Hello, my glorious readers! Quick notice; VOTING WILL BE CLOSED BY TOMORROW! Also, what should Lukas' superhero name be? Please comment any ideas. Moving on, I have to tell you (WARNING, RANT INCOMING).

Some people like to make the following claim: "The DKoK is awful in terms of resource management, training, strategy, weapons, and equipment." Never have I seen such stupidity.

Resource Management: The Death Korps is very efficient in this department. Quartermasters take the equipment from dead soldiers and send it back to Krieg, where it's given to new recruits. Even if this wasn't the case, Krieg equipment is made on Krieg (duh). If they wanted to waste materials, it would only affect them.

Training: Death Korps training is equal to (and in some cases better) then Cadian training. Trainees are taught marksmanship, hand to hand combat, and survival skills at a very young age. Physically, they're pushed beyond their limits every day. It's standard practice to take multi-mile marches on the blasted surface of Krieg, where minefields are cleared, trenches are dug, and mock battles are staged. Mentally, they're broken and remade stronger. This harsh training allowed them to:

-Break through Iron Warrior fortifications (Iron Warriors are some of the best architects in the galaxy, matched only by the Imperial Fists).

-Survive for 48 hours (two days) against Death Guard Plague Marines.

-Hold off a Tyranid swarm long enough for other guardsmen to escape.

-Repel a Necron assault during the Battle of Amarah, leading to the destruction of their main tomb-complex. The Death Korps were the only forces capable of doing so.

-Breaking sieges that would've required Astartes.

It should be worth noting that Krieg lines were only broken ONCE, and it took the single worst batch of chemical weapons in Warhammer history to do so. Even then, they only fell back by one trench line. These SOBs are the equivalent of Spartan-IIs (without augmentations, of course).

Strategy: Do Kriegers love human wave attacks? Yes, who doesn't? While they use this tactic far more often then most regiments, the Death Korps is more then capable of switching strategies. An example of this is Vraks, where see them clearing trenches, breaching rooms, holding positions, and attempting infiltration.

Weapons: Stop calling them "laser muskets". Lucius Pattern Lasguns are semi-automatic infantry weapons, not firearms from the 1600s (that was a Rogal Dorn moment). These bad boys are far more powerful then a Kantreal Pattern Lasgun, but this comes at the cost of firing rate and ammunition capacity. Its a good trade-off.

Equipment: If you think about it, a standard Death Korps guardsmen is better equipped than most non-Kriegers. They have flak armor, plasteel helmets, high-powered lasguns, fully-sealed uniforms, grenades, and a rucksack full of supplies.

Sorry about that. Here are your voting options.

A: The Realm of Ultramar (post Horus Heresy) appears in the Unknown Regions during the Clone Wars. They have thirteen star systems, their Astartes chapters, and their fleets. 0 votes.

B: The entire Ultramarines Legion (pre Horus Heresy) appears on a planet in the Unknown Regions during A New Hope. They have their Imperial Army regiments and fleets. 2 votes.

C: A Custodes warrior (Constantin Valdor) is teleported into the Star Wars universe. Takes place during the Clone Wars. 7 votes.

Which one would you like to see? Leave your choices in the comments. Stay safe, my friends. The Emperor protects.

DKoKLordCommissar: Thank you for the vote!

ManwithaPlan113: I'm glad you enjoy it. When I first read Death Korps of Justice, Keled appeared bland and uninteresting as a character. Some didn't enjoy that choice, but I understood it. Keled was fresh off Krieg, where individuality was punished to form a more unified force. Put simply, he hasn't had time to develop a personality. Lukas, on the other hand, is a veteran with four campaigns under his belt. He's had years to become human, and to an extent, has. Last thing, what do you mean by "different feels"?

Guest: And he will hold the line for another ten thousand years. Cadia broke before the guard did.

Dyliokkhan: Thank you for the vote, but I won't be using Kitten. Instead, I will be using the Chad of all Custodes: Constantin Valdor.

Dezron: Thank you for the vote! P.S, please update The Interloper's Adventure. Its a great story, but I have one critique. Blaster bolts should do nothing to Carapace Armor (in one of the novels, Carapace Armor stops a direct hit from a Bolter). It can also withstand Heavy Stubber fire, meaning it can stop 50 caliber rounds. Please fix this.

loltuan123: The Primordial Reviewer hath returned! One thing, YOU. DIRTY. SNITCH. That damn commissar put me in a Penitent Engine!

TheJoker96Italia: Thank you for the review and vote!

Shadow Shogun Lord: Thank you for the vote!

Guest: Thank you for the vote!

LordFrancis93: Thank you for the vote!

robertmusical12: Thanks. I hope you stay for more.

Spartan-A312: Here you go, an update.

Tony McNucklz: Thanks for the review and kind words! First of all, let's clear some things up. Lukas isn't an adult, he's still in his mid-teens. Older fluff also notes that one can become a Space Marine up until middle age. I believe there were some old White Dwarf campaigns where Black Templars (insert autistic screaming here) recruit middle aged PDF troops. Even then, the risks are high and said recruits are not easily molded. The optimum age bracket is 12-18, when the body is still undergoing puberty. Moving on, Lukas will not receive Astartes augmentations in time for the crossover to begin. He'll enter this separate universe as a baseline human, albeit a genetically modified one with very special genes (more on that later).

AMW Riptide: Thank you for the vote!

