《Corruption Redeems. [UNOFFICIAL Warhammer 40K Isekai/LitRPG]》Chapter 8: Unpleasant surprise.
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I shuffled and pushed the best I had learned and the extra strength points served me well, but no matter what I did I was pushed towards the officers with a group that seemed destined for the frontlines. As we were getting close, I noticed one of the numerous vehicles driving the corpses away from the frontline and my heart skipped a beat. Those were not regular human corpses of heretics. Those were mutated, grotesque... Freaks!, for lack of a better word.
"Oh. no. Mutants. This is not Purgatory. This is Tranch. This is the Tranch war!" I thought to myself. This was not good. While we were still in the same system and even the same sector, the change in planet meant quite a lot. First off, Tranch was a Hive world*, So there would be a constant struggle against ambitious underhive gangs during any form of war. And the tranch war was a great one. Beginning with a mutant uprising and eventually ending with pyhrric to the Imperium and mutant warlords becoming roaming bands of marauders.
I could not remember the details, but that did not bother me. I had an idea of what I was going up against. At least killing those grotesque freaks would not be as bad as regular humans. On the other hand, these mutants would have ways of moving and attacking that regular humans did not have. At least I would only be facing stubbers, autocannons**, and blades. Not bolters, chain axes, and worse.
It was not that I did not understand why the mutants revolted. Tranch, unlike most Imperial worlds, did not kill off their mutant population, instead, making them working slaves, from the moment they could walk until the day they collapsed, they would work in the factories of the hive cities. Churning out untold amounts of war gear and supplies for the never-ending wars of the Imperium.
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I did indeed get sent to the frontlines, but I suppose it could be worse. Several penal legions*** were being led past us, their faces a mix of hopeless despair and excited bloodlust. I watched them for a moment before I returned my thoughts to the task at hand.
10 minutes later, the group I was with had been sent to the frontlines and we were marching towards the trenches that encircled the hive looming in the distance. While we marched, I had time for my own thoughts. I knew I was on a war world, even a blind man would have known from the continuous sound of artillery being fired all around the hive city.
I guess I would have to get used to that. The Imperial guard only stopped firing their artillery when it came time to charge the enemy, And sometimes, not even then.
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I spent most of the day getting situated in my barracks, finding my way around the trenches, and figuring out where on the line I was supposed to be. I lost 2 charge packs for my Lasgun as a result of not thinking. I should have remembered that all guardsmen are notorious looters and leaving something as valuable as a charge pack unattended for even a minute is all that is needed.
I also caught a glimpse of troopers I had hoped to never see. The Deathkorps of Krieg**** was here. That was ... Unwelcome news, to say the least. They only showed up on planets where the fighting was extreme, even by 40k standards. Unlike most other Imperial guard regiments, Krieg Commissars were not there to keep morale up and to urge the soldiers to charge the enemy. Krieg Commissars were there to hold back the Krieg soldiers. Prevent them from suicidal charges until the time is deemed right.
This, of course, meant that Krieg regiments almost always had new Commissars in their ranks. Somehow, those pesky, nosy, Glorious-death-in-the-Emperors-name preventing Commissars just seemed to suffer a ridiculous amount of fatal accidents or they were the unlucky target of a misfire when attached to Krieg regiments.
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For me, It meant that I was about to enter into some of the most dangerous and gruesome fighting the Imperium of Man could offer a regular mortal human like me.
The next day was spent in the trenches, watching the hive city suffer under the relentless artillery fire. As the hours dragged on I found my mind going numb with boredom. With nothing to do other than stay in my trench, nothing to look at except for a city being bombed, and no one to talk to on account of the regular guardsman being about as interesting a conversation partner as wet cardboard, I worried how I would get through the days to come.
The next week was much the same. Man the trench, watch the horizon, and be ready to repel the odd attack on the lines that never arrived. I DID find a conversation partner though. A cute little redhead that seemed to latch on to me for whatever reason. We only exchanged a few words in passing on the second day, but from that moment, I could almost always see her, if I looked around. She was good-looking and seemed sweet, but this was not the universe I came from. Here, people died as easily as they breathed. Getting close to people was only going to open me up to being hurt later.
