Chapter 295 "Who's there?"
The tail flame of the jumping torpedo whistled silently across the almost empty dark void.
Brother Penatus of the 6th Squadron of the 3rd Company of the Origin Chapter whispered a final prayer to the Golden Throne for the machine soul of his bolter, hoping that the Emperor's blessing would allow him to kill more A hateful traitor.
His brother Laris was buckled on the seat next to him by a fixed rod, also meditating silently. The engines of the torpedoes roared silently in the cold and dark vacuum, pushing their The two teams were sent to the ships of the traitors to the Empire and the enemies of Chaos.
——Two hours and twelve minutes ago, their company champion brothers Ptolemion Saralon had already led the six leading gang jumping teams, taking advantage of the opponent's void shield to be overloaded by a sudden attack. Opportunity rushed into this evil place.
This time the Origin Chapter's ambush on the traitor warship was extremely successful and efficient. The Chapter's think tank immediately monitored the movement in the nearby subspace route - since the Ultramarines gathered all sub-groups eight thousand years ago. Since that attack, which completed the crushing and massacre of the Eighth Legion, the Origin Chapter has been monitoring the planet regularly for eighty centuries without slacking off.
Because it is not impossible that the traitor will return, the slaves of darkness will always crawl out of the darkness to exact revenge, and the Sons of Guilliman will crush this blasphemous attempt as before.
They are the eternally vigilant sentinels on the galactic frontier.
With a unique intuition, Penates felt that they should be arriving soon, and the readings displayed on the auspicious device of the jumping torpedo indeed indicated that they had flown to the visual distance between the two sides. In a void battle, this is almost the same as a face-to-face fight.
He clenched his weapon, and the power armor machine spirit began to monitor his physical condition and surrounding environment more frequently, suddenly.
An astonishing picture flashed across his retinas like a meteor: the metal bulkhead of the torpedo was suddenly penetrated by some kind of heavy individual rapid-fire weapon, and then the continuous pouring firepower smashed it into pieces, and the vacuum of the universe became ruthless. The ground outwards absorbed the soldiers with scarlet power armor and their lives. In the cold, silent black air, the torpedo he was riding on completely exploded and turned into large and small fragments. As they separated and disintegrated, those final explosions rippled. It can launch him and others at high speed like cannonballs towards the rusty and dirty hull of the Cursed Echo. Their flesh and blood explodes like cannonball fireworks and is instantly turned into crystal pink powder by the low temperature in the vacuum——
"For the Emperor, for Guilliman——"
Suddenly, the hands on the invisible clock jumped smoothly to the next second, and Penateus found that he was still sitting quietly on his own On the fixed seat next to him, Laris and the other eighteen brothers were staring closely at him. The built-in health monitoring system of his power armor showed that his various hormones and biochemical indicators suddenly reached a terrifying peak in the last second. But now it's starting to fall back to normal levels.
"What's wrong with you? Brother Penates."
"No, I'm fine. Thank you for your concern, brother."
"Is it that weird dizziness again?" Laris asked with concern, "Our master of pharmacy failed to find out the cause. Maybe when we finish this battle and return to the monastery to rest, you can apply for a trip to the library. The place of Lag Pilgrimage, and you can seek help and guidance there by the way. The think tank masters and pharmacy masters of the Ultramarines should be able to find a way."
Penatus nodded and was grateful for his helmet. It must be very bad if he can hide his expression at the moment very well.
After all, Laris was blasted into a mass of scarlet and pink in the vacuum ten seconds ago before his eyes...
The sergeant brother who led them roared.
"Contact is about to happen, the front hot melt cutter is ready to open, three, two, one!"
I will apply to go to Macragge when this battle is over.
Penatus put aside other distracting thoughts, put his finger next to the trigger, and concentrated on waiting for the moment when the landing door opened. ————————
Ptolemion Saralon was no stranger to the millennia-old infamy of the evil heretics of the Eighth Legion. In the honor display hall or library, many battle records and historical records are open to a rising star like him. He can freely consult them, learn from them and absorb the knowledge of fighting against the empire's enemies, and strengthen his mind. Make yourself more unshakable.
Therefore, he had no premonition about what he might suffer if he failed to die in a glorious battle but was captured alive by the opponent - vivisection, skinning alive, and being cut into pieces by a thousand cuts. Ling Chi, decomposing people into immortal organs and lumps of flesh and blood, etc., all of this can even turn into painful torture that lasts for several days with the help of chemical agents and the opponent's cruel and precise methods.
All these tortures were not something that frightened the stoic Emperor warrior and Son of Guilliman, but what made Ptolemion feel the most disgusting when he read it was that the chapter's records clearly stated Mentioned that some traitors of the Eighth Legion, especially those corrupted ones who carry a large number of skulls, blood seals and chant the name of a specific enemy, will dig out the victim's gene seeds from their bodies and regenerate them bloody. Eaten - In some cases witnessed on the battlefield, they cannot even wait for the loyal victim Astartes to die completely.
The thought of one's own gene-seed, the Chapter's precious continuation and possessions, might be swallowed into the mouths of a Chaos Space Marine, chewed, swallowed, reduced to a mass of acidic saliva and internal stomachs Ptolemion felt a wave of nausea welling up in his heart due to the useless nutritional mucus, but this must not be discovered by the traitor's interrogator or anyone. He must absolutely conceal his feeling.
If this trace of disgust in him is discovered, the champion of the Origin Chapter is very sure that this group of scum with no limits will drag him out and hang him on a meat hook one thousand percent, and remove it from his body He took out the gene seed and forced him to watch them eat it.
——————
Well, with this terrifying and well-documented impression as a premise, it’s no wonder that the company champion had doubts when he woke up in his cell. Heavy.
First, he checked himself a little, and it was no surprise that the power armor and other things had been taken away. But surprisingly, he had all four limbs, his facial features were intact, and there were no signs of surgery on his neck or chest. He sat up against the wall and touched his neck with lingering fear - there, he remembered, there was something - ghostly, inhuman, pricking the needle in. He now felt that it should be a large amount of anesthetic. , but even his excellent vision after genetic modification could not capture the other party's appearance.
What is that? So quickly, as if appearing out of thin air, some kind of inanimate being driven by a Chaos Wizard?
Someone chuckled in the dark.
The loyal Astartes jumped up alertly, making defensive movements.
"A very standard starting point for Macragge's holy scripture fighting skills... Where were you trained? Calth? Thalasa? Or Macragge?"
"Who's there?"
"..."
(*(hissing sneer) Your idea is ridiculous, I don't think...)
"Just watch."
A little light came on in the completely dark cell.
Ptolemion uttered an indescribable cry.
(End of this chapter)