A massive Chaos Marine stood before them. His ornate armor bore golden engravings and unholy runes, symbolizing the extent of his ten thousand year corruption. In his right hand was a massive chainsword, which growled like a daemon as it spun. Lukas raised his weapon and fired, hitting the traitor's chest. Everyone else followed suit, unleashing a maelstrom of automatic Bolter fire. Some rounds pinged off the armor, but most tore through weak points and exposed flesh. A growl escaped the Chaos Marine's lips as he rushed forward, generating dozens of afterimages in his wake. The Krieger's eyes narrowed, examining the chainsword's unique tilt and grip. Opponent will attempt low slice. Jump to evade. He unsheathed his bayonet, using a reverse-grip to wield the fearsome ten inch blade. Just as he predicted, the traitor used a low slice. Now. He jumped into the air, catching his opponent off guard. Enhanced adrenaline slowed his perception of time, allowing more delicate maneuvers to be planned and performed. Strike at the jugular. Push upwards into the skull. Kill your opponent, show no mercy. Lukas plunged his bayonet into the traitor's neck, which spewed tainted blood like a fountain of gore. He twisted the blade and pushed upwards, tearing through armor and flesh. The Krieger heard a small clink as his bayonet hit bone, undoubtedly the lower jaw. For Krieg. He pushed harder, cutting into the skull. His opponent roared in pain and attempted to swat him away. Lukas withdrew his bayonet and grabbed the traitor's right pauldron. With a grunt, he propelled himself upwards. Use bolt pistol. Aim for the head. The Krieger fired ten rounds at his opponent's head. Each round pinged off the ceramite/plasteel composite, leaving massive dents in their wake. He landed with a dull thud and rolled away.

"Squad, open fire!" A hail of semi-automatic Bolter fire impacted the Chaos Marine, piercing armor and flesh. If I can gain enough distance, the Exitus Rifle will become a viable option. Lukas moved backwards, aiming for the traitor's head.

"NO!" A throwing knife bisected his Exitus Rifle, rendering the powerful weapon useless. Damn it, I was starting to like that rifle. "BROTHERS, NOW!"

"Seventeen contacts approaching from the northeast. ETA twenty seconds." Indris said.

"Where?" The Krieger questioned.

"Upper rooftops, to the lef..." Indris was backhanded into a wall, rendering him unconscious.

"I'll deal with it. Put that bastard down." Lukas climbed an old maintenance ladder, which groaned under his weight. Several handlebars disconnected, hitting the ground with a loud clang. One Watchmaster versus seventeen traitor marines. Those are low odds. The Krieger poked his head above the ladder, allowing a Bolter round to zip past him. He ignored the shock and sprinted for cover. Those ventilation units stood up to a Stalker Bolter. I'll use them as cover. He ducked behind the nearest unit, throwing a fragmentation grenade to confuse his opponents. It seemed to work.

Lukas readied his lasgun and emerged from cover. A horde of Chaos Marines leapt across the rooftops, brandishing their wide assortment of deadly weaponry. Heresy-pattern Bolters, Meltaguns, and plasma pistols were the most common armaments amongst them. None of his armor, save for the carapace chestpiece, could reliably stop such weaponry. Three traitors held Phosphex blasters, dangerous relics of the Great Crusade. He shook his head and fired, downing two Chaos Marines with twelve shots. Roars of fury came from their brothers. I'll use a krak grenade once they're twenty feet away. Until then, my lasgun should be sufficient. He continued firing, aiming for gaps between the armor plating. Bolter rounds and plasma orbs zipped past him. Deploy grenade in three, two, one. The Krieger threw a krak grenade and ducked. Two seconds later, the grenade detonated. His ears rung from the blast. Check for survivors. Lukas felt a burst of hot air, burning his left arm and stomach. Without thinking, he moved to the left. Several streams of phosphex incinerated the ventilation unit, leaving small embers that melted through the rooftop.

"THAT'LL TEACH HIM! FOR KHORNE!" A demonic voice bellowed. The Krieger hid behind a large pipe, waiting for an opportunity to strike. His opponents rushed forward, their weapons readied. Wait for it...now.

Lukas stood up and fired his lasgun, wounding six of the ten Chaos Marines. They discarded their ranged weapons and rushed forward, combat knives at the ready. The Krieger rolled under a swipe and follow-up thrust, using his bayonet to inflict deep stab wounds. A Sol-pattern combat knife impacted his arm, tearing through armor and flesh like paper. It left a massive laceration that wept copious amounts of blood. He cursed and moved in for a thrust, hitting the traitor's two hearts. Lukas avoided a flurry of swipes and thrusts, striking whenever he could. Another blade sliced his upper thigh, reducing his movement speed to a limp. The Krieger grunted in annoyance and continued fighting. One by one, the traitors fell. Blood loss made him unbalanced and tired, allowing the remaining Chaos Marines to strike him. Blood poured from his chest, shoulder, arms, and legs. He powered through the injuries, forcing his body to move through sheer Kriegan willpower. One traitor remaining. Lukas drew his bolt pistol and fired, destroying his opponent's knees with five well-placed shots. The Chaos Marine grabbed a Phosphex blaster and let loose a stream of white flame. The Krieger rolled sideways, evading his fiery death. He killed the traitor with a bayonet to the head, cutting through reinforced bone and weak brain matter. A roar of anguish filled the air.

"BROTHERS! DIE, CORPSE WORSHIPER! The Krieger groaned in annoyance as Bolter rounds impacted the rooftop. While some missed, others detonated a few feet away. The small explosions forced him back, fracturing several bones. He couldn't walk.

Lukas crawled towards the edge of the rooftop, using his one good arm to drag his body. Those extra drills paid off. For once, a Caidan's advice was correct. He saw the corpse of his former opponent, it's exposed head riddled with lacerations. Oriar moved forward, his arms outstretched.

