A/N: Some set-up stuff this chapter. Enjoy! :D

Book 2: Corruption's End

Chapter 26: Tinderbox

"They never stopped screaming over vox. Whole platoons wiped out. Each one begging for reinforcements. For the Emperor. For their lives." - Vox-Trooper Kella Tryggvisson

Just when the pain in her head seemed as though it would sunder her skull, it ebbed away, receding to a pounding yet manageable ache. The Woadians panted and wheezed as they recovered from their mental anguish. Yang felt sick. I never even saw the creature, and this is what it does to us. Kella bellowed from the spire, his hand on the vox receiver.

"The gate's fallen! Orders are to pull back to the Citadel!" Curses rang out as the Woadians collected their weapons. The nearest Ranshan soldiers prepared the elevator, taking a brief moment to equip a spear and a shield.

"You heard him, boys and girls." Jorvis said, pointing towards the Citadel with his chainsword. "Let's get moving!" The fires that swept through Shao-la poured smoke into the sky, fed by even more flaming stones. From their position on the wall, they could see the streams of civilians and soldiery as they fled to the citadel, ragged forms that flooded the streets.

When they descended, it felt like hell itself was swallowing them, engulfing them in towers of flame and sweltering heat. Asgeg couldn't even summon forth the effort to vomit from the height. All along the wall, elevators and other lifts worked, ferrying the Woadians and Ranshan soldiers down into the dying city.

From what Kella and Lyrasson's Vox-Trooper could ascertain, Third Company and a detachment of the Ranshan guard were holding fast near the breach. Other elements of the 111th were digging in, preparing for a fighting retreat. For now, the breach was under a punishing volume of fire, and the tide of heretics was breaking upon Ranshan spears and Woadian lasbolts.

"I want constant updates!" Jorvis said, slapping the back of Kella's helmet. The vox-trooper nodded, gripping his lasgun with sweat-stained gloves. Yang checked her power cell, grinning when she saw it was at a full charge. Her comrades did the same, prepping themselves for the trials ahead. Prayers floated up into the night sky to meet the two crimson moons, accompanied by the whining hum of reloading lasguns and buckling helmets.

"Let's move it up, people, double time!" Captain Lyrasson bellowed, buckling on his own helmet. The company obeyed, a thousand troopers trudging through Shao-la. The streets were choked with panicked, fleeing civilians. A faint Yǒng filled the burning streets, stained with the smoke and ash that filled its singer's lungs.

A soaring fireball crashed into a shop, flattening First Company's vanguard with a wave of crushing heat and a tsunami of dust. Yang threw Ros to the road, weathering the worst of the primitive artillery.

"Fucking Emperor!" Caolin screamed as dirt and ash rained down on him. He was on his hands and knees, scrambling for his long-las.

"Anyone hurt?" Yang bellowed. A chorus of no's answered her, the closest one from Lyrasson. She hauled the Captain to his feet, and he grunted in thanks. Ros was next, spitting and cursing at the grit that filled her mouth.

The screams of the natives reached a fever pitch, fuelled by the spreading flames and column of soldiery. It unnerved the troopers, and fear began to swell within them. Lyrasson picked up his vox-trooper's caster, switching the transmit mode to public address.

"Attention!" He boomed, the words reaching above the roaring infernos and panicked screeching. "Please clear the streets!" Pointing towards the Citadel, he took a deep breath. "That is where you'll be safe! Now go! Go, damn you!" Many of the civilians heard him, and began scrambling up the streets, desperate to escape the fate that awaited them. They ran, scooping up wailing children and blunted farming equipment to use as impromptu weapons.

They thundered up the sloped streets, while the Citadel of Totha's Radiance stood watch over the dying city and its doomed citizens. A city – a society – on the ropes. Yang mused. What a horrible thing to see. The Breach in their first year at Beacon was bad, but that was a harmless prank compared to what Chaos wrought upon Shao-la.

