Our regiment was a Guardsman regiment.
There were truly nothing but Guardsmen in it.
The only Chimera armored personnel carriers we had served as personal vehicles for the regimental commander and the rest of the command staff.
So I had to walk to that listening post alone.
The force assigned to defend the area consisted of several companies of Guardsmen and ten Astartes—a force equivalent to thousands, even tens of thousands, of Guardsmen.
But there were millions of Orks.
There were no troops to spare, so I had to go alone.
Seven miles. One mile was 1.6 kilometers, so that made 11.2 kilometers.
I had to cover that immense distance alone, carrying heavy gear, a heavy bolter—an ordinary human-pattern bolter weighed seven kilograms—and ammunition.
I was carrying more than forty kilograms.
A Space Marine had given the order directly, so I had to obey.
"Like an Ogryn's armpit hair."
Would it have killed the regiment to provide a vehicle when one of His Majesty the Emperor's glorious angels had given the order?
After walking for three hours, my shoulders felt as though they were falling off, and it felt like the soles of my feet were about to burst.
I chewed on a tasteless, plank-like ration bar and washed its dry, crumbly texture down with water.
As I continued walking for some time, something snagged at my senses.
I concealed myself beside the road and set down my pack.
But the sensation was not nearby. It was some distance away.
Scouting enemy forces during my movement was also part of my mission, so I decided to check it first.
Keeping low, I approached the place that had caught my senses.
After forcing my way through the forest for about five minutes and passing through reeds taller than I was, I found a broad road and an open plain below the hill.
Then the wind brought me the nauseating stench of blood and death.
"Terra's throne..."
The bodies of the planet's citizens were strewn everywhere.
They said fifty percent of the planet's population had been slaughtered. This appeared to be one of the places where the inhabitants had been massacred.
There were several Orks that looked like Runtherds, along with Gretchin.
And Orks that looked like Lootas were stripping parts from a Land Crawler—a farm tractor used across the Imperium—that the refugees had been driving.
They were defiling the sacred Machine Spirit!
"Emperor... grant me eyes like a hawk, and grant me the courage to fight those xenos foes."
When I saw the Gretchin and a Runtherd hacking at a woman who was still alive, clutching her child, rage blinded me.
Holy fury, and the duty of a Guardsman to protect the Emperor's subjects.
And as I watched the Machine Spirit being insulted, I could no longer endure it.
"I am a Guardsman. I fight and die."
Even if I had been reincarnated, I was ultimately a human of this world.
I could not simply pass by that disgusting alien scum.
I reported quietly into the vox-caster I had brought.
"Multiple Orks sighted. They have attacked a refugee group. The Orks are currently looting a sacred machine, and His Majesty the Emperor's subjects are being massacred."
[..Report your location.]
"Current coordinates: Prozeos Road, Oscar Fox Three, reference Zulu Six. Multiple Orks. The refugees have already been almost completely wiped out."
[Coordinates received. Scanning the area. Multiple Ork forces confirmed. Avoid engagement until you are discovered, and continue observing the xenos. Over.]
"Received."
A large force of Orks had gathered farther away than the main listening post we had originally expected.
The Ork force some distance from the massacre site was so large that it was strange the fleet had failed to spot it.
I ground my teeth as I watched the Orks catch a fleeing child and kick the child around like a football for fun.
I could not endure it.
I whispered to the bolter.
"You are the one who calls death. Spit forth death, and let us drive back the enemy together."
A light blinked on the bolter.
I aimed at the head of an Ork Nob bringing the limp child toward its mouth.
And the instant the Ork opened its jaws wide—
I fired into its mouth.
Boom!
The Ork's head exploded into pieces, spraying flesh and bone in every direction. The force of the bolter round tore apart the body of the child, who had already gone limp.
Thinking of it as euthanasia, I searched for my next target.
Perhaps because they had not spotted me, the Orks looked around in every direction.
"Lucky me."
Fortunately, I had not been discovered.
Then the Orks gathered around the Nob and began fighting one another to claim the weapon it had been carrying.
Kill each other, you xenos trash.
I gritted my teeth.
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