"Sir, jump down." Lukas rolled off the rooftop, landing in Oriar's arms. The Astartes set him down and produced a healing agent. "Hold still."

"More Chaos Marines inbound. We need to move." Skaban said.

"Use the rooftops." The Krieger said. His voice was strained.

"Yes sir. I'll take point." Castiel said. Oriar hoisted Lukas over his shoulder.

Lukas raised his bolt pistol and fired, hitting the eye lens of a Chaos Marine. The traitor's corrupted body stiffened before impacting the ground. Oriar leapt across a rooftop, cracking rockcrete upon landing. Indris paused to provide suppressing fire before rejoining the squad. Alpha-9 was within seeing distance, allowing him to assess its inhabitants. Lasfire from the windows, Heavy Bolter fire from the rooftops. The guardsmen themselves appear to be a mix of Kriegers, Catachans, and Tallarn Desert Raiders. Thank the Emperor. To his knowledge, most Kriegers were deployed to heavily entrenched areas in the financial district. They would see intense combat and thousands of casualties, something he envied them for. Lukas saw five Ultramarines amongst the guardsman, their hulking bodies covered in blue Terminator armor. They killed dozens of Chaos Marines with Storm Bolters and power swords.

"Destroy those traitors. For the Emperor." Lukas ordered. Bolter fire impacted the traitor's exposed backs, killing some and wounding others. Ten Chaos Marines sprinted towards them, covering forty meters in one seconds. "Move back, gain defensive positions. Indris, provide cover fire."

"Yes sir." Indris switched his Bolter to full-auto and fired, halting the advance for a brief moment. He moved backwards, pausing only to reload.

"KILL! MAIM! BURN!" A corrupted voice screamed. Lukas primed a fragmentation grenade, waiting for the right moment to strike.

"Open fire." The Krieger threw his grenade, killing three traitors and wounding the rest. His squad took advantage of the distraction.

"Phosphex stream, incoming." Indris said. Lukas rolled to the side, avoiding the stream of death that coursed above him. Some of his wounds reopened, smearing blood over the hot rockcrete.

"DIE!" A Khorne Berserker sprinted towards them, his chainsword at the ready. Indris dodged a thrust and fired his Bolter, shredding his opponent's chest.

"They're attempting to flank us." Castiel said.

"Skaban, deal with them. The rest of you, advance." Lukas said. Oriar moved to pick him up. "No, I can walk."

Lukas pushed himself up and limped forward. He readied his lasgun and prepared to fire, his finger moving towards the trigger. Six shots impacted a Chaos Marine's abdomen, piercing ceremite and corrupted flesh. The traitor dropped his weapon and collapsed. The Krieger repeated this action multiple times, destroying several traitors. His squad followed, preventing him from being flanked. Ammunition's low. Take cover and reload. He ducked behind a large pipe and reloaded, placing the dead power cell in his ammunition pouch. After ten minutes, it would be fully charged and ready for use. If my estimations are correct, one hostile remains. A demonic scream filled the air. Never mind. Lukas emerged from cover and rejoined his squad, who helped him down a fire escape ladder. The group of Terminators lowered their Storm Bolters and rushed to meet them.

"Who's in charge here?" One asked.

"Sir, the Krieger is in charge." Castiel said. The Terminator nodded.

"Follow me. Our Apothecary can tend to your wounds."

Lukas was treated by a power-armored Apothecary, who used his white Narthecium with startling efficiency. The Krieger's wounds and damaged equipment were both mended in thirty seconds. After a quick medical scan, he was free to go. His first course of action was to find Alpha-9's leader, which took ten minutes of searching to accomplish. Eight Krieg Grenadiers sat against the metal wall, their Hellguns kept close by. As he passed, they stood up and saluted. It's refreshing to see another Krieger. He nodded and continued his search. He rounded a corner and saw Castiel, who walked alongside a massive Terminator. Both Astartes turned to face him.

"You must be Lukas. Come, we have much to discuss." The Terminator said. His voice was course and deep.

"What are your concerns?" Lukas asked.

"Transportation of our wounded. Who will take them?"

"Our base has several APCs, including Land Raiders. I can radio for more if need be." Castiel replied.

"Good." The Terminator paused. "Watchmaster, you were sent here to collect supplies, correct?"

"Yes."

"Then I will aid you. There are several armories within a one-mile radius of this building."

"Thank you for informing us." Castiel said. They took a left, ending up in a small conference room.

"We can discuss the finer details in here."

Sector F-1, with Dresden...

The Land Raider's turbine engines roared in fury as the tank sped forward, crossing thirty meters with each passing second. It's side mounted weaponry laid waste to entire platoons of Chaos Marines, shredding through ceremite, plasteel, and rockcrete like wet paper. Dresden fired the pintle mounted Storm Bolter at a barricade forty feet away, destroying it with a stream of concentrated fire. He winced as a Bolter round glanced his arm, drawing a small amount of blood that would clot in seconds. That must be a sniper. I believe he's inside that restaurant to the right. The Scout Marine activated his micro-bead, alerting the closest gunner.

"Sniper in that restaurant to the right, one hundred meters out, over." He said.

"Providing fire, over." One of the side-mounted lascannons roared to life, unleashing a beam of bright red energy. The restaurant was annihilated.

Dresden resumed his previous activities, killing several squads with five second bursts. The driver had entered an alleyway to loose the Chaos Marines, crushing several dumpsters and trash cans under the tank's plasteel/rubber treads. The Scout Marine raised his arm, catching a large metal fragment that would've entered his jugular. He discarded it and checked the Storm Bolter. Empty. Dresden moved to reload, but a gauntleted hand stopped him. Acting solely on instinct, he drew his bolt pistol and fired twice. Both rounds penetrated, detaching the Chaos Marine's hand from his body. The traitor fell backwards in shock. Reload the gun. He slammed a fresh magazine into the Storm Bolter, grinning as he chambered a round. The Scout Marine squeezed the trigger, pumping dozens of Bolter rounds into his opponent. Keep your guard up. Do not let that happen again. For the next ten minutes, the Land Raider drove through several alleyways to evade its pursuers.