"Keep at it, Rangers!" Lyrasson cried. A thousand voices answered him, and they continued their retreat.

Death. Destruction.

These were the words that entered Amat's mind. From his nest in the bell-tower of Shao-la's oldest cathedral, he watched a city die. The heretic's main advance was meeting stiff resistance, and was regrouping for another push.

Some of the warp-scum ignored their superior's bellowing. They dashed into the city to achieve whatever rape and pillage they could. He panned over to his target. Trooper Yang was descending from the walls, golden light filling the fingertips around her shoulder. Amat blinked. His Lady's blessing at work, no doubt. Even Amat wore her markings, flavored with litanies from the Temple's Book of Patience.

He'd watched her on walls. Watched her repel the enemy time and time again. She was not a warrior. Not the soldier she pretended to be. She was a dancer. Her limbs flowed like blood, struck like a Basilisk.

He wished he could have seen her battle the daemon that had battered down the gates of Shao-la. Now that would be a fight worthy of hymn. Amat smirked. Maybe even a Yǒng or two. Making light of the situation barely scraped away the unease that gnawed at him. Were it not for the gifts bestowed upon him by the Temple or the training he'd survived under its watch, he was sure the creature would have driven him mad. He'd seen the picts in training. Knew the prayers to keep their insidious aura at bay. But it was nothing like standing on the same soil as one. Seeing its eyes.

Repulsive. Wrong.

There were no other words that fit the shambling creature. He shook his head before checking his remaining rounds. Twelve shield-breakers. Four Turbo-penetrators. Two Hellfires. Every time a heretic fell under his sights, he wanted to squeeze the trigger. But that was not his mission, and he needed every round.

As Trooper Yang reached the streets of Shao-la, she disappeared. Smoke from the fires that consumed the city shrouded her from sight, aided by the tangled mess of primitive buildings.

Damnation, he thought with a long sigh. The vantage point afforded by the bell-tower was one that a marksman would pray whole weeks for. But he could not see his target. Slinging his exitus rifle over his shoulder, he checked his auspex. With a few clicks, a lone green dot blipped into existence. Trooper Yang. The tracking implant that the Lady Inquisitor installed on her weapon worked as promised.

He descended the steps, his boots scraping against the ancient stonework at a pace most would consider inhuman. There wasn't a second to lose. His Lady's orders would be obeyed at all costs. And maybe I'll get to watch her fight again, he thought, his mind flicking back to Trooper Yang. The heretics are in for one hell of a surprise.

As he walked past row upon row of pews, a slender finger worked a shield-breaker into the firing chamber, locking it into place. The huge oaken doors of the cathedral swung open before him, once more revealing the pyre of Shao-la. He took it in.

Anticipation. Eagerness.

Unbidden by their officers, First Company quickened their pace, steel-toed boots hammering against the cobbled streets. Lasguns swiveled, each trooper on high alert. Lyrasson and Jorvis led the way, a tissue-thin map of Shao-la shared between them.

Yang's tongue ran over her parched lips. The countless fires gurgled, spitting out ash and charred corpses. As the streets emptied, an aura of eeriness settled into Shao-la. In the distance, the chorus of war swelled as the main assault met the combined defenses. Screams, shouts, and the apocalyptic bellowing of the Eloadian armor suffused the streets. She wanted to be at the front of it all.

Another boulder landed in the city, sending up a plume of orange flame. A few prayers worked their way through the platoon, accompanied by curses that wormed out from grime-stained lips.

"Do you think Mael's okay?" Ros whispered past the iron sights of her lasgun.

"I… hope so," Yang said, trying to knead away her headache. She hadn't even thought of him. You're horrible. She thought to herself. He didn't even cross your mind. "Dammit," She spat. As the battle waxed, she found it harder and harder to think. The pounding migraine didn't help. Get yourself together.

