Reborn as Humanity’s Emperor Across the Multiverse

Beep—Beep—

The sharp, urgent warning tones from his helmet filled the air. Janes Thompson's heart sank. He knew what this meant: the grim confirmation of an unfortunate truth— all three clone battalions had been wiped out.

The real-time status indicators on his display rapidly shifted from yellow to deep red before finally going completely dark, as if the life force of hundreds of clones had been extinguished in a single instant.

"..."

Through the shared visual feed, Thompson witnessed the final moments of the clone soldiers. Wave after wave of grotesque, corrupted creatures surged forward like a relentless tide, overwhelming the clones' defenses.

The creatures hurled themselves at the lines with reckless abandon, clawing and biting, their razor-sharp limbs and fanged maws tearing into anything they could reach. While each individual creature seemed insignificant, their seemingly infinite numbers made them an overwhelming threat.

Thompson couldn't help but be reminded of the Flood's infection forms—creatures that sought to assimilate all life into their ranks. While weak on their own, the sheer numbers of these creatures could overwhelm even the mighty Astartes.

And given the twisted appearances of the Brutes and Jackals they had already encountered, alongside Chris Redfield's earlier warnings, Thompson couldn't shake the suspicion that these grotesque little creatures were capable of some form of infection or assimilation as well.

The shared visual feed continued broadcasting for just a few seconds longer. He watched as the clones' defensive lines disintegrated, the soldiers' final desperate resistance flickering like a faint spark before it was extinguished by the abyss.

BOOM! BOOM!

But just as Thompson began piecing together the grim possibilities, the chips embedded in the clones' brainstems detected that their bodies were on the verge of being overtaken by the enemy. To prevent their corpses from being used as weapons, the chips activated their self-destruct sequence, detonating the clones' remains in a series of controlled explosions.

The resulting explosions were so powerful that even the team stationed on the surface could hear the distant rumble. The shared feed from the clones' helmets abruptly cut out, their last moments disappearing into silence.

It was a grim reminder of how far the corruption had spread. Even the soulless, emotionless bodies of the clones were not immune to being repurposed by these abominations.

Steeling himself, Thompson tightened his grip on his rifle and immediately issued a warning over the comms:

"Everyone, prepare for combat!"

"..."

This time, there were no verbal responses on the comms—only a heavy silence. Everyone could feel the suffocating tension of the situation.

Soon enough, the silence was broken.

"Doomak! Mak'ee la'nam vi'tarak che, way'ee kotan!"

("Haha! Let these heretics embrace the truth of life!")

"Ruv'ka, jor te Qik!"

("For my master!")

"Toom'ka varath, kol'ah hai'yai kresh!"

("All things decay, but all life endures!")

The guttural, nasal shouts of the heretics echoed through the fissures, reaching the ears of everyone at the landing zone before the creatures themselves even appeared.

When the first mutated Brute emerged from the fissure, one of the Tyrant heavy units at the front line immediately opened fire.

Ri~shoom—BOOM!

A deafening explosion followed as the Tyrant's plasma cannon unleashed its payload. The concentrated plasma blast hit the Brute directly, disintegrating its grotesque form in an instant. The force of the explosion sent shockwaves through the air, shaking the rocky walls of the collapse zone.

The intense energy from the plasma blast not only vaporized the Brute but also temporarily flooded the fissure with destructive heat and force, halting anything else from climbing out.

But the Tyrant didn't stop there. The other Tyrant units and Cyclops mechs joined the assault, unleashing a barrage of plasma bolts, hard-light beams, and Gauss rounds. The combined firepower created a deadly web of destruction, suppressing the heretics and keeping them pinned within the fissure—for now.

The operators of the Tyrants and Cyclops mechs had a clear objective: to seal off the fissure entirely, using their firepower to collapse the passage and block the heretics' advance.

However, Thompson knew this was a temporary measure at best.

The Brute's earlier taunt—"Fresh prey has walked into my master's trap!"—lingered in his mind. If the heretics were setting a trap, it was unlikely that this fissure was their only exit point.

As if on cue, Thompson's dynamic scan system detected unusual activity beneath the collapse zone.

The heretics were no longer concentrating their forces at the fissure. Instead, they were spreading out, probing for weaknesses.

Suddenly, loud, violent cracking noises echoed through the air. The heretics had exploited the area's fragile geology, breaking through the surface in multiple locations.

In an instant, a new wave of grotesque creatures surged out from the ground, launching a fresh assault on the landing zone.

The entire task force reacted simultaneously.

