"Take cover!! Open fire!"
The moment the door collapsed, Keller screamed and dodged to the side behind a thick ventilation duct.
Almost simultaneously, they raised their Boltgun, aimed them at the gap in the gate, and pulled the trigger.
But what responded to him was a barrage of bullets even denser than Boltgun.
What shot out from behind the door was not the red beam of Lasgun, nor the piercing whistle of a regular explosive, but plague bullets coated in dark green venom.
The green shell casings reeked of decay, and the venom from the bullets sizzled as they struck the metal bulkheads, instantly melting out craters that emitted white smoke.
Corrosive energy spread along the metal's grain, even corroding the heavy pillars, leaving them pitted and uneven.
The military police, who had hastily taken cover, immediately launched a counterattack, firing a barrage of purifying bombs at the shadows behind the door.
But the moment the firelight illuminated the imposing figures inside the door, everyone who saw their targets felt as if they had fallen into an ice cave.
Keller was somewhat incredulous. He stared at the figures, forcing out a few words through clenched teeth, his voice trembling with shock:
" Plague Marine... The XIV Legion."
Those were twenty-two Space Marine wearing MK3 "Iron" Power Armour.
No, it used to be.
Now they have fallen into the arms of the great enemy, the plague.
The once-proud armor has long lost its original iron-gray paint, and the thick armor plates are now covered with pitted rust and festering wounds.
Dark green pus seeped out from the gaps in the armor, accumulating into small puddles at the feet.
Some soldiers' abdominal armor completely ruptured, swollen, rotting flesh spilled outwards, and pink intestines mixed with milky-white maggots hung down between their waists and abdomens.
Their steps swayed slightly, yet they showed no sign of pain whatsoever.
The soldier at the very front had his helmet completely fused with his flesh, and his twisted, swollen face was crammed with hundreds of cloudy, yellowish eyes.
Four or five cracked mouths simultaneously emitted hoarse gasps, each breath spewing out gray mist carrying plague spores.
Their eyes all rolled at once, sweeping across the military police behind the bunker, as if they were sizing up a herd of livestock waiting to be slaughtered.
They are the Death Guard, the Twilight Raiders.
The warriors of the XIV Legion under the Emperor were renowned throughout the galaxy for their unwavering will and formidable assault capabilities.
However, during the Horus Heresy, they fell into the arms of Nurgle, the Plague God.
Completely transformed by the plague and blessing of the Grandfather, he became a walking carrier of plague, an immortal and indestructible vanguard of decay.
The Imperium's textbooks are filled with their atrocities; behind every fall of a planet and every outbreak of plague, the shadow of these rotten traitors may well lie.
Keller never dreamed that he would be facing twenty-two Plague Marine on the lower deck of an Imperium battleship.
"Concentrate fire on the head, flamethrowers at full power!" He suppressed his shock and gave the order in a hoarse voice.
"Fire all the sanctified ammunition!"
The soldiers immediately adjusted their firepower, with two Heavy Bolter roaring and unleashing a deluge of ammunition, while the flamethrowers' tongues shot up several meters high.
Golden-red holy flames swept over the Plague Marine at the gate.
The purification bomb struck the leading soldier precisely in the face, splattering pus everywhere.
But this time, the usually invincible purification firepower failed.
The silver-plated bullet core pierced through the surface of rotting flesh and penetrated into the corroded Power Armour, but could not go any further.
Dark green pus flowed out of the bullet hole, but the impact propelled it even further, leaving deeper marks on the metal surface.
The holy flames of Promethium enveloped the warrior's body, the golden flames licking at the rotting flesh, only managing to scorch the surface of the dead skin.
The blessing of the plague power within them was able to withstand the holy flames, allowing them to maintain their stable form.
The MK3 Power Armour is already known for its extreme protection, and it is further protected by the rotten flesh and disease bestowed by Nurgle.
Conventional purification weapons are no different from tickling them.
