Chapter 1: Relinquish

War. A pity sport of survival, where pride and emotions rampage like no other, where the living and the dead riot around the same side of the coin. Luck, strategy, power, what else does this mayhem need to fuel it even more? Humanity in its thousand years of warfare did what it could do best, empowering it ever before its predecessors. Letting what was left of its species into nothing but conflict.

Such were the thoughts of the old man, who had lost what was left of him as a human. He had no wife, legal heir, father, or mother. Living as an orphan from birth to his old age, he knew nothing about what love truly meant, his childhood, thrown into the dark abyss of war, he was used to it, nevertheless, life couldn't be more harsh, losing both of his legs and an arm into a conflict with the rampaging orcs right after his ceremony.

Where he thought he had achieved some form of acceptance. Being honored with the badge of commissar, but sadly enough, losing parts of his physique, laid him in retirement, cornering him all the way to where he started, the bottom of the slums. he had thought he was meant for something greater, giving himself fully to the God emperor of mankind. But his prayers were thrown off, turning him into a useless feeble old man with only an arm left to manage his life.

"haaaa….." he sighed, taking out his half-broken eyeglasses.

Being in a wheelchair for decades, he was tired. He wished he had died while in battle, more than living a sorrowful life like this. But what could he do, do nothing but rot and read books all his remaining life?

He placed the book he was reading on what remained of an old shelf, its title reining the song of ice and fire. It was interesting to read this one book, which he had found in terra, during his ceremony.

"…the song of ice and fire, this world of fantasy seems much better than ours, where there is only war." He complained.

Wheeling his chair to the nearby bed, he pulled his body to the bed, struggling to even get on the dirty laced sheets. He pulled harder, with his only weak hand, finally placing his own body on the bed. Tuning his breathing heavier than usual. He wanted to complain more as all the old men do. But he was tired, tired of his old body, tired of this life, he wanted to sleep, just doze, and never wake up, his wrinkled-filled eyes turned heavy as his breathing and his thoughts gradually passed into slumber.

'…..the song of ice an….'

He wanted to dream, dream more of the epic story he just read. But his body gradually shook, vibrating along with the bed, as the bed shook with the quaking floor.

"what is…. happening….?" he questioned. Awake from his near sleep.

Crake....crake…crake.

Even without the glasses, he could see his ceiling, as it cracked with every quake, the dust and debris norming his room. He hoped it was only a light earthquake, but no, the shaking only continued further and further, forcing him to push his body, as every living man does, he worried something would happen to him.

Cough!...cough!

He wanted to escape, trying to reach his wheelchair, but what could the old man do, with every tremor, his wheelchair moving further away?

'…..why am I even trying?' he thought, his mind turning hollow. '….. let's just stop…..'

Boom!!

Crashing within his minuscule room, cladded with blue armor. There they were, his old eyes seeing them in awe, the giants, the warriors of mankind. How would he know? It was all there, Their chest bearing the emperiorials. The unbreaking symbol of loyalty with their shoulder bearing the mark of their chapter.

He felt shivers, as they gazed upon him with beaming red light, a feeble man who was on his way to death. Why wouldn't he, they were the iron, they were the wrath, they were the angels of the god emperor himself.

"….why?" he questioned, his voice reaching more excitement than confusion.

They said a single human could never have the fate or the luck to see a single marine. The demi-gods who protected their homeland, their whole race…But it seems, his worthless life finally bore fruit, as he saw not one but three of the angels.

Stomp!

He gladly smiled, with every quake of the floor. With their every step breaking his house even further. He didn't know why they were here, or how they came, but to the man who only wanted death, a death from the angels of the god emperor was more honorable than dying on the bedside.

"…..all hail the god emperor." He prayed, waving his remaining hand.

He closed his eyes, and as they came closer, he knew a strike of pain was coming, but the pain was only a prayer. A way to link with his god. So let it be, let them pierce through this old sack of meat and free him from this misery. He felt it, a sensation, but it wasn't pain, it was a pull, lifting him from his bed.

He opened his eyes, confused as to why the angels of death didn't claim his life, only to see a crimson hand piercing out from the bed, it was Huge, clamored with nails, sharper than any blade he had ever seen or used.

"what the fuck?" he questioned.

He had gone to war, with the orcs, with the heretics, the aliens, but not this, he could feel it, his instincts screaming a certain discomfort, layering out from the hand, as it ripped out from the floor, its dark horns carving out from the tattered hole. Its skin was red like the blood it was painted with, the yellow eyes piercing him, not the angels but him and only him.

"….Demons?"

He thought they were just myths, legends passed down to the people to train their minds to be un-corruptible. To face any foe with clear determination, he was also trained to a degree, to resist the compulsion, the hypnosis, and the rise of emotions when faced with the enemy of the warp.

But he felt nothing but a sense of discomfort, as the glare tried to encase him in fear. He just eyed the demon back, his eyes showing no fear, no anger. He turned, to see if the angels would defend him.

But before he could turn, his instincts colored him to dodge, as his life depended on it, he knew within that millisecond, the demon behind him had charged.

Bang! Bang!

He heard gunshots, ear-piercing gunshots, which his vision didn't dare to look at. It may be towards the demon or other enemy, as he heard the shots echoing all around his broken room, he felt a bit of remorse for his said home. But what could he do, with no legs and hand, he could only swing around as the marine holding him moved with speed, he didn't know how it was possible. The armor clearly looked heavy. He felt like he was on a trailercoster that was moving with the speed of sound.

The howls and screams of the red creatures raped his ears as his eyes couldn't. Gunshots after gunshots, the sound of the chainsaw piercing the said demons, that was it, that was all.

The marine holding him finally paused after continuous movement, murder, and mayhem. A hurl of rice that he had eaten, vomiting out. He couldn't help it, such was the circumstance he was thrown into. A victim in this sudden conflict between demons and angels.

"wha…what is happening?" he asked.

The marines only looked at him, nothing to be said, he could only sigh it off, as he glanced to his past room, many demons laying dead on the floor, on the wall, on the ceiling, their blood coloring his cracked walls to the extreme.

"…..really, what the fuck is happening?"