The Tyrants, Cyclops mechs, ODST, and special operations members opened fire with everything they had.

Ratatatat—!

Boom—Boom!

Zhoom—Zhoom!

The deafening roar of weapons fire filled the air. Streams of bullets, plasma beams, and explosive shells carved through the charging tide of enemies like deadly ribbons of light.

Despite the overwhelming firepower, the heretics continued their relentless advance. Their twisted, malformed bodies moved with horrifying speed, hurtling toward the defensive lines without pause.

As their numbers swelled, the situation became increasingly chaotic.

Whoosh—Whoosh—!

The heretics retaliated, unleashing a barrage of plasma orbs and crystalline projectiles. Their attacks rained down like a torrential storm, blanketing the defenders' positions in searing plasma and shrapnel.

The battlefield was soon engulfed in chaos, visibility plummeting as the air filled with blinding flashes of light, flying debris, and the acrid stench of burning flesh.

The once-durable portable barriers and energy shields protecting the defenders began to buckle under the onslaught. Cracks appeared in the shields, and the barriers crumbled under sustained fire, leaving the defenders increasingly exposed.

The Tyrants and Cyclops mechs bore the brunt of the enemy's concentrated fire. Their armored plating, though robust, began to show signs of wear and tear.

Adding to the chaos, massive wasp-like creatures with grotesque, moth-like wings emerged from the fissures and took to the skies. From above, they rained corrosive green liquid onto the defenders, forcing them to divert firepower skyward.

At the same time, Thompson noticed the emergence of even more horrifying enemies among the heretics' ranks.

These new abominations had completely lost any semblance of humanoid form. Their bloated, pus-filled bodies were covered in grotesque boils, while their heads and torsos sprouted writhing tentacles and gaping maws.

As soon as these monstrosities emerged, they began spewing thick streams of green sludge.

The sludge hit the ground with a sickening hiss, corroding the rock and releasing noxious fumes. Even a single drop of this substance seemed potent enough to dissolve anything it touched.

"Damn it!" Thompson cursed as he recognized the new threat.

Before he could issue new orders, his team began adapting on their own. The defenders quickly adjusted their formation and focused their firepower on the new targets, trying to stop them from advancing further.

But the tide was turning.

Several ODST and special operations members, already struggling to keep up with the relentless plasma and crystal attacks, were caught off guard by the sudden spray of corrosive sludge.

Sizzle—Sizzle—!

The green liquid splashed onto their armor and combat suits, immediately releasing a sharp, corrosive hissing sound.

The advanced alloy plating and protective layers of their suits dissolved as if they were made of paper.

Within moments, the sludge began eating through flesh and muscle, exposing raw bone to the icy, oxygen-deprived air.

"Ahh!"

"Ughh—!"

Their screams of agony echoed across the comms, filled with unbearable pain and terror.

Within seconds, their bodies succumbed to the corrosive sludge, leaving behind only charred, skeletal remains.

Thompson clenched his fists in fury as he watched his comrades fall.

"Goddamn bastards!" he bellowed, his anger boiling over.

Normally known for his calm and approachable demeanor, Thompson had always been fiercely protective of his troops, treating them like brothers. Watching them die in such gruesome ways tore at his heart.

Without hesitation, he raised his hard-light rifle and unleashed a precise volley at one of the bloated monstrosities.

Zhoom—Zhoom—BOOM!

The creature exploded from the inside out, its corrupted innards splattering across the battlefield.

The remaining defenders followed suit, focusing their fire on the larger abominations.

BOOM! BOOM!

Each targeted abomination erupted in a violent burst of green sludge, sending waves of toxic liquid splashing across the battlefield.

To their horror, the smaller grotesque creatures reacted to the explosions with wild excitement. They flung themselves into the toxic pools, their bodies convulsing as they let out wild, gleeful laughter.

"Haha~!"

"Waaaa~~!"

The smaller creatures seemed to revel in the corrosive liquid, their grotesque bodies trembling with perverse joy as they soaked in the sludge. Instead of being harmed, the toxic substance appeared to invigorate them, making them even more erratic and frenzied.

With renewed energy, they surged forward, forming a second "stench-filled wave" that advanced rapidly toward the defenders' position.

The mounting pressure on Thompson's forces reached its peak.

Despite their firepower and combat prowess, the defenders were beginning to falter. The never-ending waves of heretics and abominations seemed like an unstoppable tide, slowly overwhelming their already strained defenses.

Thompson knew they were running out of options. The relentless assault had pushed the task force to its absolute limit.

