The Arch Angels: The Iron Plague Legion.

Chapter 12.

Back with the remembrance
"Wait a moment," the remembrance interjected, pausing for emphasis before continuing, "Is Ragnar truly gone? I always had this lingering feeling that he's somehow still alive." The question hung in the air, awaiting an answer. I met her gaze, my expression void of any discernible emotion, as I responded, "I witnessed his lifeless body sprawled on the ground. However, in the midst of the chaos, I didn't have the chance to confirm his demise." A tinge of sadness clouded her face as she inquired whether I experienced anything beyond anger and rage upon witnessing Ragnar's fall. Fixing my gaze on the distant horizon, I confessed that amidst the relentless battle, I had denied myself the luxury of feeling anything other than anger. I noticed her silent understanding reflected in her eyes. After a few fleeting moments, I shifted my attention back to her, resuming my tale.

Chapter 12.
My eyes were fixed on the two mighty Astartes standing before me, donned in their formidable MK 4 power armor. One wielded a thunder hammer, while the other gripped a power sword. I remained motionless, anticipating the first move from either of them. However, before any action could unfold, a sudden rush of wings sliced through the air, and a figure clad in gleaming silver shot past me with incredible velocity. In an instant, a spray of blood erupted from the hostile Astartes, and they collapsed to the ground with a resounding thud.

With amazement and reverence, I observed as Partaqlus Half-blood gracefully touched down a distance away from the lifeless adversaries in front of me. My gaze shifted towards Partaqlus, filled with a sense of awe and admiration. He turned, locking eyes with me, taking measured steps to draw nearer. Yet, his advance was abruptly halted by another hostile Astartes, charging at him with a raised power axe, poised to deliver a lethal strike.

Without flinching, Partaqlus merely raised his open hand, as if in a gesture of restraint. In the next moment, he clenched his fist, and a horrifying cacophony of crushing metal and shattering bones filled the air. The enemy Astartes contorted into a twisted lump, succumbing to the sheer psychic might exerted by Partaqlus' mind.

Witnessing the pitiful remnants of the Astartes foolish enough to challenge a primarch, particularly Partaqlus of all primarchs, I shifted my gaze towards my gene-father. Partaqlus approached me with purpose, his commanding presence impossible to ignore. As he stood before me, I struggled to maintain my composure, resisting the overwhelming urge to kneel before him.

"I apologize for the delay. We encountered complications in orbit, it seems these Legiones Astartes possess battlecruisers," Partaqlus explained, his voice tinged with regret.

I battled against my awe-struck state, managing to utter, "No need for apologies, my lord. You have saved our lives."

Partaqlus bestowed upon me another smile before reminding me of a task assigned by the first captain. I nodded in acknowledgement, my loyalty unwavering. With a graceful motion, Partaqlus ascended into the air once more, his wings fluttering with ease.

As I stood there, briefly observing Partaqlus disappearing into the distance, a surge of determination coursed through my veins. I couldn't afford to waste any more time. Our assembly point awaited, and I needed to reach it as swiftly as possible. The battlefield around me was a chaotic symphony of violence and destruction, and I knew that my best chance of survival was to avoid unnecessary combat.

With every step, I calculated my movements, carefully maneuvering through the carnage. I weaved between the clashes of rival forces, sidestepping enemy soldiers and obstacles with a grace born from countless battles. The adrenaline pumping through my veins heightened my senses, allowing me to anticipate the movements of my adversaries.

But fate had a different plan. In my path emerged an imposing Astartes, blocking my way forward. I could not evade this encounter, nor could I allow fear or hesitation to cloud my judgment. Instead, I tightened my grip around my trusty chainswords, feeling their weight and power in my hands.