Warhammer 40k Soldier Novels & Stories

he shrugged and took the water bottle from Yara. "Thank you," he said to her and drank it whole. "I so much despise this Gora," she announced while riding up the stairs with Zaviar and Yara flanking her. "The Pakistani boys are much better than them." "Just because you couldn't have colorful eyes and blonde hair doesn't mean you should be jealous of the one having." She locomoted her body to look at the face of none other than Abraham Chauhdry. He was standing two steps behind her. His electric green eyes were contracted into narrow slits due to bright sunlight. His blonde hair shimmered in the sunshine. Minahil was too busy glaring at him

So the inner section was forbidden to venture for weaker fighters. On this planet, there were five ranks of fighters. In order of ascent: Soldiers; Animal Hunters; Thrashers; Predators; and Nightmares. Soldiers were the normal humans. They were humans that hadn’t consumed the New Type potion or the now unavailable Savior. Because they had no way to unlock their potential without these potions, their strength was limited, and they were only able to go against other normal humans and normal beasts of this world. Soldiers were very common, and they occupied a large chunk of a human settlement’s fighting force. They were usually referred to as ‘Normies’ by the New Types.

From the shadows of the primary tunnel, the first line of soldiers stepped into the dim, blue-gray twilight of the dying Spires. They wore towering, pale-white armor forged from a strange, matte metal that seemed to actively swallow the remaining light in the room. Their faces were concealed behind solid, featureless silver visors, and they carried long, heavy halberds etched with dark, pulsing runes that hissed in the cold air. Behind them, a massive, broad-shouldered figure clad in a long, wolf-pelt cloak stepped onto the platform, his heavy combat boots clicking with a slow, agonizing deliberation.

The light left the dark blue soldier's eyes as he finish his swing by dropping to the ground. "One down," he muttered and he removed his blade and looked for his next opponent, "Thousands to go." "Take heart!" Orhan called out as he kicked a dark blue soldier with his heavy boot, "at least they are humans and not sand wolves!" Metahan gave a lopsided smile as he blocked an overhand strike. "I would prefer the sand wolves, Cheiftain. At least they seem to know when they are not welcome!" ————

“Matthew?” “Save the chit-chat, we gotta find a way out of this!” A girl from Isaac’s group said. “IS there a way out of THIS?!” A boy from Isaac’s group said. He then had to block an incoming scorpion soldier’s punch. The scorpion soldiers were built like tanks. Their armour was much thicker and tougher than the worker scorpions. Their pincers were not exactly pincers but more like boxing gloves, only made of hard exoskeleton. Their stingers were also not exactly venomous since they major in punching their foes.

’ I chided myself when the thought of death and fear and failure shot its head. “Welcome Commander Eris.” A soldier walked up to us, shirtless and sweating. As my eyes darted around to inspect the ground my breath hitched in my throat. Sure enough, I knew all the tales surrounding this place and the rogue alpha, but seeing it in person was even more disheartening. A tall imposing building with thick pillars, grey in color stood ahead of me. By the side soldiers milled about, so many. Eris shoved me by the shoulder forward. He was a man with fewer words and even during our travels he had merely acknowledged me as a living being.

The soldier's body convulsed, the life draining from him until Xandros tossed him aside like a discarded rag. Thane froze, his stomach churning. Shadows began to pulse around Xandros as the blood gave it strength. A second soldier swung his sword. The blade struck the creature's arm but bounced off harmlessly. Xandros’s claws ripped upward, severing the man's arm from his shoulder. The soldier screamed, stumbling back, but Xandros didn't give him time to fall. It lunged forward, grabbing the man's head and pulling sharply until his neck stretched unnaturally. The creature snapped his head off with one powerful jerk, holding it briefly before throwing it into the crowd.

They looked pathetic—starving, hollow-eyed men wearing ragged, faded crimson cloaks draped over rusted, scavenged pieces of Starved Iron armor. But the terror in their eyes vanished the moment they saw us. It was replaced by the fanatic, unyielding zeal of a dead empire. "For the Iron Crown!" the lead soldier screamed, his voice cracking from years of breathing toxic dust. He didn't draw a sword. He reached into a padded leather pouch on his chest and pulled out a small, thick glass vial. Inside the glass, a few ounces of pitch-black, bioluminescent water swirled violently, desperate to expand.

Warriors frozen mid-leap, their silver armor turning brittle and shattering as the Syndicate soldiers moved in with heavy hydraulic hammers. "No!" I slammed my fist against the console. "They’re using our own environment against us!" From the command deck of the drill, a figure emerged. Sarah stood on the observation platform, protected by a dome of Null-Glass. She was wearing a headset, her face twisted in a smirk of pure, vengeful triumph.

He rushed to climb on the wall surface to peek outside. But before he came near to it, he was halted by one of the soldiers. The soldier was wearing steel armor and a helmet. Only his thick brows, round eyes, and bearded face were showing. "Hey Kid, what were you doing? You're not allowed here. Go home, quickly, " said the soldier while showing a worried look on his face. His hands were gripping tightly on his bow. But Yman noticed that his quiver was empty.