After a salvo, the twenty-two Plague Marine were unharmed.
Despite the heavy fire, they moved.
The heavy Power Armour pounded on the metal floor with a dull thud, yet its speed was completely disproportionate to its massive size.
Ordinary people couldn't see their movements at all; they only saw a blur before their eyes, and the stench of decay had already reached the front lines.
Just as the military policeman in the front row replaced his empty magazine, a Power Axe with tentacles came hurtling towards him.
The axe blade, coated with the corrosive power of Nurgle, easily cleaved through his helmet and skull, and the putrid poison instantly spread throughout his body via the wound.
Before the soldier could even scream, his entire body visibly turned black and swelled up, turning into a bloated, rotting corpse in just a second before collapsing heavily to the ground.
The Plague Marine's body harbors hundreds of types of Nurgle's Plague, Necrosis, Putrid Fever, Blood Dysentery, Zombie Plague...
Even inhaling just a wisp of their exhaled mist can cause a persistent high fever, muscle ulceration, and a precipitous decline in bodily functions within minutes.
The military police in the corridor soon developed symptoms.
I felt dizzy and nauseous. My hand holding the rifle began to go weak. My lungs felt heavy, as if they were filled with lead, and every breath had a strong smell of rust.
Some people couldn't hold on and collapsed to their knees, spitting out mouthfuls of black blood as soon as they opened their mouths; their internal organs had already begun to dissolve under the influence of the plague.
The Chainsword left only a white mark on the Power Armour, and the explosive bombs did not cause any ripples when they hit the rotting flesh.
On the contrary, every swing of the Plague Marine's axe and every punch he threw sent up a shower of blood and flesh.
The stench of rotting flesh and blood filled the air, screams mingled with the cracking of bones, and the narrow corridor instantly transformed into a slaughterhouse.
Keller leaned against a pillar, his left arm burned by the splattered corrosive liquid, his protective suit corroded through, and a large area of skin underneath was ulcerated.
He watched his soldiers fall like wheat in swathes, watched those walking, rotting monsters reap lives with expressionless faces, and a chilling despair rose in his heart.
The last thing he saw was the leading Plague Marine slowly walking towards him.
The opponent's breastplate was engraved with a rusted gear and flask emblem, the mark of the Plague Engineers.
His cloudy eyes were devoid of any emotion, as if he were looking at a lifeless object.
Then, the rusted warhammer fell.
Keller's consciousness, along with the entire military police squad, was plunged into eternal darkness.
The close-quarters combat lasted less than ten seconds.
Three hundred well-trained naval military police, their defenses as weak as cotton, collapsed instantly before the twenty-two Death Guard.
At the end of the corridor, Phelps shook off the blood and bone fragments that clung to his warhammer.
A low, gurgling laugh escaped from beneath the mask, the putrid liquid in the chest cavity gurgling with the laughter, and dark green mist slowly seeping out from the gaps in the mask.
" Grandfather's gaze always precedes the enemy's bullets."
His voice was hoarse, like rusty iron scraping against each other, carrying the stagnation of someone who hadn't spoken in a long time.
Everything went as he had predicted.
Taking advantage of the chaos caused by the Pale Rose's explosion on orbit, he led twenty-one elite Plague Marine.
Using Warp teleportation array pre-anchored in the lower cargo hold, they directly jumped into the interior of the Gemstone.
As early as half a month ago, the "insider" in Brevis took advantage of the opportunity to deliver supplies to the Lower City Tithe Fleet to secretly hide plague spores and teleportation anchors in the supply crates.
Those corrupted lower-ranking sailors and deckhands whose faith wavered became the best breeding ground for the spread of the Grandfather's faith.
They silently infected the entire H4 Living Area, altered inspection records, blocked surveillance signals, and put on a show of "everything being normal" for the Imperial Navy for a full five days.
If it weren't for this well-laid plan, he and the twenty-one warriors behind him would probably have been reduced to nothingness in the holy flames along with the Pale Rose.