Suffer Not The Radiant

Chapter 3: Transhuman Dread

A mere eight hours have passed since the Astartes arrived on an unfamiliar planet, one that is wholly ignorant of the Imperium and its grandiose scope. Much to the space marine's chagrin, he has already found himself ensnared in a predicament. He had initially hoped that this world was merely isolated from the Imperium's vast dominion. However, the extent of the planet's ignorance proved to be nothing short of preposterous.

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"So, if I'm understanding you correctly, twelve of you emptied an entire clip into this guy?" inquired one of the soldiers tasked with facilitating the lockdown, regarding the officer with a perplexed expression.

"You got it," replied the officer.

The soldier gazed in disbelief at the massive metal behemoth that still stood before them, its armor barely scratched by the hail of bullets that had been fired at it.

"That's all you did?" the soldier asked incredulously, pointing to the metallic titan.

"Yep," confirmed the officer with a sardonic grin. However, the soldier's expression of incredulity swiftly vanished as he laid eyes upon the lifeless form of the Radiant woman, whose body lay splayed across the pavement in a gruesome display of carnage.

He recoiled in horror at the extent of the damage that had been inflicted upon her. If the weapon on that giant's hip had been responsible for this atrocity, it was evident that its potency was akin to that of a 25mm cannon, the likes of which are typically mounted on infantry fighting vehicles.

The soldier's thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief, struggling to come to terms with the sheer scale of the situation before them.

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The Astartes had been standing for over four hours, but fatigue was an alien concept to him. He recalled his time on a Feudal World of the Imperium, where he remained stationary for an entire day without tiring. This was a mere trifle in comparison. He found himself surrounded by swarms of men and women, clad in dark clothing, erecting barriers in the distance that obscured his view of the towering skyscrapers. He was bemused.

Not even the worlds of the Imperium would react with such intensity. It was as if they had unearthed a gene stealer cultist enclave. He was both intrigued and amused that they viewed him as such a threat. Hours elapsed before the authorities arrived and negotiated his surrender. The terms were agreeable: he would remain in custody, yet retain his weapons and armor at all times, in exchange for swearing to employ them only when faced with danger.

Their initial efforts to transfer him to a secured location in armored vehicles proved futile, as the wheels and suspension buckled under his immense weight. They were forced to relocate him within a 5-ton truck instead, which proved more accommodating. Meanwhile, the corpse of the radiant was discreetly cremated, her demise shrouded in secrecy.

Radiant zealots were notorious for their sharp senses in detecting any case involving a member of their order, hence the decision to withhold news of her passing from her parents and relatives. The Astartes observed everything around him, his thoughts inscrutable.

He was accustomed to being a paragon of strength and resilience, but this situation was unusual, even for him. He waited patiently for what would come next, ready for any eventuality.

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Unknown location, somewhere in Northern Britain

In a cramped and dingy negotiation room, the Astartes sat, his immense frame barely fitting within the space. He had steeled himself for the worst, expecting to be subjected to unspeakable tortures and inhumane interrogations. But to his surprise, he found himself facing only two men and a simple table. They introduced themselves as Charles and Edward, and claimed that their only purpose was to learn about him. The Space Marine was not one to let his guard down easily, however, and he remained vigilant, his towering figure casting a daunting shadow over the room.