The air outside the barricade felt heavier, denser, as though it were pushing back against Servius with every step he took. The ground was jagged and uneven, its fractured surface pulsing faintly with the residual glow of the Warp’s energy. The sky overhead churned violently, the sickly yellows and bruised purples twisting together like a festering wound. Each breath tasted of sulfur and ash, and every step carried the weight of finality.

  Behind him, the noise of hurried preparation grew distant. The clatter of scavenged weapons, the barked orders from the scarred woman, and Jaren’s fading protests were swallowed by the oppressive hum that grew louder with every heartbeat. Servius didn’t look back. He couldn’t afford to.

  His green eyes swept the battlefield ahead, scanning for any sign of movement. The jagged ridges and fissures stretched before him like a battlefield long abandoned by its warriors. But it wasn’t empty. He could feel it—the Beast was near. Its presence was a pressure in the air, a vibration that rattled through his chest and coiled around his spine.

  “Alright,” he muttered under his breath, his voice carrying faintly in the silence. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  He crouched low, moving with the practiced stealth of a hunter as he made his way toward a series of jagged outcroppings that jutted from the ground like broken teeth. The uneven terrain would provide cover—brief and fleeting, but enough to force the Beast to engage him on his terms. He needed every advantage he could get.

  His rifle was slung over his shoulder, the weight of it comforting but also heavy with consequence. Seventeen rounds. That was all he had. Each shot would have to count. His bolt pistols hung at his hips, both loaded with six rounds each, and he carried four spare magazines of twenty bolts. His knife—a reliable tool and weapon—rested on his belt. Against the creature following him, it wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough.

  The ground trembled beneath him, subtle at first but growing stronger with each passing moment. Servius froze, his claws flexing against the hilt of his knife as his ears swiveled toward the sound. The hum deepened into a guttural vibration, the low, resonant growl of a predator closing in on its prey.

  The Beast emerged from the haze like a storm given form. Its massive, shifting body bled in and out of focus, a towering shadow wrapped in iridescent tendrils that undulated lazily in the air around it. Its void-like face tilted slightly, the ring of flickering lights where its eyes might have been narrowing as it focused on him.

  For a moment, time seemed to slow. Servius could feel the weight of the creature’s gaze pressing against him, its presence filling the air with an almost physical pressure. The hum grew louder, vibrating through the ground and into his bones. The Beast wasn’t just massive—it was oppressive, a living embodiment of the Warp’s chaotic, malevolent nature.

  But Servius didn’t flinch. He stood his ground, his gaze locking onto the Beast’s void-like face. His tail flicked sharply behind him, the motion a mix of agitation and resolve.

  “You’ve been following me for a long time,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Guess it’s about time we finished this.”

  The Beast responded with a guttural roar, its tendrils flaring outward as it surged forward. The ground quaked beneath its advance, fissures splitting open in its wake and spilling molten light into the air. Servius didn’t hesitate.

  He moved.

  Darting to the side, he dove behind one of the jagged outcroppings, the Beast’s tendrils slamming into the ground where he had stood moments before. The impact sent shards of rock and debris flying through the air, the force of it rattling his teeth. He didn’t stop.

  Raising his rifle, he took aim and fired.

  The first shot cracked through the air, the sharp report echoing across the battlefield. The round struck one of the Beast’s tendrils, tearing through its iridescent flesh and sending a spray of black ichor into the air. The creature recoiled, its roar of pain shaking the ground beneath him.

  Sixteen rounds left.

  Servius didn’t wait to see how it reacted. He chambered another round and moved, weaving through the terrain as the Beast’s tendrils lashed out at him. Each strike sent tremors through the ground, fissures spreading outward as molten light spilled from the cracks.

  Another shot. Another spray of ichor. The Beast roared again, its tendrils writhing furiously as it turned to face him.

  Fifteen rounds.