"NX gas detected. Seal the tank and equip PPE, over." Dresden closed the gunner's hatch, checking twice to make sure it was locked, and walked into the deployment room. This area was dedicated to troop transport, and had multiple seats for extra comfort. He sat in the one empty seat, grabbing his Bolter from the weapon rack. He was surrounded by fellow Scout Marines, dozens of guardsmen, and two Veteran Sergeants. Everyone was deathly silent.

"ETA's fifty seconds. Prepare yourselves." The Vox speaker boomed. Everyone grabbed their weapons and stood up.

"Check your equipment. If anything is wrong, notify me." One of the Veteran Sergeants said. His voice was course and emotionless.

"Yes sir!" Dresden checked his weapons for any faults. To his relief, none were present. He equipped his gas mask and stood at attention.

"We're here. Deploy in three, two, one." The tank's deployment hatch, a thick slab of adamantium and ceremite, opened with a quiet groan. White gas flooded the cabin.

Dresden rushed into the open, his Bolter raised and ready to fire. Each Scout Marine formed a perimeter around the tank, protecting it's cargo and vulnerable insides. If thrown into the deployment room, a single krak grenade could spell death for a Land Raider. Hundreds of these majestic vehicles had met their end in a similar fashion. Upon depositing its cargo, the tank sped off into the distance. Both Veteran Sergeants took point, moving with practiced speed and precision. To him, it showed the result of constant warfare. Most Astartes are five hundred years old upon joining the 1st Company. Those sergeants must have decades of combat experience. As dictated by the Codex Astartes, a Chapter's first company housed it's finest soldiers. They alone had the privilege of donning Terminator Armor, a scaled-up version of standard power armor. Dresden hoped to one day join their ranks, but he was aware of the low odds. Most Astartes died in battle before reaching two hundred, let alone five hundred. One of the Veteran Sergeants raised his hand, signaling the group to stop. They had reached the end of the alleyway.

"Phase one. Go in pairs."

"Bounding." Dresden ran across the streets with a Catachan, who held a plasma rifle in his gloved hands. The Scout Marine's twin hearts pumped adrenaline through his muscles, increasing his speed to seventy miles per hour. Surprisingly, the guardsman was able to keep up. Upon reaching another alleyway, he activated his micro-bead. "Sir, the area is clear, over."

"Copy that. Sending another pair, over." The Veteran Sergeant responded. Dresden saw two Astartes running across the street, their muscular forms reaching speeds of fifty miles per hour. It took several minutes for everyone to cross.

Dresden grabbed a Chaos Marine and snapped his neck, killing the traitor in microseconds. Another Scout Marine dragged the corpse into an alleyway, preventing it from being seen. With that out of the way, everyone advanced forward. They had been trekking through alleyways for the past half hour, evading patrols and killing traitors. We should be close. The Veteran Sergeant raised his hand, forcing everyone to stop. I guess we're here.

"Phase two. Find the artillery and look for survivors." The Scout Marines saluted and moved forward, crossing a wide street in seconds. A massive skyscraper stood before them.

Dresden opened a metal door and scanned the room, looking for any signs of life. To his dismay, their were none. The Scout Marine was about to leave, but a certain smell caught his attention. Blood. He saw the rotting corpse of a Krieg Grenadier, her blue greatcoat soaked with blood. Multiple dents and slashes adorned her carapace armor, indicating heavy combat. He took note of the eight fist-sized holes in her torso and drew his combat knife. Let's see how you died. Dresden cut a thin strip of flesh off her arm, about the size of an index finger in length. He placed it inside his mouth and swallowed, activating the Omophagea. This geneseed organ allowed him to view the dead's memories via ingesting their flesh. He closed his eyes.

612295193-Theresa blasted a heretic with her Hellgun, grinning as the bastard fell to his knees and died. Autogun rounds pinged off her armor, reminding the Krieger that several heretics were still alive. She would fix that. Theresa hid behind a desk and threw her last fragmentation grenade. A second later, it detonated. Screams of the dying filled her ears. She emerged from cover and moved forward, executing any survivors with a boot to the throat or head.

"Filthy Imperial!" The Krieger dodged a burst of autogun fire. Her attacker was a male in his late forties, clad in full carapace armor and holding a shortened autogun. A sheathed power sword adorned his back. "You cannot win here!"

"Die, heretic." Theresa fired her Hellgun twice, damaging the bastard's chestpiece. She was about to fire a third shot, but her Hellgun ran dry. The heretic noticed this and fired his weapon. She winced as high caliber autogun rounds tore through her gut.

"Your false god can do nothing! He will fall and you will die!" She drew her bayonet and charged, knocking the heretic off his feet. The Krieger stabbed him in the gut and twisted, tearing through several organs.

"Submit." Theresa pushed her blade upwards, leaving a massive gash. As the heretic cried in pain, she reached into the wound and grabbed his stomach. She crushed the organ and pulled, removing it from the body. The bastard became unnaturally still. "Filth."

