The six days came and went without issue; with the money gained by the killing and cashing of the goblins, Tarphus could haggle a warehouse. The warehouse would be a rest stop for him and his troops and a place for the new soldiers to train.

Tarphus gave this responsibility to the other conscripts, though upon their pleading, Tarphus then allowed them to get the aid of Gudo. However, this was not compassion as Tarphus remembered what Gudo did in the previous battle. Gudo wanted to do with Tarphus's new conscripts would be his Trial to prove himself loyal.

Tarphus did struggle because another giant orc ripped into his flesh; even though it was "healed," Tarphus did not feel like it truly was. The shame, that will always stick to him. It is the shame that will always burn far more than any wound.

Tarphus had lost his troops; he felt slightly hollow because of it. He had failed them; the soldiers left him alone while his uncle Werthine comforted him, but Werthine was a very busy person, so the one who stood beside Tarphus in silent solidarity was the Tech-Priest.

The two did not dare to break the silence; they appreciated each other's presence even though they worked on two entirely different things.

Tarphus worked on his physique while studying combat doctrine from Kit, but the Tech-Priest worked on gizmos and gadgets while in deep prayer. This went on only at night, and Tarphus was surprisingly chipper in the morning.

Unbeknownst to Tarphus, this phenomenon was due to the stims that the Tech-Priest sneaks into his food. But Tarphus's attitude may be the troops think that perhaps there was something more to the relation between their superior and the Tech-Priest.

Especially since the Tech-Priest would exit Tarphus's room in the morning and return at night, when some of the more... inquisitive guardsmen venture to the door, they would hear the grunts of exertion that Tarphus exudes.

Tarphus smiled when he remembered the look of pure joy on Gudo's face as Tarphus allowed him to do whatever he needed to train them. To Gudo, this was a way to atone for his prior actions, while to Tarphus, it was a way to get better-trained conscripts.

Tarphus was glad to increase his Warband's number as he indeed became a proper Mercenary Band, which gave him some leeway when it comes to dealing with nobility, as he could now challenge them to duels, though due to their magical prowess, Tarphus was worried that he would become a bootlick.

Tarphus could only continue his training as he waited for the challenge to take him away to that horrible place. He wanted to deny the charm of going back there too. Death and destruction were very prominent in his mind, but Tarphus also needed to be there amongst the inevitable death and gloom.

He could attain power, and like a siren, that power called to him, singing out with its captivating melody. Indeed, sometimes Tarphus almost felt as though the field whispered to him.

He could only train and sleep until the challenge was upon him. Tarphus could only look at his troops with a solemn duty; he used this time to talk with his soldiers and remember why he wanted to keep his people alive.

Tarphus closed his eyes with a grim determination as a brilliant golden glow hit his eyes with a righteous fervor that blinded him, if only for a moment.

When Tarphus could see again, he found the Golden panoply of art that surrounded him with all its majesty. No matter how many times the challenge brought him to this chamber, Tarphus knew he would always be in utter awe at the beauty that his eyes claimed when they opened.

A slight cough knocked Tarphus out of his stupor, and he looked toward the source of the noise. The Golden throne where The God-Emperor sat, and a familiar red-robed figure was at its feet.

Tarphus looked between the Tech Preist and the God-Emperor as he entered the vast room. Tarphus felt something wrong as he approached the throne; he noticed the Tech Preist was writhing with what Tarphus assumed was either agony or pleasure.

Tarphus then arrived at the foot of the throne; he swiftly yet calmly knelt before the golden throne. Tarphus turned his head to the Tech-Priest beside him, and sure enough, he saw that his friend was wriggling with utter joy.

"Tarphus, you have been summoned for your next challenge; this will be one against a hated foe of my Imperium." Tarphus nodded; the orks needed to be thoroughly eradicated from any world or galaxy. The Emperor looked down at Tarphus, and light burned from the eye socket.

"The orks are undoubtedly a horrifying and powerful force, but I believe that you must learn to both fear and hate the true foe of Humanity." There a pregnant pause lingered, ushering in tension as Tarphus remembered the horrors that the orks were capable of, that this enemy was more horrifying and terrible than them. It scared him.