  Servius ducked behind a larger outcropping, his breath coming in short bursts as he chambered his third round. The rifle’s weight felt heavier now, each shot a reminder of how little ammunition he had left. He glanced over the edge of the rock, his green eyes narrowing as he tracked the Beast’s movements.

  It was fast—faster than something its size had any right to be. Its tendrils moved with a fluid, almost serpentine grace, striking out at random intervals as though testing his defenses. The ground beneath it seemed to ripple with its presence, the molten fissures dimming and brightening in time with its movements.

  Servius adjusted his position, his tail flicking sharply behind him as he steadied his aim. “Come on,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the Beast’s guttural growl. “Let’s see how much you can take.”

  He fired again.

  The shot struck the Beast’s void-like face, the impact causing its ring of flickering lights to flare brightly for a moment before dimming again. The creature staggered, its tendrils thrashing violently as it let out another deafening roar.

  Fourteen rounds.

  Servius didn’t wait. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and drew one of his bolt pistols, the weapon’s weight familiar in his hand. He fired a burst of six rounds, each bolt tearing into the Beast’s shifting form and sending more black ichor spraying into the air.

  The magazine clicked empty.

  The creature didn’t stop.

  It surged forward, its massive body distorting the air around it as it closed the distance between them. Servius leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding a tendril that slammed into the ground with enough force to leave a deep crater in its wake.

  He rolled to his feet, his claws digging into the ground as he reloaded his pistol with a fresh magazine—twenty bolts, now down to three spares. With his other hand, he unclipped the frag grenade from his belt, his sharp claws trembling ever so slightly as he primed the detonator. His gaze flicked toward the Beast, the faint glow of its flickering face a beacon of malice cutting through the churning battlefield haze.

  The grenade left Servius’s clawed hand in a smooth arc, tumbling through the air toward the Beast’s center mass. He didn’t wait to see it land. The moment it left his grip, he threw himself into a roll, narrowly avoiding one of the Beast’s iridescent tendrils as it slammed into the ground behind him, spraying molten debris into the air.

  The grenade detonated.

  The explosion roared like a thunderclap, its concussive force rocking the ground beneath Servius’s feet. Flame and shrapnel erupted in all directions, and the Beast reeled, its massive body twisting violently as black ichor sprayed from the jagged wounds torn into its flesh. The ring of flickering lights that formed its face flared brightly, pulsing erratically as if in pain or fury.

  Servius landed hard on one knee, his chest heaving as he scrambled to his feet. The Beast’s roar filled the battlefield, a guttural, bone-shaking sound that reverberated through the air and rattled his very bones. It was wounded—badly—but not enough. It never seemed to be enough.

  The creature’s tendrils lashed out wildly, carving deep trenches into the ground as it vented its rage. One of them came dangerously close, slicing through a jagged outcropping and sending shards of stone flying toward Servius. He ducked low, the shards slicing through the air just above his head, and rolled to the side, his boots digging into the uneven terrain as he moved.

  He raised his bolt pistol, aiming for one of the gaping wounds torn open by the grenade. The black ichor poured freely from the Beast’s wounds, hissing and steaming as it hit the ground and fissures. Servius pulled the trigger, the sharp crack of the pistol cutting through the chaos as he fired a precise shot.

  The bolt struck true, exploding within the wound and eliciting another deafening roar from the creature. The Beast staggered, its massive form swaying as it struggled to maintain its balance. But even as it faltered, its tendrils lashed out again, faster this time, their movements erratic and unpredictable.

  Servius was forced to dive to the ground as one of the tendrils swept over him, the rush of air and Warp energy searing his senses. He rolled to his feet, firing another shot at the Beast’s face as he did. The bolt exploded just beneath its flickering ring of lights, the impact causing the glow to dim momentarily before flaring back to life.

  Seventeen bolts left in this magazine.

  The creature roared again, the sound tearing through the air like a shockwave. Servius stumbled, his claws digging into the ground as he steadied himself. The Beast’s massive form loomed closer, its tendrils writhing like living whips as it pressed its advance. It wasn’t just attacking now—it was hunting, driving him into a corner, testing his limits.