The hospital-tent was a good mile away from the raging pitched battle. Yang closed her eyes and wished the best for Mael's safety. Hissed, staticky voices filled her microbead, but she couldn't make out any words over the distortion. She sighed.

"This is bullshit." Yang grumbled.

"Preaching to the choir." Asgeg said, looking up to meet her eyes. Her three augmentic fingers rapped against the cold metal of her lasgun. "I pray to the Emperor we make it to the citadel in time."

"The glowing thing was weird though, huh?" Caolin asked, eyes focused on the fluttering cloak of the Company Commissar.

"Yeah." Yang said, her fingers brushing against the smoldering glyphs. They were still warm, but devoid of light, the marks now coal-black. In the month and a half since receiving the markings, she'd grown accustomed to them. Their quelling of her nightmares played no small part in that. "Our Lady's really something, huh?"

"Well," Svyr started before dousing his face in canteen water. "Maybe if she stationed us somewhere that wasn't being razed, then I'd sing her praises," he spat. He wiped away the droplets of water, streaks of dirt leaking down his face.

"Don't be a whiny bitch, man." Theni said from behind them. His wounded leg was was still a half-step behind its partner, and he wore a pained grimace. Still, he did his best to stay with the platoon. Yang chuckled with the rest of her squad. Caolin patted Svyr's pauldron.

"From the wounded guy, no less," he said with a strained smile.

"Fuck off, kid." Svyr growled, shrugging off the marksman's hand. "Do you even see where you are? Look around you. This place is fucked." He checked his lasgun as Caolin's eyes met the cobble streets. "We're fucked. Get some perspective and quit your fucking quipping."

Ros punched him in the face, sending him sprawling. Gamma platoon ground to a halt, their faces wide with shock. Svyr spat a tooth into the gutter.

"Hey, woah!" Yang said, pinning Ros' arms behind her back.

"Shut up! Lemme at 'im Yang!" Ros cried, straining against her. It was a like a newborn struggling against steel shackles.

"What in the name of Holy Terra is going on over here?!" Commissar Eberil screamed. He stormed over to the platoon while Jorvis and Lyrasson continued directing First Company. The squad straightened and Yang released her friend. Racking his bolt pistol, the Commissar leveled it at Ros. "Explain yourself, Corporal!" Now Yang needed restraining. Only Asgeg's augmentic arm kept her from punting the peak-capped bastard over the walls.

"You interfere, and he'll kill her for sure." Caolin whispered.

"Sir!" Ros barked, saluting. "Trooper Svyr was making discouraging and demoralizing remarks. Since this squad is under my command while Sergeant Jorvis is occupied, I took the matter into my own hands!"

"Oh fuck you!" Svyr cried, wiping blood away from his lips.

"Is this true, Trooper Skollsdottir?" The Commissar asked, grey eyes resting on Asgeg. She nodded, throat working. "Trooper Xiao Long?"

"Yes sir." Yang replied. "I mean-" She was too late, as the political officer had swiveled and pulled the trigger. The bolt-pistol's report echoed down the street, startling the Woadians who hadn't been near enough to witness Gamma platoon's squabble.

"Fuck!" Yang cried, recoiling as Svyr's blood fizzled and cooked against the burning walls of an apartment building. The Commissar took no notice of the shock or surprise, letting the steam from his bolt-pistol frame his face in sizzling cordite. The other troopers from First Company shuffled on, performing the sign of the Aquila.

"There will be no cowardice, no hint of swaying!" He cried.

"Emperor." Caolin whimpered into his scarf, hands over his mouth. "Oh Emperor."

"The Emperor," Eberil continued, glaring at Caolin, "protects. Remember, we are his instrument. Now, forward! Since your commanding officer is spoiling for a fight," he said, eyes piercing Ros, "there is a particular task that the Captain has in mind for you."