The Emporer continued, "Humanity has many foes, and all of them hold much power; however, the traitors and their foul gods are the enemies that threaten Humanity with discord and anarchy." Tarphus was silent as he stewed over the proposal that the Emporer heaped onto him.

"What about the Tech-Preist? Why are they here?" Tarphus humbly proposed his statement with the utmost care, as he did not want to anger the being before him. The Tech-Priest flinched at his words, but it did not speak; instead, it simply bowed its head.

Tarphus did not notice this as he pressed forward, "My lord, I believe that this is my trial, not their's they do not need to go thr-" the throne glowed as a wave of cold passed over Tarphus; it was like being dunked into a tub of ice water. "Enough, they are here because they wish to aid you in this challenge; since the Tech-Priest wants to assist you, they will help you."

Tarphus was shocked. The Tech-Priest wanted to help him? This, this will never be something he would allow. His troops have left that hell. Tarpuhs would loathe to lead them back to the horror they called home. They were safe, as safe as he could make it over in his world.

The Tech-Priest just shook its head, "This one wants to aid you, Squad Captain, do not refuse this one the honor of standing by your side." Tarphus stood there stupefied; he looked back and forth between the Emperor and the Tech-Priest before scowling nostrils flaring in utter rage.

The Emperor released a soft golden radiance, causing Tarphus and Tech-Priest to look back at the skeleton. Then, the Emperor spoke, "Enough!" Tarphus felt a scratching at the back of his head, a needy clawing that threatened his willpower.

At first, it was just a sense of wrongness that started to envelop him. Then the uneasy scratching became a frantic mind-numbing pain building at the back of his skull. It was like a deep primal fear that threatened to consume him.

A pressure built around him as his vision dimmed; his very breath became an arduous undertaking all on its own. Tarphus was so focused on not succumbing to the pressure that he failed to realize the touch of frost that surrounded him; with every labored breath, the fire of his lungs met the stabbing chill of the air which surrounded him.

That was then that Tarphus fell to his knees, clutching his throat and writhing with agony. Tarphus began to blackout; his eyes watered as he looked up into the cold and callous socket of the skeleton.

"You disappoint me with this bickering Tarphus. Remember, boy, I gave you this power. Anything that has been given could also be taken away."

The pressure upon Tarphus grew in its intensity, and he could do nothing but sit there. The words were forcefully driven into his mind so that he could truly understand. This power was beyond that of mortals. The lack of air made Tarphus tear up; he strained his lungs as much as he humanly could, trying to get that next gasp of fresh air.

But, Tarphus could not get that next breath no matter how hard he labored. It was like he was deep underwater, where the pressure would slowly crush him. Of course, this was only for two minutes, but to Tarphus, it felt as though an eternity had passed as he lay there suffocating without the ability to even see.

While Tarphus was suffering, the Tech-Priest looked down at him with what could be construed with worry. The Emporer chuckled as he spoke to the Acolyte. "I never thought that your kind would fancy one of the flesh." The Tech-Priest stood there, numbly looking down at Tarphus. The Tech-Priest's hand unconsciously curled into fists. The act earned the curiosity of the Emperor.

"Strange." While it was only a word, its implication was more than enough to elicit fear from the Tech-Priest. A fear that they had not felt since they were in their homeworld. The fear which forced it to remember the horrors of this universe, the Tech-Priest started to tremble in utter dismay.

This caused the Emperor to pause, "Why do you follow this broken boy? many worlds could use your services elsewhere will need your... expertise." The Tech-Priest shuffled from foot to foot, "The Squad Captian has much potential. I- This one feels that it would be a waste of him to die without at least killing a chaos champion." An uncomfortable silence spread over the room, increasing the tension

"Fine, keep your secrets, but I will be forced to up the ante when it comes to this Trial's challenge. Do your best, or you will never see that damaged boy again. He will be facing a foe that you have fought before."

The Emporer chuckled softly as he spoke. His tone was in a blatant disregard for the Tech-Priest. He knows the fears which plagued the creature before him. Even though the Tech-Priests removed their body parts, they were still very human, including the specimen before him.

The Tech-Priest froze, "The very same?" it shook as it glanced up at the golden throne. Gone was the Tech-Priest that was laying there prostrate before the Emperor. A chuckle was the only reply that they received. It was then Tarphus stood up, the pressure binding him removed. Tarphus looked around, eyes wide and breathing laboriously.

