Under the dying light of dusk, countless rebels surged up from beneath the hillside towards the Sixth Company’s position like a tide of ants. Most bore crude melee weapons; others clutched makeshift autoguns. They charged up the slope with savage, frantic speed.
They feared neither the las-fire of the Astra Militarum nor the artillery of their own side. Even when struck directly by las-shots, provided they did not die immediately, they would crawl across the ground if they had to, dragging themselves towards the position.
"I truly hate these damned madmen. Do they not know what fear is?" Stroud cursed as he watched those crimson eyes drawing ever nearer.
He and Duvall had rejoined the Company. Of the entire Sixth, only a few dozen remained; all the rest had perished beneath the enemy’s artillery and charges.
The enemy barrage continued to pin them down. Their defensive line had long since become a fiction. These cultists could easily have bypassed their defences from either flank and pressed onward, yet they were determined to take their skulls.
Duvall returned fire again and again with his lasgun. He had, for the moment, accepted the fact that he had somehow ended up in this damned Warhammer universe. There seemed to be no way back. What he desired most now was to stay alive—and to remain as far away from the Chaos cesspit as possible.
The ceaseless firing had begun to turn his barrel red with heat. His aim was markedly better than that of the Astra Militarum soldiers beside him, perhaps because the body’s former owner had trained at the Schola Progenium.
As he ducked back from the firing step into the trench to change power packs, a furious roar erupted beside his ear.
"What are you doing?! Why are you falling back?! You coward! Kill! Kill! Kill!"
Duvall looked up to see Captain Calvin Baker, commander of the Sixth Company, kicking a soldier who crouched on the ground with his hands over his head. The Captain’s eyes were bloodshot, and the other defenders cast uncertain, alarmed looks his way.
"I was only... trying to fix my gun..." the soldier explained painfully as the Captain’s boot slammed into him again.
Duvall looked at the status display above Captain Calvin’s head. It had turned a pale red.
[Calvin Baker]
[101st Ashen Watchers Regiment, Sixth Company Commander, Captain]
[Loyalty: 20%] [Morale: 30%] [Condition: Intact] [Sanity: 10%] [Chaos Corruption: 86% (Irreversible)]
"This is bad..." Duvall murmured.
Stroud crouched beside him on the firing step, equally bewildered. "Damn it, Calvin cannot have been drinking. He’s usually a bastard, sure, but not like this."
"If this keeps up, we will all die here," Duvall replied quietly.
Just as he rose, intending to invoke his authority as a trainee Commissar and stop the man, another Guardsman stepped forward first and began explaining the situation to Captain Calvin on behalf of his comrade.
Then, in an instant, a spray of scarlet flashed across Duvall’s vision. The soldier pleading for his comrade clutched at his sawn-open throat, collapsed to the ground, and convulsed in agony.
Captain Calvin raised his chainsword high. The snarling roar of its spinning teeth carried with his bellow to every man in the position.
"You pack of cowards! You should all die! Kill!"
"Enough!" Duvall knew that if he did not step forward now, this final position would collapse at once. He forced down the trembling in his hands. "By the authority of a trainee Commissar, I warn you, Captain Calvin Baker. You are harming soldiers loyal to the Emperor."
"You would stop me too?! Then you die as well!" Captain Calvin roared and charged Duvall.
The status display over the Captain’s head turned deep crimson.
Duvall drew another deep breath and immediately raised his lasgun. With a piercing crack, a great hole abruptly appeared in Captain Calvin’s head.
"In the Emperor’s name, I judge you, traitor."
Silence descended over the position once more. Only the howls of the approaching cultists grew clearer and louder.
Duvall steadied his breathing and looked over the few dozen bewildered soldiers around him. He walked to Captain Calvin’s corpse, picked up the fallen officer’s chainsword, then raised the weapon high and roared, "Soldiers! Calvin Baker betrayed the Emperor’s glory. I have executed him on the spot."
He recalled every rousing declaration he could remember, then bellowed again. "From this moment onward, I assume command of this Company! There is nowhere left to retreat, soldiers! For the Emperor! We fight until the last drop of blood!"
In the silence, Stroud was the first behind Duvall to join his cry.
"For the Emperor!"
Then came the soldier whom Calvin had just brutally kicked on the ground. A third voice. A fourth... At last, the furious roars of several dozen soldiers thundered across the entire position, and they resumed firing at the rebels closing upon them.
Duvall returned to Stroud’s side. The man whistled at him once more. "Fine Commissar. You’re the boss now. I think we might yet survive this."
Duvall said nothing as he looked at Stroud. Whatever else happened, that first roar of support had helped immensely.
[Congratulations. You have successfully obtained your first Legion. Reward: 100 points of the Emperor’s Wrath.]
Duvall froze at the notification in his vision. Did this mean that he had truly gained command of this shattered Company? As if to confirm his suspicion, several lines of text appeared in the upper-right corner of his field of view.
[Current Command: 101st Ashen Watchers Regiment, Sixth Company]
It appeared that he could inspect the Company’s overall status.
[Remaining Personnel: 43] [Company Experience: Veterans]
[Overall Supplies: 20%] [Overall Loyalty: 60% (Recovering)] [Overall Morale: 30% (Recovering)] [Overall Sanity: 41% (Recovering)] [Chaos Corruption: 53% (Recovering)]
[Passive Enhancement Acquired: Ring of Iron (Novice)]
[Please issue your first command, Commissar!]
Duvall let out a long breath and considered what to do next. The enemy’s howls were still drawing closer. Their final assault would begin at any moment. The enemy had overwhelming numbers, while his own supplies were plainly near exhaustion. Before long, every one of them would die here.
He immediately swept his gaze across the Legion Skill Tree once more, then illuminated the first active skill of the [War] branch.
[Precision Volley (Level 1)]
[For the duration of this skill, the shooting accuracy of the Legion under your command is moderately increased. Ammunition consumption is moderately reduced. Weapon wear is moderately reduced.]
[The Machine Spirit is pleased, comrade.]
The instant Duvall selected the skill, a deafening roar rose from the distant foot of the hill. He knew the enemy’s all-out attack had come.
Without hesitation, he climbed to the highest point of the trench and raised the banner bearing his Regiment’s emblem at his side.
"Soldiers! For the Emperor! For Humanity! Hold the line! Let those traitors know our wrath!"
[Precision Volley (Level 1)] activated.
"For Terra! For the Emperor!"
Though they numbered only a few dozen, their momentum at that moment was in no way inferior to the Chaos cultists beneath the hill.
Amid the Astra Militarum’s roar, the rebel commander abruptly noticed that the density of las-beams pouring down from the hillside had increased dramatically—and their accuracy had risen by an entire order of magnitude. Every few shots, a beam precisely blasted open one of his fighters’ heads.
They were at the extreme range of a lasgun. From this point on the slope, they could scarcely have looked larger than ants through the enemy’s sights. Such accuracy was utterly absurd.
Even the Astra Militarum soldiers in the position noticed something strange. Their lasguns seemed to possess wills of their own, their accuracy rising sharply. Some soldiers’ barrels had already glowed red, and their power packs should by all rights have been depleted, yet las-fire continued to pour endlessly from their muzzles.
"Throne above, have I encountered the legendary joy of the Machine Spirit?!" Stroud exclaimed in utter shock.
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