“For the Emperor.”
Malakim removed his helm and answered Lancelot in those words.
Looking at the exceptionally handsome face before him, reshaped by the gene-line of Sanguinius, Lancelot could not help feeling a faint sense of emotion.
Before this, the gene-seed of the Blood Angels had essentially belonged to a legion of vampires.
The arrival of their gene-sire had improved that condition, but after Sanguinius died, in addition to the negative effects of the Red Thirst, the Blood Angels gained a new genetic flaw known as the Black Rage.
Yet during the Cursed Founding, the gene-seed of the Lamenters Chapter had accidentally eliminated the negative effects of the Black Rage and the Red Thirst.
At the same time, they inherited the noble qualities of the Angel: kindness toward mortals and loyalty toward their brothers.
One could say they were the perfect Blood Angels.
Unfortunately, in the rotten universe of Warhammer, good people existed to be bullied.
Sometimes, perhaps, one had to become just as obsessive as the Dark Angels.
Thinking this, Lancelot looked at the “honest men” before him, the Lamenters Chapter and sons of Sanguinius, and decided to properly deepen relations with them in order to consolidate the great friendship of the Second Imperium.
But how should he begin?
As Lancelot considered this, an opportunity came through the vox-array.
“Lord Brother, the Ork offensive is gradually fading, but those Genestealers are still running rampant.”
As Astartes, nothing strengthened friendship between warriors more than battle.
Since the fires of war had yet to die out, this was not yet the time for idle conversation.
Lancelot gave a slight nod, then put his helmet back on.
At that moment, Malakim also heard the intelligence over the vox-channel and donned his own helm, preparing to lead the Lamenters alongside Lancelot to purge those filthy four-armed xenos.
Bang, bang, bang.
Xenos howls echoed from the darkness, but to Lancelot, the moment he appeared on the battlefield, the movement trajectories of every enemy unit were already being constructed inside his mind.
His heavy iron armor charged through the corridors with astonishing lightness and speed.
Before the Lamenters, Lancelot’s figure as he wielded his power sword was like a white sun crashing into a tide of xenos.
The power sword danced at high speed.
His exquisite swordsmanship was so flawless that even the sons of Sanguinius could not find the slightest opening in it.
Beneath that dazzling blur of blade-light, even Chapter Master Malakim of the Lamenters felt somewhat stunned.
Lancelot’s swordsmanship was so skilled.
Perhaps he was a Company Champion of the Dark Angels, or even a Chapter Champion?
Yet for some reason, his attire seemed somewhat different from that of the modern Dark Angels.
Ancient and secretive.
That was what Chapter Master Malakim of the Lamenters thought.
This was his first time fighting alongside the Dark Angels.
As for the First Legion, he knew only scattered fragments, only that they were the first army created by the God-Emperor.
It was like the saying went.
If the Emperor wanted to defeat you, He sent the Ultramarines.
If He wanted to punish you, He sent the Space Wolves.
And if He no longer wished to see you anywhere in the galaxy, He sent the Dark Angels.
Since ancient times, the Dark Angels had slaughtered and exterminated countless xenos in places unseen by humanity.
They were the Emperor’s executioners.
In rumor, they were silent, efficient, cold, and merciless.
But…
Malakim looked toward Lancelot not far away.
He had no intention of prying too deeply into the battle-brother currently fighting beside him, but from what he could see, the other man did not seem entirely like the Dark Angels of rumor.
He was powerful, and he was indeed cold and merciless toward enemies.
But toward allies, he was not like that.
Once the battle was over, he would ask.
At the very least, he needed to know which force of the Dark Angels this warrior belonged to.
Malakim thought this.
As a Chapter Master, he had to think more deeply than an ordinary Space Marine.
As a warrior, he naturally understood that amid the fires of war across the galaxy, friendship was precious and rare.
The Lamenters Chapter had been despised because of their origins, but that did not mean the brothers of the Chapter did not long for friendship and recognition.
Just as Lancelot had said earlier, they bore the blood of Sanguinius.
Naturally, they wished to bring glory to Sanguinius, not shame.
They did not know how long they had remained within the Warp.
But now, blessed by the Emperor, they had broken free from the Warp storm.
If they could gain the friendship of the Dark Angels, perhaps the Lamenters Chapter could break free from the name of the cursed.
With that thought, the Lamenters Chapter and Lancelot charged together into the ranks of those Genestealer Hybrids.
Lancelot’s null field descended, and a vast amount of information began surging through his mind.
This field was not like the direct isolation of Warp influence created by blanks or the soul-dead zones of the Necrons.
The Warp was the projection of people’s spiritual aspect, and the human soul was deeply bound to it.
If the Warp were truly cut off, psykers would fall into madness, and soldiers would gradually go insane as well.
It did not directly sever one’s connection to the Warp.
It merely caused all attempts by psykers to interfere with the material world through psychic power to become empty talk.
Within Lancelot’s field, this would create faint ripples, like stones being dropped into water.
It was almost as if it were providing him with a position lock.
Genestealers also wielded psychic power.
Purestrain Genestealers could use psychic abilities for mental control and could also form a broodmind, sharing thought, encrypted communication, and command without delay with all hybrids.
This ability was very powerful, but before the null field, every psychic command it issued would highlight its position in Lancelot’s vision.
And as Lancelot entered the battlefield, the Genestealer Hybrids were bewildered to discover that they had lost their command.
They could only fight separately, no longer posing any real threat.
Lancelot strode forward, charging toward the unit with the strongest psychic signal at the bottom of the ship.
The Lamenters surrounding him did not know why Lancelot’s target was so precise, but they still followed him like the edge of a blade, piercing into the formation of cultists and xenos.
Thud, thud, thud!
The high-speed armor scraped across the metal floor, producing a thunderous shriek.
With the help of the Lamenters, Lancelot rapidly closed in on that psychic signal.
After he approached, the other party finally noticed something was wrong and began trying to flee.
But it was useless.
Its position had already been marked by Lancelot, and the Lamenters traveling with him had already completed the encirclement according to that location.
The slender, misshapen figure fled, only to abruptly stop.
Its eyes locked onto the figure ahead.
The bright yellow battle-helm was especially conspicuous, and on that helm, the angel-wing pattern gleamed with a cold edge beneath the emergency lights.
Malakim lightly tapped the hilt of his chainsword with his fingertip.
The thick chain blade instantly roared as it came free.
Beside him, three warriors of the Lamenters Chapter formed a triangular battle formation, the sounds of their boltguns chambering rounds linking together in one continuous metallic chorus.
Yet even in the face of such readiness, that Purestrain Genestealer showed not the slightest panic.
It suddenly arched its mutated body.
Claws extended from its muscle-knotted forelimbs, and it lunged forward with a reeking gust of wind.
Its speed was so fast that only a gray-black afterimage remained.
As a Purestrain Genestealer, its claws could easily tear through the armor of a Space Marine.
Its own speed was extraordinarily swift, and the chitinous carapace covering its body allowed it to resist most energy weapons.
But in the eyes of the prepared Lamenters, its sudden assault was nothing more than the final struggle of a dying beast.