And yet, I hoped to see her. So far, she seemed to be the only positive thing I had found about this universe. And with my future looking as bleak as it did, It wasn't the worst thing to get involved with. My thought was disturbed by the sound of a commissars whistle
"TROOPERS, GET READY FOR BLOOD, THE ENEMY ATTACKS!" He bellowed across the trenches, his order being repeated down the line and I pressed against the top of the trench, aligned my Lasgun, and waited. I could see the movement outside the hive, but it was still just a blurry blob on the horizon.
Almost immediately after the whistle sounded, the artillery fire ramped up, becoming a constant rumble surrounding us on all sides and the explosions moved from the hive and unto the wasteland of mud and bodies between our trench lines and the coming horde of mutants. I wondered how anything could survive the hell that was being unleashed upon the mutants, but deep down I knew that while the artillery did good damage, it was a hindrance more than a danger to the attackers.
As I watched the slaughter take place, I noticed the explosions starting to move closer at a rapid pace. But that couldn't be. How could they move so fast while under artillery fire? In any case, I was watching as the increased speed kept up. Looking around, I saw that the officers and commissars had noticed it as well and were scrambling to prepare the second trench line, in case we were overrun and had to retreat to a backup position that was already manned by the reserve troops.
"The wonders of Imperial high strategy. Hold the line until you fail and the next idiot can hold the line!" I thought to myself as I started seeing glimpses of bodies among the explosions, smoke, and dirt that were kicked into the air by the artillery. I could only wait and brace myself. How I hated the waiting.
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Inexorable Chaos
What happens when a summoned hero completes their task given by those from up above? When a summoned hero returns back to earth after having saved the world, do they still get to live a normal life? The answer is actually yes, they usually do. They get married to the one they love, have kids, and then death takes them away. Of course, that is only usually. There are a select few who choose not to... think the same way. Some of them find such a life boring, dull even. They want to taste for adventure once more, feed their drive for exploration! Power, wealth, another life, they want it all. So, what do they do? Why, they do what Quasi does... They sell themselves to the gods. Disclaimer! This story will contain 2 and 3-dimensional characters. Extensive Worldbuilding. Politics. Litrpg. Sex/ Drama/ Love/ Harem Constantly Changing POV's Multiple Main characters. Overpowered characters. Messed up shit-- You have been warned. Link to Artist I Commissioned for Cover: https://artistsnclients.com/people/DoaEmak Only One Apache Helicopter, Grammar Nazi, and a frog named Trinity were harmed in the making of this novel.
8 331ˈdi-sə-nən(t)s (Dissonance)
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8 142The Necromancer's Notebook
Typist's Note History of File #004789301: -Original stored in filing cabinet of one Detective Greary of Arkham police department until death in 1913 from heart attack, then moved to “Cold Case” cabinet in main office. - Originals relabeled “Case File #0003876: Evidence: Open” and moved to APD sub basement one, cabinet 08. July 8th 1925. - Box labeled “Case File#0003876: Evidence: Open” moved as part of district consolidation to Boston Police Headquarters Retention Room 10, row 9, shelf 5. April 30th 1975 - Contents of Box labeled “Case File#0003876: Evidence: Open”, reviewed by Retention Clerk Casey Damaset #11238 and labeled for removal. Contents of original documents typed by #11238 and refiled as document #004789301 in Final Retention cabinet January 2nd 1993 before originals were destroyed. Originals comprised mostly of handwritten notes stored loose leaf in a box with no discernible organization or order. For the most part seem to have been pulled from the same notebook approximately two inches by four in dimensions, bound along the spine like an old pocket book. No indication was made anywhere of the manner in which these documents came into the original officer’s possession. They have been recorded in the order in which they were found, with appropriate notes included to indicate where materials have deviated from the norm. Priority for retention: Low. Labeled for destruction at Final Retention Cycle end 2010. To read in full: Click here. Or start the first chapter.
8 151REAL
An ancient hunchback named Finnel is the principal of a school where students’ special abilities might be called magical, supernatural powers. Or, maybe those students’ heightened attributes are more like honed talents any ordinary person could discover and dedicate to developing. Either way, at Finnel's school, even the most otherworldly of traits always finds its source in something REAL . . . in actual human capacities, like intuition, empathy, awareness, strength... REAL is a series of ongoing tales, each centered around an individual student at Finnel's school. Framing slice-of-life authenticity with cool powers and uplifting humor, REAL maintains a light, fun tone while never shying away from digging down deep into weighty themes like identity, connection, and meaning.
8 284smut one shots
I didn't proof read...There might be mistakes lol
8 129Free bookcovers (OPEN)
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