Kar En Tuk Chapter 24 (Doom Eternal/Warhammer 40K) (Patreon)

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With the banishment of the bloodthirster, the victory for the Imperial and Sentinel forces was all assured. Without a clear chain of leadership, the heretic forces scattered like animals for the slaughter. There was no mercy for them, the Emperor's Justice handed out freely and duly on the traitor, the mutant, and the heretic. No cries of pity heeded. They had all bought misery and suffering into the planet as well as turning their backs against their fellow men. 

No quarter was to be given.

The cleansing of the hive was sped up when the Inquisitorial Fleet powered down its weapons and instead sent in reinforcements; the communications array the local forces held sending out a signal that the planet had been successfully retaken by the Astra Militarum and local PDF regiments. At that, voidcraft poured forth from the orbiting ships to deliver fire to the heretics or supporting troops in the form of the Tempestus Scions. The Imperials were already winning with the Atlans providing the heavy support. With the arrival of fresh reinforcement, their victory was all assured. 

In one particular voidcraft, an Inquisitor Lord, a trio of Astartes, a techpriest, an Ecclesiarchy Confessor, and a squad of Tempustus Scions rubbed shoulders with one another. The Inquisitor perked up when the pilot spoke up in the vox channel. "Inquisitor Martell, we are being directed to LZ Alpha. Inquisitor Tanner will be meeting you there." 

"Understood, pilot. Send us flying," Martell replied cheerily. The craft shuddered.

"Inquisitor, what do you think awaits us down there?" Aythyn Prynn spoke up, a pleasant sound that reminded Martell of stirring forests, his black armor almost camouflaging him in the darkness of the Valk. 

"Knowing Tanner, I imagine he has made routine assignment into a massive show," said Martell, aware that the younger man had a distinct talent in finding shiny jewels in fields of mud. 

"I have heard whispers of ancient technology here," rumbled the lone Iron Hands astartes, Diel Lorrica. 

"And ancient humans," quipped Martell. Honestly, the prospect of having STC's that did not come with strings attached as well as the same men and women that knew how to operate them intimately was one of the biggest reasons there was weapons drill and not an actual firing. Martell had seen everything the galaxy had to offer but the aforementioned ancients and their technology was something else entirely. He wouldn't be surprised if every relevant organization in the Imperium would swarm to the planet as soon as they would hear the news. 

It was a stroke of Emperor blessed fortune that Tanner found them first. If it was anyone else, it would have been harder to have a slice of the cake. 

"I wish to see these technologies, and these ancient humans," his heavily synthesized voice echoed. A standard thing to come with the Gorgon's cybernetics obsessed children. 

"And so do I," Enginseer Federhadere Gelt added, his voice just as synthesized as the Iron Hand astartes. The near-excited whirring of his mechadendrites betrayed his excitement however.

"And don't worry, you two will," Martell soothed. "In fact, I think they would be rather pleased to meet you." 

"The awakened ancients give me the greatest concern however," a female voice spoke up. Martell gave the ship's confessor and Ecclesiarchy representative a glance. Confessor Lukea Vance was average height and looks but her zeal and voice made up for what she would lack. "They have been a thousand years adrift without the Emperor's light. They must be inducted into the fold as soon as possible, Inquisitor."

Martell maintained an easy look. "Oh, that is a priority, Confessor. But, that will ultimately be up to you and the ancients." 

"Are you not a member of the Inquisition?" Lukea raised an eyebrow at him.

"I am," the Inquisitor smiled. "And my job is to hunt threats to the Imperium, not find and maintain converts. That is the holy work of the Ecclesiarchy, is it not?"

Lukea looked as if she wanted to say more but the woman held her tongue. The looks that his astartes gave her probably convincing her to save what she wanted to say later.

"I too wish to see these ancient humans as well, Inquisitor," Nu'val added in, his voice was warm and friendly, like the sound of a fireplace welcoming one after a cold day. "I wonder how they will react to how far mankind has gone," 

"I imagine they will be amazed we've survived this long or horror to how much the galaxy has changed," Prynn spoke up. Nu'val shook his head at his Raven Guard counterpart. "I imagine they would find it welcome that we are still here."

