Chapter Five: Dola Kaor, King of Figurines, Hurry Up!
Wang Ming was exhausted, utterly weary in both body and soul. The tide of daemons seemed endless—no matter how many he cut down, fresh waves surged forth, while the Imperial forces dwindled around him. Now, all the Imperial troops near Wang Ming had formed a defensive circle at his side, with Wang Ming and the Custodians at the forefront, holding back the vast numbers of Chaos daemons.
Behind them, the Space Marines and mortal soldiers unleashed a storm of bolter fire and lasblasts to provide covering fire.
"Tell them to fall back! Retreat into the tunnels and reorganize the defense!" Wang Ming shouted to the golden-armored Custodian at his side, felling several daemons as he spoke.
He used Mandarin, for he did not know the High Gothic, the official language of the Imperium. He could only hope this Custodian had studied the ancient tongue of Old Terra. After all, the Custodians were more than just exceptional warriors; each was a polymath, an artist, diplomat, philosopher, and master of countless skills. Unlike the Space Marines, every Custodian was a unique masterpiece crafted by the Emperor himself.
The Custodian hesitated at Wang Ming’s words, as if searching his memory. Only after Wang Ming had slain another wave of daemons did he nod in acknowledgement, then turned to address the Space Marines and mortal soldiers in High Gothic. Gradually, under their cover, the mortal soldiers began to withdraw into the tunnels.
"You go with them. I’ll cover the rear," Wang Ming said to the Custodian when he saw this happening. He had resigned himself; since that ancient immortal had cast him into this desperate universe, he had no choice but to act.
He had already noticed that his presence had altered the course of events. The Figurehead King had deployed his miniatures ahead of schedule, and Chaos had summoned more daemons before even breaking through into the tunnels.
The Custodian glanced at the roiling tide of daemons, nodded to Wang Ming, and joined the force covering the mortals' retreat.
Wang Ming knew the Imperial troops could not continue to fight the Chaos horde in open ground—daemons, once slain, could be summoned anew. Dead Imperial soldiers, however, were lost forever. Better to fall back and fortify within the tunnels than to be ground down in a futile clash.
"Come on, Cawl, Figurehead King—hurry up!" Wang Ming urged in his heart, hoping Cawl and Trazyn would activate the Blackstone Obelisk soon.
He needed these damned daemons to vanish. His arms were growing numb from the ceaseless slaughter. He possessed no psychic powers, no sorcery to devastate his foes en masse. All he could do was fight on, one daemon at a time. His golden power sword whirled so rapidly even the Space Marines could not track its arc, and his exquisite bolt pistol’s barrel glowed red-hot from continuous firing. Who knew how many shots he’d already fired? The semi-automatic bolt pistol, by sheer force, had become fully automatic in his hands.
"Damn it—nothing but daemons, and mortals corrupted by Chaos. Not a single one of Abaddon's veteran Chaos Marines is coming," Wang Ming muttered as he cast a glance toward the distant black-clad warriors and Abaddon himself.
Abaddon had no intention of sending his old Legion veterans from the Horus Heresy to battle a Primarch. All knew the terror a Primarch inspired. Instead, Abaddon sought to drown him beneath endless daemons and worthless mortal traitors, but it was clear now that this would not work. Even armored columns and Titans had fallen to Wang Ming—Abaddon was beginning to consider intervening directly.
At that moment, a strange, oppressive sensation swept over all present. In an instant, every Chaos daemon vanished. Only the black-armored Chaos Space Marines and mortal traitors remained on the battlefield. Wang Ming knew the Blackstone Obelisk had finally been activated.