Now I ended the last chapter a bit hastily alongside the chapter before that not being fully executed how I imagined it, but to answer any questions about Salem (yes, who else would have control of Grimm in such a way) piecing together the armor and weapons as elements of old night. I'm under the assumption that during the Great Crusade that Remnant is re-united with the imperium, but is a fringe world and does not become such a hard stuck Fortress/Agri/Forge world, but instead remains as a frontier world after all the Grimm are seemingly "wiped off the face of the planet" and when the HH goes down that warp storms block it off. So, the grimm come back and Imperial and pre-Crusade tech and knowledge is decaying at an amazing speed due to the constant attrition nature that the Grimm make. So, Salem knows what the Captain's armor looks like because she was around during the Great Crusade, but essentially went into a short few centuries hibernation with the Grimm so they wouldn't get annihilated. In that context, its a vague memory because of the long nap and then not seeing it at all after she reawakens. She almost completely forgets as the mortals on remnant slowly decline to using an old resource upon the planets surface that is Dust, so she becomes complacent an nigh forgetful of weapons and technology of the Imperium.

The memory was a slap in her face, and for a second she allowed herself to be put on the back foot. It had been centuries since she had seen armor like that, the memories, while now being recalled to her, were blurry and unclear. She remembered their arrival, though merely a few hundred, able to beat back even the strongest of her creatures. she remembered that they were swift and brutal, and for the first few, short lived encounters her children had, that they were a new breed of hunters, with mysterious powers and incredible technology. That was where the similarities ended. These new warriors, did not work alone, they did not hound over the kills they made, they were more focused on destroying her children than protecting the pitiful fools who inhabited her world. The memories took color and she could see so much more of them. Clad in white and blue, with a plethora of strange oddities; large firearms that would make mockery at the simple carbines the natives use now a days, great blades, axes and hammers, that roared or sizzled louder than any beast, Armor's either similar to the one the warrior in front of her wore or smaller, but no less daunting and just as sturdy, and most importantly of all, a large banner, marked the same white and blue, with interesting symbols mark upon it, but most prevalent among this illustrious tabard, was a great golden maw, it's teeth sunk into a planet. They killed uncountable amounts of her kin, forcing her into a deep slumber to avoid destruction, and when she awoke, they were gone. They shouldn't have matter, not after all this time, yet here, here was one of those memories, clad in dark colors of black and silver, like a vengeful spirit.

Yet it was alone.

If there were more they would have announced their presence in a brash manner, a tide of destruction simply focused upon eradicating her kin for the second time, perhaps to fully hunt her down and put a stop to her immortal schemes for good. Yet there was none of that, only a sole warrior, and though he was a maelstrom of slaughter and martial ferocity he was only one. It did not matter how much skill the warrior had, it did not matter how advanced their weapons or armor, shear numbers can always be relied on to put a sole combatant down. It would do well to let her children have the honor of killing this foe. It would be a relaxant for her frustrations to watch this walking piece of history be buried underneath a mound of bodies. So enthralled by the prospect of destroying the past she nearly had forgotten why she was there in the first place. Ozpin.

This metal monstrosity had the gall to claim her arch enemy's life for his own kill tally. That was unacceptable, and as such, deserved retribution. The perspective of death for the warrior had changed; instead of being buried alive, she commanded her kin to tear at him, wear him out, make him suffer piece by piece, until she was satisfied with the results.

The desire to kill multiplied a thousand-fold as she goaded her creatures towards the warrior.

A full day passed, the sun falling and rising once more as Grimm and Astartes faced off in a duel of epic proportions. Foul ichor and blacken bodies of bone, shell, and fur littered the gigantic clearing, piled high despite the unnatural decomposition of the creatures of darkness. the clearing had expanded as combat took its toll on the natural environment of the forest, flora uproot and full tree strewn about by either claw or massive fist, oddly structured around the pile of corpses. All in all, the clearing had transformed from a serene little grassland into a dark mound in the form of a primitive alter, stacked high with the sacrifices of fallen beast.

Yet the Captain look nearly untouched, saved for his scratched paint.

The hours had made her blatant furry at the warrior leave her, replaced with a calm manner of inspecting the warrior as he fought off every Grimm creature short of a Goliath in size. the numbers had not made a difference, that much was clear, and while she could no doubt outlast his endurance, her patience was waning, and because of that, she drew back her kin, and approached the warrior herself, solely commanding her personal mount forward into the clearing.

