A/N: Alright, alright, alright! I'm back, boys and girls! For anyone curious, no, Winged Knight is not the new writer, just an awesome guest omake writer. I'm here to stay, folks.

NO MORE DELAYING! CHAPTERS FOR THE CHAPTER GOD! CROSSOVERS FOR THE CROSSOVER THRONE!

Book Two: Corruption's End

-Chapter 13: Burn the Heretic-

"I am the instrument of His will. I am the voice of His contempt. I am the herald of His judgment. And I am angry." - Celestian Naja bint Mutaa al-Ibanhi, before the purgation of Pallori Secundus

"Here's what we know, people!" Jorvis bellowed. "Jala Prime went dark when the arch-foe made planetfall on Cadia!" Once again, Gamma Platoon lined their lander, desperate to hear their sergeant over the roar of the descent. Now, however, they bore the trappings of the Inquisition, their armor black and intimidating, a single silver 'I' emblazoned upon their chests. Woadian war paint streaked their faces and armor, the swirling blue lines writ in sharp relief against the midnight flak-plates.

"This city was the last source Imperial communication in the system. Our gracious Lady needs us to kill any cultists we find, and help her find out why it all went to shit! Understood?!"

"ÀUH!" They roared, eager to fight once more. None more so than Yang, who hoisted her power sword, her voice rising well above her comrades. Her lasgun hung across her back, next to the sheath for her newest weapon. As always, Ember Celica graced her wrists, fully expanded and ready for battle.

"Yang?" Ros asked.

"Oh yeah." She rolled up the sleeve of her tunic to expose her marked shoulder. Yang's glyphs were the closest thing Gamma platoon had to a shrine, and on route to Jala Prime, had taken to praying to them. Not to me, thankfully. Yang thought, shuddering. That's a frightening concept.

"Prepare for landing." Their pilot droned. They were immersed in darkness, before the singular red warning light flickered on. Their steep fall slowed as landing jets kicked on, jarring them in their harnesses.

Deep breaths Yang. This is going to be fun. With a rattling slam of pressurized metal, the doors ripped open, revealing their LZ, a small city surrounded by miles of ash-colored desert.

"Go, go, go!" Jorvis screamed, waving them forward. The green 'deploy' light clicked on, and they obeyed their sergeant, spilling out of the landing craft. Sand and prop-wash assaulted them, sending Yang's hair whipping behind her. Around them, the 111th Rangers marched out of their assorted craft. The LZ wasn't quite as cramped as it had been on Elodia, as the regiment in its entirety were spread around the city's borders in a crescent formation, ready to push into the press of rockcrete buildings.

"Forward march, people! To the perimeter!" Jorvis strode forward, and the platoon followed. Something's off about the city, Yang realized. It was quiet. Her aura -active from the moment they departed from the Ascendant Dawn- pulsed and flickered. Something's definitely off.

They trudged forward, boots sinking into the sun-scorched sand. A half-mile away, the newly appropriated Leman Russ tanks rumbled pass, tracks rattling and whirring. On top of the command tank In My Spirit stood Weiss Schnee, resplendent in her power armor. Her duster flapped behind her, dark grey sand and the wind of her passage pulling it behind her.

"I didn't know she was joining us." Yang said, watching her friend gesture and direct her guardsmen. She laughed. How very typical of Weiss. I bet she's loving this.

"She does cut an imposing figure." Ros said. They reached the step-off point, joining another six platoons at the gaping jaws of the waiting city. Caolin scanned the empty streets ahead of them, peering through his scope.

"Nothin'." He said. "Not a single soul. Are we sure the Inquisitor's intel is good?"

"Oh, I'm sure." Yang replied. No way Weiss would drag them all out in this Emperor-forsaken desert without good reason.

"If you say so." He shrugged, pulling his scarf up to cover his mouth. "Emperor, but I hate sand."

"You've never seen sand in your life." Ros said.

"I've seen enough to know I hate it." Yang laughed, finding she agreed with Caolin. The sand here got everywhere, and it tasted funny. Its color was weird too, certainly unlike anything on Remnant.

