Chapter 31: Echoes of Ruin
POV:Mr Jacobs
The crater stretched before me, a gaping wound upon the earth, a testament to the devastation wrought here. The ten men I had brought with me stood in stunned silence, gazing at the ruins below. Their expressions mirrored the awe I once felt in my younger years, witnessing the colossal destruction left in the wake of Astartes warfare—hulking masses of flesh and steel clashing in battles that reshaped worlds.
I exhaled sharply, eyes scanning the abyss. "By the Emperor... who could have done this?"
Yet my contemplation was short-lived as I spotted movement below. Goss struggled to carry Leon towards the steep incline of the crater, his form burdened under the younger warrior's weight. His voice cut through our reverie, sharp and impatient.
"Would you grox-headed bastards stop gawking and help me carry Leon!?"
A weary chuckle escaped me at the exasperation in his tone. Turning back to my squad, I barked out orders. "Get the stretcher and the ropes, now!"
My men snapped into action, retrieving the necessary gear and assembling a makeshift stretcher with practiced efficiency. I signaled for Goss to lay Leon down, securing him tightly before giving the order to haul him up. Even with eleven of us pulling, the weight was staggering.
**Throne, why is he so heavy?**
Muscles strained, breath grew ragged, and sweat slicked our brows as we fought against Leon's inexplicable mass. After what felt like an eternity, we finally dragged him to the surface. Goss climbed up shortly after, his expression weary but resolute. As I sat down to catch my breath, I turned to him.
"Goss, what in the warp happened down there? And why were you both at the bottom of that pit?"
He hesitated, his gaze flickering to Leon before muttering, "I'll explain later, boss. But we need to leave—now. This much noise and destruction is bound to draw the attention of those xeno-filth."
His words were laced with caution, his eyes scanning the horizon with a soldier's paranoia. I gave a sharp nod, turning to my squad.
"Get the cart, load Leon onto it. Once we're done securing the women, we move out."
The men obeyed swiftly, placing Leon in the cart before heading toward the smoldering remains of the Gun Rats' base. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burning structures and the iron tang of blood. I watched as medicae personnel tended to the pregnant women Goss had rescued, their hands moving with practiced urgency.
I exhaled, rubbing a hand down my face before calling out, "Listen up! Gather anything of value—ammo, supplies, weapons. Get the women onto the carts as well; they won't last long on foot in their condition. Understood?"
A chorus of affirmatives followed before my men dispersed to loot what remained. Goss, predictably, made a beeline for anything remotely related to traps and fortifications, his eyes gleaming with unchecked enthusiasm. I sighed, shaking my head at his obsession before making my way to the medicae tent.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of antiseptics and damp bandages. Merah sat by a basin, wringing out blood-soaked cloth with steady hands. She glanced up at my approach, offering a small nod.
"Morning, boss."
I returned the greeting with a grunt, my attention shifting to the cot beside her. Varn lay there, swathed in bandages, his left leg nothing more than a severed stump wrapped in gauze. Guilt clawed at my insides, the weight of command pressing heavy on my shoulders. My hands curled into fists as I stared down at the wounded soldier.
Merah, ever perceptive, spoke without looking up. "He'll live, boss. The leg's gone, but Goss could rig up a prosthetic. He's good at that sort of thing."
I let out a slow breath. "But what if I don't want him going on missions anymore?"
She finally turned to me, brows furrowing. "Varn's not the type to sit idle, sir. He's a soldier. He'd rather fight and die than waste away in uselessness."
I exhaled sharply, my voice dropping. "He's still young. The same age as Leon. But Leon... he's different. He's meant for something greater. The Emperor watches over him. Varn, though—he's just a man. A good one, but mortal. If he keeps going out there, he'll die. And I don't know if I can accept that."
Silence hung between us before Merah placed a firm hand on my shoulder. "Boss, none of us want to be burdens. We fight because we believe in this cause. Let us do our part—have faith."
I didn't respond, merely standing there, head bowed, as the weight of leadership settled once more upon me.