Chapter 17 Part 5

Chapter 17: Kronus: Endgame

=ATBS=

Part 5

=ATBS=​

Victory Bay

Kronus

The Inquisitor exploded in stark, blinding light. One moment he flew on wings burning with the Emperor's power, hacking at the Daemon. In the next, everyone had to close their eyes and avert their faces. The light was savage, yet gentle. It burned away any doubt of its origin. It was pure, blessed Divinity.

The moment passed, and Charles blinked away stars, while his mouth mechanically murmured prayers to the God-Emperor. He could see a different light now. The Saint and Emperor together vanquished the Daemon. The ill-formed monstrosity imploded. Its cursed flesh collapsed and burned with white cleansing flames that quickly consumed it and melted the corrupted cannon.

Above them, the Saint floated on fluttering wings and glowed brightly, with soft golden light. Flickering moths of the Emperor's power fell from the sky like fresh snow, often bursting into flames when they touched corruption and burned it away.

"Ave Imperator!" Weber saluted the glowing sky with his sword and looked around.

No more small daemons were running around. Whatever just happened, burned them all to ash. Good.

The soothing light washed over and sunk into stumbling soldiers and the odd civilian. Moths of light fell upon their skin and the gold flame burned through their forms, causing no visible damage. Within moments, their hacking cough ceased, and no more fresh blood flowed down their faces.

"The Emperor Protects!" Charles whispered in reverence. He was sure this was happening all over the city. The Emperor knew his own and wouldn't let them down!

Gradually, everyone ceased firing at the burning Daemon and simply watched its corpulent flesh turn into ash. Only the low rumble of vehicles and quiet prayers carried over the parade grounds.

A flicker of motion caught Weber's attention, and he saw the Saint float down until he was beside them. The bright flames licking his wings doused themselves, leaving behind gold-flecked feathers. Only Bron's quick reaction held the Inquisitor from falling face-first on the ground when the Emperor's power ceased filling him, leaving not quite a mortal behind.

"Medicae!" Bron bellowed. "We need Medicae for the Inquisitor!" Again, Charles mentally added.

"Don't let him out of your sight, Sergeant!" The Commissar ordered. "Karom, are you still alive? Get your metal-platted ass over here!"

A small group of Tech-priests shuffled forward. Their Mechadendrites twitched in confusion. Charles didn't need to understand Binary to get that they were all busy praying due to the low and reverent tone they whistled in.

"Surprising conclusion: The Inquisitor still has all his bits attached." One of the Necrons said aloud, before flickering out of sight.

"Help the Inquisitor, then get all Medicae we have out and about aiding the wounded!" Charles snapped out of his daze and began barking orders to everyone in earshot.

=ATBS=​

This wasn't how Amberley expected to die – choking on her blood and helplessness, while others fought whatever attacked the parade. Probably a Nurgle Daemon. It was either that or someone, likely the Necrons unleashed a nanotech weaponry on them. The latter option was unlikely. The damage wouldn't be so localized, and being eaten alive from outside and inside would have hurt more. A point both for and against the Necrons was that they were fighting against something nearby. As far as Amberley could see from where she collapsed on the stands, the Blood Ravens fought alongside the aliens, so it was almost certainly a third party.

However, if these were her last minutes, she would go to spend them like a proper Inquisitor – paranoid to the end.

A whiff of rot and other fouler things, carried over the stands from the battlefield clinching it. The servants of Nurgle made an appearance too. It also confirmed what Amberley already not so secretly believed, Kronus was cursed! It had to be! Otherwise, these things wouldn't keep happening!

At least the light-show was pretty. It was properly golden and soothing. The glow coming from just out of sight sunk into Amberley, warming her up. It somewhat soothed her coughing, though didn't stop her from throwing viscera from her ravaged lungs.

Vail saw Mott drag himself up using a seat as a lever. The old man stumbled her way, swaying on his bionic legs, and soon collapsed on his knees. Blood spilled from his mouth, and he doubled over coughing. A twitching arm pulled out an injector from his robes and after two tries slammed it at the side of his neck, then went back for a second one.

Amberley cursed herself for only carrying a small med-pack with trauma supplies and combat stimulants. The former wouldn't help, and the latter would almost certainly kill her before she could do anything useful. In this particular case, Mott had been the wiser. He managed to get another injector out and rolled it her way before collapsing.

It was another question how much whatever was inside would help. Probably wide-spectrum antibiotics. Seeing no alternative, Amberley crawled forward. Each movement tired her more and made her struggle to get enough air. If they lived, they would need a set of new lungs, that much she was sure of it.

The Inquisitor managed to get the injector and use it, and by then, she was sure the strain was going to kill her. Scratch that, Amberley decided, it probably already killed her. She beheld one of the Emperor's angels rise above the stand on wings of fire, burning sword in hand. While Amberley didn't pay attention, the ugly form of a Nurgle Daemon had manifested over the cannon only to be struck down by the furious angel.

The only odd thing was there were still Necrons firing at the Daemon even in the afterlife by the Emperor's side…

Amberley blinked away the blood seeping from her eyes. She wasn't dead yet, not quite anyway. That was Veil, and at this point, there was no denying it anymore. That insane fool had the Emperor's blessing. She giggled at that. He wasn't going to get away from serving the Imperium by merely getting shot!

Watching the Daemon burn was pretty. And Amberley was pretty sure she was out of her right mind. She wanted Caiphas to hug and make her forget.

What did Mott put into that injector, and why was Veil blazing like a star? Gold was such a pretty color…

=ATBS=​

"Quarantine the survivors. Sterilize the site." Herald of Victory hissed through the Necron Network. His frame shook furiously. He kept burning any remaining lump of rotting flesh with extreme prejudice.

Amarkun felt a little better. That abomination and what it implied was infuriating. It wasn't hard to reach conclusions as to its real origin and that of the entity it served. The Necrons learned much about the Warp during the War in Heaven. They had to win. While they couldn't manipulate it directly and thus never fully understand it, they did know things. Like the most likely origin of the great Abomination called Nurgle.

While it might be just an extrapolation and theory right now, if one based on experience, what they learned through captured records and the odd interrogation, the conclusion was sound. Perhaps this was as sound a conclusion as they would ever get.

The so-called Chaos "gods" embodied concepts that were near-universal to sentient life. They began as concepts written over into the Warp at the time of the Necrontyr and the Old Enemy.

War bloodshed and carnage on an unprecedented scale unleashed during the War in Heaven. Khorne.

All the changes and plans devised in the lead-up, during, and in the immediate aftermath of the conflict. Tzeench.

The Aeldari could keep their claim to fame in creating that particularly vile abomination Slaneesh, thank you very much. They earned it.

Death, rot, and decay, the nihilism of the Necrontyr who lived their short lives in pain and despair, it was those things that formed Nurgle. That particular abomination was the cursed fate of what the Necrons used to be made manifest. The Necrons loathed the very idea with a passion they believed lost during the Biotransference.

The Necrons would deny those abominations everything they could! They would spite them at every turn. It might take another sixty million years, however, Amarkun wouldn't rest until he saw them broken, shattered, and bound, just like the C'tan.

Especially the one styling itself Nurgle.