Robert Killiman felt like he was falling. Fall endlessly, without stopping.

He seems to be dreaming, but he doesn't seem to be dreaming. Killiman tried to find the truth from this strange veil of visco, but what little sanity he had left could not do so, and the illusions that seemed to be dreams kept coming. Eventually, he almost considered himself back in Macurag.

The streets of the city are bustling with traffic, with universities on the left and museums on the right. The scent of the forest came to his ears with the sound of a spring falling from the mountain peaks, and the sky was blue, and the birds were slowly passing by in a row.

The white clouds leisurely overlook all living beings, everything is so beautiful, everything is so-

—Robert Killyman's eyes snap open.

He gasped for air, the air foul, sour, and filled with the smell of blood. He saw corpses, countless corpses. Scattered and mutilated, blood pooled along their veins on the rough rock surface, almost as if the stone itself was bleeding.

Killiman watched this scene in amazement, and his transcendent mind was in disarray. It took him several seconds before he realized where he was.

He gripped his hand and began to examine the ammunition as he pondered. The result was destined to be disappointing, as all the bullets in the Lord's Shotguns had been exhausted, as were the Sincere Shortsword and Arbiter Blaster that he had carried.

As it stands, he is in the underworld of Harcosus III, and he and his first warband have been attacked. they

No, it's not.

He frowned: "What about my previous memory?"

Where did I fall, and how did I get into the fight with these aliens? When and how did I run out of bullets, and where did I lose my sword and gun?

The thinking went on for a while, and Robert Kiliman didn't come up with any answers.

He took a slow, deep breath, and then, almost all of a sudden, a sharp pain hit him. It rose from his head like a mist of knives, and it went on a rampage, turning all his thoughts into a mess.

Killiman tensed his muscles uncontrollably, leaned against the rock wall, and continued to take deep breaths. However, with each breath, the pain became more intense. In desperation, he began to try to hold his breath - but the pain did not subside in the slightest.

It made his vision fade, and his lips fluttered like spasms. Finally, I don't know how long it took, the terrible pain finally disappeared.

Robert Killiman shook his head weakly, a pinprick still tingling in his temples, but it was much better than the terrible sensation he had just felt.

He subconsciously licked his dry lips, and a sticky smell of blood came from the tip of his tongue.

I'm bleeding? He frowned, not caring too much. He regained his ability to think, and without hesitation, he began to exercise his talent again. It took him a few seconds to sort out everything he knew in his mind and list them one by one.

First of all, I'm on the Harcosus III, that's for sure. My First Warband and I are attacking here, trying to reclaim the planet and return it to the Empire.

We succeeded, and after a well-prepared round of bombardment, the successor of the ruler of Harkosus III submitted a surrender request to us. Then, the ground cracked. raid

Fall.

And then what?

No more, Killiman searched his memories completely, but could not remember what had happened after the fall.

He looked down at his armor, which was in perfect condition, except for the helmet that was missing and stained with too much blood.

This means that the height of his fall is not very high, at least not high enough to exceed the protection of the power armor. Then, naturally, it is impossible for him to lose his memory because of a concussion.

What the hell is going on? He frowned and began to search the pile of corpses. The aliens all appeared to have been killed by him, and their deaths were horrific. Either it was torn apart by a bomb or it was shattered by the hand of the Dominant.

Killiman observes them carefully, and eventually, he comes to the conclusion that these underground-dwelling aliens are no different from barbarians.

They are armed with crude stone spears and have little clothing on them. Most of the xenomorphs have pale blue skin and elongated limbs, eighteen eyes on their foreheads, and two vertical tentacles in their jaws that protect their teeth.

In addition to these ordinary aliens, Killiman also saw some monsters that almost looked like the embodiment of nightmares.

Yes, monsters. He had to use that word to describe those things, and he couldn't find a better adjective.

There are three of them, all of them have many elongated limbs like arthropods, and their pale blue skin is layered on top of each other and has many folds. Killiman endured, trying to punch one of them in the skin with his fist, feeling a startling stiffness.

They have many heads, densely packed on the front of their bodies. Above these skulls was a large, cracked mouth, covered with fangs, and a dry, foul liquid remaining.

