Ur Person had lost count of the first Astartes he'd seen on Terra, but he simply didn't have time to bother with that kind of question right now.

The thought flashed through his mind like a meteor and quickly vanished. And, now there is another thing that is more of a headache for him. This was more important for him to focus on his attention than the ethereal thought.

He also has to be focused.

"It's close, it's almost good, hold on," he muttered to himself, blood and sweat rolling down his forehead.

The skewer on his shoulder, a rope made of rags, was punishing his lower back for his incorrect walking posture, and the thick butt of the rifle was smashing his bones painfully. But it wasn't as painful as his fingers were experiencing, and he was almost unconscious.

It wasn't the first time Orr had experienced such a moment, and he could vaguely remember a lot of pain, but they were all memories of the past, not as profound as the one in front of him.

But he had to continue. He had to endure pain, hunger and exhaustion, he had to endure it all.

It's like I was born to endure all this, ha. ’

"One more step, bastard!"

He threw that thought aside, stepped onto a dirt slope, and roared and dragged an Astarte in pitch-black armor up in a hail of bullets.

Of course, he couldn't do it on his own, and he relied on the glowing gem in his chest to do such a feat. But he still has to bear the price and responsibility, as evidenced by the white bones on his fingers that are worn by the gap in the shoulder armor.

He kept walking, and walking, single-mindedly, incredibly focused, unconcerned about the bullets that slashed across his head or ears. After a few minutes or so, he dragged the giant with his bare hands back into a blood-smelling trench.

An Astarte approached, and Orr glanced up, revealing his identity through the red and gold armor and badge.

It was a Blood Angel, and it happened to be the kind of Blood Angel he needed - a junior medical officer, a squad pharmacist.

The man's face was covered in blood, and his deliberately shaved hair was wet on top of his head. He approached Orr, gently pulled Orr's hand, and silently began to examine it.

He didn't seem to have a full set of medical equipment, just a rudimentary medical external armarmor attached to his right hand, and it was now making a rapid beep on the face of the pale and closed-eyed Raven Guard.

The Holy Blood Angel shook his head sadly.

"You're brave, mortal." He said with his back to Orr, his voice very deep. "But you weren't just brave, you pulled him back from the front with just your own hands, and it seems that a lot of miracles have happened today"

"But this venerable Raven Brother has left us forever, his meninges have not worked as they should, the ubiquitous evil forces have curtailed the help from the operation, he is dead, and we will remember him."

"How to remember?" Orr gasped and uttered a caustic taunt that he didn't know who it was aimed at. "We don't even know his name."

The Blood Angel turned silently and pulled out his waist blaster with his left hand, and Orr took out his gun from behind him and closed the safe.

"But we can also learn each other's names, what are your names, soldiers?"

"Ur Pesson." Orr said, looking down. Only then did he realize that the strip of white cloth on his chest had disappeared.

"I'm Melos." The pharmacist introduced himself. "I'm from the Ninth Company of the Holy Blood Angels and I'm a pharmacist. Now, you and I will live and die together. ”

He stood up and began to shoot at the incoming enemy from above the trench. Orr turned around with difficulty, poked the muzzle of his gun out of the reserved peephole, and pulled the trigger to the bottom.

There is no need for so-called aiming anymore, the ground is shaking, and it is impossible for the trenches to shake for this if it were not for the fact that the enemy is charging in groups.

He didn't know how the Imperial Fists did it, but the trenches they built were all very strong. Except for artillery bombardment, or a cluster charge, it doesn't wobble at all.

Amid the roar of gunfire, Orr quickly ran out of the first magazine and began to replace his last one.

At this moment, his complaining nature once again took over.

He thought that if Konstantin Valdo could give me a little more time, I could get a little more supplies. But he was always very anxious, even more anxious than me, and in the end, for the sake of a stable front, he chose to part ways with me temporarily.

If you have the ability, you can get things done in one sitting, you golden bastard. If you die, who am I going to turn to to guide me now?

