===Maximus===
Three days had passed since the siege against the Xenos began, and Maximus found himself growing increasingly bored with the campaign. What had once seemed like an intriguing challenge had turned out to be little more than a pitiful slaughter. Each encampment or fortress they encountered crumbled easily before their might. The three Astartes had even begun to discuss among themselves how wasteful the whole operation was, as they tore through the Xenos defenses without breaking a sweat.
Yet, despite the ease of their conquest, none of them seemed to mind the simplicity. If anything, there was a perverse satisfaction in the relentless carnage. Maximus knew that his brothers reveled in the destruction, and he was no different. The sounds of battle, the shrieks of the Xenos as they fell beneath the weight of their bolter fire, the splintering of alien technology – it was all music to their ears.
What truly impressed Maximus, however, was his Brother Sebastian. The Black Templar had proven himself not only capable of commanding with lethal precision but also of leading with a fervor that one would expect from a Chaplain. Sebastian fought on the front lines alongside his warriors, never once shying away from the brutality of the battlefield. He preached the Emperor's word with an intensity that seemed to stir the men under his command. For Sebastian, the Emperor was not just a figurehead; he was a living God, worthy of reverence and devotion. Maximus could see how the Death Watch had grown under his leadership. His belief in the Emperor as a divine being echoed through his every action, every sermon, and the men followed him, eager to share in the fervor of his faith.
Maximus and Raxor, however, had their own views. Maximus, while not as devout as Sebastian, still held the belief that the Emperor was a God, unlike the rest of his chapter. However, he didn't accept the traditional doctrine of apotheosis. To Maximus, the Emperor's ascension had not been completed. The Emperor was, in his view, in a perpetual state of limbo—a being caught between the mortal realm and the divine, somewhere between demi-god and full divinity. A strange, unfinished ascension that kept him forever in a middle ground.
Raxor, on the other hand, had little patience for such theological debates. He simply believed that the Emperor was what he was. The Emperor had not declared himself as anything other than the ruler of mankind, and until such time came that the Emperor would speak for himself, Raxor cared little for the opinions of others on the matter. He was a pragmatist, focused on the here and now, and the Emperor's status was irrelevant to the mission at hand.
Maximus was shaken from his thoughts as the rumbling of the Thunderhawk's engines signaled their arrival at the next target. The ship descended onto the barren wasteland that marked one of the last known hideouts of the Jawas outside of the cities. This was to be the next phase of their operation, and Maximus had no doubts that it would be as easy as the others. The Xenos, despite their initial resistance, had proven to be no match for the might of the Astartes.
The ramp of the Thunderhawk hissed open, and Maximus was the first to step out onto the hot sand, his power armor clanking with the sound of authority. He felt the weight of his presence as his boots sunk into the earth. Behind him followed Bo-Katan, and then the Mandalorian warrior whom Sebastian had appointed as his second in command. Bo-Katan had proven herself, her relentless determination and skill in battle complementing the Astartes' own strength. Next came Sebastian, and finally, Raxor.
"How do you think the natives will feel about us taking the slaughter into the cities?" Raxor's voice was low, but it carried an edge of curiosity as he stood beside Maximus. The two of them watched as the Jawas in the distance scrambled around in a chaotic frenzy, their panicked shouts echoing through the air. The sudden influx of ships and soldiers had thrown the primitive creatures into a wild disarray. They didn't know what to make of the situation—frightened, disoriented, and desperate. It was almost comical how they reacted.
Maximus scanned the horizon, eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. He observed their frantic movements, their disorganized, jittery actions. The Jawas were nothing more than a nuisance, scattered like insects, barely aware of the danger closing in on them. But something caught his eye at that moment—one of them, hoisted what appeared to be a missile launcher.
The alien shouted something in its incomprehensibly disgusting language, a shrill, guttural command to its comrades. It brought the weapon up, aiming it with surprising precision. But Maximus could see the mistake coming before it even happened. The missile launcher discharged with a loud whine, only for the missile to fire backwards into the center of their encampment. The blast sent the Jawas tumbling in all directions, adding even more chaos to the already overwhelming pandemonium.
Maximus couldn't help but watch the absurdity unfold, his mouth curling into a thin line of amusement.
Raxor, who had been silently observing the same spectacle, let out a snort and lowered his heavy bolter. "Now I'm just starting to feel bad for them."
Maximus chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "They may be pathetic, but they're still a threat." His tone turned colder, his voice carrying a sharp edge.
As if on cue, Sebastian stepped up beside them, his power shield clasped firmly in his left hand, the hilt of his sword sheathed within the shield. He cast a disdainful glance at the writhing chaos below them, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the miserable creatures.
"They are aliens," He said, his voice a commanding baritone. "They do not deserve our pity, or our mercy."
His gaze lingered on the pathetic scene before them—torn between amusement and a cold satisfaction. The Jawas, despite their disarray, were still dangerous in their own ignorant way. But their fate was sealed. They were simply too weak, too primitive to stand against the might of the Astartes. Even their weapons, as rudimentary as they were, posed little threat.
Maximus, still watching the survivors stumble and flee, simply nodded in agreement with Sebastian. "No mercy," he muttered. "Their screams will echo as a reminder to any who would dare stand against us."
Raxor shrugged, lifting his bolter again as he prepared for what came next. "Then let it be so."