"Hey, hey, we got word from the Colonel!" Rhain cried, tapping Jorvis' shoulder.

"What is it?"

"Our Lady's given the word! We're moving in!" Their fellow platoons got the word, stretching and prepping their lasguns.

"Ok, Gamma Platoon! Two by two, we're moving up!" Jorvis cried. They lined up and marched into the city, shoulder to shoulder. The air turned sour and rank as they passed the first run-down dwellings. As they progressed, Yang noticed the buildings had been built in concentric rings, each row of buildings separated by thin alleyways. Despite its decrepit state, she could tell its architects had planned it well. Even still, the city gave Yang the creeps. She knew the enemy was here, hidden away in the depths of the city, but it was impossible to tell where or how many. A shadowed fog seemed to sit on the edges of her perception, dulling her senses and left her unable to focus.

"Should we search the houses?" Ros asked.

"No one keeps anything important in shacks." Jorvis growled. "Our orders are to advance, and meet in front of the Governor's palace. Then we search the place." A stiff wind shifted the dunes, buffeting the platoons with sand.

"Pbbth." Ros spat.

"Shoulda got a scarf." Caolin said.

"Shut the fuck up and watch the windows." She replied.

"Ain't much to see… they're all broken." It was true. Each and every window had been shattered, panes left empty. "There's been a fight here." Mael nodded, hefting his rocket launcher. The muscle-bound mute's eyes shifted and darted across the streets, alert and ready.

They found the first sign of activity after ten minutes of walking. It was a corpse, half-eaten and left to rot in the sun. Ash-grey sand caked the body, thick around the exposed offal and flesh that had been sprayed about the street.

"Aw, for fuck's sake." Rhain said. Yang grimaced too, averting her eyes to an alleyway, where a far worse sign awaited her. A tapestry of symbols where painted across the stone, so vile and twisted they actually hurt to look at. How is that even possible? Yang thought, dazed. She fell to her knees, shoulder burning hot under her tunic.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Trooper?" Jorvis asked.

"Writing in the alleyway." She wheezed. He turned to look, natural curiosity overriding common sense.

"Oh Emperor." He mumbled, also turning to retch. "Get rid of it. Rhain, let 'em know we're discharging our weapons." Nodding, he obeyed.

"Command, be advised, this is Gamma Platoon. We found some writings in the alleyway. We're gonna scorch 'em off. No enemy contact." He pressed the receiver to his ear, nodding. "Okay Sarge, we're good.

"Get rid of it." Jorvis growled. Averting their eyes, Gamma Platoon readied their lasguns and bathed the alleyway in red beams of light. "Ok, that's good. Enough! Cease fire!" Sure enough, the only thing that remained of the symbols was the wall they were scrawled on, now burnt black. "Alright, move up, Troopers!" There was no doubt about it then, cultists had been here. Rhain spat.

"I wonder where everyone went? They're definitely here." He said, kicking aside the corpse that sat in the street. He looked through the scope of his lasgun. Seeing nothing, he shivered. "They're hiding somewhere."

"They probably heard I was coming and ran away." Yang replied. Rhain laughed before a lasbolt turned his head into a molten slag of charred meat.

"GET DOWN!" Jorvis bellowed. Yang hit the dirt, just before Rhain's corpse. Bullets and las-fire stormed over them, scything down woadians left and right. Howling, they fell, blood soaking into the grey sand.

"Oh fuck, RHAIN!" Yang cried. He didn't even have a head left to scream with. His beaded aquila soared into the air, ripped from his neck by the sheer ferocity of the ambush. Tracers split the air, whistling white-hot as they hissed around like flies.

"Emperor protect us!" Caolin cried. A bullet kicked into Rhain, spraying blood over the squad. Jorvis rolled over to the vox-caster, picking up the receiver.

"This is Gamma! We're getting royally fucked up out here!" A las-bolt struck the sand in front of Ros, who spat and crawled towards the alleyway. "Follow the Corporal!" Jorvis screamed. "Get the fuck out of the street!" He took the vox-caster with him, crawling under the torrent of enemy fire.