With only about 300 troops remaining, and their ammunition reserves dangerously low, the odds of holding the line for much longer were slim.

Yet no one showed fear.

The veterans of the ODST and the special operations teams were battle-hardened and prepared for the worst. If it came to it, they were ready to give their lives in service to the Emperor and the Imperium.

They knew that even if they fell in battle, their souls would find refuge in the Emperor's light, and their families would be cared for by the Imperium. Death held no terror for them—it was simply another step in their duty.

But just as all seemed lost, salvation arrived.

Overhead, the roar of engines echoed through the skies as the transport convoy finally entered Quikonto's atmosphere.

"Attention, all units! Clear a path and hold your ground! Danger close!"

The loud, urgent voice of a Silver Gull pilot crackled through the comms.

Looking up, Thompson could see the transport fleet descending toward the battlefield. The Silver Gull gunships' missile bays had already opened, and their payloads were armed and ready.

Whooosh—Whooosh—BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!

A torrent of air-to-ground missiles streaked through the sky, raining down on the abomination tide below. The explosions tore through the enemy ranks, their deafening roars shaking the battlefield and lighting up the darkness with flashes of fire and plasma.

The sheer force of the blasts sent shockwaves ripping through the air, tearing the grotesque creatures apart and throwing their remains in all directions.

The tide of heretics momentarily faltered under the devastating bombardment. Many of the smaller creatures were incinerated instantly, while the larger ones were torn apart by the concussive force.

The gunships weren't done yet. The Luna-class heavy transports followed closely behind, their chin-mounted autocannons roaring to life as they unleashed suppressive fire on the remaining enemies.

The transports hovered low over the landing zone, creating a temporary shield of firepower as their ramps descended.

"Go! Go! Go!"

As the ramps lowered, the reinforcements poured out.

Among them were Charlie, Narita, and over a thousand Imperial Marines, alongside Chris Redfield and his team of agents. The reinforcements wasted no time, rushing to secure the landing zone and lay down covering fire for the beleaguered defenders.

Despite their inexperience, many of the newly deployed Marines were eager to engage the heretics directly. Their youthful enthusiasm spurred them forward, but Charlie, sensing the gravity of the situation, quickly reined them in.

"Hold your positions and cover the retreat! Don't break formation!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Narita had warned Charlie beforehand about the dangers posed by the abominations. While Charlie didn't have full clearance to understand the true nature of Chaos or the Warp, his instincts told him that these enemies were far beyond anything they could handle.

Under the covering fire of the reinforcements, Thompson and his remaining forces began to withdraw.

The operation, originally planned as a reconnaissance mission, had turned into a desperate fight for survival. Despite their losses, the defenders moved with disciplined efficiency, retreating toward the Luna transports as the reinforcements held the line.

Within minutes, the last of the defenders had boarded the transports. The ramps sealed shut, and the Luna transports lifted off, their engines roaring as they ascended toward the safety of the Diana III stealth ship in orbit.

As the transports climbed through the atmosphere, Chris Redfield's voice came through the comms.

"Listen up! All personnel are required to undergo full decontamination and quarantine protocols upon reboarding the Diana III. No exceptions! We need to ensure there's no risk of contamination before we allow anyone to return to active duty."

Thompson nodded grimly, understanding the necessity of Redfield's orders. The grotesque creatures' ability to infect and corrupt was unlike anything he'd seen before. They couldn't afford to take any chances.

As the transports broke free of Quikonto's atmosphere, another fleet arrived on the scene.

With the eerie glow of warp signatures dissipating behind them, a Raven Guard task force materialized in orbit above Quikonto's dark side.

The fleet's sleek, black-painted vessels bore the insignia of the Raven Guard Legion, as well as a distinctive shark-like emblem marking the Fourth Company.

The Raven Guard Fourth Company had arrived to take over the operation.

Unlike Thompson's task force, the Raven Guard were specialists in hunting and exterminating the forces of Chaos. Their presence signaled a shift in strategy—from reconnaissance and containment to full-scale eradication.

Thompson watched from the viewport of the Luna transport as the Raven Guard fleet descended toward Quikonto.

The sight filled him with a mix of relief and regret. While he was glad to have survived, the cost of the mission weighed heavily on his mind. The lives of hundreds of clone soldiers, and dozens of his comrades, had been lost.

"Colonel," Chris Redfield's voice cut into his thoughts. "You did everything you could. Now it's up to the Raven Guard."

Thompson nodded silently.

His mission was over—for now. But the war against Chaos was far from finished.

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