The cold efficiency of the Astartes could already be felt in the air as they readied themselves. Their mission was clear, and it would be carried out with the precision only the Emperor's finest could deliver. The Jawas might have once thought themselves safe, hidden within the remnants of their broken cities, but that illusion was about to shatter. The slaughter was about to continue.
===
The thunder of Astartes boots pounding against the sand and stone echoed like a death toll as the three Space Marines and their Death Watch entourage descended upon the last of the Jawa settlements. The day had been long, and the suns hung low in the sky, casting a blood-red hue over the barren wasteland. The Jawas, though once desperate, now felt the true weight of their doom. Their pathetic attempts to flee, their futile efforts to organize some semblance of defense, all came to nothing in the face of the Emperor's wrath.
Maximus led the charge, his immense form a tower of wrath, the symbol of his Chapter emblazoned upon his armor. His bolter roared to life, the sharp cracks of explosive rounds tearing through the air, each shot sending a Jawa into the air in a shower of blood and viscera. The alien creatures screamed in terror as they tried to scatter, but they were too slow, too weak, and the Astartes were unstoppable. The Death Watch followed closely behind, their own weapons blazing as the walls of the settlement began to crumble beneath the weight of their firepower.
To the left of Maximus, Raxor was a fountain of destruction, his heavy bolter churning through the air with brutal precision. He fired in sweeping arcs, cutting down anything that dared move in his path. Jawas were shredded by the torrents of explosive rounds, their bodies torn apart as though they were little more than fragile bags of flesh and bone. Raxor laughed darkly as the Xenos crumpled to the ground in bloody heaps.
Behind them, Sebastian and the Death Watch followed with ruthless efficiency. The Black Templar's sword flashed as he carved his way through the settlement, his power shield a shield of doom as he bashed aside any Jawa foolish enough to approach him. His blade cut through them like a scythe through wheat, cleaving bodies in two with ease. Each stroke was methodical, precise, a testament to the Black Templar's unyielding sense of duty. His every swing was a prayer, a devotion to the Emperor and his eternal crusade.
The Jawas, in their terror, attempted to retaliate. One, larger than the others, took aim with a crude, hand-held energy weapon, its flickering beam shooting towards Raxor's chest. But the shot was as laughable as the creature itself. Raxor turned with predatory precision, his bolter raised, and in one fluid motion, he squeezed the trigger. The blast from his bolter sent the Jawa flying backward, its body torn apart by the sheer force of the explosion. The Jawas had no chance—no hope.
Maximus' mind was sharp with the clarity of battle. He surveyed the carnage as he advanced, his bolter never ceasing its relentless fire. But now, he switched tactics. His boots ground against the sand as he leapt into the air before slamming through a sand crawler, exiting the other side with ease. He aimed his bolter, and the recoil of the weapon seemed to merge with the thundering rush of air. He released a barrage that tore through the very heart of the settlement, the buildings buckling under the force of the explosions. Jawas were flung through the air like ragdolls, their limbs shattered by the sheer violence.
Sebastian's voice rang out, carrying across the battlefield. "For the Emperor!" His battle cry was a roar that stirred the hearts of the Death Watch around him, filling them with a fervor to match the Black Templar's zeal as they began shouting as well.
"For the Emperor!" They shouted.
The Death Watch moved in lockstep, unwavering, their weapons blazing as they eradicated the last of the alien filth. Blasters and Vibroblades, sang their deadly hymns. Xenos blood stained the ground, and the once-thriving settlement was now nothing but a ruin of smoldering wreckage and corpses.
Maximus landed with a crash, the ground beneath him cracking from the force. He advanced without hesitation, firing at anything that moved. His eyes burned with the fires of war as he hunted down the last few Jawas attempting to escape into the city ruins. None were spared. They could not outrun the Astartes, nor could they hide. His bolter cracked again, and another Jawa's head erupted in a burst of gore.
Behind them, Raxor continued to laugh, his bolter relentless in its fusillade. "Weaklings. They thought they could stand against us." His voice was filled with contempt, and his heavy bolter sang its death song with a ferocity that mirrored the brutality of their assault.
Sebastian was the last to reach the core of the settlement, his power shield raised to block the incoming fire of the few surviving Jawas who had hidden within the remains of a shattered building. The energy blasts ricocheted off his shield, and he strode forward like an unstoppable juggernaut. His sword, cleaved through the air with an unnatural precision, cutting through their ranks with surgical strikes. Each strike was a prayer to the Emperor, and with every body that fell to his blade, he felt the weight of his duty.
"Die, filth!" he shouted, his voice carrying across the battlefield, ringing with the fury of his faith. The remaining Jawas were swept aside, their pitiful resistance crushed beneath the might of the Emperor's will.
Maximus wiped the blood from his faceplate, his armor streaked with crimson as he turned to survey the destruction they had wrought. The settlement, once a pitiful but functional place, was now nothing but a charred ruin. The few survivors, their legs broken or their bodies shattered, lay twitching on the ground, their fate sealed. There were no prisoners here—only the dead.
He looked at Sebastian, and for a moment, there was silence between them. Then, Maximus nodded.
"It is done!," The Black Templar Exclaimed, holding his arms wide.
"The Emperor's justice is absolute." His sword hummed with the energy of the battlefield, ready for the next challenge.
And in the distance, the last remnants of the Jawas' civilization burned, their bodies lost to the firestorm that had consumed their kind. The Astartes had come to end them, and they had done so with unrelenting brutality.
The Xenos were no more.
===
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