[System: World Generated. Target World: Warhammer 40,000 — Death Korps of Krieg deployment.]
Welter looked at the floating text message. "Fuck," he muttered.
Before he could process the sheer danger of the franchise he had just rolled, his eyesight snapped to pitch black. When he opened his eyes again, he was standing knee-deep in a muddy trench. Fellow Kriegsmen stood all around him, gasmask lenses reflecting the dreary sky as they peered over the parapet.
Suddenly, a stern Imperial Commissar yelled directly at him, "Get your head back in the fight, Kriegsman!" The Commissar grabbed Welter by his heavy greatcoat and firmly pressed a lasgun against his chest. Turning back to the rest of the squad, the officer roared, "Get ready to go over the top!"
Welter quickly readied his weapon. A second later, the sharp shrill of a trench whistle echoed down the line. The other Kriegsmen climbed out of the dirt without a moment's hesitation. Welter scrambled over the top right behind them.
The battlefield was pure chaos. The Kriegsman running directly in front of Welter was struck by a heavy stray round, his head instantly exploding into gore. Welter didn't slow down; he pushed forward through the mud, breaking into a full sprint as an autogun round whistled right past his ear.
When he reached the enemy trench line, he dove blindly over the sandbags and rolled to the side. A jagged bayonet thrust downward, embedding itself into the exact spot where he had landed a split second before. A group of Nurgle cultists swarmed the area, aiming their weapons down at him. However, Welter's sudden, chaotic entrance provided the perfect distraction.
Taking advantage of the opening, his fellow Kriegsmen broke through the line. As the Nurgle cultists whipped around to face the new threat, laser fire erupted, blowing holes through the heretics' heads. Kriegsmen began pouring into the fortification. A veteran Grenadier offered Welter a hand, pulling him up out of the mud. Welter scooped his lasgun off the trench floor and quickly wiped the thick grime off the barrel.
Following the squad deeper into the trench system, Welter engaged in a fierce, close-quarters firefight against the lingering cultists. He raised his rifle and fired a well-placed las-shot, making a Nurgle cultist's head detonate. He immediately dove into cover as a hail of autogun rounds cut down a rushing Kriegsman next to him, the bullets snapping inches from Welter's helmet. The Grenadier from earlier stepped forward, hurling a frag grenade down the corridor to wipe out the remaining pocket of resistance.
The squad traversed through the labyrinth of trenches, systematically executing cultists and capturing defensive lines until the entire network was wiped clean.
As they reached the rear boundary of the trenches, they found themselves staring directly at a massive, rotting Nurgle fortress in the distance.
"Fuck," the Commissar muttered under his breath, staring at the imposing structure. He turned on his heel and walked away to call in heavy artillery reinforcements.
Within minutes, massive Earthshaker cannons began shelling the fort, the thunderous explosions shaking the ground beneath Welter's boots. Suddenly, the fortress's colossal drawbridge slammed down into the mud. A tidal wave of Nurgle cultists, led by a terrifying handful of plague-ridden Nurgle Space Marines, began pouring out of the gates.
"Fire!" the command echoed. Welter unleashed a continuous barrage of lasgun fire alongside the rest of the trench line. The concentrated wall of firepower was so intense and overwhelming that the Nurgle vanguard was forced to break formation and retreat back inside the safety of the fortress.
The Commissar climbed back down into the trench, shouting orders. "Rest in shifts! We get reinforcements tomorrow, and then we attack that disgusting fortress!"
Welter was assigned to the very first watch. As he scanned the dark, foggy no-man's-land through his targeting scope, he spotted a bizarre sight: a completely naked woman was walking slowly toward their trench.
A deep sense of suspicion flared in Welter's chest. "Halt!" he commanded, keeping his rifle trained on her. Turning to a nearby soldier, he barked, "You, go get the Commissar."
The woman stopped in her tracks. The soldier ran down the trench line, and a moment later, the loud, impatient crack of a bolt pistol signaled the Commissar's approach. The officer stormed up to Welter's position, his face dark with fury. "This better be important."
Welter nodded firmly and pointed a gloved finger out toward the lone figure. "She may be a daemon of Slaanesh."
The Commissar's eyes narrowed, and he instantly raised his heavy bolt pistol, pointing the barrel straight at Welter's head.
"Wait, sir!" Welter countered quickly, refusing to flinch. "I thought it was important because we would have two different kinds of daemons to deal with if this woman turns out to be a servant of Slaanesh!"
The Commissar stared at him for a tense second before slowly lowering the bolt pistol. "Go out there and deal with her yourself, since you decided to wake me up."
Welter nodded. He climbed over the trench wall and walked out into the bleak, muddy expanse. As he approached the woman, she lunged forward, clinging tightly to his heavy coat. She leaned in close, whispering seductively into his ear, "Good human... take me to trench."
Welter didn't hesitate. He forcefully shoved the woman down into the mud, raised his lasgun, and shot her squarely in the head. "Good human? We don't say that to each other, daemon."
Welter turned around to walk back to his lines, but the sound of high-pitched, echoing feminine laughter made him freeze. Behind him, the woman's corpse stood back up. Her pale skin peeled away, shifting into an unnatural shade of vibrant pink and purple. A wicked, organic blade tore out of her forearm.
In a terrifying blur of speed, she vanished and reappeared directly behind Welter. The awake Kriegsmen in the trench opened fire immediately, but they were too late. The daemon's arm-blade thrust forward, skewering Welter cleanly through his lung.
"Ugh, f-..." Welter choked out.
The blade was brutally ripped out of his chest.
Welter collapsed into the mud, gasping frantically as his punctured lung filled with fluid and blood poured profusely from the wound. He forced himself to turn around, catching sight of the Grenadier's extra grenade pack resting on the ground.
Summoning every single ounce of strength left in his dying body, Welter grabbed the pack, pulled the pin on a grenade, and lunged forward, locking the daemon in a fierce, unbreakable embrace.
"Only in death does duty end!" Welter managed to scream at the top of his lungs.
An instant later, the pack detonated. The blast tore through the daemon, exploding both of them into a cloud of fire and gore. Then, everything went dead silent, and Welter's vision went entirely dark.
───
[System: You have died. Returning back to your home world.]
[System Note: This world is categorized as a World of Importance. You will be permitted to re-enter this universe once the cooldown has concluded.]
[Cooldown: 1 Day.]