When his gaze rested on Yang, she gave him a derisive snort, meeting his eyes and willing death upon the man with all her might. Svyr wasn't the most personable of the Woadians, but he was still a comrade. Hell, she'd pulled his ass out from a crumbling building back on Jala Prime. And this stupid fuckhead killed him for less than nothing. Her fists clenched and unclenched. Punting him over the walls seemed like a fucking mercy compared to his new fate.

But as she continued to stare at Eberil, she saw the same weariness that lived in the face of every Woadian. He was tired. He was scared too, even if he didn't show it. He'd made a mistake, and he knew it. It won't save him. Just prolonged the inevitable. With a last snarling glare at the Commissar, she shouldered her lasgun and fell into step with the rest of Gamma platoon. Dealing with him now wouldn't do any good.

Eberil looked away, shuddering. Yang didn't know how to feel about that.

A half hour later, Gamma platoon was well ahead of First Company, holding a back-alley that led to the city square, where the main defense was crawling past. The sounds of the main push echoed throughout the streets. A crackling explosion rippled through the city, and a distant torch sprung into being. A tank's ammo was cooking off.

"Fuck!" Caolin shouted into his scarf. Yang patted his back, but it didn't do much good. The marksman shook under her hand. The sudden, unnecessary loss of Svyr had shaken them even further. Many hadn't had the rest Yang managed, and the fall of Shao-la was shaking them to the core.

The daemon's influence played no small part in it. Yang always found Woadians to be a stouthearted and boisterous lot, but it was impossible to see any of that energy in their eyes. Even Ros couldn't summon forth a speech. She sat behind their flimsy cover, a few smouldering beams and overturned barrels. While Jorvis helped coordinate First Company, she'd been put in charge of their mission to guard the flanks of the 111th's vanguard. But she couldn't shake the same feeling they all had. That they'd been abandoned. The way to the Citadel was clear, yet they felt separated. Alone. Weak.

Yang didn't share their concerns, but the death of Shao-la was getting to her. The burning streets were walls that pressed down on her. Crushed her between the crumbling streets, the howling screams of civilians and the tumultuous withdrawal of the loyalist forces. White knuckles wrapped themselves around the hilt of her power sword, fingers tapping against the guard. If I just got to fight something, everything would make sense again. She shook her head. Ember Celica stared at her, in the way only weapons you've forged yourself are able to.

Is this where they die, Yang thought, watching Theni close his eyes in prayer for the tenth time in fifteen minutes.

"Hey Ros," Caolin said, his boot kicking at the filth-encrusted streets. "You gotta minute?" Ros laughed. A bitter, broken sound.

"I doubt any of us do, but sure," she said. Her fingers reached for her lho-sticks, but came up empty. "Damn. This is why we ration, folks." Yang handed her one. Her last one. "Hm? Oh thanks, Yang." She lit it by pressing the end to her cover.

"Don't thank me yet." Yang said, stooping to meet her friend face to face. She took Ros' helmet in her hands and placed it on her head, tucking away her reddish locks under two inches of munitorum-issued plasteel. "I can take everyone else being down, but you need to get your head in the game, girl." Yang huffed. "I mean, everyone's shitting their pants, and the last thing we need is Corporal Ros getting mopy too." She gave her a weak grin, bunching up her friend's cheeks in her fingers. "Well, more so than usual, huh?" Ros slapped her hand away, the corner of her lips trying to move.

"Yeah Ros. We'll be fine. I mean, I'm here, aren't I?" Caolin said. His usual bravado rang hollow, and he looked disappointed, but Yang couldn't pinpoint why.

"Whatever, man." Yang said, punching his shoulder. "We all know I'm the one with the balls around here."

"Try a giant, fancy-ass sword." Theni supplied. Yang rolled her eyes.

"Contact!" Lorl bellowed, already firing crimson beams down the smoky streets. Black and green-clad forms scuttled under the lasbolts, diving into cover. The Captain was right. The arch-enemy was trying to outflank the defenses. Twenty guardsmen stared down at least two hundred heretics.

