Silence fell over the deserted church as the howls of the storm were locked outside.
Beria walked to the front of the apothecary, his eyes adjusting to the changes in light. A string of angular luminaries shone along the ceiling. The entire corridor was filled with the silent yellow reserved for religious buildings and cardinals' residences. light.
Later, Grand Master Deathwing smelled blood and touched the activation stud on the Silent Sword with his thumb.
"get ready."
The Terminators raised their storm bolters, letting their scopes feed targeting data into their helmet-mounted displays.
Everyone knows it's best not to question Beria's instincts.
From the reception room, they entered the Consolation Hall, a long corridor with separate prayer rooms every few meters.
Then the Dark Angels paused as dried blood and flesh covered the metal floor in front of them, paving the way like a carpet of some warp-generated Daemon Prince.
The pharmacist got down on one knee, reached out with a probe from his medical kit, and used it to scrape away a smear of blood.
As the probe completed its analysis, a line of genetic sequences flashed across his monitor.
"Leon."
The pharmacist slammed his fist onto the ground, causing the metal plate to crack.
"This blood belongs to the missing brother."
Beria tightened his grip on the weapon, his pulse began to quicken, and he swallowed hard.
"Emperor, please appease my anger."
Belial recited the battle prayer silently while suppressing the urge to tear the wall apart.
"The main church is at the far end."
the pharmacist said as the timing display flashed a warning on his monitor.
“There’s still time left—”
"Advance behind me."
Belial activated his Silent Sword, and the force field attached to the blade stirred the air impatiently, but made no sound.
This sword is one of the legendary Heavenly Swords. This weapon can only be carried by the inner circle members of the Dark Angels.
According to records, its blade was forged from the core of a meteorite that struck the barbaric world of Albarada and was later acquired by the Dark Angels, who forged many powerful blades.
One of the most powerful secret swords is carried by the Chapter's Grand Master Azrael. The Silent Sword and Crow Sword carried by the Lords of Deathwing and Ravenwing are forged with a small amount of meteorites, and the Silent Sword Also one of a kind, this weapon absorbs surrounding sounds and absorbs them into its blade.
"If anyone shows up, shoot them."
Beria uttered these words from his tightly closed lips, then relaxed his focus and bent his knees.
The Apothecary nodded and slammed a new clip into his bolter.
"For Caliban!"
Belial started running, his pace quickening, the servos in the Terminator humming, the augmented artificial muscles propelling him forward at breakneck speed, like an engine of ceramic and fury.
A squadron of Deathwing Terminators followed closely behind him.
"Room 1, confirm! Room 2, confirm!"
The Deathwing Terminators ran, looking left and right, updating Belial constantly, while his armor's optical and audio sensors checked and recorded the heartbeats of each prayer chamber.
"No. 3——"
Suddenly, lasers pierced Beria from both sides.
"Enemy attack, direction from five o'clock to nine o'clock."
Belial continued running, ignoring the sporadic firelight coming from within the room.
Most of the shots went far, and before the attacker could take aim, his powerful stride carried him through the opening in the room.
Occasionally a few bullets grazed his armor, ripping little more than paint off his armor, but his rage at his brother's death fueled him, and the helmet's sound amplifier combined with the hall's acoustics to amplify his fury. Until it filled the corridor like the roar of some hideous beast.
"keep going."
Finally, Belial opened fire, his storm bolter crackling in his hands, and the three traitors fell to the ground, their heads exploding from their malnourished shoulders.
"Security at the rear."
They were approaching the last set of prayer rooms, the target overlay lighting up with data, tracing the path of three fist-sized objects that rolled down the hallway in front of him.
"Grenade!"
Beria shouted a warning to everyone, and as the device exploded, the apothecary dove into the nearest prayer room, avoiding the wash of flames and shrapnel rolling from them.
Belial turned a blind eye to it. Although a series of warnings lit up on the retina display, he just blinked the warnings off - his armor was intact.
In front of him, the traitors fled in panic. After all, when the bone-white giant emerged unscathed from the sea of flames, they had lost any means and will to resist.
Beria heard a low cry and a painful snap as the man's bones cracked beneath his massive body.
The Grand Master of Deathwing snorted, picked up the dead man by his skull.
"Grandmaster Beria?"
The pharmacist's voice crackled in Beria's ears.
"I'm not hurt."
Beria's gloves were stained with blood.
"The path is clear, brother."
"No, there's one left, over there."
Beria threw the traitor's head into the opposite room, and a man screamed, firing reflexively as the head fell.
The Grand Master of the Deathwing walked into the room, letting his armor filter out the smell of feces.
A poor man had the muzzle of his laser gun pressed into his mouth, his eyes trembling as he looked up at the Dark Angel.
"Coward! Don't even dare to face death!"
Beria's roar made the man tremble, and he reflexively pulled the trigger.
In an instant, a laser round blasted open his skull, coating the wall behind him with superheated brain matter.
The apothecary turned from the body and pointed to the arched door of the church.
"We have to know what's behind those doors."
Beria looked at the fusion marks on the church doors, where someone had welded them together from the outside.
He took a step back, then surged forward, slamming his armored shoulder into the welding wire.
The metal is bent.
Then the Deathwing Grand Master raised his knee and kicked it up.
The door clicked inward and opened.
As he walked into the room, a row of hanging lights suddenly came on.
"Emperor..."
Under the light, the remains of nine dark angels adorned the church's curved walls, held in place by the blades of chainswords, hanging like nightmare versions of the faces of the saints that adorned the church. Their armor was dented and dented from multiple impacts and tears, their helmets were torn off their armor, their goggles were broken, and their faces were left with dented shells and bloody hair. .
"Leon, save us."
The apothecary dropped to one knee, stunned by the desecration of his brother's flesh.
“Blood for blood.”
Belial whispered through gritted teeth and pulled the ritual blade from the nearest corpse.