The veteran thrust the magazine into the blaster with a look of rage, then pulled the trigger all the way down again, barely audible and his eardrums hit again.

Hearing the fire of two blasters at the same time so close, and one of them was Astarte-sized, he didn't expect the jewel on his chest to heal him again after that.

And, sometimes, he would rather be deaf.

War is draining what little humanity you have left, Oranius. A voice said in his heart. You still have a chance to escape and get away from it all.

yes, yes, and then what? Survive like a fucking primitive, hiding in the galaxy and watching these sinisters treat humans like slaves?

Ur Persson sneered at herself, grinning suddenly.

"They're coming!" He shouted. "Prepare to engage the enemy in close quarters!"

He retracted his blaster and pulled out the bayonet from his waist, placing it under the barrel. The pharmacist nodded at him, knelt down again, and the medical external armarmor in his right hand suddenly popped out a short serrated blade with cold light.

"You and I live and die together." The pharmacist said solemnly.

Orr didn't hear this, just busy calming his heartbeat.

The first enemy to jump into the trench appeared half a minute later, a cultist who was far stronger than many of his kind.

His body presented a strange swelling that was absolutely abnormal, not like muscle, but also not like fat. With a frenzied glint in his eyes, Orr rushed over and stabbed him through the ground with a bayonet.

He resisted, clumsily wielding the mutilated mutilated machete in his hand to chop off Orr's legs, but he was too slow, and before that, Orr had smashed his head completely.

His death is the beginning, but when will the end come?

The second enemy soon arrived, a demon with a human face and a canine body. It threw Orr to the ground with far more agility than the cultist, and the apothecary saved his life, and the Holy Blood Heaven dismembered it with a serrated blade and pulled him back up, and the two men began to run wildly along the trench.

They shot and killed the enemy who jumped down from front and tried to intercept them, running without looking back, ignoring the bullets that were coming from behind. They can continue to kill for a while, because it is always these cultists and low-level demons who have come out of nowhere.

In the beginning, these cultists were unclothed and savage. However, when Orr had been deep into the darkness for a while, he saw something that made him shudder.

For example, the cultists suddenly put on military uniforms, and some of them even had Imperial Double-headed Eagles completely covered by the Chaos Eight-Pointed Star engraved on their foreheads, and he probably guessed the reason, but he couldn't care about it, and he couldn't care about it.

Like now, in the face of the waves of enemies that are pouring in, the only thing Orr can do is run, run wild, and try not to fall behind.

Melos opened the way in front of him, and the back of the Angel of the Holy Blood was extremely resolute. No cultist could get close to them, and he would slash those with blades or spears in their hands, and shoot those with explosives on their bodies.

Their fanatical behavior will inflict massive casualties among the enemy group. However, such an easy killing could not last long, and soon a son of Horus found them.

"Traitor." The pharmacist whispered hatefully.

The son of Horus did not answer, but only repelled the fanatical cultists, and drove the demons back with even stronger rebukes. He stood in front of Orr and Melos with his sword in hand, and slowly lifted it.

The apothecary charged at him, and Orr raised his gun to cover for him. The Son of Horus turned sideways, blocked all the bullets with his shoulder armor, and swung his sword to push back the apothecary with only a serrated dagger. He began to pace slowly, his eyes cautiously looking at his former brother, now his mortal enemy. Ur Persson coughed up a mouthful of thick phlegm mixed with blood and began to breathe deeply.

Don't wear a helmet, don't wear a helmet, and play this stupid dozen-one

He picked up his gun and began to aim as hard as he could. Behind him, the cultists muttered foul language in low Gothic unpleasantly, and it was only then that Orr realized that his hearing had returned.

He was a little annoyed - didn't I say that? I've been deaf all the time

Melos launched a second charge, fighting the man at a speed that Orr couldn't even see, and separated again after a dozen seconds. Orr couldn't see what they had done to each other, but he could see the results.