Before more conversation could be made, the Valkyrie shuddered indicating that they had landed. The pilot's voice chipping afterwards only confirmed it. "We have landed, my lord. I am opening the rear door now."

And with that, the rear doors slowly opened, whirring as light flooded into the compartment. "On your best behaviors now," Martell quipped as he strode forward.

Heavy metal thuds echoed as Inquisitor Martell made his first steps onto the reconquered world. He took in a breath and whiffed in the concoction of war. Fire, the burning of flesh, soot, and ash. Memories of a thousand battlefields came into mind, his younger self leading men to either victory or death. And as he settled his eyes on one particular man, his memories settled in finding a single boy with a fire in his eyes.

"Welcome to Tantive IV," greeted Inquisitor Tanner. "I would welcome you with refreshments, my lord, but the fight is still ongoing. Some have retreated underground to make their stand there, others are being pushed north to the city." 

That must mention the lack of his retinue to meet him, mused Martell, as he eyed a singular Sister of Battle that stood at attention behind Tanner. On Martell's part, he had brought his entire gang of ruffians to bear. He would have to do his part and them to join the battle. "Don't worry about it, Inquisitor. I'm here for you and the rest of your discoveries, there are refreshments aplenty in the fleet." 

"Then if it would please you, follow me to my FOB's command tent, Lord Inqusitor," Tanner offered. Martell nodded and bid the younger man to lead on. At that, Tanner paced forward. 

"You've been busy," noted Martell, eyeing the score of destruction that had been left in their wake. They were what looked like a compound for the local PDF. It was heavily damaged and Martell had to note of the massive...slice that was on one of the building's facades. It looked like someone had taken a massive blade and chopped off that area in particular. 

Seeing where he was looking, Tanner spoke up. "There used to be heavy weapons tower there," he explained. "It shot at one of their Atlans and it paid the price."

"Query: What are Atlans?" Enginseer Gelt asked, unbridled curiosity laced in his voice. As if on cue, the world shook. The Imperials glanced up into the far distance where the low whirring of machinery could be heard, a sound where it stirred deep in their hearts that whoever was at the receiving end would regret the day they chose to be there. Then like the stirring of a volcano, it erupted. A brilliant flash of blue light lit the orange-red sky and a horn, deep and baritone, blared like a lion roaring after a victorious kill. 

"That, my lords, was an Atlan," Tanner added wryly before turning off to enter the building. The mechadendrite tendrils of Gelt quivered with barely contained excitement. 

Inside, Martell and his retinue were introduced to a room full of activity. Cogitators small and large whirred as guardsmen tended to them. At the center of the room was a table showing off a model of the city. Martell did not pay it much attention however, his sight went only to numerous white and green armored men in no pattern he could recognize. The ancients, Martell realized, as he eyed them all sporting equipment no Imperial had before. 

One of them, in green armor, turned to face him. She had blonde hair and bright eyes that spoke of power and command. Their leader, he could surmise. 

"Inquisitor Tanner," she greeted his protege. "These are the new allies you say that have come to assist us?" 

"Indeed, Lady Grel," nodded Tanner. "These are-"

"Lord Inqusitor Martell," he introduced himself before Tanner could. Tanner held his tongue, remembering to let Martell do the introductions. He was older after all, literally and figuratively. "I belong to the same organization as Tanner here, the Emperor's Most Holy Inquisition. Specifically, I belong to the Ordo Malleus whose principal purpose is to hunt daemons." 

"Then we share the same cause, Lord Martell," Grel greeted him with a salute, a fist over her chest. "Knight-Commander Grel. I lead the Sentinels which are purging your city of corrupted as we speak." 

Lukea nodded sagely as she made the sign of the Aquila, her hands flat on her chest, thumbs interlocked. "A holy cause, a holy mission. Abhor the mutant, the xeno, and there heretic." 

