Warhammer: Empire Reboot

They are four living saints!!!

They hovered above the ruins of Reaper's Fortress, their golden wings radiating a purifying aura that spread outwards at a visible speed.

Wherever the halo reached, the plague spores on the ground hissed and turned into harmless ashes.

The more direct effects were seen on the Plague Walkers.

The group of plague walkers closest to the drying workshop, about three or four hundred, was climbing over the ruins of the west wall to get inside.

The moment the golden halo touched them, their bodies began to shrivel rapidly.

The warp energy links that sustained their movement were severed directly by the Holy Light. The decaying flesh, deprived of the support of supernatural power, collapsed into a pile of dry skeletons and bits of flesh within seconds.

Three or four hundred plague walkers all fell within ten seconds.

Everyone in Reaper Fortress was stunned.

A young soldier threw down the steel bar in his hand, slammed his knees to the ground, and drew an eagle symbol on his chest with trembling hands.

"By the Emperor..."

Within ten seconds, all eight hundred soldiers knelt down.

Quintus's hand, gripping the power sword, trembled violently.

He is an extreme warrior; he does not kneel.

The Ultramarines only kneel before Primarch Guilliman and the Emperor.

But his knees were buckling.

Because in his 217 years of military service, he had never...never...seen a living saint.

The number of living saints recorded in the empire is so small that it can be counted in the entire history of the empire.

The appearance of every living saint is accompanied by a miracle that changes the course of a battle.

The living saint is a direct manifestation of the emperor's will.

When humanity is on the verge of destruction in its darkest abyss, the emperor will personally ignite a soul, transforming it into a torch to illuminate the darkness.

There are four floating in the sky right now!

Quintus grabbed Aurelion's shoulder armor.

"Deputy Company Commander, tell me you saw four too."

“There are four,” Aurelion answered hoarsely.

"A living saint?"

"A living saint!"

Quintus loosened Aurelion's shoulder armor.

The existence of living saints is itself direct proof of the emperor's will.

No chaotic force can fake a living saint.

Tzeentch’s illusions, Nurgle’s corruption, Khorne’s rage, and Slaanesh’s temptations all vanished before this light.

Those silver-white power armored rebels from Astartes...

Quintus abruptly waved his hand to stop his brothers behind him, who were still raising their swords in preparation for battle: "Put down your weapons! They are not traitors!"

Viktor looked at him blankly: "Company Commander?"

"They are living saints!"

Quintus practically roared, "The Emperor's living saint could never have accompanied the traitorous Astartes! Never!"

This logic is impeccable.

As for why there are no chapter insignia, the Dark Side of the Empire is not within the effective jurisdiction of the Imperial administrative system.

Who knows how many secret armed forces the Emperor has hidden in the shadows? The Brotherhood of the Holy Scriptures? Emperor's Eye agents? The Inquisition's direct strike force?

Secret forces that are not part of any official organization and are directly under the command of the emperor or his agents are never uncommon.

Quintus gasped for breath, trying to calm himself down.

The tallest figure was already walking towards him.

Quintus then took a closer look at him.

This person walks like a Space Marine.

Quintus had fought alongside countless chapters, and he knew the Space Marines' gait all too well—steady, powerful, and imbued with the innate confidence granted by genetic modification.

The person in front of me walked with a more casual gait than a Space Marine, like a well-fed beast taking a stroll.

He walked up to Quintus.

Then, the mask slid open to the sides, revealing a young man's face.

Lawson glanced at the horrific scene inside the drying workshop.

"Are you the commander here?"

"Sevirus Quintus, Captain of the Fifth Company of Ultramarines."

Quintus replied, "You are..."

"Losen".

It has only one name.

Quintus waited a second, then realized the other party wasn't going to provide any further information.

Lawson's gaze swept around the drying workshop.

"Have you run out of weapons?"

Quintus froze for a moment. The question was too direct, so direct that for a split second he felt offended. Not just anyone had the right to point out that an Ultramarines was out of ammunition and supplies.

But he swallowed that moment of displeasure. Because he truly had no weapons left.

"It's over."

Where's the food?

"I finished the last serving two days ago."

"water?"

"The pipe was broken yesterday."

Lawson raised his left hand, palm up.

Quintus couldn't explain what the phenomenon was.

The space rippled like the surface of water, and then something appeared out of thin air from the ripples...

A box of heavy explosives.

Then came the second box, the third box, and the tenth box.

Crates of ammunition fell from the sky one after another, and were neatly stacked on the open ground of the drying workshop.

Heavy explosive bombs, plasma batteries, laser charging packs, and hand grenades.

Next up are the weapons. Brand new bomb guns, their metal surfaces still bearing the factory-applied sheen.

Bundles of powered swords, with miniature force field generators on the blades flashing blue light.

The quadruple rapid-fire automatic cannon is teleported out along with its tripod and ammunition box; once set up, it can be fired.

Anti-armor rocket launcher.

Lava Gun.

Plasma cannon.

Ammunition and weapons were piled higher and higher on the open ground, forming a small mountain within minutes.

Quintus stared at the hill, his mouth agape.

Lawson flipped his left hand over.

A second wave of supplies has arrived.

Canned goods, boxes of metal cans labeled Spark-3 fell from the void.

Each can is about the size of a palm and is printed with the Imperial Eagle emblem and ingredient information.

Along with the canned goods came sealed water bags, each containing two liters of purified drinking water, piled up into a second small mountain.

Then came medical supplies: bandages, hemostatic agents, disinfectant spray, bone screws, suture devices, and pain-relieving syringes.

There were also six complete Imperial Standard Field Medical Kits.

Two small mountains: one containing weapons and ammunition, and the other containing food, water, and medical supplies.

The drying workshop was completely silent.

Eight hundred Astronaut soldiers kneeling on the ground stared at the cans of food and water bags, and some of them began to bob their Adam's apples.

Some people's hands were trembling. They hadn't eaten for two days and hadn't drunk any water for a day. Now, suddenly, a pile of food and drinking water appeared in front of them. Their bodies reacted instinctively faster than their willpower.

A young soldier couldn't resist reaching for the nearest bag of water.

The moment his hand touched the water bag, he jerked it back. He wasn't sure if these things were real, if he was hallucinating, or if this was Tzeentch's plot.

The veteran next to him slapped him on the back of the head.

"Don't fucking stand there like an idiot! The holy light of the living saint is shining on you!?"

The young soldier rubbed the back of his head, suddenly realizing what had happened.

He ripped open the water bag and tilted his head back to gulp it down.

Water spilled from the corner of his mouth, flowing down his neck and into his blood-stained collar.

More soldiers began taking food and water.

Some people are eating canned food, some are drinking water, and some are doing both at the same time.

The wounded soldiers were also dragged to the side of the medical supplies by their comrades.