Dawn, the first light of the day fell upon the rebel city, under the ember sky. Whistles rang across the lines, cannon fire boomed like thunder and aircraft engines howled through the air. All across the battle lines, loyalist troops were rushing into positions, boarding either aircraft transports or armoured troop transports. The first wave would consisted of the Black Korps, and it was here that I was boarding an Armored Assault Transport, along with the rest of my platoon. The last one on board was the Watchman before the door closed. With fifty men all crammed together, there was little room for manoeuvrability, and I could do nothing more than tightly grasping my firearm while waiting. I sang the Black Korps song in my head. A song not about glory or heroism, but about us.
'By every passing day, the ranks grew ever thinner. This is how it should be, here, corpses are winners.'
At some unheard command, the assault began as the machine began rumbling forward. The grinding noise of thousands of tanks rolling across the landscape was accompanied by the roar of fighters and bombers as they streaked through the air above, I observed from the roofless troop transport. The fireworks started, flame ripped through the skies. A mad dance erupted in the skies as the loyalist pilots tried to steer clear of the incoming fire.
Some pilots were not lucky, I watched a Gunship get its wing blown off, sending it on a wild spin through the air before coming down like a meteor towards the ground. I was not certain whether it was the gunship exploding I heard or if it was merely an artillery shell hitting its mark. But the air force was dishing out as good as they got, as above, hundreds of fighters unleashed their missile payload in a devastating barrage. I did not see the damage, but I sure as hell heard it as a huge procession of a cacophonic explosion shook the very ground.
'Survival of the fittest, our deaths have been assigned. And I chose mine.'
Though it seemed like the enemy was not down for the count just yet, as when the transport machine drew closer, an explosion just outside the transport alerted me of enemy return fire. A huge ball of fire suddenly rose from the ground next to the transport, along with bent metal pieces and human bodies. Another transport most have been hit pretty badly. Something ricocheted off the hull of the gorgon, causing it to shake violently and knocked a few unprepared soldiers off their feet.
'I inherit sins from those who came before us, our cursed bloodlines tainted to the core. From the dead world, the lesson we have learned: "Salvation lies in bolt and cogs of war." '
More explosions echoed from outside the transport, and I was sure I could at some points make out the distinguished sound of a tank going up in flames. But not once did I feel fear, not even as my transport was rocketed back and forth by glancing hits nor as the heavy stubbers mounted on it began opening fire. Fear was something I had never known, something I had never bothered to learn about. It was an emotion, and as the drill instructors back in training days had beaten into me, emotions only got in the way of your duties on the battlefield.
If there was one emotion that was accepted, or at the very least tolerated within the Korps, it was hate for your enemies. But I had never bothered with it. Why hold hate for something you were going to kill anyway?
But I did however felt a small amount of surprise when some kind of armour-piercing round punched through the front ramp of the transport and cut a bloody path through the packed crew compartment. Dozens of men were scythed down simply because they had no room to dodge. The soldier standing next to me got his arm and entire shoulder ripped off, spraying both of us with blood. The soldier collapsed to the floor on his knees, rapidly bleeding out. He looked up at me and said on a single sentence.
"I can't fight anymore." It meant more than that, and I understood the meaning. He could not fight anymore and would die soon anyway. But as long as he lived, he was in the way for those who could still fight. I brought up my gun and without so much as a second of consideration, plunged my bayonet into my comrades' throat and through his neck. A few gurgling noises slipped out of him before his lifeless body slid off of my bayonet. I knew him for months, he was a survivor, now he was gone. No one so much as glanced our way through the ordeal as I cleaned off the blood. I returned to waiting, never even mourning the comrade I had just killed.
'I know nothing of the trenches, I am to die on. Nothing of the causes I am born to fight for. Only that redemption lies in breaking opposition. Never pause in obtaining exoneration.'
The transport suddenly began tilting upwards, and the ground became more uneven if the numerous bumps were an indication. It could only mean one thing: we had reached the enemies' lines. The same thought raced through everyone on board, as lasguns were raised, bayonets were fastened and safeties were turned off. With the last rumble from its engines, the transport came to a lurching stop. Time slowed down, all grew quiet in my ears, each man held his breath. Then, the assault ramp was lowered and we the Black Korps were charging out of their transport. Straight into enemy fire.
'Not like the masses who live their life in gain. I am disillusioned. Arms wide opened I embrace my fate. My life for absolution.'
The first ten to clear the ramp went down within seconds, their bodies riddled with holes. But their deaths allowed for the next ten to advance even further before they too were gunned down. And through this maelstrom of las- and stubber fire I charged alongside my comrades, heedless of danger. A soldier in front of me got his head blown off, no doubt from autocannon fire. His body was about to topple over, I acted quickly and grabbed hold of it. I then charged on, using the body of his comrade as a meat shield.