Yang watched the chaos unfold, her lilac eyes still wide, watching smoke curl from the cauterized stump of Rhain's neck. Just like that. Dead. There one moment, and gone the next.

"Covering fire!" Someone screamed. The woadians erupted, all nearby platoons dousing the city in las-fire. Ozone filled the air, the stark scent scorching its way into Yang's lungs. An enormous crash of cannon sounded through the city, and bricks from a building near them exploded, shooting out into the street. Dust and rubble spat into the city as it toppled, great gusts of wind heaving buffeting gales of sand into the air. Yang hammered the trigger of her lasgun, trying to pick off whatever muzzle flashes she could. Rhain. Rhain was dead.

"Yang! Get over here!" Ros cried, gesturing to her from the corner of an alley. She leaned out of cover, shots flying down range. Yang was getting angry. With one last salvo, she dashed forward, stopping briefly to recover Rhain's necklace. Bullets hounded her, and one whickered off her aura, tripping her just before she reached safety. Caolin hauled her into cover, pulling at Ember Celica. He'd pissed himself, a dark wet stain that crawled across his fatigues.

"Oh Emperor!" Ros said. She was panting, ash-sand and blood streaking her face. Mael leaned past them, firing a rocket at a shop a hundred yards down the street. Its banshee-scream tore across the corpse-choked dirt before crashing into its target. It exploded, and the faint death-cries of the enemy reached them.

"Fucking animals." Ros cried. Mael wiped away tears that were streaming down his face. Rhain was still out there, accompanied by other felled woadians. Rivers of blood ran down the streets, dripping into sand-filled gutters. The maimed ones howled, their throats dry and choked with sand. More fire laced into the slow and wounded, grinding them into chunks of smoking meat as they dove for cover.

Yang smashed her fist into their building, and dust rained down on the panting guardsmen. She stormed down the alleyway.

"What the fuck are we gonna do now?" Someone hissed, grabbing at a bleeding wound. Yang straightened, before slamming Jorvis into the wall, tearing him out of the way of a screaming cultist. He was mad, froth spilling from his lips as he screamed a wordless war cry. Roaring, Yang shoved her boot into his chest, sending the attacker hurtling into a wall.

Tossing her lasgun aside, she brought her power sword to bear, relishing the fear that flashed in the cultist's eyes. She thumbed the activation rune, and the blade sprung to life, crackling with baleful glee. With a furious cry, she brought it across him in a wide arc. Not only did it slice through him, but it split the wall behind him, revealing a few of his comrades. Startled and caught unawares, Gamma platoon doused them in las-fire.

"Holy shit." Caolin breathed. Yang looked at her sword. She hadn't even felt any resistance. A wild grin spread across her face. These bastards are gonna pay. The armor unleashed a salvo of death upon the enemy, brining buildings crashing down around the city.

"Guess we found the cultists." Jorvis growled. He looked at the remnants of his platoon. Rhain and ten others had fallen, never to stand again. Bodies by the dozens lined the street, casualties from other platoons. Three wounded woadians had dragged themselves to cover, clutching at various wounds. Asgeg was screaming, blood flowing between her fingers that tried to cap the stump of her arm. "Get a medic up here, damn it! We need to push on." He said. Yang nodded, picking up her lasgun. "We're moving up, people! Caolin, use that scope of yours, find out where the bastards are hiding! Yang, take Theni and Kella! Give him covering fire! The rest of you, watch our asses!" Ros obeyed immediately, catching a cultist that had slunk around behind them. She sent a lasbolt into his chest, the laser scorching a crackling hole in his chest.

"Rot in the warp, you son of a bitch!"

"NOW!" Jorvis cried. Yang spun around the corner, searching for targets. Caolin was at her feet, keeping his profile low as he scanned the street. Theni opened fire, hitting a cultist who was trying to set up a stubber. Yang lit up the warp-spawn's comrades, grinning as each lance of red light speared another victim. A few cultists returned fire, catching Theni in the leg.