Theresa grabbed the heretic's autogun. Its barrel was ten inches long, making it illegal on most Imperial planets. She detached the magazine and examined its rounds. They were 6.8mm armor piercing, explaining why her carapace armor failed to stop them. The Krieger grabbed six magazines and continued moving. If she didn't find her squad, the mission would be impossible to complete. She believed they were on level ninety, but their was no way to certain. A photon flash grenade landed near her boot, forcing her behind a desk. The grenade detonated, filling the hallway with a blinding light. Theresa switched her autogun to burst mode and fired down the hallway. A heretic cried out in pain as five rounds impacted his chest. She moved into the open and fired again, downing another rebel. Enemy lasfire forced her back into cover. Despite their nickname of "flashlight", lasguns were very powerful weapons. A single shot held the same power as a 12.7mm autogun round, able to punch through meters of rockcrete and tear off limbs.

"Move through the restroom, flank her left side." A voice whispered. The Krieger switched her autogun to full-auto and waited. Her augmented ears could pick up several footfalls. She waited until the first heretic revealed himself, and fired at him. A stream of bullets mowed down four heretics and wounded the rest.

"Shit! Move back!" Another voice yelled. She entered the restroom and fired again, killing most of the retreating heretics. Only one remained. He screamed in horror, emptying his entire magazine into her torso. Each round bounced off her armor.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck..." She fired a single shot, hitting his stomach. The bastard cried out in pain, then smiled. "Got you." He grabbed a bolt pistol.

"Scheisse." Eight rounds impacted her chest. The first two were stopped, but the rest made it through. Upon entering her rib cage, each bolter round detonated with the force of a small grenade. The Krieger fell to the floor, her strength rapidly fading. Her last action was to fire her autogun, killing the heretic.

Theresa died with a smile. She had atoned for her ancestor's crimes, and would join the Emperor in paradise. Her eyes slowly closed. A golden light filled her vision.

Dresden opened his eyes. His "dream" had informed him of one thing: the Krieger's squad was on floor ninety. He stood up and left the room, hoping to find a working elevator. If I can find a rebel, they'll be able to...wait, something's moving. The Scout Marine raised his hand, blocking a stubber round aimed for his heart. The rebel froze in shock before discarding his autopistol and running away. Dresden rushed forward and grabbed the traitor, lifting him up by the neck.

"Where are the loyalist forces?" He questioned.

"Go fuck yourself, Imperial mutant." The rebel growled. Dresden shook his head.

"Wrong answer." He grabbed the traitor's wrist and squeezed. "In four seconds, your wrist will shatter. Tell me what I wish to know."

"No." He tightened his grip, shattering the radius and ulna. The traitor screamed in pain.

"Where are the loyalist forces?" The Scout Marine unsheathed his combat knife. "I can make your death quick or slow. It all depends on how you answer."

"Okay, okay! I'll tell you!" Pitiful scum.

"Speak."

"They're on the upper levels! Please don't kill me, please..." Dresden swiped his combat knife sideways, removing the traitor's genitals. He dropped the screaming man and slit his throat.

"Such a pitiful display."

Dresden was thankful to be alive. A lack of working elevators and safe stairwells forced him to use the vents, which at first seemed like a good decision. This hypothesis was quickly disproved by the sheer volume of hidden plasma charges. He was able to evade most of them, but a small minority were triggered via proximity. Third/fourth degree burns covered his face and left arm, causing great pain whenever he moved. He punched a vent grate and squeezed through, landing on the tile floor with a dull thud. Check for hostiles. The Scout Marine grabbed his Bolter and looked for any signs of life. Bloody rags on that desk. Dresden walked over and picked one up. It was still fresh. He discarded it and moved on, hoping their were still survivors.

"Brother?" The Scout Marine turned around. A wounded Intercessor stood ten feet behind him. His blue power armor was marred with dents, small holes, and blood. "Are you an Ultramarine?"

"I am an Ultramarine Scout." The Intercessor collapsed, grunting as he fell. Dresden rushed to aid him.

"Bring my geneseed to the Chapter." With a final breath, the Intercessor perished. His pulse is gone. Dresden unsheathed his combat knife, cutting a small hole in the corpse's neck.

"Your name shall be remembered." The Scout Marine grabbed a small pouch from his utility belt. It contained four vials, a clear tube, and dozens of needles. He fastened a needle to the tube, creating a sturdy airtight seal. "Your death will lead to new life." He placed the tube inside the corpse's neck. Five, four, three, two, one. The needle broke through a wall of flesh, entering the first Progenoid Gland. Dresden attached the tube to a vial, pressing a small button to begin the extraction. A pale red liquid rushed through the tube.

Dresden placed both vials inside a ceramite box, securing them from any potential damage. The geneseed, which consisted of nanomachines, enhanced germ cells, and a spark of the Emperor's power, was held within a pale red liquid medium. If properly cultivated, the aforementioned ingredients could be used to make new Astartes implants. The Scout Marine locked the box and stored it in his pocket. With that out of the way, he took some ammunition from the dead Intercessor and continued onward. Fresh blood trails marred the tile floor, signalling the presence of life. One such trail led to a Krieg infantryman. His greatcoat was torn and battered, exposing dented flak armor beneath it. Dozens of holes adorned his stomach, right leg, and head. Dresden knelt down and removed the guardsman's mask, revealing a boy no older then twelve. He's got a pulse. The guardsman opened his eyes and stared at him.

"Hallway...th-thirty...heavy combat..." His voice was strained. "Please...kill me...c-can't fight..."

"I will grant you mercy." Dresden unsheathed his combat knife. "You have paid for the crimes of your ancestors. The Emperor forgives you."

"In death...peace." The Scout Marine swung his blade, decapitating the guardsman.

"A loyalist! Kill him!" He looked upwards. Five rebels stood ten feet away, their shortened autoguns and lascarbines pointed towards him.