"Careful with your cells!" Ros screamed, flicking her lasgun onto semi-auto. "No re-supply this time!" Yang wasted no time obeying, switching from her preferred firing mode (full auto), to a more conservative one. No telling how many shots they could afford to lose.

More shrouded forms spilled into the streets, brandishing twisted weapons. A bullet fell in front of Yang, sparking up as it scraped against the cobble.

"Open fire!" Someone cried. The street was choked with ozone as Squad F filled it with lasbolts, scything down the Yǒng-lo. There were no grenades left, and not a flamer in sight. Of course, now would be the best time to have both. The hiss-crackle of autogun fire hissed over their heads, whistling and pattering into the apartment building behind them.

Crawling forward, the heretics advanced, weathering the blizzard of red bolts. But as she took a moment to reload, Yang noticed their faces were no longer full of determination. Instead, they were full of fear.

"I gotta a bad feeling about this," she whispered into her sights. Her eyes were starting to ache from all the strain. Her aura rushed to assuage her pain, but it didn't do more than remove the worst of the needling. The smoke was getting to her, and all she could taste was burning.

"Tenacious!" Theni cried. "Too Emperor-damned tenacious!" His lasgun coughed its last, and he tossed it aside, drawing a recovered laspistol. "Fuck!" He cried. The wall of corpses at the end of the street edged forward, hauled by Yǒng-lo reinforcements. An impenetrable mass of primitive armor and corrupted flesh.

"Damn it!" Ros roared, ducking back behind a barrel. A bullet kicked against it, and wood-dust spat everywhere. Lorl crawled forward, Mael's rocket launcher in hand. He brought forth the last rocket in his bandolier, a yellow-banded high explosive. Ros nodded.

"Fire in the hole!" Lorl bellowed, dropping the rocket down the breeching tube. He fired, and the rolling piles of bodies exploded into vapor, exposing the bulk of the enemy forces. Yang unleashed her lasgun, cutting down as many as she could before the stack of bodies reasserted itself.

Blood painted the streets, red rivers foaming up around the gutters and flecks of steaming viscera raining down upon the Woadians. And the smell. Yang almost wished she could die of smoke inhalation.

A Woadian fell, his head split into a shattered crimson bowl by a stray bullet. Someone snatched his lasgun up before his corpse hit the road. Prayers and cries of 'Emperor!' filled the streets of Shao-la, but Yang knew He wouldn't answer. Just us down here.

"Oh… oh fuck… please Emperor, no." Caolin whimpered, shrinking away from his defilade.

"Caolin, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Ros screamed, turning to face him. "Face forward!"

"I…. there's… traitor marines. Behind them." He said. Yang tried to clamp his mouth shut, but it didn't do any good.

"Traitor marines?" Someone cried. "Oh fuck this, I'm out of here!"

"We have to try!" Ros screamed, trying to force Caolin back into his place. He shook his head, burying his face in his hands. Ros was weeping, but Yang didn't think she was aware of it.

Yang squinted past the blood, the smoke and the lasbolts that filled the streets. Sure enough, four lumbering forms shuffled forwards, just behind the remaining Yǒng-lo. She could feel the death that spilled through the gaps in their feathered blue armor.

She smiled.

"Yang?" Ros asked, hands shaking, lasgun trembling.

"Ros, I'm not gonna say this twice. Get the fuck out of here." A bolter round cut through the air, exploding into the street behind them. Curses and wails broke out from the Woadians. "Skidaddle."

"Skid-what?" Asgeg blubbered.

"Fucking run, you stupid bitch!" Yang bellowed, shaking Ros with all her fury. "I promised you I'd put you back on Woadia, and by the Emperor, I'm going to keep it this time!" She pointed towards the Citadel as the last of the Woadian lasbolts barked. "Take the Squad and find the rest of the Company! I'll take care of them." She said, nodding at the traitor marines.

