Chapter 46: A Bitter Victory

"Ugh..."

As Soshian wrenched his sword from Mornit's chest, the World Eater let out a low growl.

He then swung his chainaxe blindly, as if wielding a torch to dispel the darkness, but he struck nothing.

The sense of coldness and loathing emanating from Soshian grew even more intense; Mornit felt as though he were not standing before a Space Marine, but before a miniature black hole, slowly pulling his soul from his physical shell.

This sensation filled him with terror, for his soul belonged solely to the Blood God; if he could not return to the feet of the Blood God, then everything he had fought for would be meaningless.

"Get away! Get away!"

Mornit roared, attempting to drive the other away, but it was futile.

A silver-gray silhouette flashed past him, and then, with a heavy *clatter*, the serrated combat axe hit the floor, followed closely by the hand that had been holding it.

Wherever the World Eater's blood flowed, it shone like molten gold against the metal floor. Fuel tanks were still burning, and sparks were swept into the air by the wind like swarms of fireflies, only to fall back as charred ash.

The World Eater drew a combat dagger from the sheath strapped to his calf and attempted to pull himself up to a kneeling position, but the tip of the blade was already pressed beneath his jaw.

"You have failed. Your so-called god has not blessed you," Soshian said, panting. Those transcendent sensations had receded from him, leaving only the freezing blood to numb his heart.

Yet he could still stand, pressing the tip of his sword against the soft joint of the World Eater's throat armor. A kaleidoscope of colors swirled around the silver blade, yet they did not touch the surface of the opponent's gorget.

"The Emperor will spurn your soul. Die."

The moment was imminent; with a slight flick of the wrist and a mere application of force, the World Eater's head would roll from his shoulders.

Soshian gritted his teeth and flicked his wrist.

But the blade did not move. It pressed silently against the World Eater's throat, yet it would not pierce.

There was no gasp of a trachea or artery being severed, no tactile sensation of head separating from neck.

Soshian felt as if a mass of ice had lodged in his throat. His limbs felt heavy as iron; he struggled to control the arm holding the sword, but met with resistance, the blade refusing to move even an inch.

As his limbs rebelled against him, a trembling numbness spread from his fingertips up his arm.

"Why now...?"

A violent dizziness struck Soshian's head. The muscles in his sword-arm locked, and strained tendons pressed against bone.

A bone-chilling cold overwhelmed his senses; his vision narrowed, and everything before him compressed into a single line.

A second later, the sound ceased, and a wave of vertigo stole the balance from his legs.

"Blood God above—"

It was a cold, heavy impact that refocused Soshian's world. Mornit lunged suddenly, slamming directly into his chest, the combat dagger sinking halfway into his torso.

Having cast off his helmet, Mornit spat out a heavy breath through clenched teeth, his shattered face looking like a painful jigsaw puzzle.

Then, he exerted all his strength, attempting to drive the dagger through the opponent's chest.

He almost succeeded.

The dagger pierced the armor, the black carapace, and the rib plates, but before it could reach the heart, an intense chill crawled up Mornit's shoulder along the blade. He found himself suddenly losing control of his arm.

"Blood God! The Blood God opens His arms to me!"

The World Eater laughed maniacally, falling backward and pulling the dagger out in the process.

In an instant, viscous blood flowed intermittently down the silver-gray armor. Just as he prepared to strike a second time, Soshian's longsword descended, impaling him through the head.

Accompanied by a gurgling gasp, the World Eater's nearly bifurcated head sprayed one last burst of blood, staining the Aquila on Soshian's chest, before he slumped lifelessly to the ground.

"Ugh..."

Soshian released his sword, staggered back a few steps, and collapsed to his knees, clutching the wound on his chest.

He was lucky; the tip of the enemy's blade had missed his heart by a mere fraction. Though even a direct hit might not have been fatal, he would still require a period of recovery before he could fight again.

"Captain!"

The Chapter's neophytes immediately surrounded him in concern, including Apothecary Nasin Balitaem. He immediately injected a large amount of medication into Soshian, but he recoiled in shock when he touched Soshian's neck.

"Captain! Your body temperature—"

Soshian raised a hand in a wave, signaling him not to make a scene. Balitaem immediately fell silent and began treating Soshian's wounds in silence.

Noticing that the body temperature had begun to slowly rise, Soshian pressed down on the Apothecary's busy hands and said

"I am fine. Go quickly and collect the gene-seed of the fallen warriors."

"Understood."

Balitaem stood up and began to tally the casualties.

In the previous conflict, three Battle Brothers had fallen, one was seriously wounded, and three had minor injuries.

The lightly wounded were able to move on their own, while the seriously wounded man had primarily lost an arm and suffered head trauma; Balitaem provided basic treatment before preparing to return to the *Sparks'* medical bay for further care. He then turned to the three fallen warriors.

He knelt beside the body of one Battle Brother. The armor had been hacked into a mess, but it still retained its original form.

Balitaem flipped the corpse over, and the deceased's helmet hit the floor with a heavy thud.

He then reached out to begin the recovery of his brother's gene-seed. First, the medical gauntlet vibrated, followed by the internal motor emitting a bug-like chirping sound. The medical probe's saw and vibrating dissection blade began to cut through the damaged ceramite with a hum.

Due to his lack of experience, Balitaem's progress was slow. Gritting his teeth, the Apothecary pressed the probe against the armor, which had been fused by impact and high heat, and applied enough force to finally cut a gap in the plating like a blackened eggshell.

He then quickly inserted his fingers, peeling back the warrior's gorget.

The dead warrior's face was terrifyingly pale, smeared with dried blood; his eyes were wide, as if he had been glaring at the enemy until the very moment of death.

For a moment, the Apothecary did not recognize the deceased, but eventually, he remembered.

Moria.

A soldier of the First Battle Squad, and a neophyte who had undergone augmentation at the same time as himself.

The Apothecary closed his eyes for a moment to mourn his comrade, then pressed the gauntlet against the corpse's jaw and activated the extractor.

With a wet *pop*, a piece of pinkish-gray flesh was ejected into the medical probe's small glass vial. The Apothecary inspected the tissue with his naked eye, confirmed it was intact, and placed it into the storage unit.

Upon returning to the *Sparks*, he would have to perform further examinations on the recovered gene-seed to ensure there were no issues before it could be preserved as the Chapter's reserve.

Next, he drove the drill into the fallen warrior's chest, burying it deep, and extracted the second gene-seed.

Though they were neophytes, they had undergone augmentation for over ten years; the new gene-seed had already matured.

Having collected the first fallen warrior's gene-seed, Balitaem turned to the second. With the experience from the first, his progress on the second was much faster.

During this process, Soshian's body temperature had largely returned to normal. After checking his wound to ensure the bleeding had stopped, he used his comms to summon the Tech-Sergeant to recover equipment.

At that moment, a stumbling red figure entered his field of vision.

(End of Chapter)