Dresden sprinted towards them, his combat knife in hand. One slash bisected a rebel, cutting through flak armor and flesh like butter. Another slash killed four rebels and wounded another. The Scout Marine felt stubber rounds ping off his armored abdomen, leaving small bruises that healed in milliseconds. He rushed towards the last rebel and slashed upwards, cutting him in half. He wiped the blood off his blade and rushed down the hallway. The sound of weapons fire became audible to his enhanced ears. That confirms it. The Kriegers are alive. Dresden ran faster.

"FOR THE PRINCE!" A Noise Marine readied his Sonic Blaster and fired, sending deadly sound waves towards him. The Scout Marine sidestepped, avoiding the attack. "NOISE! SWEET NOISE!"

Dresden switched his Bolter to full-auto and fired. Each Bolter round embedded itself into flesh and detonated, causing massive internal damage. The Noise Marine cried out in ecstasy and fired again. He didn't move fast enough, and was pushed into a wall. Arteries and muscles threatened to break under the pressure. I'll have to get close. In a long range fight, his weaponry beats mine. The Scout Marine activated his adrenaline glands, which pumped their contents into his enhanced musculature. He got up and rushed forward at seventy miles per hour, his combat knife and bolt pistol at the ready. His attacker smiled and drew a curved power sword. One hit means death. Avoid at all costs. Dresden rolled under a swipe and fired his bolt pistol. Each round left medium-sized dents, weakening the ceramite. He took advantage by using his combat knife, cutting through the compromised armor. The Scout Marine dodged slashes and thrusts, inflicting horrible wounds upon his opponent. With a final Bolter round to the forehead, the Noise Marine died. He continued running.

"Push forward!" A voice yelled. That must be the Kriegers. Dresden cut through another group of rebels, mortally wounding them with lightning-fast swings and slashes.

"Keep those fuckers pinned!" The Scout Marine rounded a corner, entering hall thirty. Dozens of Chaos Marines turned around and charged.

Dresden moved backwards and grabbed a plasma grenade from his belt. It was cylindrical in shape and had numerous blue highlights. A metal pin was present near the standard golden Aquila, a symbol that dominated most Imperial equipment. When detonated, a plasma grenade would release superheated hydrogen that burned with the fury of a star. Everything up to a light tank could be destroyed with such weaponry. He pulled the pin and waited for the right moment to strike. Now. After a brief millisecond, he threw the grenade and backed away. A blue flash temporarily blinded him, but his vision returned after several seconds of waiting. Most Chaos Marines were killed by the explosion, which severed limbs and melted through armor. The few that remained were close to death. He finished them off and continued moving.

Dresden winced as Bolter rounds exploded near him, creating multiple waves of shrapnel that dinged off his armor. He returned fire and took cover to reload, shoving the empty magazine into his utility belt. The Scout Marine turned around and fired upon a traitor, killing him with a single headshot. They're trying to flank me. If I stay here, more will come. He ran across the hallway, dodging hypersonic Bolter rounds and throwing knives. He entered a storage room and punched through the wall, revealing a hallway on the other side. Dresden ran through it and took a left, spraying the area with his Bolter. The Chaos Marines stood no chance. As they fell, he ran. Those marks were caused by Hellguns. His speed increased. Up ahead, a Krieg Grenadier was slaughtering his way through dozens of rebels. The guardsman blocked a haymaker and elbowed his opponent, breaking several regions of the skull. Faster than Dresden could see, the Krieger punched through the rebel's gut and tore out his stomach.

"FOR THE EMPEROR!" The guardsman kicked another rebel in the groin, making him fall over in agony. Dresden raised his Bolter and fired upon a squad of incoming Chaos Marines.

"BLOO-" Dresden silenced him with one shot the the head. He moved past the Krieger and continued firing, downing half of the squad. He crushed a traitor's head and used his body as a human shield.

"YOU SON OF BI-" The guardsman raised his Hellgun and fired, sending a red beam of pure energy towards his opponent. It melted through armor and left a gaping hole. "B-bitch." The Chaos Marine collapsed.

"Guardsman, where is your squad?" The Scout Marine asked.

"The next hallway, my lord."

"Bring me to them."

Sector I-4, with Lukas:

Lukas thrust his lasgun forward, impaling a Chaos Marine with the bayonet. He pulled the rifle sideways, creating a massive hole in the traitor's stomach. Begin the attack. He reached into his opponent's stomach and pulled, removing the small intestines. A large hand grabbed his neck. Faster than one could blink, he was punched in the gut and kicked into a wall.

"Filthy mortal, let Chaos..." A Grenadier by the name of Hansel fired his Hellgun, killing the Chaos Marine.

"Are you injured, sir?" He asked. Lukas stood up and brushed himself off.

"I'm fine. Gather the platoon." The Grenadier saluted and ran off. Lukas' orders were to capture an armory and hold it until reinforcements arrived. To do this, he was given twenty five guardsmen.

"Sir, they're here." The Krieger nodded.

"Advance forward. We are nearing the objective."

Lukas has some experience in leading formations. During his third campaign, the platoon CO perished to artillery fire. Regimental command granted him temporary control of what little men remained. For two months, the Krieger led his troops on a march of victory. They moved from trench to trench, killing hundreds of traitors and sabotaging their equipment. For his actions, he was awarded the rank of Watchmaster. The briefing mentioned these pipelines. If we follow them, it's a safe route to the armory. He knew that "safe" often meant "ambush" or "secret kill zone", but who was he to question orders?

"Sir, auspex readings are scrambled. We're going in blind." Hansel whispered. This was troubling news.

"Irrelevant. Continue forward." The Krieger responded. A faraway glint caught his attention. "Sniper!" The platoon split into squads and hid behind the pipeline. Two Catachans weren't quick enough, and died via headshots.

