Seraphs of the Emperor’s Judgment

Chapter 160: Sebastian Yarrick

"God-Emperor above... God-Emperor above..."

Watching these Space Marines hurl themselves into the fray, the Sergeant Major slid back down into the crater, struggling to steady his breathing.

He could still feel those piercing eyes condemning his cowardice. He could sense the disgust and accusation in that gaze, yet he could only accept it.

He was indeed a coward, unworthy of wearing the proud uniform of the Astra Militarum. By cowering like a frightened child, he had given the Astartes their first impression of him: a panic-stricken, weeping coward desperate to flee from death.

However, he wasn't dead yet. He was going to show the Space Marines what the true Astra Militarum looked like.

Miller scrambled to his feet, vaulted out of the crater, and charged forward in the wake of the Space Marines, his lasgun swinging wildly by his side with the momentum of his sprint.

Then, expelling every last ounce of air from his lungs, he roared:

"For the Emperor!"

Watching the battlefield from afar, the Ork Mekboy nodded at a Nob bodyguard, who immediately scurried trembling toward the Warboss.

The massive Nob was casually watching the Orbital Drop Pods raining down from above like meteorites.The bodyguard stood before the boss, shivering in anticipation of a potential beating.

Moments later, the Warboss's attention was drawn elsewhere, saving the subordinate.

Gretchin and Boyz had skirted the edge of the battlefield. The Warboss could see they had bypassed the human defensive line, making a beeline for the relatively safe zones further in the rear.

The Warboss panted furiously for a moment. He stepped forward to the bodyguard leaning against the edge of the trukk and clapped him firmly on the back, causing the Nob to relax and spit a glob of phlegm.

Then, the Warboss drew himself up to his full height and unleashed a war-cry that echoed across the entire battlefield:

"Waaaaaaaaagh!"

Hundreds of Orks, stumbling and tripping in their desperate bid to flee the Space Marines, turned their heads to look at him.

For a brief moment, they hesitated, caught between the terrifying Angels of the Emperor behind them and the furious Warboss before them.

But it was only for a moment.

Seeing this, the bodyguard quietly turned around and began to slink away from the war trukk, hoping his boss had lost interest in him.

Yet, he only managed two steps before the Warboss vaulted off the side of the trukk, landing squarely atop him.

Beneath that terrifying weight, the bodyguard was flattened against the earth.

"Humph! Waaagh!"

Standing atop his own bodyguard, the Warboss rained a brutal flurry of blows down upon the hapless victim's head until he was satisfied his point had been made.

Witnessing their boss's unchecked fury, the fleeing Boyz spun on their heels and launched themselves back into the assault.

At the most intense section of the front line combat, the young Commissar leaned backward to dodge an ax swung straight for his face, then countered at point-blank range with a scavenged shotgun.

The massive ax buried itself in the dirt as the greenskin let out a roar of frustration.

The Commissar squeezed the trigger, the shotgun blast hammered into the greenskin's protruding gut and punching numerous gaping holes into it. The beast promptly clutched its ripped abdomen and bolted.

He let out a soft sigh, leaning on the barrel of his gun for a brief rest, before raising it once more and firing fiercely at another approaching greenskin.

Incessant shouting surrounded him on all sides. He could hear officers desperately rallying their soldiers to hold the line against wave after wave of greenskin assaults, and he could hear the agonized screams of men falling beneath the onslaught of these inhuman beasts.

Concussive shockwaves filled the air, the ground trembling ceaselessly beneath the impact of mortars, grenades, and rokkits.

"Commissar!"

A voice cried out, just as the Commissar brutally blasted a ragged hole through the chests of several charging Gretchin. The little creatures fell to the ground, shrieking in agony.

Hearing the call, he glanced back over his shoulder, yet couldn't discern who had shouted.

Suddenly, a shell grazed the top of the Commissar's distinctive black peaked cap. He whipped his head back around, only to see the round punch squarely into the face of a greenskin looming right behind him—the creature's chest was already riddled with gunshot wounds, yet it still held its ax high, poised to cleave the Commissar in two.

The bolter round buried itself in the beast's skull, instantly shattering the thick bone into a shower of fragments.

Before the Commissar could even react, a towering warrior clad in silver-grey armor rushed past him, pouring a relentless hail of bolter fire into the frenzied Orks as he advanced with steady, measured strides.

This mighty stranger was not alone. A squad of similar warriors stood firm at the center of the defensive line, standing more than half a body's length taller than the soldiers beside them.

It was only a short while before the greenskins clinging to the defensive line began to rout, their berserk assault devolving into a chaotic retreat.

Pressing their advantage, the Space Marines strode out from the trenches, transitioning from defense to a brutal counter-offensive.

Consequently, the greenskins fell into even greater disarray. The charging Boyz skidded to sudden halts, causing those behind, unable to react in time, to crash bodily into their backs. Nobz brandishing choppas had long since turned tail, staggering into the smokescreen concealing the center of the battlefield, while wailing Gretchin hurled themselves behind any cover they could find, desperate to evade the lethal fusillade unleashed by the Space Marines.

For the first time in days, the Imperial forces had seized control of the situation.

Striding at the vanguard of the counterattack, the Space Marines reaped the frantically retreating greenskins with sweeping chainswords and disciplined volleys of bolter fire.

The retreat rapidly deteriorated into an outright rout as the greenskins abandoned their positions and scattered in all directions.

The Commissar stared at the fleeing greenskins in sheer awe, but quickly composed himself, turning to offer a deep bow of reverence to the Space Marine who had saved his life.

"I am Commissar Sebastian Yarrick. We welcome your arrival beyond words, my lord."

The unhelmeted Space Marine lowered his head slightly, observing the young Commissar, who appeared to be merely in his early twenties, with curiosity.

"I am Soshyan Alexey, Chapter Master of the Astral Knights. Report your status."

Commissar Yarrick froze for a moment, then replied with utmost respect and palpable emotion:

"We have suffered catastrophic casualties, but the men fought valiantly for honor and ultimately held the line... more or less."

As he spoke, he made a conscious effort to straighten his posture, attempting to command a modicum of respect before the towering Space Marine.

Soshyan surveyed the surrounding ruins. The earth was cratered and littered with corpses—all of whom had died facing the enemy, though a small handful were slumped with their backs to the front lines, shot from behind.

Yet, as far as his eyes could see, not a single greenskin had breached the internal perimeter of the trenches.

Soshyan nodded slowly, turning his gaze back to Yarrick.

"You held your ground in the face of the Emperor's enemies and fulfilled your duty. You have done exceedingly well, young man."

When Yarrick realized what the Chapter Master was looking at, he nodded and let out a sigh of relief.

"What is the status of the wounded?"

"Grim. We possessed very few transport ships to begin with, and the majority were destroyed during the initial wave of greenskin assaults. The wounded soldiers can only receive rudimentary medical attention. Many have succumbed to blood loss and severe infections."

Yarrick explained, his tone somewhat somber.

"Then you shall receive more transports."

Soshyan replied simply, turning to face Armin, who held the Chapter standard.

"Contact the Starfire. Instruct them to deploy Valkyries for civilian medevac, and simultaneously—"

He paused, turning back to Yarrick with a suggestive smile.

"We will be deploying additional ground forces."