Tarphus unconsciously clenched and unclenched his fist; on the outside, it looked as though he was testing if the limb still worked. Tarphus tried to stand, but he could not immediately recover from the overwhelming pressure so promptly.

The Tech-Priest turned towards him and kneeled so that they could help him. The Emperor stopped his chuckling and spoke. "Now, you may hold some power, but it is mine to give and mine to take. Do not mistake me. I would gladly dissect you to understand how you and your kin work, but I will refrain from doing so until I get others like you."

This unnerved Tarphus as now he felt like a specimen being examined by a rouge magi. He did not like it. Before this being, he felt so vulnerable; he could only grit and bear it.

The Emperor continued, "The Tech-Priest has decided to aid you." Tarphus looked between the two people in front of him. "Why would I accept such a thing?!" rage and anguish grew upon his face, "Your universe is a hell hole!"

"Foolish Squad Captain." It was the Tech-Priest who spoke. "This one has asked the Omnissiah to aid the Squad Captain. This one wants to help you in your efforts Squad Captain, due to how hellish this universe is. The task of aiding the Squad Captain is in this one's grasp. The Squad Captian, this one's; friend, will not stand in the way of this one or else."

This shocked Tarphus into submission. Questions swirled around his mind. Why would they willingly risk their life for him when they do not need to? What are they trying to achieve? Have they no sense of sanity?

It was the Emperor that spoke next. "Enough, they are joining for your benefit. For they have skills that will be invaluable, and if you keep them alive, the rewards would be great." Tarphus sighed, glaring at the Tech-Priest before saying, "Alright, I will do it, but I don't like it."

Tarphus looked at the Tech-Priest, "I will be in your care then." At this, the Tech-Priest rubbed the back of its head with one of its mechadendrites.

A yawning swirling portal opened behind Tarphus, "Remember this Tarphus, always look out for things in my domain. You never know what you might find. Now begone from my halls, I have no use for your ceaseless prattling."

The unease increased in Tarphus as he felt an alien sense of forboding instead of his anxious anticipation.

The rumbling of the hall caused Tarphus to turn and speed-walk towards the portal immediately. He noticed that the Tech-Priest was not that far behind him. The swirling portal churned endlessly. It was more... solid than the regular portals that the Emperor usually used.

When he stepped through the yawning portal, he noticed that he was in a small cube-like room. Metal surrounded him, making him feel confined like an animal in a cage. He hyperventilated at the thought of being a mere rat in a cage.

He noticed a glowing holo-pad nearby. On it seemed to be a dairy. Tarphus quickly skimmed through what his alter-ego had written as he tried to regain his composure.

"By the Emperor, while I am thankful that I survived and that my squad had done so as well, however, I wish I did not get promoted.

Unfortunately, the higher-ups seem to be more focused on themselves and have a broken system of hedonistic rites.

This causes Tarphus to frown as he remembers the bloated incestuous officer cadets he witnessed in the other provinces he had the "privilege" to visit. It bred incompetence on a grand scale. Still, Tarphus continued to read through it. However, he was just skimming through the datapad for the highlights.

After a few minutes of reading, Tarphus's brows furrow as he exhales. He did not expect this; he was now the Second Lieutenant of the infamous Proditor Platoon. The scum that gets put here are those that "tactically withdrew" to the back lines in the last battle on the planet.

Tarphus felt sickened as he saw the names and faces of these TRAITORS, but there was one that he already knew, and Tarphus hated him. It was the coward that had the utter gall to run with their tail tucked between their legs.

First, the traitor tried to destroy the unit due to their utter disregard over his authority and give themselves into doubt. Then they dared to turn their back on not only their God but their battle-brothers by fleeing their duty. As he had read further into the report on what that snake did, Tarphus felt his blood boil.

Now, this insipid traitor comes crawling back from the depths of the blackest cesspool which had spawned them. They were the son of a General. The braggart made a big show with how he "made" Tarphus' submit. How laughable, Tarphus' never felt such rage as he skimmed the last few pages.

