Chapter 87 First Blood

At first, the fog was not the main symptom, and it was normal for the humidity on the lower deck to be too high in a ship, so almost no one paid too much attention to the changes in the readings.

The main problem was the darkness at first.

"Maxim."

The Astartes, wearing silver-gray power armor and black-painted shoulder armor decorated with a light crown skull of the same color as the armor, turned slightly to show his respect for the war leader and his careful listening to his master's words.

"Go find the switch of the lights here, or the main switch, or something like that. We are on our own mothership now, and there must be energy and lights here. Damn, we are not on an abandoned ship-"

The simple electronic voice of the "Sage" spoke abruptly.

"The machine soul didn't respond."

"What?"

"I tried it - according to the design drawings we got from the captain's database before we came down, the machine souls of all the power and lighting facilities didn't respond - or, although we just went from the entrance to the B3 deck, the structure here has actually become very different -"

The priest's electronic generator-like voice sounded so bad at this moment, "In a secular way, we may not be where we think we are, the nature of the space here has changed."

"So we may have stepped into some kind of forty-one thousand years of subspace trap or ancient Terra ghost story space. Thank you, 'sage', you really brought us good news."

Lami Zain muttered, and the "iron halo" and "rosary beads" on his body that looked like a real thing had been activated or adjusted to the automatic reaction excitation mode through LOGOS, and the heavy war hammer in his hand made a buzzing sound of energy field operation.

The former librarian with ataxia could fully feel his tension in the heavy power armor.

I hope I don't give off any bad smell or pheromones because I'm too scared. He thought, God, I'm surrounded by a circle of Space Marines, not only do they all have supersensory senses and detection nerves, but everyone is actually much better at fighting than me.

The Astartes transformation surgery and brainwashing training program stabilized their minds and eliminated those emotions that would cause influence and should not exist; but I not only have all kinds of emotions, but I don't even know what we are facing now. It's so dark here, and there are only a few of us! ——This feels really bad!

[I must say that I feel really bad now, from instinctive warnings to rational analysis, Pepe, you are not lying to me, right? Is it really unnecessary for me to do anything? ]

[Yes. It's okay, believe me, Ramizane, just open all your defensive equipment, and no matter what happens next, just stand there and don't make a sound or retreat. ]

[The more you promise me, the more uneasy I feel, Perturabo. ]

[Really? That was a really new experience for my body. You can keep it in the biochemical record so that I can experience it in the future, maybe. 】

【Oh my god, Pepe, don't say that to yourself. No one should have such thoughts. 】

【Hehe. 】

They continued to move forward, and the thick and sticky darkness took on some colors in silence.

The Space Marines were vigilant to keep each other in a circle that was close enough but not too close, and kept their grenade launchers ready to fire at any time.

The empty, cold, dusty dark rooms and corridors were endless, as if they would never end. They passed one intersection after another and opened one passage door after another.

Countless hatches appeared on both sides of the passage. Each closed door seemed to be illuminated by warm lights. Behind them, there began to be slight laughter and inaudible conversations.

These voices range from proud to friendly, from rough to gentle, and they are available for all ages and genders. Each voice reminds people of some other images. They are extremely delicate and infinitely rippled. The tail of each syllable seems to carry a small hook, trying to hook any fish that wants to open the door to see the beauty.

The muzzle of the grenade gun spits a string of flames into the darkness, but the ammunition does not hit anything. It is just swallowed by the darkness. The creepy chewing sound appears for a second and then stops.

"Brother Sylas?" Maxim still sounded somewhat emotional, "Report the reason for the unauthorized shooting."

"I think I just saw a multi-armed, long-tailed alien."

"Where?"

"I'm not sure, at three o'clock, it flashed by, it was too fast." Sylas said, "but it definitely doesn't look human."

"Be alert and keep formation, then you are allowed to shoot indiscriminately."

The sweet and greasy smell of ointments and oils that were so uncomfortable that they gradually became strong and stinky from the fresh and pleasant fragrance. They enveloped them and tried to get into every gap in the warriors' armor. The sound, smell, temperature, lingered and whispered.

The edges of those black shadows and light now look blue? Or pink or purple? Ramizane couldn't be sure.

But those illusions and sounds didn't shake him. He hurriedly glanced at the side of his retina. The interface that popped up on it linked to the panel readings of other members of the team. The data showed that everyone's mind was affected to a certain extent--

Then, things began to change again.

"Old Mother of Neos, I don't like this." The Mechanicus muttered, and began to ignite his personal internal energy to activate some kind of high-heat shield generator.

The extremely fragrant and smelly mist began to thicken, and the gorgeous and varied colors and seductive sounds were obscured by the dense fog.

These abnormally humid mists only began to appear when they walked past, and everyone felt it. The malicious eyes were in those thick droplets, looking at the warriors with an abnormal greed and kindness, trying to dissolve everything about them into it.

Ramizarn raised his head and turned his head. Dozens of sensors reported their contradictory findings. The droplets of condensed mist hung densely on the new plating of his power armor, and because of this action, they condensed into larger droplets, flowing down the gaps and gullies of the armor.

A picture suddenly jumped into his mind.

The army under the command of the Primarch was like a torrent of steel, washing every inch of the universe and building a fortress of the new order on it.

For glory? He asked himself, no.

Then what do you want?

I...

When he looked again, there was nothing.

There was only an indissoluble void in front of him.

There were no enemies, no fellow travelers, only cold, darkness, nothingness, and hunger gnawing at the soul.

The overly humid fog absorbed all sounds, and the surroundings seemed to be completely silent until the moment they actually encountered it.

Without warning, a swollen and twisted monster jumped out of the fog with saliva dripping, and pounced on the flank of the team.

The monster took great interest in wrapping the unfortunate victim with its swollen tongue, and then held him with yellow sharp teeth several feet long on its belly.

Astarte was thrown high up like a toy doll by unnatural force, the armor plate scraping against something, the trigger was held tightly by fingers and fired in vain - when the others scattered, the sound of thick acid corroding ceramic steel and the horrible sound of bones being broken by clamps drilled into their eardrums, when the beast bit his fallen half and a ball of intestines in mid-air, trying to play with his toys again.

Sylas was dead.

All this happened before the other members of the recruit squad could react.

The grenade guns and the soldiers roared at the same time, and the charge began.

Quack.

It's too cold.

There is a next chapter, it's being coded