Chapter 30: The Emperor’s Will Be Done

Chapter 30: The Emperor's Will Be Done

POV: Leon

I stood above the ruined corpse of the daemon-host once known as Pete, exhaling slowly as I gazed up at the sky.

"It's finally done," I murmured, my voice laced with exhaustion.

Above, the golden barrier still shimmered faintly, encasing the entirety of the middle hive—a divine bulwark against the horrors that lurked below. Though I knew not how, I could feel the Emperor's hand in this, His will manifesting through my actions.

The power that had surged through me, an undeniable force of righteous fury, now began to wane. My body, once sustained by its radiance, trembled as weakness overtook me. The divine strength faded, and with its departure, so too did my consciousness.

Darkness claimed me.

---

**POV: Goss**

The Banshee and I moved swiftly through the ruins, our objective clear—locate Leon and Varn. With the last of the heretic scum put down and the daemon Darot slain by Varn's precise shot, we had wasted no time calling in backup. Jacobs was already en route to secure the rescued captives, but our priority remained our missing comrades.

What we hadn't anticipated was the sheer devastation left in the wake of the battle.

The once-dense cityscape was unrecognizable. Buildings that once loomed above were now reduced to shattered remnants. Fissures, glowing with an unnatural sickly green hue, marred the earth, while craters dotted the ruined streets like the scars of some apocalyptic bombardment.

The Banshee halted suddenly. Through our bond, Margaret's voice reached me.

**"Goss, the Banshee senses the one with the lasrifle. He's among the ruins—unconscious."**

I nodded, suppressing the irritation that rose every time she spoke with familiarity toward my creation. No matter how much it annoyed me, I couldn't deny the effectiveness of their connection. It was a symbiosis now, and trying to sever it would do more harm than good.

Pushing my annoyance aside, I approached the collapsed structure she indicated. Amidst the rubble, perched against a half-destroyed wall, lay Varn. His lasrifle was still clutched in his arms, his body battered and bloodied, fresh wounds painting his form in crimson streaks.

"Tsk. This is going to be a bugger to fix," I muttered, my gaze landing on the most severe injury—his left leg was gone, severed clean at the knee.

Suppressing a grimace, I quickly retrieved bandages from my pack, binding the stump tightly to halt the bleeding. His survival now depended on how quickly we could get him to Merah.

"Banshee, get over here," I called out.

The construct responded instantly, though before I could even issue a command, Margaret's ever-irritating voice chimed in.

**"What would you like us to do?"**

I grit my teeth at her choice of words—**us**. They had truly become inseparable. I shoved the thought aside; now wasn't the time for this.

"Take Varn to Merah. He needs immediate care."

Without hesitation, I secured his lasrifle to him before handing him over. Margaret rolled her eyes at me—**rolled her damn eyes**—before the Banshee turned and vanished into the distance with Varn in tow.

With that handled, I continued my search for Leon, carefully avoiding the unstable pits and warp-tainted fissures that littered the battlefield. The sheer scale of the destruction was staggering, and as I pressed on, I soon came across the largest crater yet.

I whistled in astonishment.

Whatever had happened here… it had been cataclysmic.

Peering into the depths of the crater, my gaze landed on two figures. One, twisted and broken beyond recognition—the daemon. The other, lying motionless beside it—Leon.

Without hesitation, I secured a rope around a sturdy section of rubble and descended carefully. As my boots touched the bottom, I hurried to Leon's side, sparing only a passing glance at the ruined husk of the daemon-host.

The closer I got, the more questions flooded my mind.

Leon's armor was utterly ruined, torn beyond repair. His clothes were shredded, yet his body… his body bore no wounds. No burns, no lacerations, no signs of injury at all.

"How in the Emperor's name…?" I muttered, staring down at him.

My confusion only deepened when I noticed the weapon clutched in his hand—his chainsword.

I remembered it being a worn, battle-scarred relic, its teeth dulled from relentless combat. But now… it gleamed with an ethereal radiance. Gold traced along its frame, and the weapon hummed with power, its chain wrapped in flickering flame.

Curious, I reached out—

**'Do not touch me!'**

The voice roared in my mind as golden fire surged along the weapon's teeth. I jerked my hand back instinctively, my pulse quickening.

"What in the Throne…?" I whispered.

Before I could dwell on it further, my vox crackled to life.

**~"Goss, Jacobs here. We've secured the captives. What's your status? Where's Leon?"~**

I sighed, the weight of the past hours finally settling on me.

"He's fine, boss. Just exhausted—passed out cold. You mind sending someone to haul his massive arse out of here? I ain't carrying him."

There was a brief pause before Jacobs chuckled.

**~"Copy that. Hold tight. You did good, Goss. The Emperor protects."~**

I exhaled, shaking my head as I looked down at Leon one last time.

"You really are something else, kid…"