Grel raised a blonde eyebrow at Lukea but nevertheless sought her attention back to Martell. "I look forward to collaborating with your people in regards to continuously hunting the remnants of all daemonic forces in this planet. Where we come from, we had fought a similar threat and we were nearly wiped out if not for the actions of the Doom Slayer." 

Martell's face fell, the vaunted enemy that nearly destroyed them. As a man whose profession was hunting daemons, it was greatly disturbing to think that there were other entities that were allegedly more disruptive and chaotic than Hell. Normally, he would chalk such things as a fiction but if ancient humanity at its Golden Age considered it a threat then he would have to start sending warnings up the grape vine. He was no fool that was going to bury his head in the sand and ignore something that was deemed dangerous. 

And of course, the Doom Slayer. The vaunted and near messianic figure that the Sentinels held in high regard. Tanner's reports about the man were colorful to say the least, as well as his snobby companion. Before he could ask on their whereabouts, Gelt had moved forward, excitement written all over his form. The Sentinel commander regarded the red-robed man with trepidation as he extended a mechadendrite towards her. Unsure of what to do, she slowly wrapped her hand on it and slowly shook it. "I am Enginseer Federhadere Gelt, I am but a humble techpriest of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Tell me, what holy rituals do your people practice for your armor?" 

A confused look overcame the Grel's features as she turned to the tech-priest and regarded him with a look one might give to someone with metallic tentacles for extra limbs. "I do not understand on what you speak of, Enginseer Gelt. We practice no holy rituals for our weapons, they are nothing but simple tools." 

At that, the mechadendrites that were all-moving around in excitement went still. Slowly, they turned to her in a speed one could consider hostile. "You practice no holy rituals?" breathed Gelt. "Then how do you deal with the machine spirit's displeasure?" 

Before Gelt could say more, Martell strode forward and laid a careful hand on the techpriest's shoulder. "Gelt, remember. These are our ancient ancestors. They have come in a time before the...Omnissiah," Martell paused, almost saying the Emperor. "Give the fair lady a chance before you tear her to pieces. Will you do that for me, Enginseer?" 

Gelt regarded him with quiet displeasure before finally moving back in silence. Martell inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. To Grel however, she could not fathom why the Inquisitor and the Techpriest suddenly spoke in metallic screeches. To her, it sounded like two pregnant Wintherin engaging in conversation with one another. She held back any comments however, realizing that the Imperials were strange people and had even stranger customs. And so, she simply turned her attention back to the tactical map and took note of the positions that their combined forces had taken. 

"We have been making good progress on retaking the city but there are those who still cannot grasp that they have been beaten," Grel said before pointing towards certain positions in red. "Those are points that have been facing the most resistance. It would be appreciated if you could reinforce those sections, Inquisitor Martell." 

Martell for his part glanced at the points in question. "Are your Atlans not capable enough to overcome resistance?" 

Grel gave him an impassive look. "Normally they would but they are built for battling monsters the size of mountains. They cannot go through places deep underground." 

"Not that they didn't try," one of the Night Sentinels quipped. Grel gave him a look and the man promptly stood at attention. 

"Then worry not, my men will assist you," Martell declared, already knowing the potential of being on the ancients good side. He turned to his astartes who looked at him with set expressions. He knew what they wanted, they had voiced it to him earlier but that was something that could be done at a later date. 

"Gentlemen," Martell announced. "Go take a walk. Oh and take the Scion, Enginseer Gelt and Confessor Lukea with you." 

Disappointment ebbed from the astartes but they all had a duty to complete. Lukea merely glanced at him in disappointment. "I wish to converse with them regarding their technology," Gelt protested. 

Martell smiled at him. "Oh and you will! But, is it not better to see how their techonology works in action? With that, you will have an idea on how it all works. Wouldn't that give you a base to form your questions?" 

The techpriest stared at him before nodding. "A logical argument. Come along, Astartes. The Machine God demands it." 

They all turned in unison, their ceramite boots causing minor tremors as they walked. Martell smiled at them as a proud father would seeing his child walk for the first time before they left.. 

"Your help is greatly appreciated, Lord Martell," Grel praised. "Your city will return to your hands sooner than later." 