"Aw, FUCK!" He cried, toppling to the sand. Kella dragged him back, and joined Yang on the corner. Bullets ricocheted off the wall, desperate to bring down the guardsmen. Yang stood her ground, roaring as her lasgun grew white-hot in her hands.

"We're good!" Caolin cried. Yang ducked back into cover, just as a stray lasbolt took a chunk out the corner. She reloaded, slapping a new energy cell into her steaming weapon with a satisfying hum. Theni wrapped his leg in bandages, his teeth bared in agony.

"You good?" Ros asked.

"I'll live. Went right through me. I'll live, but I ain't goin' anywhere."

"What do we have out there, Trooper?" Jorvis asked. Caolin scrambled to his feet, breathing hard. He joined the sergeant at the center of the alley, pointing and gesturing.

"There's at least two platoons holed up in the manor at the end of the street. Got another good group of 'em coming around the bend."

"Very well!" Jorvis said. "We've gotta avoid the street and the alleys. We'll cut through the buildings, make our way to the manor. If we catch 'em by surprise, we could outflank every single one of these animals." He snatched up the vox receiver. "Platoons Epsilon through Io, this is Gamma! We're pushing up to catch 'em with their asses hanging out!"

"Copy that!" The vox-caster crackled. "We'll keep 'em locked down. Emperor be with you!"

"And with you!" Jorvis said. He hefted the vox-caster and put it in Kella's arms. "You're our comms-man now. Trooper Theni!"

"Still here, sir." He said, resting against a wall.

"Keep watch over the worst of the wounded. I'll get a medic sent over ASAP." Theni saluted, his fingers coated in blood and ash-grey sand. "Kella, get on that." He obeyed, picking up the receiver.

"This is Gamma! We're trapped in an alley, calling for any available medics, we got three…four! Four wounded that require immediate assistance!" Asgeg screamed again, howling at her missing arm. A medic from their sister platoon dove into their alley, ducking under the hail of rounds that churned the street into a valley of death. Panting but alive, he gave a thumbs-up to Jorvis, who nodded his acknowledgment.

"Trooper Yang, get us the fuck out of here." Yang grinned, and hefted her power sword. With a cry of rage, she hacked the brick wall apart. Her comrades surged into the opening, pivoting and searching for contacts. The building was empty except for old corpses and clouds of black flies.

"Keep going!" Yang obeyed, hammering through the next wall, and the wall after that. Breaking into the adjacent building, they found a crowd of cultists. With a cry of alarm, they swiveled, bringing their guns to bear. They were too slow.

Yang lunged forward, hacking the closest one apart with her sword. It cut through him like butter. She brought it across the stomach of another, disemboweling him. Spinning on her heel, she brought her boot into a cultist's face, shattering his skull with a burst of aura.

Careful Yang, she thought spearing another victim, if your hair glows, the jig is up. It was maddening. She wanted nothing more than to let loose and rip her foes to shreds. A woman rushed her, bayonet ready to pierce her heart. Too slow.

The power sword hummed, tearing her head from her shoulders. Yang kicked away the body, the bayonet clattering harmlessly to the ground. Las-fire hissed around her, drenching the room in the scent of ozone.

Yang gave a wordless battle-cry, and waded into the final group of cultists. Her power sword flashed and hacked, rending her foes apart. Severed limbs and screaming cultists danced away from her, hosing the room in blood. Grabbing the face of the last survivor, she roared, smashing his head against the wall and painting it in his brains.

Watching the corpse flop to the floor, her shoulders heaved, more from anger than exertion. Every inch of the spacious room contained a dead cultist, or part of one.

"Golden Throne of Terra." Ros breathed. She kicked the nearest body over, examining its extensive wounds.

"I will now dedicate a prayer to the Emperor every day, giving thanks for putting Yang Xiao Long on our side." Caolin said, turning over a body with the barrel of his long las. She hissed, so he fired, burning a hole in her chest. He stomped her head in just to be sure. "Stay dead, dammit!"

"Keep going! A few more buildings, and we're there! Do it, Trooper Yang!"

She carved out another opening, blinking in the sun. Dust and sand filled the outside air, accompanying the screams and howling small-arms fire, which pattered against the street and buildings around them. Yang hammered away at the next wall, coughing as the sword vaporized the rockcrete. No matter. Keep going.