  Servius’s mind raced. He couldn’t keep this up. The Beast was relentless, its strength and size unmatched, and every movement it made distorted the battlefield further. The fissures beneath its feet pulsed brighter, the molten light casting eerie, flickering shadows that danced across its iridescent tendrils and void-like face.

  He sprinted toward another outcropping, using the uneven terrain to keep the creature’s tendrils at bay. His ears twitched, picking up the faint, distant whine of the ship’s flak battery beginning to charge. They were almost ready. He just had to keep the Beast occupied a little longer.

  As he reached the cover of the outcropping, Servius slung his rifle from his shoulder. Fourteen rounds left. He braced the weapon against the jagged stone, his green eyes narrowing as he lined up a shot on one of the Beast’s largest wounds. He exhaled slowly, his clawed finger tightening on the trigger.

  The shot cracked through the air, the round slamming into the Beast’s wound and tearing through the already-weakened flesh. The ichor sprayed again, hissing and steaming as it hit the ground, and the Beast let out another ear-splitting roar. It twisted violently, its tendrils striking the ground in a frenzied display of fury.

  Servius ducked behind the outcropping as the debris rained down around him, his tail flicking sharply as he chambered another round. The rifle felt heavier now, the weight of every shot a constant reminder of how limited his resources were. He couldn’t afford to waste even a single round.

  The ground trembled as the Beast lunged toward him, its tendrils carving through the terrain with reckless abandon. Servius darted to the side, his claws scrabbling for purchase on the uneven ground as he narrowly avoided another strike. He turned sharply, raising his rifle and firing another shot into the creature’s void-like face.

  The round struck one of the flickering lights, shattering it in a burst of energy. The Beast reared back, its roar shaking the battlefield as its tendrils thrashed wildly. Servius didn’t waste the opportunity. He darted toward a fissure, using the molten glow to mask his movements as he reloaded his rifle with practiced efficiency.

  Eleven rounds left.

  The Beast was hurt, but it wasn’t stopping. It never stopped. Servius clenched his jaw, his green eyes blazing with determination as he turned to face it again. He knew this fight wouldn’t end with a single lucky shot or a clever maneuver. It would take everything he had—and maybe more—to drive this thing back.

  “Come on,” he growled under his breath, his claws flexing against the stock of his rifle. “You wanted me? Here I am.”

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  The Beast roared again, its massive form surging forward with renewed fury. The battlefield trembled beneath its weight, the fissures widening and spilling more molten light into the air. Servius braced himself, his tail lashing behind him as he prepared for the next round.

  This wasn’t just a fight—it was survival. And he wasn’t done yet.

  The survivors huddled behind the ship’s jagged barricades, their movements hurried and tense as they prepared for what was coming. The air was thick with the acrid scent of Warp-tainted ash, and the distant rumble of the Beast’s movements echoed through the valley like thunder rolling across an open plain. Every sound, every vibration, felt like an omen.

  Corporal Jaren crouched near the barricade’s edge, their trembling hands gripping a lasgun that looked as though it had seen more repairs than action. Their eyes flicked toward the open battlefield where Servius’s distant silhouette darted between outcroppings and molten fissures, a lone figure against the chaotic backdrop of the Beast’s relentless advance.

  “He’s still out there,” Jaren muttered, their voice barely audible over the chaos of the makeshift camp. “How is he still out there?”

  A scarred woman named Ralene, her shotgun slung across her back, crouched beside Jaren and slammed another crate of ammunition onto the ground. “Because he’s not like us,” she said flatly, her tone carrying equal parts admiration and grim pragmatism. “Don’t waste time worrying about him. Worry about keeping that thing off us if he fails.”

  “If he fails?” Jaren repeated, their voice rising slightly. “We’re dead if he fails.”

