The Emperor’s Angel of Death

“Men of Orpheus!”

The general, wielding a power sword, roared as he leaped onto a tank, facing the enemy pyramid.

Before him, his entire army was committed to battle, locked in a relentless fight against the alien.

“Victory is at hand! No retreat! No mercy! For the Emperor, the Imperium, and Orpheus!”

Those closest to the general cheered wildly, surging forward.

The limited number of heavy servitors were also thrown into the fray, their lower tracks emitting a deafening noise as the plasma cannons in their hands began to charge and glow.

As the infantry approached within a few hundred meters of the pyramid, the ground ahead erupted, disgorging a swarm of deadly Necron constructs. Immense bodies of the stalkers swept through the ranks, tearing apart the lines, while countless scarabs dragged men to the ground, tearing the flesh from their bones.

Responding to them were flamethrowers and fragmentation grenades, while the heavy servitors' plasma cannons continuously bombarded the constructs emerging from the terrain, completely disregarding the possibility of overheating explosions.

On both flanks, Kataphron Battle Servitors and soldiers wielding heavy weapons continued their charge against a storm of Gauss fire, even though the Gauss weaponry tore many of them to pieces. Within minutes, thousands had fallen. Smoke filled the battlefield, and streaks of sickly green lightning weapons cut through the ranks, reaping lives.

Relying on determination and courage, the Orphean Death Korps still flooded the battlefield like a tide. They stepped over the wreckage of scarabs and arrived at the towering base of the pyramid. Immortals continued to resist. Many were felled by the ferocious crossfire, and their Gauss weapons continued to kill, but for every human soldier killed, several more took their place.

Marcus still held the banner high. He was incredibly lucky; he had not been killed or injured, perhaps because he carried the banner, and soldiers spontaneously gathered around him, shielding him from deadly attacks.

By this point, the sense of emptiness had receded, replaced by a different kind of fervor that filled his chest.

Everyone advanced shoulder to shoulder. The time for shooting was long over. There was still sporadic gunfire behind them, but the battle had closed to close quarters. Many picked up swords or entrenching tools.

A melee was about to begin. It would be brutal, devoid of skill, relying entirely on courage.

And in such a battle, the banner would play a crucial role. In the chaos, soldiers would rely on the banner to orient themselves and gather around him.

Soon, the metal skeleton aliens were right before them. They looked so thin and fragile, but everyone knew that metal was harder than bone and flesh. What they were about to do was, in a word, like striking a stone with an egg.

“Charge!!!”

The soldiers roared like bulls, pushing forward with all their might. Gauss fire struck again, killing another batch of men, and then the two sides collided.

Entrenching tools, chainswords, and bayonets hammered frantically at the defenders as if they were pieces of metal on an anvil, ready to be smashed to pieces.

The pyramid was close now, and on the left flank, the assault troops had almost fought their way to the first level of steps. In the chaos, Marcus seemed to glimpse the alien commander. It was almost at the highest point of the pyramid, its metal cloak billowing in the strong winds caused by the explosions, surrounded by its bodyguards wielding shields and gleaming all over.

“You bastard! Die!”

A roar of rage drew Marcus's attention. Before him, a soldier, wielding a chainsword from who knows where, roared furiously. An Immortal tried to smash him with its weapon but was one step too late, the chainsword tore through its head, and it fell to the ground.

But another bladed weapon suddenly crunched down from the soldier's left shoulder, almost severing into his chest. The soldier screamed, slammed the chainsword into another Immortal's head, then knocked the opponent down and hacked at the alien’s neck with the chainsword again and again until his own blood splattered all over the limp alien before collapsing.

Marcus realized that he was in the center of the melee.

“Officer—”

Just then, a man crawled to Marcus's feet, grabbing his leg, startling Marcus, who raised his sword.

Then he noticed that it was one of his own. This man had been pierced from neck to stomach by some weapon. His intestines were spilling out, and he was babbling horribly.

“.I, killed, I, alien, destroyed.”

Realizing that the other person had mistaken him for an officer, Marcus quickly nodded in respect, then swiftly delivered a precise strike, sending the man to the side of the Throne. This was the duty of all officers, even though he wasn't one, but he felt he should fulfill this obligation.

“May the Throne accept your soul.”

Marcus mumbled, then strode forward.

In every direction, the Immortals' defenses were faltering. They were being hit hard on every front and were finally pushed onto the pyramid.

“Charge! Charge up and destroy it!”

As they came to this mysterious alien structure, the black steps and stone walls were already covered with potholes. Traces of earlier shelling were everywhere, and the ruined archways were filled with metal wreckage. Because the crowd was so dense, it was hard to keep his footing. Marcus often felt himself staggering as the crowd around him pushed him forward.

The steps he was on were as wide as two tanks, but because of the limited space, so many people had to squeeze onto it. Some engineers had already begun looking for weak points to place melta bombs.

On the steps on the other side of the pyramid, the sounds of battle could already be heard. The defenders may have been driven back, but resistance was clearly continuing.

After some pushing and cursing, Marcus finally reached the second level of the pyramid. He stuck the banner in a crevice and waved his sword.

“Brothers! Give it your all! We're about to win!”

Although filled with noise and chaos, the pyramid still felt gloomy and lonely. The dull black rock was its main body, and even stranger was that each side was decorated with narrow windows. The only thing to be thankful for was that once they were on it, its weapons seemed to no longer work.

From the ground, this place looked like a large group of thick towers, everything was tall, narrow, and torturous, and the weapons could not be seen at all.

Only at the spire, a strange bulbous object stood majestically, emitting a cold green light from within.

The soldiers struggled to climb the stairs, every bridge, every arch, every pillar.

They desperately tried to attack every defensive position, and were only pushed to the next after all the aliens were killed. Marcus looked back, the vanguard was still behind him.