The Emperor’s Angel of Death

"Undying Champion! Trample the myriad armies!"

Roaring, he cleaved the kneeling executioner's head with a single sword strike. Haumo staggered but remained standing, as the body of the Tyrant Beast crashed to the ground with a resounding thud.

The sky above them had turned pitch black, punctuated by eerie flashes of light, and a toxic mist filled the air.

With each breath, Haumo felt an unbearable itch in his lungs, as if thousands of tiny claws were scratching him. He knew his helmet had been breached, and were it not for the enhanced strength provided by the Grey髓, he would already be dead.

As would most of the 1st Company.

Scattered across the defensive line were others lying still, most mortally wounded, but kept from death by the power of the Grey髓, though all were unconscious.

Beren and Erik, both marked in Haumo's squad, were among them. Ussgarr was in worse condition, having lost his left hand, likely to the jaws of some Warrior bug. It was currently impossible to administer proper medical attention.

But even now, Haumo could barely recall what had happened. He vaguely remembered a massive fissure suddenly appearing in the ground, followed by a deafening roar, as if the earth itself had been split open to the marrow. Then came the blinding light and the surging psychic tide, as if the planet itself had been submerged in an ocean of mental power. Above, the six colossal Tyranid hive ships made this world seem to have fallen into the bizarre realm of the Warp.

Yet none of this was the most terrifying thing. The most terrifying thing was that their Chapter Master, their Lord Commander, had charged into the storm alone, and had not been heard from since.

Though Sorshyan had ordered them to cover his retreat, who would abandon their Chapter Master at such a time?

If something happened to Sorshyan, how could they face the other brothers of the Chapter? Tell them they had abandoned the Lord Commander to retreat?

All warriors who joined the 1st Company knew their duty. They were the Chapter Master's guard, the Lord Commander's retinue!

Haumo knew all too well the despondency and regret of the White Templars' Champion, Murad, when he joined the 1st Company. Because of their close relationship, he understood Murad's emotions at the time even better than others, how the intense sense of dereliction and frustration had tormented Murad for so long, the source of which was Randulf's death.

If something happened to Sorshyan, Haumo couldn't even imagine what would happen.

He was far more than just a Chapter Master, because he was not an inheritor in essence. The entire Chapter and Legion structure had been built by Sorshyan brick by brick. Almost all the warriors had been personally recruited by him. To use a somewhat inappropriate description, Sorshyan was the Primarch in the truest sense—at least Haumo himself had little concept of Xerses' existence. If he had to call someone 'father,' he would choose Sorshyan.

He believed that many in the Chapter felt the same way. Ustad, Oscar, Robin, and others had followed Sorshyan since childhood, growing step by step from boys to men, from warriors to commanders. Their world had been shaped by Sorshyan, including their future and their ideals. This meaning had long surpassed identities like 'Chapter Master' or 'Lord Commander'.

So, without any command from Mac, everyone knew what they had to do.

Forward, ever forward, no matter what hell lay ahead, they would stand with the Father of the Legion, fulfilling their duty to the death.

But when they actually moved, the difficulties were far greater than expected. After the blinding light and the earthquake, piercing screeches echoed from all directions.

Then they appeared, the endless Tyranid creatures surging forward, their numbers beyond calculation, perhaps millions, perhaps even billions, as if to engulf everything on the earth. The shrill sound of their running was like countless knives scraping against stone, as they lunged towards the only non-Tyranid thing in this land of destruction, this land of predation.

Thick smoke still filled the air, with fleeting glimpses of Tyranid flying creatures and sharp psychic lightning flickering in the clouds. The gunship squadrons had not provided support for a long time. Haumo guessed they might have greater troubles to deal with.

But the threat was not just the Tyranid creatures. As they tried to approach the writhing Tyranid tower, the ground beneath their feet continued to shake and rumble, threatening to crack open like a tearing wound, swallowing them into the darkness of the abyss.

But this could not stop their advance.

The Astral Knights continued to advance in the direction their Chapter Master had left, until they were tripped up by the endless Tyranid swarm.

They had to stop and establish a defense on a relatively stable high ground. The Terminators armed with heavy weapons opened fire on everything in front of them. Plasma guns howled, spewing scorching bolts that tore apart the crowded Warrior bug sea, while crackling melta guns unleashed waves of heat, striking the most ferocious Tyranids and turning them into corpses reeking of scorching heat.

As always, these carapace-clad, long-limbed creatures fearlessly launched mindless charges.

The battle quickly turned into a melee. The 1st Company's Terminators formed a wall of steel, behind which were the brothers of the 9th Company, all experienced veterans, forming combat squads to specifically clear out troublesome creatures.

Faced with overwhelming numbers, they were forced to fight almost back-to-back, despite killing thousands of Tyranids.

The Deathwatch were also fighting, and their situation was even worse. Most of them had been killed, leaving only six still standing. The Watch Master had been nearly killed in a fight with an Executioner, but he had still smashed the enemy's head with his power hammer, at the cost of having his stomach almost completely ripped open and his right shoulder nearly torn from his body.

Haumo had heard about the Ultramarines' experience during the First Tyrannic War, where their most elite 1st Company, also all Terminators, had been wiped out in the Tyranid onslaught.

Was his decades of Astartes life about to end here?

Haumo tried to push the thought away. He felt a surge of excitement as he swung his power sword, cutting into the neck of a screeching Warrior bug.

Dying like a hero seemed like a good choice.

Holding his breath, Haumo roared and kicked the dying Warrior bug away, sending it crashing into the surging mass of its brethren. Then a chipped scythe claw came at him, and he brushed it aside like an unwanted insect, piercing his opponent with a counterattack. Then he raised his left hand, firing the few remaining bullets into the thing's head.

The Sable Swords mostly did not bring spears this time, most had swords and shields, or power hammers, and a few used lightning claws, because everyone knew the fighting would be very 'crowded,' and spears were not a good choice.