Melos's left hand below the elbow had vanished completely, severed by the traitor's blade, but the son of Horus was not well-healed. Using his determination to trade injuries for his life, the Holy Blood Heaven plunged the serrated blade deep into the weak side of the traitor's abdomen, creating a hideous opening that was bleeding.

Orr began to aim.

One chance, you only have one chance, understand, old fellow? If you can't hit, you can only die here, and if you hit, you can live for more than ten seconds, and you can let this Holy Blood Angel live a little longer.

He was so engrossed in these things that he had forgotten the jewel on his chest and the task he had received.

The gemstone doesn't say anything about it, it just glows slightly, and no one notices it. Then, Orr faintly heard a strange noise almost imperceptible coming from behind them. He didn't care about that, but suddenly remembered the crow guard and felt a pang of guilt.

Not so long ago, they had helped Orr and Constantine Valdo pass through an army of demons at the cost of hundreds of lives, and now he had left one of them in the enemy horde.

He's going to be insulted, he's going to be. They will not let him go, they will savagely slice open his armor, take out the entrails and devour them, break the bones, strip off the skin, and proudly take him as a trophy.

Orr's fingers trembled for a moment, and he felt the urge to turn and fire behind him. He quickly forgot about the urge and began to breathe deeply with complete rationality and calmness.

Melos was speechless and rushed to the son of Horus. The other party raised his sword and waited for it. Orr's world began to slow down, and he miraculously saw the movements of the Sons of Horus, as well as Meros's.

The pharmacist was still using his old tactic of trading injuries for life, trying to slam the bleeding wound again with the short blade in his hand. The traitor, however, raised his sword high, and did not intend to do any more blocking and entanglement, but only wanted to kill him with a clean blow.

Orr's heart flashed with his name.

The Sovereign, the God-damned, the cursed, the one whom I spurn and love—

He pulled the trigger.

The blast spun and flew out of the barrel, striking the wound of the Children of Horus before the blade fell.

Blood splatters.

So precise, so deadly. Mortal-sized blasters brutally destroyed the pride and life of this Astarte. His eyes widened, and the blade fell limply to the ground.

A cacophony erupted all around, and the apothecary picked up the power sword with a tumbling turn, quickly turned, and began to sweep through the heretics like a tiger into a flock, all while still pulling Orr Persson away.

"Hit it right, Orr!" He shouted praise. "You fought for a few more minutes of our lives, you won an honor for us!"

He swung his sword to kill a demon that tried to rush up, but Orr didn't answer, just stabbed the enemies who rushed towards them with his short knife. He's out of bullets, and that's the last one.

What a fateful last shot. He smiled wryly.

"And now, we're going to use the time you've earned to kill more traitors to the Emperor and Terra!" The Holy Blood Angel roared loudly, and the determination in his words made the bloodless and tearless traitors shake it for a moment. "For St. Giles!"

In order to

Orr took a deep breath.

"We probably don't have to die." He said. "There's a man—"

He was right, and even though he couldn't finish it, he was right. A black shadow unleashed a bloody wave in the cultist's cluster, both hands waving with lightning claws, and the blood-stained face twitching. From such a distance, Orr could see his face clearly.

It was the Raven Guard he had rescued, the Raven Guard who had been diagnosed dead by Melos, his name was Alastor Rorschach, and his brothers called him Raven.

He was in front of them in five seconds, covered in blood, corpses brutally sliding from his armor, and the coat of arms of the Raven Guard gleaming in blood, as if returning from hell.

"Let's go." The raven said inarticulately. "Before they find out."

They started running again, and Orr's lungs and legs began to torment him again, but he felt a trance. He didn't know where Konstantin Valdo was right now, or how long his mission would be over, but he seemed to be aware of something.

So, that's what I'm going to do?

He looked down at the gem, which was glowing as if in approval.

Update completed,This chapter is 4k,A total of 12,000。

By the way, do you think that's okay at the moment? One chapter a day, one chapter text. I don't think there's anything wrong with writing, but I just feel like the reading experience might be a bit disjointed. The fundamental reason is still the issue of the starting point.

(End of chapter)