Another wall. They were making progress. Yang enjoyed the release of smashing walls apart, each time hoping to find more cultists to slaughter. The glyphs on her shoulder glowed warmly as they approached their destination.

"This is it, Gamma!" Jorvis cried, pointing at the manor. "Give me their heads, Woadians!"

"ÁUH!" They screamed, voices hewn from parched and tired throats.

Yang punched the wall open, and dashed inside. At least fifty enemy warriors were waiting within, packed tight into a large meeting hall of some kind. A surprised cultist tried to bring his autogun around, but Ember Celica broke him apart, sending his shattered corpse bowling into its allies. Her comrades stormed through the opening, bayonets flashing in the dim candlelight that suffused the room. Yang dashed forward, spearing one cultist on the end of her sword, then another, then a third. Roaring, she twisted the sword around and sent it soaring towards the ceiling, slicing the skewered cultists apart in a shower of smoking blood.

A cultist at the end of the room turned to them with a flamer, cackling madly, ready to roast friend and foe alike. Caolin's long-las burst his tanks and bathed him in flame. Jorvis made no sound as he danced through the enemy, but his chainword wailed as it bit and tore through the cultists. His bolt pistol barked, obliterating every cultist it touched. Yang brought her sword around in a vicious arc, killing two and maiming a third. She punched that one in his sternum, savoring the feeling of bones crunching under her fist.

Ros screamed, a blade piercing her shoulder. She grimaced and thrust her bayonet into her attacker's chest, pushing him away. Her las-gun coughed, and his face melted away under the red stab of light.

Yang hoisted her lasgun, wielding it like a pistol as she hammered through the press of cultists. A las-bolt struck her side, sending her sprawling into a wall. Her semblance flared, and she felt the strength seeping into her muscles. Leaping into the air, she rejoined the battle, slashing and punching with righteous furor. Bullets licked after her heels, all too slow. Beaming, she fired her lasgun point-blank into a cultist, watching him scream and writhe as the red bolt of light broiled his intestines into paste. One fell to her sword, one to her fist, and another to her lasgun. The melee turned in the woadians' favor, the cultists falling back under Yang's vicious assault.

She was unstoppable.

Mael caught the throat of a cultist, crushing his windpipe in his white-knuckled fist. Another squad of cultists approached, pouring through the shattered windows, chanting a grotesque and repulsive hymn. Still clasping the corpse, Mael spun and fired his last rocket into the back of the room, blowing out the back wall with a deafening explosion and hail of rockcrete shrapnel.

Coughing and bracing herself on her sword, Yang lurched to her feet, searching for targets with her lasgun. A cloud of plaster and dust filled the room, visibility dropping to zero. Pained screams and shouts of alarm and struggle reached her ears, muted by the ringing in her ears. A firm hand fell on her shoulder. It was Jorvis, breathing heavily and painted red.

"Find the others." He mouthed. His mechanical eye twitched and whirred. "I'm going to have a word with Mael about fire discretion." Yang nodded, and stumbled off to find her friends. She found Ros first, panting and leaning against a wall. Her tunic was soaked in blood.

"Yang! Emperor be good! Help me out, would you?"

"You got it." She stooped low, placing Ros' uninjured arm around her shoulder. "How's that?"

"It hurts like a bitch. Fucker stabbed me, did you see that?"

"I did. Got him good though, didn't you?"

"Damn right I did." She gave a rattling cough. "Mael is gonna get hell for firing a rocket indoors. Coulda hurt someone!"

"Hurt the fucking warp-spawn alright." Caolin said through his scarf, appearing from the swirling clouds of dust. His eyes scanned over Ros, spreading wide when they rested upon her shoulder. "Ros! You're hurt!"

"Nothing the medics can't handle." She replied through gritted teeth.

"Ros-"

"I'm fine."

