Chapter 3: A miracle indeed.

Our nature, our instincts, honed to label us the best possible path away from danger, from any impairment, from anything which could jeopardize our very lives. Some say the living have survived until this long, with these tools at hand. but how can these means be sharpened? By keeping it sheathed? By following the route of safety, far from harm's away.

No, What else than posing the things that it craves not, as a blade only rusts if not unsheathed for its intended resolve? For one's instinct to rise, it only needs to do one thing and one thing only, thrive through danger, staking his life on the line with its every breathing second. Refining it to a level that the very nature turns into a talent of its own, a talent that everyone disguises as luck. That is what Arrax did, that is what kept him alive, in a world that only knew war, where humans rarely live beyond their mature years, he became one of the rare men who had lived to a point of being old.

Torturous as it was, leaving him with only a hand. it was a testament to his skills, his cowardice, his wisdom, and his sharply honed instincts. As what is luck, more than opportunity conferring with preparation.

But this….. this was what they call pure luck, pure damn luck that comes to a chosen few.

"..... I survived?" Arrax questioned.

He finally opened his eyes, which were once dim, opening to a vision showing him nothing but a sign of red beaming light. He gradually woke, still disorganized and muddled. Feeling nauseous out of nowhere, his stomach churned, forcing him to vomit, but something was on his head, helmet? Vale? Whatever it was, his hands swiftly took it out, vomiting out something akin to enzymes.

"haaaa...." He breathed heavily, wiping his mouth, but what touched his face, wasn't his old decerped hand, no, it was cold, it was tough, it was something identical to iron, its surface colored blue. He turned to the helm he just took out, its shape and size matching something he had never dreamt to possess.

"….No way…" he gasped.

He stood up, yes, the man who had no legs and a hand remaining, stood up, feeling the presence of his forelegs, not just simple legs, but empowering limbs that made him feel like he could jump sky high.

He gazed down, looking at his hands, gradually waving his left hand around in awe. he turned, swung, and jumped, his legs opening to run. There was snow all around, a terrain he was somewhat familiar with, but that mattered not, his heavy iron legs hammering the hoary land uninterrupted.

After so long, after so damn long, he was using his legs. His lips gleamed in pure delight as he paced forward at a speed he had never experienced.

"…..haaaaaaaAAAAAA!!!!"

It was a shout of excitement, happiness, and glee. Senses he thought he had forgotten. Feelings he had thought he would never feel. There was something itching behind his mind, curious as to how it was all possible, but not, for now, he wanted to dwell more, may it be a dream or a reality made by the warp. He wanted to stay here, relive this moment to the core. Etching to his heart.

So he ran, ran a bit more, his bountiful legs soaring high above the green woods, all the way to the flying trivial birds, looking at him in error. His earth-shaking landing ensured all the animals that he was there, the rabbits, the deer, the birds, and the wolves. Animals which he had thought to be long gone from the eyes and destruction of mankind.

After an hour-long of nonstop drifting, swinging behemoth size trees to his content, climbing snow-white mountains to the top. He finally rested, he wasn't tired, not even a bit. which made him realize how of a monster the angels really wear.

He paced near the river, his eyes gazing at the fish, swimming along the passing river. He looked down, his own reflection gleaning on the water. His curiosity revealed itself to be true.

"Maybe I am dreaming…" he said with a smile.

Blond hair and a manly face, matching his black eyes, his sharp nose. a look of confidence, showing no fear, he tried smiling, twerking his cheeks but no matter how much he forced himself, his face mostly looked the same. his eyes focused like the warrior he was.

"…..so I really am inside him," he concluded, his armor blazing with the symbol of the god emperor, his shoulder pad, damming his chapter. The one and only who tried to save his life. the very first space marine he had ever spoken to.

He didn't know how he was inside him, how he had come to this unknown land, but he knew pausing and mending his mind was not the action to take, he knew he needed to stop reacting, and start acting, he had many questions, with little to no answers, and answers wouldn't come to him with him looking at his own reflection, but before that, he felt like he needed to do something, something which would ease his heart a bit.

With a mound of stones, piling it to a degree, he knocked out the golden skull and the symbol of his chapter, placing it below the pile.

"I don't know your name, I don't even know what your chapter follows, but all I can say for you is thank you, and a heartfelt sorry. But don't worry, for I am a man of honor, and your angelic body will be used for its intended purpose." He declared.

With this farewell, he started his journey. Taking out a dark robe, covering most of his armor. There were many things and facilities, this suit of armor brought, but he didn't have the asserted memories to play coy with it. As these were iron, cladded for destruction. And for now, what he wanted was to bask down, and use his ears and eyes to hone him to this world. Not to reveal this power that was not known to himself.

But time was his ally. He would eventually find out, take hid of its control, and bare the alien, heretic, and all the zenox the emperor's fist.

"May the emperor protect and lead my journey…."