Applause. Blasted and warp damned applause is what he received for such a trivial challenge based upon wave after wave of uncountable enemies of all different manners and sizes. Like this was all some sort of game to whoever commanded these creatures. The source that had pinged on his auspex finally broke through the trees, its giant legs brushing full sized oaks out of the way as it simply trudged into the edge of the clearing. it halted, and he could finally see the source of the clapping, based upon the back of the oversized creature, held aloft by an embroiled saddle of dark red and black cloth, seamed by matching crystals. The rider matched her mount's attire, a slim profile that was cloaked in a flowing maroon robe. However, the passenger was just as alien as the warp spawn before him. her face was a pale white, lined by ridged lines of dark crimson, that led from her neck all along her face to the back of her head dress, which the ends were crowned by crystals, similar to those upon the saddle. A witch well vested in the foul sorceress of the warp if he ever laid eyes upon one.

"Well done, warrior, you impress me with your sheer ferocity, twice more your mercilessness." The accursed thing said, her voice easily flowing into his helm's audio receptors despite the distance between them. He was not phased by the blatant look of superiority she gave him.

"Have you come here just to compliment me, witch?" he growled out impatiently, "or grovel before I wipe you from the face of the material realm?" she twitched at that, her composure faltering slightly at the blatant disregard for her obvious air of superiority. A small sneer broke through as she spoke.

"You find me much more of a challenge than that naïve fool Ozpin. I will bury you here, and your body will be left to rot after I see fit to your punishment for stealing what was rightfully mine." The captain chose not to respond, no doubt the witch would be left to summon more power if he did not act immediately. Summoning the machine spirits of his ancient armor, he strode forth, pushing the legs to the limit as the ancient Terminator armor gather the speed to rush the Goliath and it's rider. The Goliath stampeded forwards at the will of it's master, and from the edges of the clearing, the other warp spawn moved to attack him as well. As they neared each other, the Goliath raised its right leg, looking to stomp down upon the Astartes that was barreling towards it, only to find that as it's foot descended to hit, the warrior changed the momentum and direction of his armor, opting to instead slam the several tons worth of adamantium and ceramite armor alongside, more importantly, the powered chain-fist, with it's blow glowing gauntlet, into the other frontal leg.

With a sickening snap and ear piercing roar, the chain-fist, with the momentum backing it akin to a demolisher round, dug elbow deep into the beast leg, ripping apart sinew and muscle, chewing upon fat, and utterly shattering bones the size of trees. the beast roared in agony, rearing upwards with the movement tearing the chain-fist free of its warp flesh confines, before slamming back upon the earth, the impact sending even the Captain's bulk back across the clearing, and utterly eradicating the decaying bodies underneath it. While the frontal leg was now mulched beyond what was realistically possible, it still moved forward (albeit with a heavy limp and a slower pace), it's head and tusk lowered ready to skewer the Astartes as it was chided and pushed by it's master's will. The captain had regained his standing already, and his combi-bolter spat death at the poor mockery of a charge. Great chunks of bone face plate were utterly carved away as bolts detonated, and a few had blown away several of the tusks on the side of the beast's face.

A sense of precognitive warning rang out from within his armor, as suddenly his vision was impaired by a series of foul Doom bolts, cast from the still present Warp witch. Although, the hits all landed upon his chest piece, they did not breach his armor, merely weakened it according to the Machine spirits. It was a blessing from the Emperor himself that they did not utterly destroy him. the Doom bolts however had distracted him from the goliath as it had finally bridged the gap between them, and swung it's remaining tusk in an arc at him. The Captain braced himself for the blow and raised his Chain-fist.

The tusk were caught within the mighty weapon's grip, but were not decaying at a fast enough rate despite the rather tell-tale deafening sound of dense bone upon ancient metal. So the Captain improvised, his combi-bolter shifted, and a great gout of flame was released into the monster's un-injured frontal leg. The promethium within burred away black fur and muscle till all that remained was the impressively sized bone. The beast collapsed near instantaneously, the pressure from the swing releasing as the creature buckled forward, and with it, it's rider flew from her perch, and directly upon the still decaying bodies. A curse sprung from her lips, even as she lifted herself up, foul and un-holy magic gathering in the palms of her hands.