"Sir, fifty meters northwest." Hansel reported.

"Get the Cadian Patterns." Seven rounds impacted his greatcoat, but did little to hurt him.

"Sir, auspexes are working again! A massive horde is coming this way, ETA five minutes!" An Elysian yelled.

"Acknowledged." Two Cadians sprinted towards him, their rocket launchers at the ready. "Fifty meters northwest. Give them hell."

"Yes sir." The Cadians aimed and fired, sending four krak rockets towards a building. A deafening boom filled the air, followed by a shockwave that shattered windows and pushed guardsmen backwards.

"Get back to your positions."

"Sir, enemy incoming!" A Catachan yelled.

The platoon raised their lasguns and waited. After dozens of agonizing seconds, a horde of rebel soldiers rounded a corner and charged forward. Rusted bayonets adorned their weapons, making him growl in anger. On Krieg, a rusted bayonet was punishable with two hundred lashes. Everyone began firing, downing thirty in the opening salvo. After one minute of shooting, the rebels got close enough for melee combat. At that moment, Lukas detached his bayonet and rushed forward. He moved from rebel to rebel, leaving a line of corpses in his wake. The Krieger switched to a reverse grip and plunged his blade into a traitor's skull, killing him. He turned around and kicked a rebel, breaking his ribs. Another attempted to strike him with his rifle, which he used as a club. Lukas dodged the strike and wrapped his arms around the man's hips, throwing him over his shoulder and onto the ground. Before he could end the man's life, a stubber round struck his helmet. The force of the impact disoriented him, allowing the rebel to drag him down. Lukas recovered immediately.

"Verpiss dich!" The Krieger got his opponent's hand in a wristlock, making him freeze. Bones snapped like twigs.

"You cunt!" The rebel yelled. Both men struggled for dominance, punching and kicking like flies in a spider's web. Lukas pushed his gloved thumb into the man's eye, making him scream in pain. He reached for his bayonet, which was dropped during the fighting, and stabbed his foe in the chest.

"That was my..." The Krieger rolled forward and grabbed his opponent. Before he could fire, a massive laceration was made on his neck. The rebel collapsed.

Lukas stood up and pushed forward, inspiring his men to do the same. They stabbed or shot any rebel in sight, ignoring gruesome injuries in favor of killing. As time passed, the horde thinned. Two guardsmen were killed.

Lukas was relieved to reach the armory. Several wooden crates were stacked upon metal racks, which groaned under the pressure. These racks were organized into aisles, each spaced ten feet apart. As his men fortified the building, some Grenadiers decided to get themselves "gifts." They came back with power swords, plasma pistols, Bolters, and more. The Krieger didn't care, after all, he had done the same thing several years ago. I've always missed that plasma pistol. Might as well replace it.

"Hansel." The Grenadier rushed over and saluted. A bolt pistol adorned his hip. "You're in command."

"Yes sir, happy hunting."

Lukas opened a wooden crate, revealing his prize. One plasma pistol, it's leather holster, a maintenance kit, and five plasma cells were held in black foam to prevent damage. He placed the weapon inside his rucksack's outer right compartment, allowing him to quickly retrieve it in the heat of battle. The maintenance kit was stored inside his rucksack, and the plasma cells were placed in his utility belt's ammunition pouches. With a plasma pistol, he could now destroy anything up to a medium tank. Jackpot. The Krieger was about to leave, but another crate caught his eye. It contained two interchangeable barrels for his lasgun, allowing him to convert the weapon into a Hellgun or longlas. This will be invaluable for future missions. He placed both barrels inside his rucksack.

"Sir?" A male voice asked. It was his third in command, a Catachan by the name of Keled. "We found a relic from the 30th millennium. Hansel thinks you should have it."

"Show me." Keled revealed a sheathed short sword. It had multiple engravings in High Gothic, a language seldom used amongst the populace. "I don't know what the language is, but it seems important."

"Do not dishonor the Emperor's tongue." He drew his bayonet. "If you do, I will use this blade to castrate you."

"Yes sir." The Catachan saluted, gave him the sword, and rushed off.

"A power sword?" Lukas unsheathed the sword, revealing a beautiful silver blade. He pressed a red button on the hilt, igniting a pale blue power field. "Nice." Compared to modern-day power swords, which used inferior generators and weak metals, a 30th millennium variant was superior. It was forged with high-grade adamantium and sharpened at the molecular level, allowing the blade to cut through any armor.

Lukas sheathed the blade and placed it on his hip. Not a bad find. The Krieger restocked his ammunition reserves and continued onwards. If everything went according to plan, a supply convoy would arrive soon. He decided to pass the time by assisting his guardsmen, who boarded up doors and windows.

"Sir, the convoy's arrived. I've ordered them to take the heavy weapons first." Hansel said.

"Good. The ammunition is next."

"Yes sir." Hansel saluted and walked away. "Get the ammunition next! Prioritize Bolter rounds, plasma cells, and rockets!" He yelled.

Five hours later...

It took several hours to clear the warehouse. During that time, no traitor forces were spotted near their position. Lukas knew the bastards were planning something, but at the moment, he was incapable of stopping it. Abaddon struck at the worst possible time. Cadia's forces were suffering from defeat, its fleets were damaged, and the possibility of another Black Crusade was dismissed. If only we had a Primarch. The Krieger paused. Was this something even a Primarch couldn't fix? He doubted it. Comparing a son of the Emperor to Abaddon was the equivalent of placing a paraplegic in a boxing match.

"Damn traitors." He muttered.

