This Is Our Warhammer Journey

Fully armed, the Emperor's Angels—mighty as gods among mortals—strode down the warship's corridor, followed closely by organized ranks of the Astra Militarum and Sisters of Battle.

With his sturdy storm shield, Arthur blocked the enemy’s fire. From the gaps behind him, explosive rounds and streaking lasfire shot out with deadly precision, mowing down the charging heretics.

These traitors were torn to pieces by a variety of weapons, their flesh shredded, limbs flying as if flung about by invisible mops.

Splurt—

His sword sheathed behind the shield, Arthur didn’t pause as he decapitated every heretical abomination that dared to push past the shield under the hail of gunfire. Then, without hesitation, he raised his iron boot and crushed their mutated, blasphemous bodies into pulp.

With every step Arthur took, the ground's clogged ventilation grates—stuffed with pulpy corpses—gushed out foul, sticky fluid.

Behind him, Romulus provided suppressing fire. Every time they passed an intersection, he made sure to stick a bright yellow glowstick onto the wall.

After pushing through several corridors, the support from the rear grew sparse, then vanished entirely. Arthur and Romulus had no choice but to stop at a key junction.

It wasn’t that they didn’t want to keep advancing—

As long as they controlled the junction, a small amount of firepower could keep the enemy pinned in a narrow space.

The Astra Militarum had their hands full. While following the Astartes’ advance, they also had to set up defense points along the way, intercepting enemies from side routes. With communication delays factored in, even with Colonel Kovek’s exceptional leadership, more time was needed.

Normally, even at full sprint, a Guardsman couldn’t match the speed of an Astartes charging through heavy weapons fire.

So inevitably, in rapid strike operations, the Astra Militarum always fell behind the Astartes.

A dozen heartbeats later, Arthur swapped out his spent battery. A bolter round zipped past his side—Sisters in power armor had arrived at the junction.

Another dozen heartbeats passed, and Colonel Kovek—splattered in blood—finally showed up with his elite company.

“My lord!”

Flicking the crimson gore from his chainsword, Colonel Kovek looked ashamed.

Retaking the Gellar field generator depended on the Space Marines breaking through. Yet as Astra Militarum, they had become the weak link in the operation.

The Astartes were just too fast—like a hurricane.

“We’ll wait after every five nodes we take,” Arthur said, understanding the situation.

It wasn’t that the Guardsmen weren’t trying. They were all pushing their bodies to the limit, squeezing out every ounce of value from this copper coin before offering it up to the Emperor. But the biological gap was simply too great.

“No need to wait, my lord!”

Colonel Kovek advised quickly, struggling to keep pace with the Angels who had deliberately slowed down. He raised his voice,

“Please, continue forward. Even if heretics block the way, we can take care of ourselves.”

As a veteran who’d fought across a dozen worlds, Colonel Kovek felt uneasy about the Angels’ humility. On some level, he even felt a kind of inferiority—wondering what right he had to be treated with such compassion and understanding by Angels.

The goal of this operation was to support the Deathwatch kill team that had gone missing near the Gellar field generator. Only by securing the generator would their defensive positions along the way have any meaning.

And before that—if they couldn’t eliminate the invading Chaos Space Marines before the field collapsed, then no matter how perfect their lines or minimal their casualties, it wouldn’t matter. Mission failure meant total annihilation.

So from the start, he was prepared for heavy losses. But now, the Astartes were deliberately making noise to attract enemies, systematically clearing out each node, and even leaving helpful glowsticks behind. And now they were willing to wait for the Guardsmen to catch up.

To this moment, not a single member of the mobile task force had been lost in the breakthrough.

Colonel Kovek’s face flushed with shame.

Right now, he felt like he and his soldiers were babies wrapped in swaddling, being protected.

“You mean… we should stop worrying about your safety and prioritize the advance?”

Romulus repeated.

In times of peace, people were taught to value life. And now, as Space Marines, that instinct lingered.

Having spent years immersed in the military culture, both of them naturally felt that ensuring the safety of these ordinary mortals was not only appropriate, but necessary.

“Yes.”

Colonel Kovek replied, “The Gellar field is the key to the mission.”

He knew full well that the Astra Militarum couldn’t match the physical prowess of Angels or the Sisters, fully equipped with force-feedback power armor. And he knew how to prioritize.

“You’re sure?”

Arthur tilted his head slightly.

Astartes might be superhuman, but they weren’t invincible. Choosing to push forward meant the Astra Militarum would inevitably face some twisted abominations alone.

“We’ll bleed, but we won’t let the glory of victory slip through our fingers.”

With the Astartes clearing the way, that was enough. They were the spearhead. They needed to lead the Sisters to aid their comrades.

Even the aftershock of the storm had bought the Guardsmen precious time.

And that was enough.

Hold the gains. Build the line. Keep the Angels free of distractions. They would make it happen.

They were mortals—but still the pillars of the Imperium.

And the Emperor’s Angels didn’t need to slow down for copper coins like them.

The power of faith was terrifying—it let people disregard their own lives.

Arthur fell silent. For the first time, the clash of two different worlds' values struck him. He met Romulus’ eyes.

“Well?”

“Trust the professionals.”

If they hesitated because of the situation, they’d just end up trapped in indecision. Romulus figured the best move was to respect the Guardsmen’s judgment, finish the mission fast, and then come back to support them.

After all, everyone knew how f**ed* the Warhammer world was. As transmigrators, they were well aware of the dangers of letting their own naive ideals make things worse.

The two nodded in agreement.