'WE STRIDE TO HELL UNFLINCHING, WE DO NOT HESITATE! NO SURVIVAL INSTINCT: ONLY FAITH INATE!'
More soldiers were falling by the minute, but more just kept on coming. Finally, when his makeshift shield was about to fall apart from the number of shots it had taken, I threw it aside and came face to face with the rebels, holed up behind barricades made by sandbags and rocks. They were a pathetic sight, dressed in rags and whatever guardsmen armour they could scrape up. But while they stared in fear at me, I leapt right over their cover. My first kill was with a bayonet through the throat. The second was as I pulled out the bayonet and fired a trio of shots straight in the face of the one behind his first kill.
Another rebel aimed at him from the side, I threw myself forward while twisting around until I had the enemy in his sight again. I had fired off another four shots before he even hit the ground. The rebel went down, screaming in pain from the mortal wounds inflicted across his stomach and chest. I was back on my feet in no time, just in time to receive a rebel charging me with a bayonet while screaming like a madman. I easily swatted the weapon away with his own before driving the back end of his lasgun straight into the face of the rebel, breaking his nose and sending him flat on his back.
'THROUGHOUT PILE OF CORPSES, TRIUMPH WE SHALL GAIN. WHILE OUR CANONS RAIN FIRE, MAKE THE EARTH QUAKE!'
And execution shot to the head later and I was moving on to his next enemy. More Black Korps were now climbing over the barricades, and more rebels poured in to stem the flow. I drove my bayonet through the chest of one rebel, as the corpse fell over, it dragged his gun with it and left me unarmed as another one came at him. I sidestepped the bayonet thrust before he kicked the gun away. Stepping in close, I rammed my elbow into the rebel's throat, crushing his windpipe. One of my comrades was wrestling for control over a firearm with a rebel, I stepped up behind the rebel, snaked my arm around his neck, snap. Broke it. The comrade only gave a small nod of acknowledgement before rushing back into the fray.
'MARCHING TO THE TRENCHES, THEN CHARGING TO OUR DEMISE; NOTHING BUT GASMASK AND GUN TO UTILISE! I AM AN EXPENDABLE A TOOL FOR THE PLAN, TO LIVE AND DIE AT COMMAND!'
Another Death Korp rushed past me as a stubber round tore through his chest and he fell over. The fallen soldier's masked eyes landed on me, and seeing that I was unarmed, he reached out and offered his lasgun. I snatched it up and aimed the stubber wielding rebel who shot him. Five shots later, and he was down for sure. Without missing a beat, Keled charged at another rebel, ramming his bayonet into the guts and giving it a nice twist before kicking the rebel off of the bayonet.
Someone suddenly jumped onto my back and tried to strangle ms. I tried shaking the assailant off, but nothing worked, and his grip on my throat tightened. I collapsed to the ground on my back, the attacker upon me. Yet still, I refused to let go. It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe, and the attacker kept screeching in my ear. I suddenly smashed my helmeted head back, being rewarded with a sickening crack followed by a cry of pain. Not letting up in the slightest I rammed my head back again and again and again. Only when the fingers around his throat grew slack did he let up and staggered back up to his feet.
'ADVANCE UPON THE BATTLEFIELD AND WIN THIS THROUGH MY BLOOD! A WAR OF ATTRITION!'
I gave a glance at the cracked open skull of my attacker, hefted my gun and charged another rebel. I barreled over him before putting a single shot in his head, as he held up his hands as a sign of surrender.
The whirring of a chainsaw like sword suddenly reached my ears over the dim of battle, followed by the unmistakable sound of flesh being torn apart by the said weapon. Turning to where it was coming from, I found a rebel sergeant bisecting a soldier before gutting another one.
'TO HINDER THEIR PROGRESS, MY CARCASS ROTS IN MUD! A SUICIDE MISSION!'
No second thought, I charged towards the sergeant. Two rebels put themselves in my way. The first one was shot straight on the heart, a merciful death, while the second one received three shots to the guts, falling over and wailing in agony. But he did get off on shot that nailed me in the leg. Ignore the pain. I charged on. The sergeant set his eyes on me, and with a war cry charged.
I tried skewering him, but he sidestepped before bringing his chainsword in a decapitation arc, I dodged. The sergeant pushed on with a flurry of wild swings aimed at me, I kept dodging and ducking. I struck out, piercing the sergeant's leg before withdrawing out of range from his sword. The sergeant howled in pain and collapsed to one knee.
I wasn't given a chance to take advantage, but the sergeant furiously swung his roaring chainsword at him to keep him at a distance. Another rebel saw his superior's plight as he charged at me while screaming like a savage. I blocked the bayonet, stepped closer and with a push, rammed it in-between the legs of the rebel. He was never even given a chance to scream out in pain before an uppercut snapped his head back. I looked back. The sergeant was back up on his feet and was now facing me again with fury burning in his eyes.