Lukas walked past Hansel, who oversaw the building's fortification. Makeshift barriers, firing positions, and two machine gun nests were set up and ready for use.

"It's slipping!" A guardsmen said. He saw three Cadians struggling to lift a barricade.

"Move." The Krieger ordered. He cracked his knuckles and lifted. His augmented muscles strained under the weight, but got the job done. "As you were."

"Thank you, sir." One of the Cadians muttered.

Lukas watched as dozens of crates were loaded into light vehicles. If everything went as planned, they would be done in twenty minutes. We've solved the munitions problem. That leaves food, water, and medicine. Underground reservoirs, moisture, and human waste could be purified into drinking water, eliminating one of their many hardships. Food was stockpiled in bunkers and warehouses, making it easy to find. Medical supplies would be far more difficult.

"Sir, we found lascannons and mortars." A Kasrkin said. Lukas paused.

"How many?"

"Ten lascannons and fifty mortars. Each has enough ammunition to last for weeks." We'll still need artillery, but lascannons and mortars have their uses.

"Get them into the trucks."

"Right away, sir." The Kasrkin saluted and left. One minute later, a stream of ordinance flooded into the trucks. Command will be pleased.

"We're almost full." A driver said.

"Head to HQ." Lukas ordered.

"Yes sir." The driver turned around. "Load whatever you can!"

"Sir, the Captain wants to speak with you." Hansel said.

"Give me your radio." He took a moment to compose himself. "This is Watchmaster Lukas, over."

"Watchmaster, your orders are to raid Hospital 37. We believe a large medical cache resides there, over."

"Is there anything else I should know?"

"Expect a small garrison of 15-28 traitors. One or two Chaos Marines may be present, but judging from your track record, they won't be a problem."

"Thank you sir, out." He turned to Hansel. "Prepare the men."

"Yes sir." The Grenadier rushed off.

Lukas searched through his mind, reciting paragraphs and passages from the Codex Astartes. Chapter 4, Section 2, Paragraph 12: To successfully carry out the assault of a fortified building, use all tools at your disposal. Method one is concealment. This method should be used when one wishes to expend minimal lives and resources. Use concealed areas to sneak past defenses. Such areas include sewers, alleyways, debris piles, buildings, etc. Competent foes will patrol these areas or lay traps. Always consider the risk of alarms, auspexes, automated defenses, land mines, tripwires, enemy patrols, and more. Disable these defenses when you can (see Chapter 4, Section 1, "Disarming Traps and Automated Defenses"). Method two is conventional assault. This method should be used when one has access to large quantities of men and resources. Split your forces into two groups. Group one will gain advantageous positions and set up heavy weapons. Group two will form the main assault force. Group one will disable automated defenses with fragmentation grenades, and breach fortifications with krak grenades. Group two will use the enemy's confusion to advance forward. If the enemy attempts to organize, group one will provide overwatch. The Krieger paused. Under normal circumstances, casualties would be of no concern to him, but their manpower was limited.

"Method one will have to do." The Codex Astartes provided millions of life-saving strategies, despite its flaws. He cracked his knuckles and left the room.

Lukas moved like a wolf stalking its prey. Every step was carefully planned and executed, allowing him to move fast and make very little noise. He was followed by two Kasrkin, some of Cadia's toughest soldiers. What I wouldn't do for a chance to spar with one. He raised his fist, signalling them to halt. Dozens of meters ahead, a lone sentry walked past the alleyway. He was five foot seven in height and held a lasgun. The Krieger drew his power sword and walked forward, using the shadows as cover. Before the traitor could blink, hardened adamantium pierced his neck. A Kasrkin hid the corpse behind a dumpster, ensuring nobody saw it. They'll notice he's gone. Lukas returned to the shadows.

"One of the warehouses was raided again. This shit needs to stop." A female voice said.

"I know. Those damn loyalists have been a thorn in our side for days now." A male voice replied.

"Perturabo needs to bomb this steaming pile of fuck." Lukas paused. He's behind this? Shit.

"Keep preaching-." He pulled both traitors into the alleyway, killing one with a kick to the head.

"Leave him alive." The Kasrkin saluted and punched the traitor's head, knocking him out. "Bring him back to to Alpha-9."

"Yes sir."

Sector F-1, with Dresden...

Dresden was very happy at the moment. Two hundred artillery pieces (most of them Basilisks and Earthshakers), five hundred longlas rifles, and a squad of Grenadiers stood before him. Transportation will be an issue. If I could find a stairwell or elevator, that would make things a lot easier. He activated his micro-bead.

"Brother sergeant, this is Dresden. I have found the artillery, location F-1B 90, over."

"I see. Do you know of any potential routes, over."

"Most of the stairwells and elevators are blocked. I got in through the vents, over."

"Unblock them, over."

"Yes sir, out." Dresden turned to face the Grenadiers. "Gather your remaining explosives."

"Yes, my lord."

Ten krak grenades detonated with the force of a small artillery shell, destroying a debris pile and making a path. Multiple guardsmen rushed through, either tending to the wounded Grenadiers or hauling artillery pieces away. Once we take care of our supply shortages, phase three can begin. From what I heard, Lukas is fixing that right now. Dresden admired the Krieger's inhuman skill and unwavering bravery, which allowed him to best entire Chaos Marine squads and rebel platoons. Very few could ever hope to match him.

"My lord, I bring news regarding the artillery." A Catachan said.

"Report."

"98% of the artillery is operable. There is enough ammunition to last for several hours of sustained fire. It will take ten point nine minutes to transport the artillery back to base."

"Dismissed." The Scout Marine said. I expected less ammunition and more broken artillery. He stood guard near the doorway and waited. "It has begun."