"Yang, you can't possibly-" Ros cried.

"WHAT PART OF 'RUN' IS NOT CLEAR TO YOU?" Yang screamed, doing her best to channel Jorvis. Time was running out. "GO! NOW!" The red-headed Corporal obeyed, rallying the squad before fleeing. They didn't look back.

Drawing her power sword, Yang's headache evaporated. Bolt shells whined around her, but they might as well have been spit wads. She'd scared the shit out of Ros (if her face was anything to go by), but it was worth it. Against the traitor marines, the agri-worlders would get mulched. This fight was beyond them.

She activated the sword, thanking Weiss for the glowing weapon. Ember Celica hadn't been enough to deal with the monstrous fuck she'd slaughtered back on Woadia, even with her aura. Glowing weapons are always nice. Grinning, she took a deep breath. These were some of the best warriors in the galaxy. Yang always liked a challenge.

Vaulting over the shoddy cover, she plunged the point of her sword into the street. The four monstrosities stood before her, a hundred yards away. Now that the searing light of her comrades' lasbolts had stopped, she got a better look at the fallen astartes. Unlike their underlings, they were not rotting away. In fact, they resembled the shock troopers from earlier. Their armor was a dark blue, and fluttering black cloaks were pinned to their over-sized pauldrons.

"Welcome to Shao-la!" She bellowed, voice echoing down the twisting, burning street. "I am now accepting unconditional surrenders!"

A bolt shell slammed into her chest, and the back of her head smashed against the cobbling as the force of the blow threw her back. Pain filled her, and it was like throwing gasoline on a raging bonfire. Standing, she unleashed her semblance, and ghost-flame exploded into being, whipping her hair into a frenzy of molten gold. Gobbets of fire licked at her fists, and she gave the traitor marines her widest smile.

She cracked her knuckles. This is just what I needed.

A/N: Sorry to end it there! I promise you guys will enjoy what happens next! ;)

Oh, and fun fact - this chapter was originally titled "City of Tinder", but thanks to the hookup app, I realized such a title would be laughable.

Review Replies:

Reality Deviant: Huh. Now that you mention it, I see the resemblance. No one expects the little tots!

Nemris: Glad you're enjoying yourself!

DanAbnettFan1997: Hope this satisfies!

OBSERVER01: Well... these lips are sealed.

Mintskittle: Eeeeee! :D I always get excited seeing your name pop up on my review page. Again, got a huge kick out of your little snippet! There's something deeply rewarding about seeing my work apocryph-ied so to speak. As for the Shining Legion... LOOK! A DISTRACTION! *runs away in shame*

Gafgar: I dropped some hints, but in all fairness, they are VERY subtle.

snoogenz: Well... kinda? :D

doorp: Agreed, which is why she dodged out on this particular battle.

shadow2777: Hehe thanks!

The Walrus of Eden: Hahaha glad you enjoyed it!

HampsterPig: Yang as an Inquisitor? Interesting my friend. Interesting. ;)

Hypothetical Spiritual Entity: Hope this chapter kept the 'grimdark quota' full. XD

Enuncia: I'm glad you like him! He's really grown on me as well!

Yusssss: Awww! Thanks so much!

Dayanne Rockstar: Well, guess we'll just have to find out!

ZalrokCSoulDeath: Wow! Thanks so much! Welcome aboard, friend! My schedule is kinda weekly, but there's bound to be slips now and again. Also, woot! Dust Effect fan! And I don't follow Markiplier. I'm more of a Game Grumps gal. :)

Draconic Kaiser: Hahaha I got chills writing that speech out! They're always so much fun to do.

Sigurd: I mean... the comments were still accurate... before he got corrupted. Joffery was always a cunt, but he was never sneaky about it. XD

blaiseingfire: Hehehe! I always enjoying reactions like yours. :)

Everyone's responses these past few chapters has been awesome! You guys ROCK! :D