Chapter 14

Patching up his body was tough enough as it is with her depleted state but now he was on the verge of starving himself just because of an order that never forbade him from falling back.

It wouldn't take long, all he had to so was resupply and come back. Yet he treats it like a grave sin, even going as far as to ignore her.

Not like he wasn't already doing that for the past years. Still this was beyond unreasonable, the attacks have not only lessened but also mostly involves the enemy simply shooting from afar.

This was unlike Khorne cultists based on my memory, they didn't even dress like one and seemed much more calm and organized.

Never heard of them, never seen them bit from what I see. Their smart, at this rate they'll bleed the fool's regiment before they even reach the second floor.

Not even sure how far this city goes underground but it might not even matter at this rate. It was frustrating, I recall much better fighting even from this devolved master race that created me.

The utter disregard for their lives baffles even and when I think I have seen enough. They show me worse, who tries to charge an open ground with a turrent killing anyone who even comes close.

Then there's the fact that they tried to force their way into a street where at most three people could walk side by side into it with no space for maneuvering around.

My luck is that this human of mine is at least self aware of what death means for him. Never have I been more gracious for the chemical reaction in them known as emotions.

With the rate he keeps getting injured I'll be gone before 5 years is even over. I want to live, I didn't survive through all that just to die like this.

Yet his body is the only hospitable place for me, all others simply die due to a varying set of reasons or simply mess with my primary programming.

Perhaps I should have tried better, this is no way to live for someone like me. But was there really any other way, I've seen what this warp can do to my kind.

I have my own plans, it'll take time and patience. The admech aren't really as secure as they believe theirselves to be.

Let's think of this like one of those extreme scenarios and play accordingly, maybe a bit more careful.

" Die imperi-" a voice screamed only to be cut short by a Las shot to the head.

" Kiss my b-" Another who began was killed like the other dozens.

" For the Great Gods!!" A new voice popped up among the mass, this one moved quickly with an axe in hand.

A shot was fired at him but he ducked as another person behind him got shot. He was lucky, no. The Great God's were with him, all he had to do was spill blood and bathe in it.

He moved with renewed vigour using the mass of body as shields as he closed in. They couldn't gun them all down, he would close in and spill blood.

He will not be denied of this, he was Pretense. The one favored by the Gods and he will bathe in blood this day.

He could see it, the pools of blood. The armies bowing before him as he become the greatest warrior ever known.

He see as even the Great Gods smiles at him, excitement coursed through his veins as he gripped harder than ever.

Finally in his eyes he saw the perfect target, this was the beginning of his great journey.

" Blood for the blood God " He screamed at the top of his lungs, Adreline coursing through his body.

The busy soldier had not notice the single crazy armed cultists using bodies in front of him as cover, thus allowing him to get ever so close.

By the time he turned, it was too late as a blade went straight into his neck. Quickly removing it with raging fury, the cultists landed it again and again and again.

The body stopped moving, the soldier was dead and the cultists a bit suprised at his successful realed back in pure excitement as his belief strengthen even more.

He moved again, his eyes on a much farther one as more of the cultists closed in and engaged in close combat.

His eyes were now lost with no way out for him, he truly believed that he was a blessed one favored by the gods.

He was not and he would not live to see that as the kriegsman simply turned, lasgun raised and ready to fire.

Aligned his metal sights in built into the lasgun and then fired a single shot. The cultists believing in his own fake immorality and strength did not try to dodge.

In micro seconds as the shot connected to the cultists head, a satisfying pooping sound and Gore reached the ears of the Kriegsman.

He turned back, not really paying attention to the dead headless body and kept shooting. Like he had been doing for the last 2 days, non stop.

His posture, his control and his focus unwavered by the hordes of enemies. The only thing that would interrupt this would be if he ran out of ammunition.

Which was something that would soon happen as he was on his Last Magazine.

In a few minutes the shouting and screams died completely down as the fighting had finished.

Again they began what they had been doing since this waves began. Re-organize, loot their dead. Create space and prepare for the second wave.

Their Quartermasters in charge of mainly the distribution of their valuable resources were all dead, no one had the authority nor knowledge of appointing a new one.

So they reverted back to their training. Gear unusable currently or excess was kept in a more safe place and organized just in case they needed to return it or for the Quartermaster whom was meant to be in charge of it returned.

Re-establishing their lines while a squad of them began pushing and clearing the bodies for a better view, they waited in pure silence.

A silence so dead that the sound of dead bodies seemed to be of better company. Little audio contact was needed as they all knew what exactly to do.

No pressure, no fear, no weakness in them. Only the feeling of one doing one's duty, 72 soldiers were here 3 days ago.

Less than 40 were left and most of them already gravely injured. They were low on ammunition as the ones recovered from the dead was recirculated through the depleted platoon.

Those in the farthest back of the line recieving more than those most farthest to the front of their line.

Suitable cover was either created or simply found over the course of the days. They knew better than to charge down that road from which the cultists kept coming from.

They had orders to hold here for as long as possible and prevent any and all cultists from getting through and making it harder for other units to advance inwards.

Thus creating even more unnecessary casualties for the Death Korps of Krieg.

Trooper whose designation was 567893-7789 looked forward, his hands steady with his weapon.

In his sights was the pathways of heretics, the gate by which dozens upon dozens of them assault their position by the day.

He had received some extra ammunition from the dead but already began to doubt his ability to put it into use in the best and most efficient way possible.

They were short on Manpower and Munitions, if put to great use they could focus more on melee to best conserve and use their ammunition only when most needed.

He turned, glancing to the next highest ranking officer whom had been directing them for some time.

Hesitant and unsure whether to bring up such a suggestion which was not even his place to do so. Yet he felt a nodge, looking back he saw no one.

He turned back and looked before settling down on simply following orders, his mind already becoming empty as he awaited the next attack