This Is Our Warhammer Journey

“By the Four-Armed God-Emperor, what just happened?”

The building trembled again and again, and the lights flickered.

The bald woman, a Preacher, grabbed the railing to steady herself.

“Careful, my lord.”

A fellow cultist tackled her to the ground, and by the time she opened her eyes again, a giant chunk of rubble had crushed the one who saved her.

“Oh no.”

The Preacher dropped to her knees in grief, looking at the man who had risen all the way up from the lower hive.

“Why did it have to be like this, why? Why would you sacrifice your noble life to save me?”

“Because we are equals.”

“I was meant to save you—not because of hierarchy or duty, but simply because we are kin. Because my life can save yours.”

“Yes, we are equals. Your sacrifice saved me, and my sacrifice can save another. That is the noble virtue bestowed upon us by the God-Emperor.”

Tears welled up in the Preacher’s eyes as she embraced the lifeless head.

“Today you saved me. Tomorrow, I will save someone else.”

Everyone nearby doing cleanup couldn’t help but look over.

Thud!

A tremor from the ceiling above interrupted the touching moment.

Crash!

The ceiling cracked open, and the Black Knight dropped down, riding the thick body of a mutant.

Clatter.

Rubble poured down, and a thick toxic cloud—enough to kill a small animal on the spot—spilled out from the breach.

The Preacher looked up, her vivid violet eyes locking onto the pitch-black knight who had just stood up.

At the same time, the knight raised his eyes to meet hers.

Through the crimson lenses, his emerald pupils reflected her own image.

He knows me. He’s going to kill me!

In that instant, the Preacher understood his intent.

She turned and ran.

With a deafening roar, Arthur launched himself at the fleeing Preacher.

Light from the breach behind illuminated his back, casting a massive shadow ahead.

That darkness swallowed her, and the Preacher stared at the doorway that drew closer to the edge of that shadow.

“Protect me!”

Panic surged from her gut. She had always believed herself to be just one of the flock—but now she let out a piercing shriek.

“I command you to protect me!”

Her voice carried a psychic screech, cutting through the smoke, through the walls, and reaching straight to her kin at the tower's peak.

All the Genestealers still attacking froze.

In their perception, everything around them turned surreal. Gunfire became muffled. Only that dark figure remained crystal clear.

So they all turned around at once and charged toward the Preacher.

They pushed their limits, tearing muscle fibers, snapping joints—slaughter genes fully triggered, squeezing every ounce of energy out of their bodies.

It was the absolute maximum speed that the xenos could achieve.

But did it matter?

Inside the Mechanicus shrine, Astartes who had cleared a path held all the corridors. Their brutal firepower shredded the xenos clustered together.

Inside the Administratum Hall, the Sharks surged from all directions, hacking and slicing apart any xeno trying to block the knight's advance.

Boom!

A colossal beast, far larger than the other mutants, charged out from behind the hall’s curtain—only to be body-slammed by an even larger Great Shark.

“Hiss—”

The Preacher let out an eerie roar, her terrifying psychic energy flaring up and fully exposing her now-twisted, mutating face.

She had once been a noble and elegant Sister—but now, she was a monster.

Purestrain!

This was a high-tier Genestealer born after five generations of breeding, following the infection of the first humans—capable of psychically commanding swarms.

Of course, in the presence of higher entities, such individuals might not even be aware of their true nature.

“Die!”

A flash of psychic power followed.

A burst strong enough to instantly ignite a human's brain lobe shot toward the knight.

He raised his shield, and deep green psychic threads struck its surface and dispersed. The plasma thrusters on his back glowed a soft blue, propelling him forward at high speed.

The scattered psychic force screamed and clawed toward him, trying to pour that searing energy into his mind and erase the icy will to kill.

But it couldn’t touch him.

No matter what, it couldn’t reach.

It was like—

Untouchable?

The Preacher struggled to find the right word.

Why was it untouchable?

Clang!

Her hesitation lasted only a second, and the knight had already broken through the light.

His blade slashed at the xeno’s head, but it was deflected by psychic force. The Purestrain instinctively lashed out with its claw—only to have it sliced off the moment it passed the shield.

It recoiled in pain. The spells still thundered down the hallway, and other fearless Genestealers rushed in.

Even as the Sharks tore them limb from limb, they spat blood as they surged forward, just to buy the Preacher a few seconds.

But she no longer had a second chance to escape.

The solid shield struck the psychic barrier, scattering the spell. The backpack behind the knight erupted with blue energy as he tackled the Purestrain straight into the plasteel wall on the support axis.

The sword drove in. Its field-drenched tip pressed against the edge of the barrier, just an inch away from piercing the Preacher’s skull.

Splat~ splat~

In a brief contest of force, the Preacher burned through all her psychic power, locking eyes with the sword mere inches away. Arcs of energy from the disintegration field began to lick at her carapace.

She focused harder.

To survive, she had no choice.

Crack—

A faint sound echoed as the sacred shield collided with the carapace on the Preacher’s body.

Her psychic power could no longer maintain full defense.

!!!

Before she could react, Arthur abandoned the sword still being held back by her psychic force.

And with all his strength, he threw a straight punch at her skull.

Bang!

Powerful muscles unleashed every ounce of survival instinct. She grabbed the ceramite-coated fist, and it landed hard on the right side of her head.

CLANG!

Flesh and bone slammed against plasteel. Their forms nearly fused.

Did she just survive that blow?

But was it over?

Just as the Preacher prepared to counterattack, thinking she had made it—

That sword, which should have fallen under its own weight, was somehow already in the Black Knight’s left hand, pressed right to her throat.

Fwoosh!

The power pack's vector thrusters shifted, shooting out a blaze of blue fire and spinning the knight’s body.

The sword blade slowly sank into the Purestrain’s neck, slicing through tissue, splitting bone, and finally carving a long gash into the plasteel.

The knight landed, grabbed the shield before it could hit the ground, and reattached it to the slot on his left arm.

Ding!

The clear echo rang through the entire Administratum Hall.

Behind him, in the smoke—

A headless body dropped to its knees.