"It is what they are made for, Lady Grel," Martell scoffed as he moved to join the woman and Tanner who had for the meantime been busying himself in coordinating his forces. The Lord Inquisitor smiled inwardly, mostly at the fact that commanding armies wasn't usually in the job description but with the extra-circumstance forced on Tantive, the boy he found had to step up and ensure the planet would not fall. 

He was pretty sure he and the rest that had survived the ordeal would be rewarded for the service. 

But Martell wasn't here to think about such trifles. No, he was here for simple reasons. Ascertain the status of his protoge and the forces under his command, Secure the ancients and their technology, and lastly, to strike a beneficial deal with ancient's leadership. So many things to do and so little time. 

"Lady Grel," he began. "With the battle near over, surely you realize that your people will have to contend with what new purpose they will have." 

Tanner's lips went thin, realizing where the conversation would go. Grel on the other hand looked up from the table and have him a square look. 

Martell continued. "The galaxy has changed much in your absence. While Mankind rules much of the stars, we are harried and besieged at every turn. Enemies old and new constantly burn and harass Imperial worlds Humanity needs every soldier, every warrior it has to beat back the tides of darkness. We-" 

"I understand what it is you are asking of me, Inqusitor." Knight-Commander Grel interrupted. A few guardsmen who were quietly tending to their cogitators glanced in shock at the brazenness of someone who would interrupt a member of the Inqusition. "I would agree to assist you, if only for the fact that we hate all things that reek of Hell. Daemon or demon. But ultimately, it is up to my Lord to decide on where we shall go." 

"Your lord?" Martell asked with a raised eyebrow. He already knew who she was speaking of but a part of him felt compelled to ask anyway. Grel's mouth moved to answer but the woman's eyes widened for a second as she and the rest of the Night Sentinels in the room began to go on their knees. Even Tanner gave a low bow with his head, out of respect no doubt. Martell turned to where they were looking at and his eyes fell on a tall warrior, muscled and clad head to toe in green armor. 

Immediately, Martell felt it. The air itself felt it. Martell had met many that he could count as absolutely remarkable. Chapter Masters, Inquisitor Lords, High Lords, anything and everything the galaxy had to offer. But Him? 

The Ordo Malleus Inquisitor watched as the Doom Slayer strode forward in careful and deliberate steps, each one measured as he walked. Martell didn't need to be a psyker to feel the sheer anger and rage the Doom Slayer radiated. His eyes burned with a clear fire, a familiar hatred that any Imperial had in their bodies and souls. But his anger felt different. It was hotter, a sheer mind numbing fierceness that one would expect from Khornates but it wasn't the same. It was cooled, somehow, like a mineral that had once been a rough gem now carefully and precisely tuned to be a fine garnet. 

An angry man who had tempered his fire with purpose, Martell quickly grasped as the Slayer halted, eyes looking at him from behind a clear visor. 

"Forgive my Companion, he only speaks in true need." a deep set voice rumbled from within the Slayer's armor. "I speak on his behalf." 

"I presume you are Dr. Samuel Hayden," surmised Martell, aware of him thanks to the quiet reports Tanner had sent. 

"Indeed I am. And you are Lord Inquisitor Johannes Martell of the Ordo Malleus, a daemonhunter," Hayden appraised to Martell's nodding. 

"That is I," Martell confirmed. 

"Then we have common cause. There is much negotiating to be done but I think we can work together in a way that benefits us both." the man drawled.

The Inquisitor smiled. "I would not have it in any other way."

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Driven underground like rodents. 

They were promised power unimaginable, a new future where even the sun itself would bow down to their beck and call. But here they were, scurrying in the dark like rats. Unbelievable that in one moment, they were riding the waves of victory and the disdainful loyalists were driven. Salvation and ascension was just in their grasp. Then everything changed in a heartbeat. 

The sewer shook and Kelredan's bones rattled in his body. His uniform, once pristine and displaying his allegiance to the Imperium, now dirty and unkempt. He had lead whatever remained of his unit, the ones who turned with him at least, underground to rest and recover while he thought of a plan for them. Surrender wasn't an option, the Imperials and their former comrades would have them all murdered against a wall.