It seemed that the bastard tried to do whatever he wanted, but Tarphus silently rebuffed him. Though it was never voiced, Tarphus fought with the Ministerium to allow his squad to be part of his platoon.

Tarphus felt utter rage as he read that the Ministerium tried to take them away through many underhanded tactics. He felt genuinely sorry for his alter-ego, as that poor bastard had to face much. "No more," Tarphus whispered to himself. He would not disgrace himself, nor his alter ego; this was now very personal.

The doors opened, forcing Tarphus to almost drown in the stench of oil and fuel. Two guardsmen walked into the room. They were tall, and they carried themselves with such confidence, such bravado. Their wounds were horrible to behold, but they barred them with such pride, like badges of honor. They looked at Tarphus with ridicule scrawled upon their face.

Tarphus stared back, eyes narrowed as he took in his surroundings. Upon seeing that look, one of the Guardsmen nodded and spoke. "Good, looks like someone grew some backbone while we were away." This earned the sneer of the other one as he blocked the door.

Tarphus looked between the two Guardsmen, his hand slowly inching toward where his knife should be. Until the Guardsman closest spoke. "Alright, enough wasting time, we all have a job to do. You have the landing to prepare for, and we are here to bring you and your troops to the hanger." It was straight to the point and honest. Still, their entrance left much to be desired.

Tarphus nodded; he looked down and saw that he was impeccably dressed. He nodded and left with the two Guardsmen; one of them spoke up. "It is the choosing day for the Acolytes of the Tech-Priests. I hope that you get chosen, Second Lieutenant. Your superiors seem to dislike you."

The other chuckled and solemnly shook his head, "Boy, I don't think any Tech-Priests choose you." Tarphus narrowed his eyes but said nothing. However, the looks of pity he received made him question what caused the troops to give him such sympathy.

That being said, Tarphus would loathe to look a gift horse in the mouth. So, he traveled down the halls making sure that his demeanor was calm and collected. He did not want these two Guardsmen to believe that he would be easily bullied.

After a few minutes of walking, Tarphus saw five men standing, carrying themselves poorly. When Tarphus entered their view, the five sneered at him. He remembered the boy in front of this possie; the bastard Tarphus gave back a second chance in the first challenge.

Scum, the lot of them, Tarphus felt utter rage as he looked into the coward's face. It was revolting for him to be in the same unit as this bastard. He looked at the two beside him and noticed their grins filled with contempt aimed at these newcomers.

"Alrighty then, Second Lieutenant, your command squad awaits to take you to your platoon." Tarphus made sure to remember the faces of the two veterans to ensure that he could get some measure of satisfaction when he eventually gets back alive.

Tarphus then walked forward with all the military bearing that he could muster. These worms disrespected him; he could tell by the sneers they threw at him. He must rectify this before it can spiral out of control, so he will do his best and lead by example.

Tarphus walked past them. He said nothing as he did so but gave each of them a disapproving glare. The vermin were slightly perturbed at the way Tarphus acted. He was much more confident than before.

...

The two veteran Guardsmen looked at each other, confusion on full display as they watched the cub walk away. "Well, the boy seems that he finally grew a spine, and you are out as his command squad."

They relished this thought. The thought that maybe, just maybe, the new officer might be able to stand up to his superiors. The five rookies that were part of the "runt's command squad" were shaking. The leading rat's face held impudent rage as he glared at the new confident officer.

The two veterans looked at the five wretches with sheer joy as they thought about the new lieutenant. They hoped that this backbone would continue to grow. Maybe the kid might go against the officers, those bastards that just sit back on their haunches and do nothing but throw parties.

But first, the boy must survive his next assignment, this they both feared would be beyond him. Therefore they two kept silent over their thoughts; it was better for all parties involved.

...

It was as big as his house if they removed the walls and somehow managed to keep it stable. It was there that he saw his troops. The platoon was wearing his colors. His family's tabard was flying majestically in the air amid their formation.

Tarphus went directly to his troops. He knew that his alter-ego had trained them meticulously; Tarphus saw many different training designs for simulated combat drills and exercises that they went through, though it held the same core principles of what his soldier's training was.

His superiors seemed to be more infatuated with throwing parties, and they even tried to invite Tarphus though he declined. They did not like his refusal, as that was when they attacked him.

