Cezak charged forward, leaping high into the air. His chainsword carved a savage arc as it cleaved into the oversized head of an Ogryn.
As he descended with full momentum, the whirling blade split the Ogryn in two.
The splattering blood and innards painted Cezak's vision red. As he landed, he gripped his chainsword with both hands and dashed into the Ogryn horde like a howling whirlwind.
Like a virus spreading from a host, the Astartes around him lost all discipline, overcome by battle frenzy. They roared like beasts, surging forward into a brutal melee.
The lines collapsed. Ogryn clubs smashed into power armor.
One Astartes, surrounded in the chaos, took hits from three Ogryns at once.
Their immense strength and crude wooden clubs, reinforced with iron spikes, dented even power armor under repeated strikes.
The Astartes, utterly consumed by rage, didn't dodge. He swung his chainsword wildly, cutting down one Ogryn before another crashed down upon him, and moments later, he lay dead in a pool of blood.
The death of a battle-brother only fueled the bloodlust of the First Company warriors, who threw themselves even deeper into the savage melee.
Amid the chaos, only Lieutenant Dixon managed to maintain any semblance of order in his men.
Nareth shook his head slightly. The First Company had shown some change, but it clearly wasn't enough.
They had been recruited as children, shaped during their transformations into weapons of slaughter.
Now, the battlefield amplified their violent instincts. Under the old leaders, the Emperor and Horus, they had been used like bloodstained scalpels, their bloodlust etched into flesh and soul alike.
Any battle of this intensity would make them snap. This would happen again.
With this in mind, Nareth adjusted his long-term plan slightly:
'If Howard and the others can integrate into the companies, and Cezak, along with other Terra-born Captains, can adapt, that's ideal, because they're all outstanding warriors.'
'But if that fails, Howard and his group, possessing additional powers and my backing, will naturally gain influence and eventually replace them.'
In Nareth's estimation, if these feral Terra-born warriors, bred in blood and fire, continued to fight this way, their death rate would be extremely high.
'I wouldn't even need to act. They'll sacrifice themselves in battle soon enough.'
But if they refused to change and didn't die a "glorious death," Nareth already had a backup plan:
He would follow Roboute Guilliman's example in forming the 22nd Company, a unit composed entirely of culturally incompatible Terra-born Astartes. That group would later evolve into the "Nemesis Company", specialized in executing purges.
The 22nd even housed two full Destroyer companies. Guilliman had called them a "necessary evil," deployed only when truly required.
As all these thoughts passed rapidly through Nareth's mind, he came to a decision.
Then, he let out a thunderous roar, filled with fury and disappointment.
The Ogryns paused in confusion, and even the blood-crazed Astartes' minds stalled momentarily.
In a flash, Nareth appeared behind Cezak.
Like lifting a mortal child, the Primarch grabbed Cezak by the back of the neck, and threw him.
With impossible force and precision, Nareth hurled the Captain like a spinning missile.
For the first time, the "Briber" used his power to throw an Astartes, but it felt as natural as tossing a spear.
Spinning like a black cyclone, Cezak smashed through five Ogryns instantly.
Still spinning, he plowed through dozens more before finally losing momentum and crashing heavily into the dirt.
Nareth stomped the ground and shouted with mind-enhancing force:
"Control your bloodlust! You are the Shadow of Order!"
His voice, laced with psychic energy, hit like ice water on a summer day.
The First Company snapped out of their frenzy.
They clutched their weapons, stunned, ashamed. They realized they had once again disobeyed their Father's command.
In that frozen moment, the Ogryns also recovered from their daze.
That's when the Honor Guard attacked.
Unlike the other squads, who had adapted to the raiding style of the Luna Wolves, the Seventh Company still adhered to the traditional Astartes doctrine.
The warriors with seven red arrows painted on their right pauldrons stepped to the front, adopting the standard side-stance hip-fire formation.
Their helmets synced perfectly with their boltguns, allowing them to deliver pinpoint volleys at the onrushing, wide-mouthed Ogryns.
With Primarch-inherited reflexes, the warriors saw the Ogryns' movements as if in slow motion, like footage from a tactical archive.
Their firepower drowned out the howling. The first wave of Ogryns collapsed under the hail of bolter shells.
As the Seventh finished emptying their thirty-round mags, the Fourth Company surged through the gaps between them.
After a round of boltpistol volleys, they activated their roaring chainswords and engaged in coordinated strikes.
Though fewer in number, they quickly dispersed and carved apart the disorganized Ogryns, fighting in pairs.
One drew the Ogryn's attention; the other lunged during an opening, aiming for joints and weak points.
The First Company watched this unfold and saw the difference.
Efficient. Precise. Weakness-focused.
Only then did they begin to understand their Father's teachings.
Driven by the desire to regain his approval, the First Company began clumsily mimicking Fourth Company's tactics.
They tried to coordinate.
Nareth nodded in satisfaction and noticed the silver-haired Arsena beginning to act.
Raising his crystal staff, Arsena unleashed a telekinetic shockwave, sending dozens of Ogryns' clubs flying into the air.
The Ogryns stared dumbfounded at the airborne weapons.
With a pull of his hand, Arsena caused the clubs to slam down, striking each Ogryn squarely on the head, knocking them out cold.
Arsena Dunn and Marlena Scala are both strong candidates for non-Astartes attendants.
As Nareth thought this, he looked toward Cezak, who was climbing up from the dirt.
His black power armor was dented, smeared with blood, gore, and mud. He looked disheveled.
The moment Nareth had grabbed his neck, Cezak's mind had cleared. While spinning through the air, scenes from the battle flashed through his head, details his rage had made him ignore.
He knew he had lost control again.
And he didn't think it was wrong.
This is what the Emperor made them for. They were weapons.
But then he met Nareth's gaze.
Cezak froze. In those eyes, he saw warning, disappointment, and a faint sliver of hope.
'I have disappointed Father…'
A rare emotion seized him, panic, unfamiliar since his rebirth in Luna's labs.
In desperation, he turned to what he knew best: violence.
Cezak spun around, leaving Nareth's gaze behind, and plunged into the Ogryns once more.
'It's all your fault, you filthy abhumans!'
He unleashed his fury on them, slicing off legs, severing arms with terrifying precision.
His armor turned red with gore, but this time, he remained in control.
He could feel those eyes watching him from behind.
He was like a child desperate not to let his father down, fighting to break the cycle.
Just then, a massive Ogryn, taller than any of the others, clad in armor that shimmered with black light, wielding a jet-black club, charged straight at Cezak.
The Captain's eyes lit up. This one was different, stronger, better equipped. A real challenge.
'Finally, a proper opponent.'
At that moment, Nareth noticed the same Ogryn.
'Unusual… might be a source of useful intel.'
He extended his awareness toward the towering brute.
...
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
p@treon.com/DaoistJinzu