Caolin sighed, but didn't leave her side. The debris from Mael's rocket began to settle, revealing the carnage they had wrought. Dead littered the stone floor, many of them rendered into chunks of scalded flesh by Yang and her power sword. Blood was everywhere. Death cries and agonized yelps echoed in the enclosed space, most of them from the wounded cultists. Only a few woadians lay dead, speared by bayonets and bleeding their last onto the enemies they had taken with them.

Now that she had time to observe the room more closely, Yang almost gagged on the foulness of it all. Obscene prayers filled the manor's walls, accompanied by tapestries of flesh that depicted horrific rituals. They all set Yang's stomach to broiling. These aren't people anymore, she thought, turning over a cultist's corpse. His face was melted and steaming, burnt away by a las-bolt, but she could still see the taint of mutation crawling across his skin. Where his neck met his shoulders, pallid skin had shifted into sky-blue lizard scales. Yang shuddered as her shoulder started to burn.

Platoons Epsilon through Io marched up the street to rejoin them, checking their corners as they did so. Gamma had cut a swath of death through the cultist lines, allowing their comrades to push forward unimpeded.

Yang looked out at the valley of death that Rhain died in, saw the gore that painted over the street, messy red paint in a child's hand. Anger wrought its way through her, clenching her fists into balls of fury. He wasn't the first friend she'd lost… but it had been so sudden. He didn't even get the chance to fight back. Ros coughed again, trying to keep her gaze away from the tainted decorations. Mael sat against a wall, running his hands through his shaggy hair, silently struggling to collect himself. Yang withdrew Rhain's necklace from her breast pocket before curling it within her friend's trembling fist. Mael nodded, a strangled sound coming loose from his dust-choked throat. Yang left him to wade through the sea of bodies, silencing the warp-tainted wounded with las-bolts to the face.

She wondered if they even deserved the mercy.

A/N: Aw, poor Rhain. :( This was a fun chapter to write though, especially when Yang goes postal with her power sword. Not too many notes to make. I'm really enjoying all your guys' theories! Keep 'em coming! The reviews are like souls for my personal Astronomican!

Review Replies:

The Walrus of Eden: I answered this in the form of a PM, but I'll copy it here for everyone else's benefit! The process for making canon omakes (The Librarian's Notes) is as follows! 1. Have an idea, and run it by me. I'll give you input about it, ranging from "go ahead!" to "I may want to cover that myself!" 2. The idea works! Great! Before you spend hours typing it up, I'll give you a list of guidelines and suggestions to help improve your work, avoid spoilers, and connect with the overall story. (While remaining in canon) 3. Write it! 4. Run it by me, and I'll beta it for you. We'll also chat about the chapter, and see if it needs more than just minor revisions! 5. Post it! Give me the file, and it goes on the story! If you want to post it yourself on SB or SV, that is acceptable!

RightHandOfPalpatine: Yeah, it really does. Poor almighty Emperor. :(

DanAbnettFan1997: Me too! I'd like to see what you guys come up with!

OBSERVER01: Hallelujah! :D

GendouUrumaru09: Winged Knight is responsible for his excellent portrayal of the Emperor! TBH, seeing him as anything else doesn't really jive with me. He's been going for almost 10,000 years.

mr I hate znt nobles kill em: I guess we'll see!

Yoshtar: That's weird, I could have sworn there was a word for that... Anyways, interesting theories! We'll see what happens next!

doorp: Your triple-post had me giggling! You raise valid concerns, don't worry! They're all thoughts I've had myself one time or another. Don't worry about the whole 'conversation with Emps' thing too much though. I know exactly where you're coming from. As to romance, that will become clearer in due time. I've left that aspect of the story on the back-burner for now, but it's still stewing there, believe me. Also, woot! Fellow female warhammer fan! :D

deathwing316: THERE ARE NO OTHER GODS, HERETIC! *BLAM!*

gafgar: Aw, TV Tropes is awesome! Yeah, not too much in the ways of big revelations this chapter... sorry! I can't be dropping that kind of firepower all the time. The story would get stale in a heartbeat!

Toloth: It's a possibility! We might never know!

Thanks for all the reviews guys! Keep 'em coming! :D

Next chapter: The Lady Inquisitor kicks some ass!