The Captain, seeing the immobilized Goliath as no longer a threat, turned, and advanced upon the witch as she gathered herself, his combi-bolter raised and firing off burst in here direction. She raised a hand, and the bolts stopped, rotating slowly in the air before detonating, creating a small screen of explosions as she fired a volley of bone spikes from behind. The captain's helm marked the approaching projectiles before they broke the screen, and the secondary trigger of the combi-bolter was depressed, a cone of flame instantly melting most of the small lethal spikes, the ones escaping the cone embedding themselves harmlessly upon the edge of his shoulder and hood plates. beats lunged from their places among the bodies, either knocked aside or shot down before reaching him as he continued his relentless advance. At ten paces he was assaulted by an ursa Major, the beast grabbing his chainfist. He wrestled with the beast, making sure to fire off another flame burst in the direction of the witch, who simply blocked up with a red shielding, before using the but of the gun to bash the Ursa's head in.

This change of targets left him somewhat exposed however, as another two Ursa caught at him from the side, to re-establish control of the fist, and a small pack of wolves attempting to hold his Bolter down with their jaws, two losing their heads for not being quick enough to dodge the barrels. This gave the witch the time she needed however, as she cast a pair of chains upon the Astartes, ensnaring both of his limbs and the animals holding them in shackles of warp infused power. The beast cried out, pain unbearable but the Captain merely grunted, testing against his bonds as the creature's grips weakened. he found himself embolized, and the witch, approached him at leisure, one of her free hands drawing forth a dagger of pure darkness.

"You truly are something Warrior." she whispered as she moved directly in front of him. The height difference was apparent, and she once again pooled forth her magic to shackle his knees, and bring him into a kneeling state, his armor resisting the movement and himself cursing the witch that was just within his grasp. She brought the dagger to his helmet's seal and begun to cut. "let's see what you really look like."

The seal hissed as it was finally cut free, and she levitated the heavy helmet off of him, casting it aside to gaze upon his broken face. He snarled at her, his metal shining and his hate filled eyes never wavering from her visage despite the dagger hovering very close to his throat. "well, I was truly not expecting that, it dulls the ideas a bit considering you're half machine." she said, her face going from over bearing contempt to a slight pout, as if someone had stolen her sweet roll. "Anything to say before we start handsome?" She asked the Captain.

"Die Witch."

The Captain spat in her face, and she instinctively recoiled back, but not before sending the dagger towards his throat. It pierced the flesh and the wind pipe, slightly, but she was already too far away. "Why you insol-aaaaAAAHHHHHHH!" she suddenly screaming, as her forehead suddenly begun to burn. the acidic spit of the Space Marine eating away at the facial features of Salem. not enough to kill her unfortunately.

But enough to break her concentration.

The infernal chains holding the Captain down snapped and disappeared back into the immaterium, its other occupants long dead as their bodies collapsed to the ground. In a flash the chain fist came up, and punching directly into the witch's chest, sending her flying despite the reddish flaring of her infernal shield. He strode after her, picking up his helmet upon the way and placing it firmly back upon his head, the auto sealant trying to repair the damage done by the dagger. He found the Witch laying down in the black ichor, heavy breaths of air expelling from her chest with a slight gurgle, an obvious set of broken rips and internal punctures. Fitting for a creature like her the Captain found himself thinking. he levelled the Combi-bolter one last time at her broken body.

"Burn, Witch."

The Captain depressed the trigger and held it, watching as the blessed promethium rolled and boiled of her body. She barely screamed as she was roasted alive, the fire consuming her in a matter of seconds, but still he held the trigger. He did not know why, as if expecting some reward or honor to be presented to him, to be cast from this accursed dream and be placed back in his familiar reality, even after the canister ran out. It would not change his current predicament. He was still here, on this accursed world, far from the Emperor's light. He turned his back upon the witch, but was unable to move as his vision was suddenly destroyed by a blinding white light and his consciousness fading soon after.

Author's Note: It was a fun one guys, I'm glad around I got to finish it. I'll be starting a new story soon, and a hint as to what it will be is within this chapter. It's, as per usual, a crossover, so leave a comment or something if you'd like.