Nevertheless, when Tarphus saw the Guardsmen standing before him, something inside him felt proud as he saw his troops. A whole platoon, Tarphus stared down at the forces he would command. Tarphus almost shuddered at the thought; he had broken hordes of enemies with a single squad, much less a platoon.

Tarphus stood in front of five squads, five heavy weapon squads, three special weapon squads, and one conscript squad. Out of the five heavy weapons squads, Tarphus spotted two held heavy autoguns; one bore a large tube, and the last two carried rocket launchers.

His eyes landed on the Special weapons teams, and he noted that one squad held longer autoguns while the final two squads handled flamers.

Unlike the plague-ridden traitors that scurried after Tarphus, these Guardsmen quickly snapped at attention when they saw him. They stood there waiting for him. Tarphus knew that while he studied them, the Guardsmen studied him. Well, now is the best time to set an example.

Tarphus took a deep breath and firmed his resolve. "Well, well, well." He swiftly turned and walked up and down the lines inspecting the troops, looking into their eyes.

Tarphus liked what he found. They stared past him and stood in perfect formation. "So, you remember how to stand; let us see if you can still march."

He gave a few seconds for the first team to step forward, and surprisingly they did. It was strange that they did so with such unity; it was as though they had already trained to his standard. They were remarkably competent, except the five goons; Tarphus knew he would need to replace them soon.

...

He took them to the room adjacent to the gathering room. Tarphus saw an obese man wearing ceremonial armor with "attendants" hanging around him, touching the piece of flesh and whispering in its ears. They wore revealing clothes that tried to catch the eye. The scene played out around twenty yards in front of the door.

The attendants caught Tarphus' eyes due to their beauty. They were almost bewitching, but Tarphus had no problem deflecting their meager attempts at seduction, which compared to the dryads and their mystical charms were mere child's play to see through.

The officer looked directly at Tarphus, "I am Company Commander Marrow" an attendant smiled and cooed into his ear, which earned him a quick suggestive shove away from the Captain as he continued. "We of the higher-ups have deigned to allow you to use the holy simulacrum.

The rotund figure looked at Tarphus with a strained smile, "You and your platoon will be entering the hanger to be witnessed by the Tech-Priests. While we don't exactly know what we will be confronting, you and your platoon had best be ready for anything."

Tarphus held back his notions of disgust as the man's significant features roiled and wriggled as he spoke. His skin rippled like waves, crashing against the ceremonial armor that barely held the excess fat in check.

Tarphus tried to ignore the constant giggling of the hangers-on that clung to the officer. He tried to ignore the spittle that traveled from the man's mouth. Tarphus desperately tried to focus on the critical information the man was giving.

The Captain then sent one of his attendants to get something; Tarphus did not do anything but stare at the incompetent before him. Tarphus' steely glare weighed on the officer as he reluctantly sent the "attendants" away.

The officer looked at Tarphus like a child glaring at those that take their toys. So despicable, Tarphus thought this was to be his training camp. Yet this tub of lard merely plays at being a Captain a disgrace.

It was then that the Captain looked at Tarphus, and Tarphus did not like what the bastard's eyes portrayed. It was like a predator eying his next meal, and Tarphus could do nothing about it. "Ahem." one of the soldiers coughed behind Tarphus, bringing the two officers back into reality from their staredown.

"Second Lieutenant, your priority is to report to the hangar bay as you need to meet those who have earned the respect of the Tech-Priests. However, note that it is ME you must please. The Tech-Priests are under the command of MY superiors, but YOU belong to me. Now get out of my sight."

Tarphus felt his blood boil at the thought of being owned by anyone. He felt a terrible pain across his chest, his flesh being cut and burned in that order. But that sensation left in mere seconds, the thought already gone from his brain.

Company Commander Marrow shuffled away from Tarphus awkwardly, causing his massive rolls of fat to churn; this was an attempt to remove himself from the frustration within him. Two large doors on the far end of this enormous room opened a few moments later before Tarphus.

Tarphus smiled a cold and predatory smile as he tried to remind himself where he was, "Yes, sir." Then, after affirming himself, Tarphus turned towards the soldiers behind him. "Alright, in formation, let's move; the Tech-Priests are waiting."