Fighting With faith- Thirty-Fourth Entry

The twin suns were reaching the apex of their ascent in the luminescent yellow sky. The troop column marched down the winding dusty mountain ridges, the cacophony of boots marching and soldiers’ muttering were drowned out by the howling winds, creating vivid orange swirling pillars of irritable sand spins, drawing an occasional curse by soldiers when sediments flew into their eyes, mouth and ears.

The troop column stretched for nearly a kilometre, with twenty-five companies compromising it. The recent cultist uprising in the main hall was brutally but effectively taken down. Losses were at minimum; fourteen injured and two dead.

Bel Company was amongst the troop column, somewhere in the mid section of it. Its associates within it were having no better a time then having foot drills under the twin suns’ hateful glare.

Benlian marched in silence, with a fidgety Joil Trong at his side. their boots kicked up sudden swirls of sand which sailed gracefully through the air before disspating into nothingness again. Both had their lasguns slung around their shoulders, always at arms length ready to be reached in case of trouble. They had been marching for an hour and had no idea how long it will be before they reached their destination.

After fifteen minutes, a call was sounded from the front, initiating for everyone to stop. They had reached the foot of the mountain, at long last.

Here, the environment was different. More greenery grew on the ground, and boulders of various sizes, most likely ones that fell off the treacherous mountain slopes, lay about on the ground. Not far off, was their prime target; the huge, massive warehouse. An air of corruption and hysteria seem to enshroud it, standing in the middle of nowhere, amongst ruins of other manufactorium structures of varying sizes.

The companies were made to assemble around the clearing to which they had arrived. It was a natural shelter; tall, mysterious rocks were erected at random around, as through a huge hand was trying to pierce through the ground.

The companies partaking in this massively coordinated assault on the main warehouse had already been extensive briefed on the plans, tactics and stratagems that they would adopt for this mission.

Three hundred and fifty companies were to assault the main warehouse from fourteen different insertion points, with another fifty companies in reserve. When broken into, the fourteen insertion groups would then conduct a clearing of the compound, destroying, purging, and cleansing any foul Tyranid entity.

Bel Company was in the fifth allocation of insertion points, where their main objective was to break into a breach of the warehouse wall and make their way to the main generatorium of the compound. They would then plant charges which would detonate to bring about a sudden energy loss to the Tyranid worshippers. After that, their job was done and they were to assist and support other insertion groups if possible.

Benlian could practically recite the whole mission plan out fifty times but still couldn’t see how the hell they could breach the walls. It stood high at over five stories and breaching it the conventional way would be suicidal.

Suddenly, a low, distant booming sound could be heard. All chatter ceased as everyone turned their heads to see where this ominous sound was coming from. Then, after two agonising minutes of waiting and straining their eyes and ears, a figure began to emerge from the mountainside, amidst swirling dust and sand.

“Holy Lords of Terra...” Joil gasped out aloud. His eyes grew wider then his mouth as he, along with everyone else, raised their heads to take in the full view of the deity which stood before them.

The thick, gothic fonts of the name, “AZRAEL” was emblazoned beneath its heavily armoured metal of a cockpit, with leering forms of gargoyles and Imperial Aquila engraved on its sides. Bristling with guns and turrets of various sorts, Benlian could recognise a Volcano Cannon mounted on the forefront of its right arm of metal meat. Its left arm sported a weapon of mass destruction which Benlian had no recognition of.

It stood at over forty metres tall; towering high above even the largest edifice of rock on the plain. Its legs were thick and powerful; mighty pistons and cables pumping and lifting. Small, bounded servitors could be seen manning small arms along the length of the giant. Several seemed to be fused into the machine as merely auxiliary purposes

It raised its right hand to bring it up against its cockpit head, in a smart salute of equal purpose to the troops down on the ground.

It was painted in black; a warning; an omen. It was a Titan.