"We're currently aboard a Deathwatch strike cruiser. The outer hull's current state is due to a Chaos ambush that hit while the Deathwatch was chasing down Drukhari pirates at the Mandeville Point—right before an Ork kroozer dropped out of warp and rammed straight into them."
"As for the interior… a Chaos cult took control of the crew, killed the Navigator, activated the warp engine, and held a ritual onboard. The kicker is, the cult didn't belong to any single Chaos God—it was undivided. So the ship turned into this multicolored mess. And to make matters worse, it woke up some hidden abominations."
In front of a sealed blast door, Romulus explained the current state of the vessel with total composure.
Arthur only shrugged, as if he had expected this, though inside he felt like he'd swallowed dung.
The tone of all this was… disturbingly fitting. It was like an all-star parade of nightmare scenarios.
"So what do we do next?"
Not bothering to wait for a possibly corrupted cogitator's response, Arthur swung his sword and sliced through the metal door barring their path.
"First, we rendezvous at the central lift and head for the Gellar Field generator with the 43rd Cadian Regiment. There are Chaos Space Marines there—we need to help the Deathwatch kill them off. After that, we'll check the Navigator's Sanctum and see if we can jump back out of the warp."
Romulus tossed a melta charge behind him, melting through plasteel and cutting off the cultists and the rampaging Orks from pursuing.
"There's a detachment of the 43rd Cadian Shock Troops on this ship. We also have Sisters of Battle. The battle situation is still under control. Oh, and before I forget—spend a few points to download High and Low Gothic from me. Saves you the trouble of communication issues later."
"How do I do that?"
Arthur looked completely lost.
"Didn't even bother to study your cheat menu? All those years reading webnovels were wasted."
Romulus paused mid-step, unable to resist taking another jab.
Then he shook his head and explained patiently.
"You just need the intent to spend points on acquiring the languages. Technically speaking, this isn't really a system—it's just something that adapted into a form we can understand. But you don't have much time to fiddle with it right now."
"Ohhh, right."
Following his buddy's instructions, Arthur mentally brought up a panel. Sure enough, he could now input language data.
There were a bunch of things on the panel—some familiar, some alien. If he wanted to make full use of it, he'd need to spend serious time studying it.
Arthur scanned the chaotic data and the items sorting themselves according to his thoughts. After hesitating a moment, he decided not to spend any points—for now.
"By the way, who else came over here besides us?"
As they advanced through the corridor, Arthur kept a wary eye on every shadow that could hide an enemy.
Enemy density seemed lower here. Corpses with explosive wounds littered the path—every shot was a vital hit, clearly the work of a Space Marine.
"There are two more."
Romulus, reminded of a certain headache-inducing person, sighed.
"Let me guess."
Drawing a flamer from his lower back, Arthur roasted a hulking Ork as he asked casually:
"Karna and Ramesses?"
The four of them were all old friends from "the Moon," and their names—clearly referencing legendary heroes—made it obvious. Whenever there was a game to play, the four of them grouped up. Since Romulus was here, the other two were easy to guess.
"Yeah."
Romulus didn't deny it.
"Even byd's conscription pulls in your whole squad?"
Arthur pulled a bitter face—but honestly, he felt a lot better now than when he first transmigrated.
Sure, this was still a pile of crap, but at least he had three good brothers in it with him. That was a lot better than struggling alone.
"Maybe our IDs looked too human. We should've gone with something crazy, like your 'Emperor's Bastard.' I'd be too scared to use 'Emperor,' though."
Romulus sighed again, but his tone was easygoing. After all, having three other poor bastards suffering alongside him wasn't so bad.
Eating crap alone is suffering. Eating crap with friends? That's just... team-building.
"Where are they now?"
Arthur asked curiously.
"One's pulling duty over by the Navigator's Sanctum. The other…"
Romulus glanced at the time.
"…should be killing his way over here right about now."
"Huh?"
Suddenly, a horde of Orks appeared ahead. Just as Arthur prepared to dive in and wreck them, he was pulled back.
Romulus stared intently at the clock and counted down.
"Three…"
"Two…"
"One…"
"HORUS!!!"
