"Commander!"
"Commander!"
Dante felt someone shaking him and slowly opened his eyes.
He found himself surrounded by walls and corridors of flesh, as if he were inside some massive creature.
In an instant, Dante recalled what had happened—a colossal beast had erupted from below deck, swallowing many, including himself and those now around him. The air was thick with permeating toxins, powerful enough to seep through even their power armor's defenses. Though the venom wasn't lethal to Space Marines, it could render them unconscious for several minutes. This explained why someone had roused Dante from his stupor.
"The swarm has discovered our presence. That blazing one is fending them off outside the ship."
"We're underground, near the aft section of the vessel."
"Our psyker managed to slay the creature that swallowed us, but he's lost contact with us, seemingly ensnared by something unknown."
A member of the Sanguinary Guard quickly briefed Dante on the situation. After a brief calculation, Dante made the call: "We must press forward and eliminate the Swarm Lord—swiftly and without delay."
He took a quick headcount: half of the Sanguinary Guard, three company commanders, and the companies they commanded.
Their numbers were sufficient.
Dante led them through the fleshy corridors until they reached an opening to the outside. Emerging from the mouth of the beast, they found themselves in a large chamber. It was spacious, covered with mucous membranes, with fleshy filaments binding columns and wreckage together.
For now, the chamber was silent. But not for long.
"They're coming!" A member of the Guard reported, his Terminator armor's sensors detecting the approaching swarm.
Simultaneously, muffled thuds echoed from the pipes overhead, and outside the chamber doors, the screeching grew louder. It was clear that endless numbers of creatures were converging upon them, approaching from every conceivable route.
A soldier armed with a flamer moved to the pipe outlet, unleashing a plume of fire. Twenty others wielding meltaguns and assault cannons formed a firing line at the entrance, while others fanned out to cover the perimeter.
The swarm arrived in waves. The corridor to the door filled with countless warriors, evolved into hulking forms armored in thick carapaces. The assault cannons could pierce this armor, though it demanded greater ammunition, while the meltaguns could sear through both the carapace and the flesh beneath.
They opened fire, halting the swarm's advance.
The battle at the door was holding steady; at the pipes, even more so.
Only frail termagants or gene-stealers could fit through, and two soldiers rotating the flamer sufficed to intercept them.
But this reprieve didn't last. A deep rumble shook the chamber, followed by a piercing roar from the far end of the corridor. A larger, more imposing tyrant surged into view—the Swarm Lord itself.
The meltaguns left smoldering craters in its hide, with blood vaporizing before it could even spill, yet these attacks only provoked the creature. It charged the line of twenty men, crashing through their formation, its four bone-blades lashing out with terrifying speed, slicing ten Space Marines cleanly in half.
As the creature's blades swung again, Dante surged forward, weapon in hand, intercepting each attack, slicing off one of its massive arms.
"Leave this one to me!" Dante shouted to his allies, directing them to focus on the swarm.
Thus began Dante's duel with the Swarm Lord.
In the fleeting moments of observation, the monster's strikes seemed both swift and unrelenting, carrying a deadly force impossible to resist, yet Dante parried each blow, wounding the creature in return.
Since becoming a Space Marine, he had waged war for fifteen centuries; though aged, he still remained a formidable force.
Though Dante inflicted wound after wound, the tyrant learned swiftly, adapting its tactics to match Dante's every move. Soon, it drove him back, each arm wielding its bone-blades with perfect execution. Dante found himself wholly defensive, forced to retreat with each blow.
The Sanguinary Guard noticed Dante's predicament and attempted to aid him, but the swarm quickly blocked their way, obscuring Dante from view.
For three long minutes, Dante fought on the defensive, retreating and parrying, awaiting a single chance. Finally, the tyrant's relentless strikes faltered, if only for an instant. Dante seized the opening, thrusting his weapon toward the beast's throat.
Just as his weapon was about to pierce, he glimpsed a bone-blade slashing toward him from below. He hesitated—then abandoned the instinct to retreat and drove his attack forward.
Two sounds pierced the air, the sound of flesh pierced by steel. Blood gushed from the tyrant's neck, but Dante too bore a fatal wound to his abdomen. As the anguished cries of the Sanguinary Guard echoed around him, Dante disappeared beneath the swarm.
…
An unknown length of time passed.
Dante opened his eyes, enveloped in darkness. Soon, light glimmered at the edges of his vision, and he felt himself lifted by unseen hands.
White wings entered his view, enfolding him. A beautiful face leaned over him.
"Father…" Dante's voice rasped with dry reverence.
Sanguinius smiled and nodded.
Dante opened his mouth, and words of grief and hardship spilled forth, describing the weight of Baal's survival, of burdens that choked the very breath from his chest.
He spoke until there were no words left. Sanguinius listened quietly.
At last, Dante looked to his father, pleading: "Take me with you… Let me remain at your side…"
"I know you've endured great hardship," Sanguinius murmured, voice soft and warm, "but the battle is not yet over. Your mission has not yet ended."
Dante tried to speak again, but felt himself sinking from his father's arms, his vision fading. Sanguinius's face grew distant, receding until Dante plummeted with a sudden, jarring force and opened his eyes with a gasp.
The filthy, fetid chamber greeted him. Around him, the Sanguinary Guard held their ground, carving a path through the relentless swarm, securing a perimeter.
Dante had returned, his wounds healed, though his armor bore the marks of the fatal blow.