They could go down fighting but he wasn't keen to find out where his soul would go, now that he had turned his back against the Emperor. Besides, he had just gotten his gifts from the Gods. Skin that had once been weathered from the years now smoother and healthier. Old muscles which had become lean through time now back as to where they once were, taut and chiseled. Blessed immortality for his old body and a newer mind that actually allowed him to think straight. 

What had the Emperor gave him and his men, when they needed him the most? 

"What are we going to do now, sir?" a younger private asked. Kelredan turned to the woman, her face clean and perfect. Personally, Kelredan would have loved to lay with the lass if not for the fact that her right arm had grown a crab's claw. He hadn't gone too deep into the worship of the Thirsting God just yet.

"We stay here and wait," he growled, his head throbbing as the sewer shook even more violently. Perhaps they were intensifying their bombardment? What on the Gods good name were they trying to accomplish? 

"Wait? In the sewers?" the same private asked, incredulous. The faces of the other PDF displayed the same disgust though some of the more...Nurglite showed a eerie happiness at the mention of continuous habitation. 

"Yes, wait. We cannot fight our way out, we have no heavy weaponry to bear against their war machines," assessed Kelredan. "The sewers run deep and it will take days for them to find us. When they let their guard down, we will sneak our way out into the badlands." 

"So this is what the Followers of the Usurpers have been reduced to," a woman's voice echoed in the hallways. The PDF commander halted his conversation with the private and quickly stood at attention, his fingers reaching for his lasrifle's trigger. 

"Who goes there?" he called out in challenge. Was it another survivor? His subordinates quickly got to their feet, each one of them scrambling for their weapons. They waited in quiet anxiety as the clicking of heels echoed in the hallway. Some of the less brave of his troop shook in their boots as they all quickly noticed a pair of glowing orange eyes going closer and closer to them. Kelredan however stood his ground, his face impassive, as he lifted his lasrifle and aimed at the eyes. 

"You have five seconds to stop or I'm putting holes in your body," he warned. He growled when the voice laughed in mockery. 

"Is this how you treat your rescuer?" the voice asked as she came into view. Kelredan quickly took note that the speaker was a woman. a crown of four horns adorned her, each one black as night. What parts of her that remained human were her chest and face, the rest of it leather and jutted bony spikes. Even then, her face had been changed with her eyes bright orange glow. A white cloth was draped over her, much like the dress of a priest. Around her was a red shawl with script he hadn't seen before, written in gold thread. 

Slowly, Kelredan lowered his rifle but still, he did not let his guard down. This woman...everything about her was wrong. "You are our rescuer?" he asked. 

"I am. Your fates are for a different purpose now. A greater and grander one," she declared, her voice sounding off to his ears. 

"The last time we heard that groxshit, it ended with my men and I here swimming in piss," Kelredan spat. "Why should we trust you?" 

"Because I am the only chance you and your men have to leave this place alive," the woman spat back, her tone low and angry. "You have two choices, continue to swim in groxshit and wait for the Loyalists to find and end you. Or, you can choose to go with me and leave with you life intact. So, what is it going to be?" 

At that, his boys and girls turned to him, their faces expectant. Kelredan did not trust the woman, not one bit. A part of him, a primal part, screamed at him to not trust this woman. It was like his very soul was telling him that whatever and whoever this lady was, she wasn't going to make things better for them at all. It seemed as if, his soul feared something. 

But then, what choice did they exactly have? 

They could stay and die. Or they could go with the woman and potentially live or die. 

Oh frak it all. At least, they upside was they would get out of this mess. 

"We'll come with you," he grit out, a part of him telling him that he would regret his decision. "Take us out of here, Priestess." he said, referring to her clothing. 

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A/N: And here's the other part. After this, the scope is going to go outwards. Old storylines will be revived baby! Oh and due to the new lore of Ancient Gods, I will be mixing both of them for what I hope to great effect.