  “We’re dead either way if you don’t get your ass in gear,” Ralene snapped, her sharp gaze locking onto Jaren’s panicked expression. “Load the damn battery.”

  Behind them, a wiry man named Korik grunted as he and an ogryn hauled the last piece of ammunition for the ship’s flak battery into position. The weapon itself was a salvaged anti-aircraft gun, its massive barrels marred with dents and rust from years of disuse. Its mounting had been crudely reinforced with scavenged parts, and the targeting system flickered erratically as power was routed through fraying cables.

  “It’s held together with prayers and spit,” Korik muttered, his voice laced with bitter sarcasm as he inspected the weapon’s mechanisms. “If this thing doesn’t blow up in our faces, it’ll be a bloody miracle.”

  “Then pray harder,” Ralene barked, her tone brooking no argument. “Get it firing, or that thing out there will rip us apart before we can blink.”

  The ogryn, a hulking brute named Krass, let out a low rumble of agreement. “Krass smash big monster if battery no work,” he said, his deep, gravelly voice carrying an almost childlike simplicity. He patted the makeshift club strapped to his back—a crude weapon fashioned from a shattered girder wrapped in jagged metal shards.

  Korik rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned his attention back to the battery, his hands working quickly to reconnect a series of frayed power conduits. Sparks flew as he bridged the final connection, and the weapon hummed to life, its barrels beginning to rotate with a low, mechanical whine.

  “It’s live!” Korik shouted over his shoulder, his voice tinged with both relief and urgency. “But it’s not stable. We’ve got one good volley, maybe two, before it overheats or jams completely.”

  Ralene nodded sharply. “That’s all we’ll need,” she said, though her tone suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced. She turned toward the other defenders, her voice rising to carry over the din of their frantic preparations. “Get into position! Everyone who’s not on the battery, man the barricades! We’re not letting that thing through!”

  The survivors moved with grim determination, their fear tempered by the sheer necessity of survival. Jaren took up a position near the battery, their lasgun held at the ready as they scanned the battlefield for any sign of the Beast. The tension in the air was palpable, every breath heavy with anticipation.

  In the distance, the sound of the Beast’s roar rolled across the valley, louder now, more furious. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and the molten fissures around the ship pulsed brighter, their fiery glow casting flickering shadows across the survivors’ desperate faces.

  “Come on, Servius,” Jaren muttered under their breath, their knuckles white as they gripped their weapon. “Hold it off just a little longer.”

  Ralene glanced toward the battlefield, her scarred face tightening as she caught a glimpse of the Beast’s massive, writhing form in the distance. It was getting closer, its tendrils tearing through the terrain as it advanced on Servius. The figure of the lone warrior was barely visible now, darting between cover and firing precise, calculated shots that seemed to enrage the creature more than harm it.

  “He’s buying us time,” Ralene said, her voice low but resolute. “Let’s not waste it.”

  Korik grunted in agreement as he adjusted the battery’s targeting controls, his fingers flying across the console with a mix of desperation and expertise. The barrels of the flak battery began to shift, angling upward to track the Beast’s movements. The weapon hummed with barely-contained energy, the glow of its overloaded capacitors casting an eerie light on Korik’s sweat-streaked face.

  “Target acquired,” he muttered, his voice tight with focus. “Just say the word.”

  Ralene nodded, her gaze fixed on the battlefield. The Beast was closing in, its massive form towering over the jagged terrain as it pursued Servius with unrelenting fury. The moment to act was fast approaching.

  “Wait for my signal,” she said, her voice steady despite the tension that gripped the camp. “We’ve only got one shot at this.”

  The survivors braced themselves, their weapons trained on the open expanse of the battlefield. The air was electric with anticipation, every second stretching into an eternity as they watched the unfolding chaos.

  Far ahead, Servius moved with the precision of a seasoned hunter, his green eyes blazing with determination as he fought to keep the Beast’s attention focused on him. Each shot from his rifle or pistol was calculated, each movement deliberate, as he danced on the edge of survival.

