Reborn - Nicholas Wolf by Warhammer 40K

Author:Warhammer 40K [40K, Warhammer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781789996821
Published: 2019-04-16T08:08:28+00:00

V

Another war, another world. I don’t know what it’s called, nor do I care so long as I help to kill it.

I stare across the smouldering morass of churned earth and shredded corpses, razor wire and tank traps and blood-soaked craters, at the Imperial fortifications protecting their precious artillery. Row upon row of trenches stretch before me. Heavy weapons platforms stud the battle line. Armoured pillboxes squat at every switchback. Two companies of Guardsmen lurk within, armed with lasguns, grenade launchers and flamers.

And looming at its apex is a brutal ferrocrete battlement, bristling with heavy bolter turrets and sensora to direct the Basilisks. For years that damned edifice has taunted me.

Today it dies.

‘For the Pantheon!’ I roar, thrusting my sword high. ‘Death to the Imperium!’

Twenty thousand throats howl for blood. Twenty thousand zealots scream their loyalty to the Dark Gods. Twenty thousand warriors roar bloody oaths of vengeance. I savour it all for just a moment, for I feel in my bones that it is the death knell of yet another world.

The Reborn, ranks swollen by blood-duels beyond even my counting, charge the enemy trenches in an unstoppable tide of remade flesh.

Gunfire slashes into us the moment we scale our trench, as it has countless times before. Hundreds are blown apart in seconds. Artillery rains down moments later, throwing shredded bodies into the air on wings of dirt. The Reborn scream in agony, in rage, in horror, in sorrow, as war punishes us. The weak flounder, scurrying for cover as they wail in terror. The strong surge forward into the jaws of death.

But Lord Jarak’s command was clear: this line must break today, and his immortals are engaged in the void against the Imperium’s lapdogs.

I will not fail him.

The blood-soaked ground shakes as the riot of shrieking flesh thunders past me. The thing that was Nikyta, howling from a dozen fanged mouths, crashes headlong through the razor wire ahead of us. I remember the day he became a spawn of Chaos as clearly as though it were yesterday, the way he screamed as his body revolted against reason, and yet I’m still in awe of the Pantheon’s awesome transformative power.

The charging Reborn cheer as the unleashed spawn hits the trench line like a meteor, smashing through a ferrocrete pillbox, spewing acid and warp fire. For a precious moment the fire slackens as every bolter, lasgun and flamer turns towards the towering storm of claws and tentacles and fangs and beaks and spikes and wings tearing through their line. I sprint for the narrow breach torn in the defences. A krak missile ploughs into Nikyta ahead of me. Stinking blood and shredded bodies rain down on me.

The spawn buys us a few seconds before the deluge of gunfire finally blows it apart, but it’s just barely enough. I think I can hear Nikyta among the voices screaming in ecstasy as his mutated flesh dissolves into trashing sludge.

I vault into the trench for the first time, one of only dozens to survive. My sword, a jagged shard of Chimera armour, rips into the stunned Guardsmen.

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