Chapter 44: Confrontation

Morinette's warband sprinted through the central corridor leading to the spaceport, an area serving as a loading zone for fuel and munitions tankers.

The fury within the World Eaters was mounting; he knew his battle-brothers were enduring the same torment.

They were the sons of Angron, and like their Primarch, they had been implanted with the Butcher's Nails—devices that ignited the latent potential for violence within the human psyche.

At the critical moments of battle, Angron's warriors could harness this boiling tide of rage, wielding it like a razor-sharp blade to fell their enemies.

The Emperor had once condemned the further use of such implants, believing they would render the World Eaters unstable.

But Angron, with his cunning, had bypassed the Emperor's edicts; despite the mandates remaining in place, he persisted.

They were killing machines—Morinette felt this in his burning blood and marrow—and what greater honor was there than to serve the Blood God with blood?

Despite the pressing urgency of time, Morinette encouraged his warriors to engage in slaughter as they approached the frigate.

Bloodletting would sharpen the senses for the impending combat.

His only instruction was: do not stop.

The World Eaters executed this task with a savage efficiency; between the breach point and their current position, a pile of lowly corpses lay scattered across the ground.

However, such reckless killing would eventually exact a price.

As Morinette and his warriors pushed forward, the spaceport docks of the orbital station appeared like a tangled web of metal.

Beyond them lay the *Glory Saber*, resting like a sleeping predator.

The World Eater ran toward the end of the strait and the open docks in the distance; a metallic scent of blood filled his nostrils, and as the path ahead began to narrow, he felt a sense of foreboding.

Just as Morinette prayed to the Blood God that they had not been detected, a group of uniformed defenders appeared before them, blocking their path.

Armed with various heavy weapons, they ringed the corridor with fire, illuminating the semi-dark passage with muzzle flashes; they even brandished armor-piercing rockets.

The chest of a warrior beside Morinette exploded under a rocket, his armor torn open and drenched in blood, yet he continued to fight.

"Charge! Charge!"

Morinette ordered the assault immediately, failing to notice that their position was extremely precarious.

His warband was squeezed between massive fuel drums stacked upon enormous warehouse structures; panicked slaves and mindless servitors, terrified by the commotion, spilled into their path, only to be cut down by chainswords or crushed.

The World Eaters attempted to close the distance to gain the advantage, oblivious to the death traps flanking them.

Then, one of the fuel drums was struck by a shell, instantly erupting in a flash of yellow-white flame.

A spray of fire splashed into the air like ink; a stricken servitor was tossed like a ragdoll by the shockwave of the explosion, and many soldiers close to the fray were either instantly roasted or torn apart.

The concussive force of the blast even tore a World Eater into pieces.

He was shredded against the metal paneling of the warehouse; the wall did not yield to the sudden impact of massed flesh and armor fragments, and the warrior was simply crushed.

As the alarm sensors failed, Morinette could feel the heat of the explosion even through his helmet.

He stumbled but regained his footing, shouting commands to charge.

They were very close to the objective; the *Glory Saber* filled his vision like a massive wall of steel.

"Don't stop! Don't stop! Charge! Charge and take the frigate, then we can leave!!"

As they sprinted through the line of fire, a shadow cast itself across Morinette's vision—it was a massive observation platform overlooking the docks.

Instinctively, he glanced up, only to see a line of warriors in silver-grey power armor aiming bolters at them.

"Damn it—"

In the next second, death poured down like hail, as the muzzles unleashed a torrent of bolts and flame.

Morinette scrambled into a blind spot in the coverage, but a warrior beside him was distracted, his dodge a fraction too slow.

He paid the price for that momentary lapse.

A beam of searing plasma punched a hole through his body, roasting the World Eater directly inside his armor.

He hit the ground with a thud, but before he fell, several of his brothers hoisted his corpse up to serve as temporary cover—such was the survival code of a Chaos warband: everything is for the ultimate purpose of staying alive.