  But even the most skilled hunter couldn’t evade a predator forever. The Beast was closing in.

  And the survivors could only hope their desperate preparations would be enough.

  Servius’s breathing was steady but shallow as the Beast’s guttural roars echoed across the battlefield. He could feel the molten fissures trembling beneath his boots with every step the creature took, its bulk warping the terrain around it like a living nightmare. The shadows cast by its massive form twisted and flickered, bleeding into the air like ink spilled across water.

  Far behind him, carried faintly on the sulfur-thick wind, he caught the high-pitched metallic whine of the ship’s flak battery charging up. The survivors were almost ready, and for a brief moment, the corner of Servius’s mouth twitched in satisfaction. He had bought time, and now it was their job to use it.

  But he didn’t turn his focus from the Beast. Not yet.

  “Let’s see if you can bleed a little more,” he growled under his breath.

  Eleven bolts fired in rapid bursts, tearing into the Beast’s shifting body. Black ichor sprayed into the air, the oily liquid hissing as it met the warped heat of the fissures. Servius didn’t relent, keeping his aim steady even as the creature reared back in response to the explosive impacts.

  The magazine clicked empty. Servius’s ears flattened against his head as he heard the hollow snap of the trigger meeting nothing but air.

  He snarled, his tail lashing behind him in frustration as he holstered the empty pistol. The Beast had barely slowed, its massive tendrils writhing like living whips as it closed the distance between them. The guttural hum it emitted grew louder, vibrating through the fractured ground and rattling Servius’s teeth.

  Drawing his second pistol in a fluid motion, Servius took aim once more. The first three bolts struck a glowing wound just beneath the creature’s flickering lights, detonating on impact. The Beast roared, its massive body twisting violently as if to shake off the pain.

  Servius’s green eyes narrowed. “That got your attention.”

  The next three bolts followed immediately, each one finding its mark and tearing further into the iridescent mass. But the Beast didn’t falter for long. Its roar echoed across the battlefield, a sound that seemed to warp the air itself, and it lunged toward him with terrifying speed.

  The second magazine clicked empty.

  “Damn it,” Servius hissed, holstering the weapon. He dove to the side, narrowly avoiding a tendril that smashed into the ground where he’d been standing moments before. The impact sent shards of molten debris flying into the air, peppering his armor and searing the exposed fur on his neck.

  Far behind the battlefield, the survivors worked frantically to ready the flak battery. The scarred woman barked orders over the sound of clanging metal and strained groans from the hastily repaired weapon. The rotating barrels spun with a metallic whine as the makeshift crew loaded the last of their high-explosive rounds into the weapon’s firing chamber.

  “Power it up!” the scarred woman shouted. Her voice carried a sharp edge of urgency.

  Jaren, who had taken up a position nearby with their lasgun, glanced nervously at the distant battlefield. Through the haze and flickering light, they could just make out the Beast’s massive form surging toward Servius, its tendrils lashing out at the jagged terrain like the claws of a feral predator.

  “He’s buying us time,” Jaren said under their breath, their knuckles white as they gripped their weapon. “Don’t waste it.”

  A faint tremor ran through the ship’s hull as the flak battery powered to full capacity, its barrels glowing faintly with heat. One of the technicians looked up from the control panel, sweat streaming down his soot-streaked face.

  “Ready to fire!” he called out.

  The scarred woman nodded grimly, her eyes fixed on the battlefield. “Hold until we have a clear shot. We don’t hit him unless we have to.”

  The air burned with the acrid stench of molten stone and black ichor as Servius rolled to his feet. He could feel the Beast’s fury in the tremors that rippled through the ground, the fissures beneath its massive body spilling molten light into the battlefield.

  His claws found the grip of his knife as he slid it free from its sheath. He didn’t have time to reload—not with the creature pressing its advance—but he wasn’t out of options.

