The Last Sentinel

F-4851, an asteroid located in the area where the Orcish, Tyranid, and Imperial fronts intersect.

F-4851 is special. It was originally surrounded by a ring-shaped asteroid belt with at least three digits of asteroids and moons. It was an economically prosperous and populous region. Before the emergence of the Zerg and Orcs, it was an important heavy industrial area of ​​the Empire. At its peak, it was responsible for the production of one percent of the Empire's single-person weapons such as bomb guns and chainsaw swords. It was a shining jewel in the crown of the Emperor.

However, with the war between the Orcs, the Zerg, and the Empire, this star system suffered a devastating blow.

In order to prevent this important industrial star system of the Empire from falling into the hands of the Orcs, Guilliman ordered a scorched-earth policy to be implemented in the star system, destroying all industrial facilities before the Orcs arrived.

However, what the Ultramarines did not expect was that deep within this star system, there was another interstellar chapter—the Lamenters Chapter.

The Lamenters Chapter has far too few members, with a strength of less than a thousand. The number of Astartes combat personnel is only a little over three hundred, and the rest are all basic logistics and support soldiers.

The Ultramarines demanded that the Lamenters withdraw from the asteroid belt, retreat to the Imperial safe zone, destroy the industrial facilities there, and leave the battlefield to the Zerg and the Orks.

The Lamenters refused, for three reasons.

Firstly, there are still 20 billion civilians in this star system. Even if the warband can retreat, the civilians cannot.

Secondly, the Weeping Legion's battle barge, which is also the Weeping Legion's only mothership, is currently heavily damaged and docked on the asteroid for repairs, unable to leave.

Thirdly, the Lamenters Chapter analyzed that the three sides are currently in a standoff. The Terran and the Orks hate each other. Although the Empire is under great pressure, if it can provoke the two sides to start a war, the Empire can reap the benefits. We have a chance to win, and we do not need to withdraw from the star system.

The Lamenters Chapter strongly urges the Ultramarines Chapter to join forces and protect the asteroid.

However, the Ultramarines refused the Lamenters, for a simple reason: we obey the Primarch's orders, and the will of the Father is above all else, even if it means sacrificing these 20 billion civilians!

After destroying over 90 percent of the industrial area, the Ultramarines withdrew to a safe zone within the Empire.

The Lamenters did not leave; they remained on the most central and important industrial asteroid, repairing battle barges while fighting against the Tyranids and Greenskins.

The battle was extremely difficult. With the overwhelming numerical and qualitative advantage of the Tyranids and Orks, the Weeping Legion's front line continued to shrink, and the 20 billion civilians were now reduced to less than 20 million.

The entire asteroid F-4851 was shrouded in a deathly silence.

Through layers of black steel defenses, an apricot-yellow flag bearing the inscription "Tears of Weeping" fluttered in the wind.

On the walls of the fortifications, the battle cry of the mourners can still be faintly seen: "For those we cherish, we die with honor!"

Through the heavy fortifications, inside the base, low breathing accompanied by mournful tones could be heard.

"Reporting back to Commander Malakin Forros."

"The battle report is out."

"Three companies, with a casualty rate of over 70%, only 127 intact Astartes warriors and 13 original Space Marines remain in combat. The Chapter has 1500 support personnel to maintain combat effectiveness."

"In addition, our ammunition is exhausted and our food is running low. With 20 million civilians and our own consumption, our food supply can only last for about three more days at most."

"Our intelligence agents have discovered that their commander has completed negotiations regarding the division of this star system. The Tyranids and Orks have joined forces, intending to completely annihilate us and seize this star system..."

A burly, middle-aged man with a face full of wrinkles, wearing red and white power armor, his cloudy old eyes filled with fatigue and bloodshot veins, raised his hand, rubbed his stiff cheek, and muttered, "My deputy commander, any good news! I want to hear some good news."

The deputy commander looked at Malakin Foros and said, "Of course, there is good news. The power reactor of our combat barge has been repaired. If we want to leave, the combat barge can take us away from this battlefield as quickly as possible."

Malakin shook his head and said, "No, this is worse news."

