Chapter 295 "Who's There?"

The tail flame of the jumping torpedo roared silently across the almost empty dark void.

Brother Penates of the Sixth Squadron of the Third Company of the Origin Chapter whispered one last prayer to the Golden Throne for the machine soul of his bolter, hoping that the Emperor's blessing would allow him to kill a few more hateful traitors.

His brother Larys was buckled into the seat beside him, also meditating silently. The engines of the torpedoes roared silently in the cold and dark vacuum, sending their two teams towards the Empire. On the ships of the traitors and enemies of Chaos.

——Two hours and twelve minutes ago, their company champions, the brothers Ptolemion Saralon, had already led the six leading gang jumping teams and rushed into this area while taking advantage of the opponent's void shield being overloaded by a sudden attack. A place of evil.

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.

For it is not impossible that the traitor will return, the Slaves of Darkness will always crawl out of the shadows to exact revenge, and the Sons of Guilliman will crush this blasphemous attempt just as they did before.

They are the ever-vigilant sentinels of 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 Tiaobang torpedo indeed indicated that they had flown to the visual distance of both sides. In a void battle, this was almost It's no different than sticking one's face on one's face.

He tightened his grip on the 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 speeds 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 to the next second smoothly, and Penates found that he was still sitting on his fixed seat, with Laris and the other eighteen brothers staring closely at him. He, his power armor's built-in health monitoring system showed that his various hormones and biochemical indicators suddenly reached a terrifying peak one second ago, but now began 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. If you want to go on a pilgrimage to Raghu and seek help and guidance there, the think tank masters and pharmacy masters of the Ultramarines should be able to find a way."

Penates nodded, grateful that his helmet did a good job of hiding his look, which must have been terrible.

After all, Laris was blasted into a mass of scarlet and pink in the vacuum before his eyes ten seconds ago...

The sergeant brother who led them roared.

"About contact, the front melt cutter is ready to open, three, two, one!"

I will apply to go to Macragge when this battle is over.

Penates put aside other distracting thoughts, put his finger next to the trigger, and waited attentively for the moment when the landing door opened.

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Ptolemion Saralon is no stranger to the evil heretics of the Eighth Legion who have been notorious for thousands of years. In the honorary exhibition hall or library of the Origin Chapter, many battle records and historical records shine brightly for him. It is open to all new stars, and he can freely read it, learn from it and absorb the knowledge to fight against the empire's enemies, strengthen his mind, and make himself more unshakable.

Therefore, he had no premonition about what he might suffer if he did not die in a glorious battle but was captured alive by the opponent - vivisection, skinning alive, being cut into pieces with thousands of cuts, 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 use of chemicals 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.

When Ptolemyon thought about his gene-seed, the precious continuation and property of the Chapter being swallowed into the mouth of a Chaos Space Marine, chewed and swallowed, and turned into a useless nutrient mucus in the acidic saliva and internal stomach, he felt a wave of nausea in his heart, but he must not let the traitor interrogator or anyone else find out, he must absolutely hide this feeling.

If his disgust was discovered, the Champion of the Origin Chapter was very sure that this group of scum with no bottom line would drag him out and hang him on a meat hook, pull the gene-seed out of his body, and force him to watch them eat it.

——————

Well, with this terrible and documented impression as a premise, it is no wonder that when the Company Champion woke up in his cell, he was full of doubts.

First, he checked himself a little bit. The power armor and other things were taken away, which was not surprising. But what was surprising was that he had all his limbs, facial features intact, and there were no signs of surgery on his neck and chest. He sat up against the wall, and touched his neck with lingering fear - there, he remembered, something - ghostly, inhuman, inserted a needle into it, he now felt that it should be a large amount of anesthetic, but even his excellent eyesight after genetic modification could not capture the other party's appearance.

What on earth was that? So fast, as if it appeared out of thin air, some kind of lifeless being driven by Chaos wizards?

Someone chuckled in the dark.

The loyal Astartes jumped up alertly and made a defensive move.

"It's a very standard opening move of Macragge's Codex Combat... Where did you train? Calth? Talasa? Or Macragge?"

"Who's there?"

"..."

(* (hissing sneer) Your idea is ridiculous, I don't think...)

"Watch it."

A light lit up in the completely dark cell.

Ptolemyon let out an indescribable cry.