POV Boarding Team
After walking for several dozen meters, Gilbert suddenly stopped. The column froze, readying for battle, but no sound came from the side tunnels, and the weapon augurs remained silent.
The sergeant touched the blade tip to the wall. A groan sounded. Richard couldn't believe his eyes — suddenly, the entire corridor began to move, groaning like some ancient creature. A wave of contractions passed through what had previously seemed like walls. Thick slime dripped from the ceiling, and the floor trembled, as if trying to shake off intruders.
"Corruption," Gilbert said with disgust. He pronounced the word as though it burned his palate. "This is what happens to those who reject the Emperor!"
Richard stepped closer. A horrific sight opened before him.
Directly in the wall, in folds of fat, rotting flesh covered in scabs, hung a man. Fragments of clothing barely covered his nakedness. Judging by the heretical symbols on the rags, he was a member of the crew. The heretic's legs and arms smoothly transitioned into red flesh, merging with it in skin and muscle.
Pulsing black tentacles, like worms, clung to the traitor, piercing the body where veins and vessels were closest to the surface. The pale, bloodless face of the man was covered in a grayish film, and his features were blurred, as if the heretic was melting like wax under the midday sun.
The man struggled to lift his head and fixed a dull gaze on the sergeant.
"Help," the heretic stammered. "End... me..."
"You do not deserve the Emperor's Mercy," Gilbert replied harshly. "You chose to ally with dark forces, and you chose your fate. Now suffer, but remember: your suffering is nothing compared to what awaits you at the Emperor's judgment!"
The heretic began to cry. Tiny tears ran down his face, washing away the film and skin, exposing the bleeding flesh beneath.
"Maybe we should just kill him?" Richard felt disgust. "He's a heretic anyway, and we destroy traitors wherever we find them. What's the difference if he's armed or not?"
"Death will be his relief," the sergeant turned away from the man. "I will not give a traitor such a gift. After the battle, we will cleanse this place with thrice-blessed prometium, but for now, we have other tasks. Squad, cease talking! Continue moving!"
"I heard something," Ulrich raised his weapon. "Enemy approaching!"
"Scatter!" Gilbert ordered.
The Space Marines instantly took positions, pointing their bolters at the side corridors.
Richard knelt and racked the bolt, chambering a round. In the distance, he heard a heavy, rhythmic footstep, as if something large was racing toward them, stomping with heavy boots. The sergeant stood beside him, pulling his sword back. Just a moment later, so short that Richard couldn't even inhale, a heretic appeared from around the corner.
Clad in cobalt armor of an outdated model, the traitor was enormous. His worn helmet had curved horns that scraped the ceiling. From the narrow facial visor jutted four short tusks — symbols of unholy power. On his forehead, an eight-pointed Chaos Star was expertly etched, covered in silver. The lenses of the helmet glowed with a cold green fire.
The power unit on the heretic's back snarled with dragon-head pipes that opened and closed their mouths in rhythm with the Space Marine's steps. A short cloak made of human skin, with faces contorted in death throes, hung from the traitor's shoulders.
Attached to the traitor's richly adorned golden belt were a bolter and a tactical knife. But not only weapons found their place on his waist. Chains with censers in the shape of demonic faces and embalmed heads of Eldar and Space Marines hung from his belt, clinking with his movements.
Amazed, Richard, who had never seen a traitor legionnaire before, froze, wasting precious time. But the sergeant reacted instantly. He swiftly cut off the heretic's path. With a shield raised high, Gilbert compressed like a spring and slammed into the traitor, knocking him to the ground.
"Your last words, heretic?!" Gilbert roared, raising his power sword above the fallen enemy.
"My word is — not today!" the traitor raised his hands. "Nihili igni'ar!"
A bolt of lightning shot from the sorcerer's fingertips, crackling in unimaginable warp colors. It struck the sergeant, enveloping Gilbert in immaterium discharges, then leapt to a distant Space Marine, turning him to ash.
The sergeant dropped his weapon and grabbed his head with both hands. A chain reaction of mutations destroyed him from within. His flesh swelled.
The ceramite cracked, and sticky fluid splattered out, gluing Gilbert to the floor.
The sergeant screamed in agony and then went silent, freezing like a twisted statue.
Richard snapped out of his stupor and pulled the trigger. He fired a burst at the sorcerer, but the traitor quickly got to his feet and hid behind the sergeant's body, avoiding serious damage.
At that exact moment, enemies, who had been quietly trailing behind, launched their attack. Jagged mouths appeared in the walls, and demons poured out in an unstoppable flow. The grotesque creatures seemed to consist only of fangs, claws, and stingers.
Some had thin, fragile bodies with disproportionately large heads and crooked necks. Others were massive, bloated lumps of flesh, with watery blisters and sores. The demons shrieked, wailed, and howled, mindlessly throwing themselves into battle.
"To me, brothers!" Ulrich kicked through the head of the nearest demon. "The Emperor and Terra!"Bolter fire filled the corridor with deadly rounds.
Chainswords roared. The Templars had no intention of retreating. Back to back, they bravely fought, fending off attack after attack. When a Space Marine ran out of ammo, he retreated into the circle for reloading, while his brothers closed the ranks. The Templars acted in unison and with fury, and so far, none of them had sustained serious injuries.
Richard forcefully brought his sword down on a thick green demon, causing it to explode, showering him with violet ichor. The monster corpses had already reached his knees, but the flow of demons didn't weaken. Beside him, Ulrich fought, one hand slicing through the monsters, the other spraying bolter fire at the rear ranks.
"Fear is nothing, for our faith is strong!" cried the battle-brother standing to Richard's left. "The Emperor watches over us, so we will not fail him!"
"Death to heretics and xenos," Ulrich shouted. "Crush the foe! Destroy the enemy!"
The litany filled the Space Marines with righteous fury. They fought with renewed strength. The Templars didn't break their formation. They pushed forward, toward a narrow technical corridor where the numerical advantage of the demons would no longer give them an edge.
The monsters faltered. Another moment, and they would have fled, unable to break through the flashing wall of chainswords and bolter fire. But at that moment, the sorcerer, having regained his magical power and ensuring that he was no longer under threat, peeked out from behind the sergeant's body. He quickly assessed the situation.
"Unir te shakras," the traitor shouted in a guttural voice. "Ourggh ne ritos!"
A long tentacle with serrated claws and sticky suckers shot out of the mist. It wrapped around one of the warriors at the waist and dragged him into the gloom. The Templar formation split. The demons cried in delight and rushed into the narrow breach. The monsters pushed the Space Marines apart, and now each had to fight alone. One by one, the Templars disappeared in the swirl of claws and teeth.
Richard saw Ulrich fall, buried under a pile of demonic bodies. He fired a burst directly at his brother, hoping that all the rounds would hit the monsters. After a few shots, the bolter jammed. Richard tossed his weapon aside and grabbed the chain sword with both hands. He fought desperately against the demons pressing in, not noticing that he was now alone.
A thick creature curled into a spiky ball. Several demons picked it up and, spinning it like a ball, threw it at the Templar. The monster slammed into Richard's knee and exploded, firing spikes. The stunned Space Marine fell on his back. Demons tore the sword from his weakening grip. Dozens of claws pinned him to the floor. The battle was over.