The vice-commander put away the battle report. "Commander, perhaps the Ultramarines are right. We should vacate this area and let the Zerg and Orks fight first before we go in. If this continues, it will cost 20 billion civilians..."

"Enough!" Malakin roared, his face contorted in pain. "Get out! Now! Immediately!"

The deputy commander sighed, turned and left the command room.

Malakin rubbed his cheeks with both hands, as scenes from the past flashed before his eyes.

The great battle had just begun. On the asteroid, countless workers were active on the docks, shouting slogans.

"Quickly! Repair the Space Marines' ship as soon as possible!"

"Lord Astartes is the Emperor's most precious currency, and cannot be lost. We are nothing but worthless paper money that even the Emperor despises!"

"We can't let the Emperor's currency be wasted here..."

"What do you mean, sir? You're foolish! Staying here will only lead the legion to destruction."

"Damn Zerg, the Greenskins are back! Sir, the defenses have been breached! Retreat!"

"My lord, the battle lines have been completely destroyed. We have no chance of victory. For the sake of final victory, please activate the ley line bombs and bury the planet's civilians completely. We do not want to become food for the Zerg!"

"My lord, do it! Don't hesitate any longer! No one will blame you. You are the Emperor's most loyal angels. Whether the Emperor acknowledges it or not, we acknowledge you!"

"My lord, for the Emperor's sake, live on—BOOM!"

The aftershocks of the ley line bomb lingered in Malakin's mind. The faces of the hundreds of millions of civilians killed by his own ley line bomb appeared before him, and an immense sense of powerlessness enveloped Malakin.

Malakin knelt down with a thud. Beneath the command map in front of him appeared two clumsy handmade statues. It was not hard to tell from their appearance that one was an emperor sitting on a golden throne, and the other was the Primarch Angel Saintess with pure white wings.

"Father God!"

"Emperor!"

"Please tell me what I should do!"

"I want to save 20 million civilians, but I am not strong enough to accomplish such a task. I have no reinforcements and no supplies."

"The Ultramarines don't trust us. The Inquisition says we are unstable cursed warriors who could betray us at any moment."

"The chapter was born in the great mechanical temple. We are the perfect angelic warriors to fight against the [Curse of Black Fury], but we have also been burdened with a new curse."

"The chapter is heading towards destruction. I watched my child, with the last thought of certain death, rush into the mouth of the Zerg Devourer. The last embers of the flames couldn't even break the Devourer's fur. We were short of ammunition, the chainsaw sword was too dull, the ship-slaying sword was broken and reforged to zero durability, and the bomb gun had more cracks than the hairs on my head... We had no way out, no way back."

"I'm feeling lost right now. I don't know what to do next to lead the team out of this predicament."

A stream of murky tears rolled down the corner of the tough man's eye.

The statues of the emperor and Saint Geres on the shrine, bathed in a soft glow under the lights, seemed to offer comfort to Malakin in a final, soothing moment.

Malakin wiped away his tears and forced a smile. "By the Emperor, may the Father God be well. Speaking of which, we met a group of interesting friends a while ago."

"I really don't know how to describe them, I can only describe them as funny."

"Their reputation is terrible. The Ultramarines call them the Thieves Band, the Orks call them the Beggars Band, and even the Imperial High Council's official morning report calls them the Emperor's most devalued currency."

"But I don't see it that way. There are many of them. Although their individual combat strength isn't very high, they are fearless and they like to collect spoils and souvenirs on the battlefield, and they are happy to share them!"

"Seriously, these guys who are known as opportunists and wicked by outsiders are actually very kind-hearted."

"Once, one of their squads somehow sneaked into our armory. I panicked; I felt they were going to attack us."

"But when I returned to the warehouse, I found that they hadn't stolen our equipment; in fact, they had left behind fifty power armor suits and a considerable amount of weaponry!"

"I swear, this is the most equipment resources the Lamenters have ever acquired since the Mechanical Temple was founded!"

"I tried to find them and thank them, but their chapter commander, Gabriel, only left two words: 'Good luck!'"

"I suppose this is what the legendary living saint of the empire looks like..."

The warband leader's low chanting echoed before the narrow altar, offering his final pre-battle prayer for the impending great battle.

Perhaps this is the last prayer.