They were all dead, but they were completely dead, with no wounds on their bodies, as bizarre as a natural death.

Killiman took this to heart and left the grotto without looking back. The underground is eerie and dark, but that doesn't stop an Primordial from seeing what he wants to see.

He walked alertly, not making a sound in the dark. He has undergone many kinds of combat training, and it is not for nothing that this situation is more extreme and difficult. Moreover, he cannot be the only victim of the collapse of the ground, and the Ultramarines will definitely gather and fight the aliens.

He would hear the voices of his children, and then he would arrive—and he would get through this with them.

With this hope in mind, his solo journey lasted for some time. He crossed the foul-smelling underground river, passed the empty grottoes where the aliens lived, and finally heard a sound.

It swept along the foul, foul wind, mixed with the battle cry that Kiliman knew all too well.

"For Macurag!"

Robert Killiman stared at him, and he rushed in that direction.

——

Marius Gage wields his sword and roars unstoppable—he's done analyzing and reasoning, and he and his brothers know what they're going to do in this filthy, stinking underground.

They want to fight, and the fight itself doesn't require much reason. Just keep the anger going. As it is now, the Commander of the First War unleashed his fury unreservedly, standing at the front of the battle line like some terrible incarnation, unleashing violence.

Each swing of his sword causes an alien to die, or lose its head, or become cut in two. The Power Sword is invincible even against high-tech foes, let alone these unclothed savage aliens.

That's the price you paid me to live. Gage whispered in his mind, waved his hands, and the Sword Dance was born again.

The skill was eternally deadly, and he soon struck the depths of the alien colony. They stabbed his power armor with rough stone spears, and the damage was limited to a tiny amount of paint damage.

Gage sneered, roaring at them. Sixty-two of his brothers followed him closely, and the squad grew much larger and more than doubled in firepower - promethium flames relentlessly incinerated the aliens.

They screamed and retreated, waving their hands and rolling on the ground in an attempt to extinguish it. However, their actions only allowed the flames to pass, and the unpleasant smell of burning accompanied by the burning was pungent and pungent to the flamethrower, while the fighting brothers in charge of using the flamethrowers only kept roaring.

He's furious, they're all - there's a limit to the patience of the Ultramarines, they've been fighting underground for up to three hours.

Seven and a half hours had passed since the battle began, half of the day had passed, time had passed inexorably, and they had found no trace of the original body. Who can stand this? No one can.

After the initial inquiry, no one asked Marius Gage about it anymore, and they acted as if they didn't care, but if they didn't care, how could they not even mention it?

"For Macurag!" Gage roared and swung his sword, his voice colliding and echoing between the rock walls, becoming distorted and becoming like the most horrible, demented sound that a man who had lost his original mind could make.

Gage was aware of this, of course, but he forced himself to forget the desolation of the roar.

He had only one wish in his heart: to kill.

You didn't kill me, and now I'm here, I'm here to find my original body, but I'm going to kill you all——!

Charge, charge, charge. He kept charging, he swung his sword to kill one alien, followed by another with his sword. He smashed a alien ribcage with his shoulder, spun his wrist again, and smashed an ugly head with the weight ball at the end of the hilt.

Gage's face was covered in blood, and he had been injured and poisoned not long ago. But now he's acting as if this thing doesn't exist at all, just killing. Killing non-stop.

Until a voice rang out above him.

"For Macurag!"

- Gage subconsciously looked up.

The voice—all the more familiar to him—was Robert Killiman's!

It's him!

Marius Gage almost burst into tears as he saw their primordial bodies burst out of the darkness, cobalt blue and sumptuous gold shining on the armor, blood could not obscure its color, just as darkness itself could not hide Robert Killiman himself. He appears, he kills, and then they win.

"Primordial." Gage put away his sword, his voice dry, and he spoke almost choked. "We're finally—"

"-Well done, soldier, what's your name?" Killiman looked at him with a smile and looked at Gage with a completely unfamiliar look, asking so inquiringly.

He was gentle and earnest, as he would after every war, and he had appeased them countless times with that tone.

However, this time. Marius Gage fell into the abyss.

"Soldiers?" Kiliman raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with you? Pharmacist! Here, there's a soldier here who needs your help! ”

There is one more chapter.

(End of chapter)