Lancelot took a deep breath, flourished his sword in a dazzling arc, then gave the order.
“For the Emperor.
Move out!
Purge the enemies of mankind!”
Lancelot drew in another breath and led the squad in long strides through the warship’s passageways.
Behind him, the Death Korps of Krieg soldiers followed in extremely orderly formation, providing support.
Most of the time, however, all they needed to do was finish off the Orks Lancelot had already cut in half.
That small bit of assistance alone made Lancelot’s efficiency rise once again.
In the past, no matter the situation, one at least had to thoroughly destroy an Ork’s head to prevent these mushroom-like creatures from picking up their companions’ corpses and piecing them back together for revival.
Now, the Death Korps soldiers meant Lancelot no longer needed to worry about that.
The elites selected from a Death Korps company were indeed highly skilled.
Their shooting was precise, their tactical coordination was excellent, and they were familiar with the ship’s layout, greatly accelerating Lancelot’s advance.
Of course, that last point was the key.
With soldiers familiar with the ship’s structure guiding him, Lancelot no longer needed to keep chasing enemies based on sound.
Instead, he began using the terrain to encircle and purge the Orks.
Even so, advancing like this still came with danger.
Orks only looked reckless.
In reality, they were indescribably cunning.
After discovering that their shootas seemed to be useless, they began bundling explosives together into crude improvised bombs.
During the advance, one Death Korps soldier was suddenly ambushed by a Gretchin that rushed out from a corner while hugging a bundle of explosives.
The fuse was already about to burn out.
Even so, the Krieg soldier showed no fear.
He fired calmly and silently, killing it.
But the explosion was already right in front of him.
Beneath the respirator mask, that young face looked so resolute.
“Emperor, have I completed my atonement?”
The young soldier thought this to himself.
For the warriors of other Imperial forces, to return their souls to the Golden Throne was their lifelong pursuit.
But for the soldiers of the Death Korps of Krieg, death was merely the payment of the debt they owed.
Krieg had originally been a prosperous world.
But because rebellion had broken out, everything that had once flourished was destroyed.
Loyalists and traitors slaughtered each other in ruins and tunnels.
By the time the loyalists won their brutal victory, Krieg had already become a wasteland.
From that point onward, the people of Krieg felt shame because of that rebellion.
Atonement became their choice, and the method was to die in battle for the Imperium.
Sacrifice was the foundation of the Imperium.
This bloated, rotting corpse of an empire, swaying in the storm, had endured to the present age after the primarchs vanished only through the sacrifices of countless people.
Yet just as this Death Korps soldier calmly prepared to die, Lancelot moved like lightning.
He yanked the soldier’s body away, kicked the bomb flying, then cut it in half with his power sword.
Bang!
The bomb still exploded not far away.
Terrifying flames erupted violently at that moment.
The Inviolable Domain could not affect the natural laws of the material world.
This Ork-made bomb was indeed shockingly powerful, but Lancelot’s power armor still blocked it.
Only his robe was scorched, revealing the black armor beneath where the markings had been erased.
It was no serious issue.
Lancelot swung his sword, cutting apart the smoke and dust from the explosion, then glanced at the soldier behind him before preparing to continue the advance.
But at that moment, a slightly hoarse voice came from behind him.
“My lord, I do not understand.”
The Death Korps soldier, from a force famous for its silence, finally could not help speaking.
“Supporting me will affect your efficiency in clearing out these heretics.
If this happens again, please pay us no mind!”
The soldier spoke with extreme solemnity.
Lancelot merely glanced at him, then turned his head.
Death Korps soldiers regarded death as glory.
Had he just taken away this man’s chance at glory?
For an ordinary Space Marine, perhaps he truly would not pay much attention to the lives and deaths of these mortals.
But for Lancelot, who had only just transmigrated here, things were different.
In a game, perhaps he would not care how many units had died.
But now that this was happening right before his eyes, now that he was experiencing it personally, if he could save someone, Lancelot would still do his best to save them.
Only, faced with the soldier’s question behind him, Lancelot felt somewhat helpless and could only answer casually.
“Soldier, value your life.”
After saying that, Lancelot continued striding forward, leaving behind the Death Korps soldier who had just risen from the floor.
At that moment, the soldier seemed to sink into some kind of cognitive contradiction.
Only when the Commissar beside him picked up the lasgun he had dropped earlier and placed it back into his hands did he recover slightly.
“Take up your rifle, soldier.
Do not waste the second life the Emperor’s Angel has granted you.”
“…Yes, sir.”
The soldier accepted the rifle, but his tone was low.
As the Commissar of the Death Korps of Krieg, the man seized his shoulder at that moment and said:
“I understand your confusion, soldier.
But this only means your mission is not yet complete!”
The Commissar spoke earnestly.
In other regiments, Commissars supervised the battle to prevent morale from collapsing and deserters from appearing.
But in the Death Korps of Krieg, the education Commissars received was to prevent soldiers from making pointless sacrifices.
However, even this battle-hardened Commissar had never encountered something like this before.
An Angel of the Emperor had actually stopped for the sake of mortals like them, and even warned them to value their lives.
In this desperate world where dying for the Emperor was glory, those words truly seemed somewhat incomprehensible.
The Commissar could only stare deeply at the black-armored back in the distance.
Ssshhh, ssshhh, ssshhh!
The severed limbs and broken remains of Orks flew everywhere, as if flung around by an invisible mop.
Squelch.
The great sword in Lancelot’s hands danced, sword flowers blooming one after another.
Xenos corpses fell before him, then were crushed into pulp beneath iron boots.
The Death Korps soldiers witnessed what it meant to be a humanoid meat grinder.
The machine-spirit within the power sword was exceptionally active.
Every swing roared at full output.
Under the suppression of the Inviolable Domain, the Ork Boyz abandoned armor and weapons like Gretchin whose toes had just been stepped on.
The Orks no longer constituted a threat.
But very soon, Lancelot approached the area occupied by the Genestealers.
Genestealers were also extremely powerful hunters.
Lancelot did not dare show the slightest contempt.
He waved a hand, signaling the Death Korps soldiers following him to establish a defensive position on their own, then strode into the passage.
The lighting arrays overhead had long since shattered.
Only the blood-red emergency lights powered by the backup supply remained, cutting the entire space into interlaced fragments of light and shadow.
Lancelot stepped forward and stood in the center of those fragments.
Through an Astartes’ senses, he could feel certain things surging in the darkness.
The first one leapt out from the shadows.
But Lancelot did not rashly retreat.
He did not even move his feet.
He simply turned his wrist, dipped the sword tip downward, then flicked it upward, piercing through the monster’s lower jaw and out through its upper palate.