Yet, another World Eater was struck in the knee amidst the dense barrage; as he knelt, two bolts detonated simultaneously against his helmet and neck, and he, too, went down.

Morinette returned fire fiercely with his bolt pistol, catching glimpses of the targets above through the gaps in the fire and flying metal shards.

The other World Eaters followed his lead, drawing weapons to return fire, their combined volleys increasing the pressure.

Those caught in the vicinity at the start of the engagement were pulverized by the crossfire, the roar of guns and the scream of shrapnel intertwining with their cries.

Morinette panted, pressing himself against the nearest barrier.

He scanned his surroundings, measuring the terrain and estimating if there were any other routes to approach the *Glory Saber*.

In truth, from the moment the Emperor's lackeys appeared, he knew the destruction of his warband was inevitable; there was surely a starship or even a fleet waiting for them outside.

But he would never surrender, nor would he sit idly by to die; they were warriors of the Blood God, and even in death, they would drown in the blood of their enemies.

Then he noticed a narrow passage formed between the cranes and the fuel tanks—an observation deck supported by metal pillars, with a ring of steel reinforcing the fueling racks, defensive turrets, and sensor arrays.

It was a weakness that could be breached. As the bolt fire continued to suppress them, Morinette roared from behind cover.

"Concentrate fire on that spot!"

He shouted against the din, trying to overpower the noise.

The tactic worked quickly.

After the second exchange, a series of small explosions erupted on the observation platform; the affected areas were blown to pieces, forcing the warriors above to abandon their high ground to avoid collapse.

Morinette stood up and, before the smoke could clear, bellowed his final command.

"Attack! Attack now! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!!!"

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!!!"

The traitor Astartes burst from cover, leaving the dead behind, screaming their terrifying slogans.

Simultaneously, twenty Astartes clad in silver-grey armor emerged from the thick smoke of the ruins, launching a counter-charge.

"For the Emperor!!"

For a long time afterward, Soshian would feel regret for the decision he made in that moment.

"Fire!"

Morinette yelled, and the World Eaters obeyed.

Both sides exchanged a final round of pistol fire while charging.

The result was brutal.

Warriors on both sides fell under the bolts; as the rounds struck, their bodies convulsed and spun violently. Blood sprayed in random directions before they collapsed at the feet of their comrades.

The exchange left one of Morinette's side down, and one of the opposition down.

At Astartes speed, there was only time for a single volley; the disciplined Astartes discarded their sidearms before making contact.

Four Chaos Space Marines—their former glory utterly stripped away, leaving only endless madness.

Though it was his first time fighting Chaos Space Marines, Soshian felt no fear; instead, he felt only rage, especially at those cowards who dared to strike at the weaker, using the flesh of mortals to adorn themselves.

They brought shame to the name of Astartes, and Soshian charged at the very front without hesitation.

They were a crude lot; scarred and battered, they still closed in on Soshian with axes raised.

Soshian thrust his sword into the chest of one to answer his roar.

The man did not fall; instead, he gripped Soshian's weapon, desperately trying to drive his axe into Soshian's head.

Soshian planted a boot and kicked the bastard aside, then drove his power sword into the man's chest, wrenching it hard to the right so that the corpse spun through the air, crashing into a fallen comrade.

"These are the former World Eaters?"

Soshian spat.

"Nothing more."

Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, Soshian saw a World Eater decapitate a warrior, and blood surged into his head.

A cold, grey marrow rapidly spread through his limbs.

In the melee, a mist of blood accompanied the terrifying sound of axes severing bone. Despite being at a severe numerical disadvantage and surrounded, the madness still raged within the World Eaters; they did not break, but fought with a ferocity that traded life for life.

The heated ground was soon soaked in the blood of the slaughter.

After ten seconds of combat, three World Eaters fell to the ground alongside six Imperial Knights.

As for Soshian, he had already locked onto the leader of this warband and his final enemy: Morinette.

(End of Chapter)