"Death to the Loyalists!" he roared with all hatred he could muster, he charged at me, chainsword held in a two-handed grip. My answer was with a silent prayer to the Light before I charged at him. We were at each other within a matter of seconds, ready to end their our duel. It was then that I did something unexpected: I threw myself forward and glided along the ground on my knees.
It did not take me very far, but it got me underneath the sergeant's defences, I rammed the bayonet upwards. It pierced right underneath his ribs and punctured a lung. I pushed the back end of my gun against the ground to be steady, then threw the sergeant right over myself.
The man landed face-first into the stone ground, dazed and suffocating in his blood. I wasted no time in getting back up on my feet and placed three shots right in the sergeant's chest.
'TO BEAT THE CURSE OF LIFE I MUST SEEK VINDICATION. IT WAS NOT MY DECISION. AS I STEP FORWARD, I FEEL NO HESITATION AMONGST MY DIVISION!'
"Retreat! Retreat!" the call suddenly rang out across the blood-soaked battlefield, but it was not coming from the loyalists. Within moments, the rebel forces were in a panicked and disarrayed retreat. No, that was not correct; it was not a retreat, it was a rout. Black Korps troops rushed past Keled in pursuit of their enemy, and Keled just hefted his lasgun again and ran after them. The first line of the enemy had fallen, but there was still a whole city left to capture.
Deeper and deeper into the city, the Black Korps push the rebels. On many occasion, they would try to turn around and fight back, clogging up the tight hallways with the dead and the dying. We were relentless with our attack and the rebels were always forced to flee again. It was through these narrow corridors that I charged along. My helmet was dented, my greatcoat was torn and bloodied, and I had developed a noticeable limp in my right leg, courtesy of the stubber round embedded there.
'Just a mere child, born and trained in a flash Raised as a brushstroke in the death's portrait of ash. I am expendable a tool for the plans. To kill as is needed and to die as the demands. The signal was given, from the trenches, we dash I see bodies scatter and spread as forces clash.'
Never did I slow down, never did I allow the pain from my wounds and aching muscles to affect him. I was going to fight on to the bitter end, and if it cost me my life then so be it, at least then he would die fighting on his legs. The Black Korp way. More gunfire suddenly echoed from up ahead, the rebels must have found their dropped balls again and turned around to face them for like the tenth time.
Coming up to a sudden left turn in the hallway, I found about a dozen soldiers dead out in the open, most of them shredded into chunks of meat, with more crowding to get a clear shot at the rebels. At the head was a Watchman, seemingly debating whether to play it safe or just charge headlong into enemy fire. A sudden weak groan right beneath I alerted him that someone was still alive. That someone happened to be a wounded rebel.
"Mercy…" he pleaded with outstretched hands from where he lay on the cold floor. He received no mercy from me, I rammed the bayonet right through his skull. No prisoners, no mercy, that was how the war was fought.
"For the Light! Charge!" the Watchman shouted, a sabre and laspistol held high as he charged around the corner. He was swiftly followed by the rest of the soldiers, and I found myself charging along. As he rounded the corner, I found the rebels had set up a heavy stubber that was spewing out rounds as fast as possible. Las- and stubber fire raced back and forth in the hallway and soldiers fell in droves on both sides. But even with the heavy stubber, the rebels could not stem the onslaught coming at them. I charged on, something ricocheted off my helmet, a las round hit me square in the stomach, didn't penetrate my armour as another las round burrowed its way into my left shoulder right beneath the shoulder pad.
Seconds later, the two sides met in a clash of flesh and steel. The soldier in front of me was turned to bloody confetti by the heavy stubber firing at point-blank range. No hesitation, I leapt atop the heavy stubber and fired six shot into the gunner before coming down bayonet first into the loader. Kicked aside the body and drove the bayonet into the side of another rebel. The man howled in pain right before three other bayonets pierced his chest and he was thrown aside. Another rebel made a swing with a sword at me, I ducked and swept the man's legs out from underneath him. The moment I landed on the ground I held my firearm at height.
Within minutes, the rebels had all been massacred and the Black Korps moved onward. What they found beyond the rebel line was a golden door, no doubt leading into the throne room. There was pushing it open, it was barricaded from the other side.
"Demo charges to the front! Now!" someone shouted. Seconds later, a path had been cleared to the doors that a pair of engineers were rushing along. The soldiers withdrew to a safe distance as the engineers began setting up the explosives.
"Demo charges placed, sir!" one of them shouted before the sprinted away from the door. "Fire in the hole!" that was the only warning given before with a push of a button, the doors went up in smoke and flames. Without even waiting for the smoke to clear, the Black Korps charged headlong into the unknown. But what we found on the other side was not what we had expected. No rebel soldiers were blocking their path, because they were all dead. Their blood stained all surfaces of the throne room, and many of their corpses were placed on pikes in the centre of the room, where a robed man was standing inside the foulest of symbols known to man.
The Demon star.