This Is Our Warhammer Journey

Clang—

A heavy sound echoed—it was the sound of the Apothecary collapsing to his knees.

Naturally, this caught Arthur’s attention. He scanned the battlefield, confirmed there were no living enemies left, shook the blood off his arm, then dropped his shield and reached out to support the Apothecary.

Pa~

But the Apothecary swatted Arthur’s hand away. Then, he pulled a rectangular box from behind his back and pressed it heavily into Arthur’s palm.

“Milord.”

His blurry vision moved away from the ornate armor and shield. The Apothecary spoke.

His voice came with a noticeable wheeze—his chest wound had clearly severed his windpipe.

“......”

“This is... the legacy of the brothers. I... cough cough... I held onto their honor.”

Arthur dropped to one knee. Looking around at the Deathwatch warriors who’d been almost completely wiped out, then down at the box in his hand still radiating cold air, he roughly pieced together what this duel had entailed.

After winning, the Chaos Space Marines of the Khorne warband used the corpses of the warriors to forge this arena. The Apothecary, as the arena’s defender, would face challenge after challenge from heretics. The prize? The gene-seed of his fallen battle-brothers—and a stronger opponent.

But whether it was the Apothecary himself or the gene-seed, they were just part of this blasphemous ritual.

The moment the Apothecary failed, both he and the gene-seed he won would be sacrificed to the Blood God, becoming part of the power fueling the offering.

This was a duel fated to end in failure.

Yet now, in this moment, as life was about to slip from his body...

A warrior had fallen from the sky, disrupting the profane rite. Bolter fire rained down, dragging the so-called victors among the audience back into the blood-soaked battlefield.

The fiery explosions reflected in Sifris’s eyes. In his fading mind, he seemed to see a cold-burning sun.

He had won.

“Mm.”

Arthur nodded seriously.

He reached out to take the gene-seed, only to find his palm wouldn’t move at all.

“Milord, please swear.”

Sifris locked eyes with Arthur and said weakly, “Swear that you will stay loyal to the Emperor, and fight for humanity until your final breath.”

Arthur couldn’t imagine how he was still managing to talk.

He paused for a moment, then nodded solemnly.

“......I swear.”

“You will guard the secrets of the Chapter’s gene-seed unto death, and never allow a single heretic to glimpse them.”

“I swear.”

“You will cut a bloody path through the enemy horde without hesitation, reach your brother’s side, and even if it costs your last drop of blood, bring back his honor!”

“I swear.”

Whoo—

Sifris let out a long breath, as if all his strength had left him in that moment. His right hand, still pressed to the gene-seed container, fell limp.

“Milord, for the Emperor... for Macragge...”

Arthur listened patiently, until that faint thread of a voice vanished, and his enhanced hearing told him that not a single movement remained in the body.

The scarred gauntlet slipped to the ground, and Arthur could feel it clearly—the soul inside that shell had departed.

“......”

He ignored the data readings suddenly surging across his interface. Arthur laid the Apothecary’s body down gently.

He reached out, picked up the Apothecary’s tool, connected it to his system, and following the armor’s manual, carefully extracted the gene-seed from the body.

Zzzzz~

Down in the dueling pit, after eliminating the remaining enemies, Romulus had ordered the Space Marines to fall back and reinforce the Astra Militarum, while he entered the Gellar field core to begin his investigation.

Aside from the blazing flames released by the Sisters to burn the heretics, and the low, sorrowful prayers filled with rage and grief, only the sound of chainsaws cutting through steel remained.

As the chainsaw slowly carved through the dead warrior’s armor, Arthur received the data transferred from the Apothecary—details on the origin of each gene-seed.

Gene-seeds: Crimson Fists - 4, Mantis Warriors - 4, Vengeful Spirit - 3, Celestial Claws - 2, Space Wolves - 2, Blood Angels - 1

And—

The syringe pierced the gland, drawing out the gene-seed. A string of data appeared before Arthur’s eyes.

【Sifris Gage】

【Deathwatch Apothecary stationed at Eternal Hunt Watch Post.】

【Former Chapter: Ultramarines.】

Clack—

The storage box clicked shut, and Arthur’s display updated.

Ultramarines - 2

He stood up, holding the box like it was a fragile piece of glass.

Eighteen gene-seeds in total.

He placed them into the compartment at his lower back, just below the power pack—an area least likely to be damaged in combat. Only when the box’s internal system linked with his armor and began real-time tracking of the gene-seeds did Arthur finally let out a long breath.

Recovery complete.

Then, he looked up toward the nearby Sister.

“Sister.”

“Milord!”

The Canoness, still incinerating heretics with promethium, ejected the smoking solvent canister and reloaded her flamer.

Hearing the call of the Emperor’s Angel, she put down her work, approached Arthur, and gave a devout Aquila salute.

“Your name, Sister.”

“Arabella, milord.”

Saint Arabella, founder of the Order of the Sacred Rose, and the living saint worshiped by the Order.

Any Sister bearing that name was usually one of high status and great respect within the Order.

“Sister Arabella, I ask you to pray for my brothers, to guide their souls to the Golden Throne.”

Arthur felt these warriors shouldn't vanish in silence, tainted by dishonor. But he didn’t know much about Astartes rituals, and as someone who never believed in religion, he couldn’t arrange a proper farewell for these warriors sanctified by the Ecclesiarchy.

So he turned to the Sisters.

In a world where faith truly had power, no one was more professional in prayer than a devout Sister.

“It would be my honor, milord.”

His words were rigid and concise, but in Arabella’s ears, they were the highest honor.

Each Space Marine Chapter had its own culture, often more distinct than the various sects within the Ecclesiarchy itself.

And with the unique importance of gene-seed, Space Marines placed tremendous weight on death rites—so much so that hardly anyone outside a Chapter’s own Chaplains was ever allowed to perform them.

Thus, for any devout follower of the Emperor, presiding over the death ritual of an Emperor’s Angel was an incredible honor.

Even for a Canoness who could command over a thousand Battle Sisters, there was no way she would refuse.