A crimson blur shot past. Arthur couldn't even see clearly—only that thunderous roar echoed through the corridor.
Riiip!!
The blood-red warrior landed, his power spear crackling with a brilliant blue disruption field. Boosted by his jump pack, he tore a bloody path through the battlefield.
Whoosh!
Blades flashed in relentless arcs, turning everything before him to gore and pulp. The Blood Angel below looked up briefly, then turned to the Astra Militarum on the far side who were giving him covering fire. With a bellow, his jump pack flared again as he crashed through another bulkhead.
Only his terrifying battle cry lingered in their ears.
"HORUS!!!"
"…You know, you're actually better than him."
"…Fair enough."
Thanks to that Blood Angel—who did nothing but scream "Horus" while biting cultists' heads off—Arthur's group quickly reached the central elevator.
As Astartes, their enhanced physiology made them terrifying. Though they exchanged plenty of information along the way, to the cultists and mortals watching, all they could see was two blurs—one black, one blue—flashing past before their heads exploded.
It was hard to imagine that something so massive could move that fast.
Bang!
Arthur didn't wait for the doors to open. He sliced through the panel and, before the enemy could react, sprayed them with flamer fire. After instantly incinerating the close-quarters threats, he blocked a chainsword axe with his shield.
"WAAAGH!"
Before Arthur could counter, the Ork behind was suddenly hit by converging laser fire.
In a flash, searing beams tore into the alien's hide and twisted flesh—yet passed cleanly around Arthur, avoiding him despite their deadly precision.
He had been about to lift his sword and decapitate the enemy, but upon seeing that, he sheathed his weapon with disbelief, turning to study the warriors in crimson armor and dark camo undersuits, firing across the room.
At the front line, shield-troopers in heavy armor held chokepoints with massive jump shields. Heretics and xenos alike were torn to pieces by exotic weaponry, their remains crushed into a sticky carpet underfoot.
In the center, fireteams suppressed every corridor with ruthless efficiency. Even a Genestealer poking through the ceiling barely got halfway out before being vaporized.
At the flanks, when one soldier manning a heavy bolter was shredded, another immediately pulled the body aside and took his place, unleashing that reassuring thump-thump-thump once more.
At the rear, logistics teams rushed crates of ammo and energy cells between positions, keeping the frontline supplied and the firepower constant.
Everyone had a role to play. Flesh and blood held the line through sheer grit and coordination, holding fast even against the horrors of the galaxy.
"This is the Cadian Shock Troops."
Romulus wasn't surprised at all by their performance. He casually cleared enemies as he stepped into the fortifications.
True, in Warhammer lore the Astra Militarum often served as cannon fodder and background noise, crushed by gods and monsters.
But in real life, these were the best of the best, handpicked from billions of humans.
Especially those in red uniforms—from Cadia, where even six-year-olds could shoot a lasgun. Among the already elite Astra Militarum, they were the cream of the crop.
Compared to the Space Marines—who, after the Codex Astartes, shifted toward special ops due to size limits—these countless mortal soldiers were now the Imperium's true frontline against heretics and xenos.
Arthur silently observed, memorizing the layout and eavesdropping on comms. Then he followed Romulus.
They were in the ship's cargo lift area, held by the 43rd Cadian.
As they arrived, another Ork wave charged in—but the earlier waves of daemons, cultists, and horrors had already thinned their numbers.
Caught in this kill zone, they stood no chance against the precise and overwhelming fire.
The Astra Militarum held strong. Some still fighting aliens even had the composure to salute the Space Marines in the Emperor's name.
Amid the rising roar of bolters, lasguns, grenades, and flamers, Arthur nodded in return.
"For the Emperor!"
Low Gothic was a mix of symbols and dialects—different from what Arthur was used to, but familiar enough. With his post-transmigration super-brain, he was rapidly picking it up.
Perhaps it was this new body—when Arthur focused, his learning speed was ridiculous. Just like when he cut through the previous monsters.
"For the Emperor, my lord!"
The Guardsmen were flattered by the salute, shouting slogans as they returned to their posts.
Visibly, the morale among these weary warriors had risen.
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