  The Beast lunged, its tendrils coiling like serpents before striking out with a speed that belied its size. Servius darted to the side, his muscles coiled with the reflexes of a predator, and closed the distance between himself and the creature.

  The knife gleamed faintly in the flickering light as Servius slashed at one of the Beast’s tendrils. The blade bit deep, slicing through the iridescent flesh and severing the appendage in a spray of ichor. The tendril writhed as it fell, dissolving into mist before it hit the ground.

  The Beast roared, the ring of lights on its void-like face flaring brightly as it reared back in pain. Servius didn’t stop. He moved with calculated precision, using the uneven terrain to stay ahead of the creature’s strikes. Every step was measured, every movement deliberate, as he worked to stay one step ahead of the Beast’s fury.

  His ears twitched at the sound of the flak battery charging again. Time was running out, but Servius had done what he needed to do. The survivors were ready. Now it was just a matter of keeping the Beast distracted long enough for them to take the shot.

  He slashed at another tendril, the blade of his knife carving through the iridescent mass with practiced ease. The Beast roared again, its massive form twisting violently as its tendrils lashed out in all directions.

  Servius ducked low, his tail flicking sharply behind him as he darted toward another outcropping. He could feel the heat of the fissures beneath his feet, the molten light casting eerie shadows across the battlefield.

  The Beast wasn’t slowing, but neither was he.

  The battlefield was chaos, a twisted maelstrom of heat, flickering shadows, and raw fury. Servius darted between jagged outcroppings, his claws scraping against the fractured terrain as he pushed his body to its limit. The Beast was relentless, its massive form pressing forward with unyielding force. Its tendrils lashed out like whips, shattering rock and carving deep trenches into the ground.

  Servius had no time to think, only react. His rifle hung at his back, useless for the moment. His pistols were empty, holstered at his hips as dead weight. All that remained was the knife in his hand—a weapon that felt woefully inadequate against the mountainous predator bearing down on him.

  The Beast roared, the sound shaking the very air around him as its tendrils coiled and struck with horrifying speed. Servius threw himself to the side, his boots skidding across molten stone as he narrowly avoided a strike that left a smoking crater in the ground. His tail flicked sharply for balance as he pivoted, dodging another tendril that passed so close he felt the heat of its passage against his fur.

  His breathing was ragged now, his chest burning with exertion. The Beast wasn’t just powerful—it was toying with him, herding him like a predator stalking its prey. Every movement it made seemed designed to wear him down, to push him further into exhaustion.

  But the Cat refused to give in.

  Snarling, he lunged toward the nearest tendril, slashing at it with his knife in a desperate attempt to drive the creature back. The blade bit deep, carving a jagged wound into the iridescent flesh. Black ichor sprayed from the gash, hissing and steaming as it hit the molten ground. The Beast reared back, its void-like face tilting sharply as though registering the pain.

  Servius didn’t stop. He slashed again, his movements wild and precise in equal measure, each strike aimed at the nearest tendril. Another wound opened, ichor pouring freely, but the Beast’s fury only grew. Its tendrils writhed and twisted, lashing out in an erratic frenzy that forced Servius to retreat.

  One of the tendrils struck the ground just inches from him, the impact sending a shockwave through the battlefield. Servius stumbled, his claws scraping against the jagged ground as he tried to regain his footing. Another tendril came from the side, faster than he could react, slamming into his shoulder and sending him sprawling.

  He hit the ground hard, his knife skidding from his grip and spinning into the shadows. Pain flared through his arm, sharp and immediate, but there was no time to recover. The Beast loomed above him, its void-like face flickering with malevolent light as it prepared to strike the final blow.

  Servius scrambled backward, his claws digging into the ground as he tried to put distance between himself and the creature. He was out of weapons, out of time, and out of options. The Beast’s tendrils coiled like serpents, their tips glowing faintly with the molten light of the fissures.

  This was it.

  https://youtu.be/CTZulfK0GKM?si=FovHncp-S_E_fHRF