the World Eaters in the center.

The three Chapters finally linked up, holding their discussion atop the remains of Chaos Space Marines. Spirits were high, but together they had only a little over four hundred warriors left.

The mighty World Eaters had displayed unparalleled talent in close combat. A defensive line of just 260 warriors had killed more than 380 Imperial Space Marines, even though the Imperial warriors were Primaris.

The Storm Will warriors quickly assembled a massive Auspex. They had little choice. Apart from this vessel, every other ship had rammed into another in mutual destruction. They had taken as much of their ships' property with them as they could.

"Their last position is ahead. The Auspex shows roughly two hundred World Eaters. No one's in the bridge command room or at the Plasma Reactor? Damn it, what exactly are they transporting? Why are so many of them stationed here?"

"We'll find out if we fight our way in. Four hundred against two hundred this time. Now the advantage really is ours."

"Deika, tell us. How should we attack?"

Deika was stumped as well. This was the final core. Even if they completely surrounded it, there were only two passages, and they could not bring in heavy machinery to force their way through. They truly outnumbered the enemy, but those two hundred elite warriors held solid, defensible terrain. Defeating them would be difficult.

There was nothing else to say. Ion guns and Plasma Cannons would blast away their frontal defenses, then a mixture of smoke grenades would cover the charge.

The enemy were no pushovers either. They had concentrated almost all their ammunition here, and they had no shortage of Plasma Cannons or Melta Cannons.

The fiercest clash began.

Evan's party of ten reached the enemy Battle Barge. Because their own Vengeful Sword had done its job rather too well, they had to enter through the damaged forward storage area on the other side.

They could have chosen to assault through the breach blasted into the Macro-cannon array, closer to the battlefield. But the Melta weapon on the front of the assault pod could easily strike the clustered Macro-cannons and trigger a massive explosion. That would truly be a death that left nothing but ashes.

The ten emerged from the storage area, casually killing a bunch of Khorne Cultists foolish enough to get in their way.

Evan charged forward, pushing the wheelchair. The warrior seated in it held Evan's Bolter and Melta Bombs for him.

Rumbling vibrations came from ahead, and the stench of blood filled the entire compartment.

At last, Evan and the others could intermittently hear Chapter Master Deika's commands over the communications channel.

But their surroundings gradually began to feel wrong. The blood flowing across the floor was boiling. The enemy's severed limbs were decaying, and even hard bones were dissolving. Yet the smell of blood in the air only grew stronger.

The former Chapter Master Morgkin was the first to realize something was wrong.

"Deika! Deika, boy, can you hear me? Stop them, quickly! Quickly-kzzzt, kzzzt..." The communications channel was cut off again. Whispers from the Warp could even be heard amid the interference.

Pitch-black flames, like an eruption from hell, suddenly appeared on the surrounding bulkheads and burned without cease. Yet the temperature throughout the area plummeted. Sorrowful cries, roars of battle, and deranged laughter echoed through the entire compartment.

Damn it, they succeeded. The deaths of a full twenty-six hundred Astartes as the sacrifice, with eight Battle Barges, five Strike Cruisers, two battleships, twelve heavy cruisers, and who knew how many lives on Taste II as supplementary offerings. What an enormous undertaking.

Mighty Psyker Power swept through the entire Battle Barge. Almost every mortal's head exploded on the spot. The intense Warp energy left all the Space Marines in extreme distress. Evan and Morgkin were the first to recover. Primaris Astartes implanted with hymnody possessed strong resistance to the Warp, while emergency injections from the Dreadnought's drug systems kept Morgkin conscious.

"Boy, you brought Psybolts, didn't you? Load them all."

"Astartes, prepare to slay daemons!"