Chapter 13: The Terminator

The tremors of the Warp engine were intensifying. Soshyan could not fathom what they signified, but he had a profound sense of dread.

And worse still, his instincts were rarely far from reality.

Along the way, Soshyan noticed bloodstains on the ground. It was obvious that a battle had taken place in this corridor not long ago, but strangely, there were no corpses or wreckage to be found—neither xenos nor battle-brothers.

Leaving the corridor, Soshyan led his squad along the trail of blood droplets toward the left, passing through several towering gateways and ascending to the upper levels via a spiral staircase.

At that moment, a faint groan was sharply captured by Soshyan’s senses. He could distinguish it as a human voice, and it was thick with agony.

Driven by a terrible premonition, Soshyan suddenly broke into a sprint.

"Contact!"

As he raced through another corridor, this frantic dash brought him to a terrace overlooking a vast space where several pathways converged. Intermittent explosions were tearing through the orderly architecture.

At the far end of the terrace, beneath an archway, a crimson figure lay sprawled on the ground. Beside him, a mechanical Necron with clawed hands was peeling away his skin.

Fury ignited instantly within him. Soshyan charged forward, intending to land the first blow before the target could realize the danger.

But a certain sixth sense warned the fallen xenos. With a sudden pivot, its massive, blood-stained claw collided with Soshyan’s weapon, sending a shower of sparks flying amidst the screech of grinding metal.

The parry forced Soshyan back a step, but he lunged again, swinging his roaring chainsword toward the opponent's abdomen.

The ferocious and swift strike tore directly through the creature's body. It was only when he raised his weapon to deliver another blow that he saw his opponent's face.

It was a bloody mask of flesh.

"Scum!"

In a fit of rage, Soshyan twisted the creature's head clean off and crushed it under his boot. The other four members of his squad quickly swarmed around, attempting to rescue the fallen battle-brother on the ground.

But as Axe softly shook his head, it was clear the man's life thread had already snapped. By identifying the shattered shoulder pad, Soshyan realized this was a veteran of the Second Company.

This also meant they were drawing closer to the Chapter Master.

Just as they paused to mourn the fallen veteran, a massive wave of enemies appeared at the archway. Soshyan scanned the surroundings and found only one viable path forward.

Thus, only one tactic remained.

"Open fire!"

With a roar, the nearest Necron fell, exploding into fragments under a hail of bolter fire.

The four warriors spread out on either side of Soshyan to ensure maximum firepower width. Though their numbers were few, the narrowness of the passage meant they would not face too many enemies at once.

However, ammunition soon became their new problem.

Unbeknownst to them, they had been in continuous combat for hours. The ammunition they had prepared had long since been exhausted, and soon they would be forced to rely solely on melee weapons.

"Conserve ammo, push forward!"

To handle the coming onslaught, Soshyan intended to use assault tactics; his voice rang out over the squad channel.

Based on his observations, the leader of the Necron vanguard was nearby. Judging by its size, it was roughly a hundred meters ahead—a mechanical monstrosity with a humanoid upper body and a spider-like lower body.

As Soshyan reloaded, he was interrupted by a cold, low hum. The xenos leader was leading a charge directly toward the Space Marines.

Though these mechanical undead were supposed to be soulless, blasphemous constructs, Soshyan seemed to sense something akin to emotion from the xenos leader. These high-ranking Necrons appeared to retain a vestige of their biological nature.

At the very least, there was one thing it could not suppress: the defiance of authority.

"Hold the line!"

Soshyan’s voice echoed through the channel, and then a fresh volley of bullets filled the space between him and the Necron leader.

In an instant, the air was filled with the dry, hissing sound of metal and swirling dust. Three warriors in the squad sustained light injuries in the exchange. Given their total exposure, they could not maintain their small line for more than a few minutes.

Soshyan judged that they had to move at the right moment.

During this process, the xenos leader braved the hail of bullets and reached Soshyan, swinging a massive metal scythe in a challenge aimed straight for his throat.

"Fall back!"

Soshyan made a calm tactical decision, clearing space for the enemy leader.

He continued to fire, turning the Necron soldiers following the leader into scrap, switching from one target to the next with practiced ease.

The remaining warriors maintained the line, pouring ammunition into the growing, unstoppable mechanical tide.

Only Soshyan retreated.

And only the xenos leader followed him into the squad's encirclement.

"Focus fire!"

The xenos leader's attention was entirely on him, its massive scythe carving deep furrows into the black ground, as if it would not rest until he was slain.

The other four simultaneously leveled their weapons at it and began firing wildly.

The plan was sound, but Soshyan had underestimated the enemy's resolve and tenacity, and overestimated their own firepower.

Axe's gun was the first to go silent. Following an ominous *click*, his irritated voice rang through the channel.

"Out of ammo!"

Soshyan had no time to deal with this issue, as the enemy's relentless pursuit had driven him back to the very edge of the terrace. He was cornered.

Then, a bolt of lightning struck down, saving his life.

It came from a violent discharge of energy that slammed into the terrace, making the ground shudder violently.

Thanks to Soshyan's auto-stabilizers, he remained upright.

A massive entity slammed into the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust and dry earth. The xenos leader vanished into the haze, reduced to scattered metal fragments by the Imperial weapon strike.

As the dust finally settled, the Terminator Squad Captain, Forlo, stood before Soshyan. In the sky above, a Thunderhawk roared past, strafing the Necrons below.

Forlo had jumped directly from the Thunderhawk.

As he looked down to inspect Soshyan, the servos of his Terminator armor whirred and groaned. Tactical Dreadnought Armor—also known as Terminator Armor—was the Imperium's most precious individual combat suit, capable of turning a Space Marine into an unstoppable siege beast on the battlefield.

Terminator armor had once been mass-produced during the Age of Terra, but following the loss of knowledge after the Horus Heresy, such powerful plate could now only be manufactured by a handful of Forge Worlds.

For most Chapters, any suit of Terminator armor was an invaluable asset, typically reserved for the most long-serving veterans, who answered only to the direct command of the Chapter Master.

Forlo raised a massive metal foot and crushed the deformed head of the xenos leader, sending sparks flying. His fists were wreathed in electricity; the terrifying strike from moments ago had come from these very hands.

"Brothers."

Though Forlo spoke over the vox-channel, he looked directly at Soshyan.

"It is your turn. In the name of the Emperor, attack!"

With a sudden shriek, an Assault Squad appeared from a nearby high vantage point. Their jump packs flared with burning fire, and their bolters barked incessantly, shredding the slow-moving Necrons below.

And that Thunderhawk—Soshyan was grateful it had escaped the destruction of the *Stormhold*—quickly circled back, raining lethal metal upon the Necron ranks.

Soshyan glanced at Forlo, then reloaded and returned to his squad's formation.

The tide had turned.

The precision strikes of the Terminators had shattered the Necron command structure. Suddenly, the Necron soldiers fell into a state of indecision, wavering between the urge to continue attacking their previous foes and the need to face the new threat.

Forlo clearly had no intention of giving them time to decide.

He raised his right fist. Even though his voice was muffled, it easily rose above the sounds of the slaughter.

The roar of chainswords signaled that Soshyan's squad was ready to join the fray.

"Space Marines, charge!"

(End of Chapter)