Warhammer 40k: Ours Journey

Chapter 39: War!

"..."

Tyberos gave a silent nod, accepting Ramesses's arrangement.

The Sharks dispersed with a practiced self-awareness, silently finding their places among the equally silent ancient warriors. Te Kahurangi, standing to the side, carefully noted Ramesses's words. He had noticed that this psyker-master was obsessed with the number 13 in everything he did, and would do his best to avoid the numbers 6, 7, 8, and 9. He made a mental note to suggest to Lord Tyberos later that they should expand the Carcharodons to thirteen companies, each with one hundred and thirty men.

"Akia, and you, Shal," Tyberos said, his gaze sweeping the ranks and landing on the two who were least inclined to fall in line. "You two cannot go."

"What?" Akia, who had been cracking his knuckles in anticipation, froze, staring at his Chapter Master in shock.

One of the time-honored ways of bullying a fellow Space Marine: leaving them out of a fight.

"My Lord!" Akia became anxious, pushing through the ranks with lightning speed to stand before Tyberos.

"Two veterans from the First Company will take your place," Tyberos replied bluntly. "You two have not hidden your... talents."

"..."

Hearing this, Akia felt a pang of regret. He had always taken pride in overcoming his base instincts, in not letting his bloodline burn away his self-control. He never thought that this very same bloodline would now bar him from the battlefield.

"Let them follow me. It's not going to be quiet where I'm going," Karna said, his voice gentle. He had never been fond of wearing a helmet, and his pale, handsome face was fully exposed in the dim light. To Akia, he looked like an angel. "But remember, don't walk in front of me."

Akia and Shal nodded eagerly. Formation didn't matter, as long as there were xenos to kill. The two disappointed First Company Sharks reluctantly stepped back.

"Are you ready?" Arthur asked, facing the corridor that was now swallowed by shadow. He activated the disruption field on his blade.

The Drukhari were clever. They had cut the power and destroyed parts of the通路, creating a battlefield perfectly suited for them, yet without enraging the Archmagos. They had maintained that delicate balance. The Archmagos just wanted these troublesome pests gone, and the xenos wanted to achieve their objective without a fight. This mutual compromise had now given the transmigrators ample time to prepare.

"Ready." Romulus shook the condensation from his hair and, with some annoyance, decided to put his helmet back on.

Ramesses, for his part, theatrically placed his hands on the coffin, channeling the unique psychic dread of the Slaaneshi daemon within. "Do not look at me," he warned. In the psychic view, a nauseating pink mist seeped from the cracks in the iron coffin, suppressed by psychic power into the glyphs on its surface, brewing a deadly vibration. The corridor grew colder.

Then, the hololithic projections compiled by Romulus were precisely transmitted to each Shark's receiver, showing the individual route for their small squad.

"Karna will assault the core area, tear open a breach in their defenses, and create an opportunity. Tyberos and Arthur will conduct a high-speed patrol along the routes I have provided. Upon encountering a xenos Archon, immediately disperse its escort. All squads, advance according to your routes. The veterans will use their las-sights to point out the enemy's direction. All squads..."

Every warrior silently watched the data before them, listening to the voice in their ears. The time spent studying the Codex had not been in vain. Tactical knowledge flashed through Romulus's mind, transformed into the most concise, professional terminology, and transmitted to the Sharks who needed it.

Such a detailed mission plan was a novel experience for the Carcharodons, and it gave them a strange sense of security. In the past, their command was never so disciplined. It was: objective, location, then kill. The process was left entirely to individual experience and improvisation.

This was also Romulus's first time commanding a real battle, but he felt no anxiety. He had a wallhack, he had run the simulations, he had a domain-wide debuff on the enemy, and he had a detailed battle plan. He could monitor the entire battlefield at any time.

Theoretically, as long as Karna, Tyberos, and Arthur—the three squads with the most shock-power—could tear open three breaches as planned, the subsequent multi-squad assault would create localized numerical superiority, allowing them to annihilate the majority of the enemy's effective forces before they could even react. The rest would be a pure mop-up operation. As long as they weren't terribly unlucky, Astartes in a many-on-one situation could easily crush these Drukhari.

Romulus trusted himself, he trusted his companions, and he trusted the strength the Carcharodons had forged in a sea of blood and mountain of corpses.

His job was to point these killing machines in the direction of the enemy, to arrange every detail of the battlefield, and to transmit his own certainty of victory to every single man. Because the warriors believed they were ancient heroes of war, then that is what they would be.

"This is the first time I have commanded such a battle. Allow me to witness your skills. Allow us to learn from you. And I ask you to place your lives in my hands, without reservation."

Romulus's voice echoed in the ears of every Shark, as a shadow from the Warp cloaked their encircled souls.

There was no sound in the comms.

He felt a sense of calm. The Sharks' calm was like the ticking of a clock on a high-explosive charge, like the storm about to break from a leaden sky. In the closed mouths of every warrior, sharp, pointed teeth were grinding against each other.

It was the best possible answer.

Romulus knew what these warriors needed to hear, and he knew what he needed to give them.

"Then let us advance. I will bring you victory, and the chance to offer the next victory to the Emperor."

If he was to take up this mantle, he had to bear its weight. His voice was strong and resonant.

"Show me if the Carcharodons are still as skilled in battle as their Terran ancestors."

That single sentence brought the squad's morale to its absolute peak.

Servo-skulls flashed, and the vital facilities in the Ark's aft section were shielded by steel structures that slammed down from the other end of the ship.

"For the Blood of Sanguinius!"

With a glorious roar, the dark-armored Angel charged first, moving with a speed that even the Emperor's other Angels could barely follow,遁入 darkness and sounding the horn of attack.

An invisible shockwave, deep pink in the psychic view, spread out, passing through the equally invisible Sharks.

WHIRRR—

Chain-teeth spun. Tyberos broke into a sprint, dark shadows coiling around him, silencing the footfalls of his terrifying charge.

Over a hundred warriors, at the exact same moment, plunged into the shadows, following the guidance of their routes, their eyes, now covered by the endless dark, tinged with a terrifying, pale light.

Let them kill the enemy in the swiftest, most brutal way possible, and seize victory once more.

And this time, they fought not just for survival, not just to annihilate the foe.

They fought to prove to the ancients, who had been absent from this galaxy for ten thousand years...

That they still had the strength to defend humanity from a universe of endless horrors!

(End of Chapter)