Point blank frag grenade

Jovian did not think. He only reacted. He crouched, positioning his armoured bulk between the auxiliary and the grenade. He released the man’s arm as his own swept out to draw him to his chest just before it detonated.
Light and sound drowned Jovian for an instant and then vanished, replaced by a lightless silence as his helm’s sensory cancellation systems recalibrated. The rubble the soldier had been sheltering behind had absorbed a portion of the blast, yet still Jovian felt it with the force of a thunder hammer against his spine. His armour’s systems lagged and flickered as his powerplant endured the brunt of the detonation.
The smoke and shrapnel cleared, and Jovian drew back from the man. The soldier’s form was twisted awkwardly in the throes of panic, his terror so great and his body so fragile that he was dead, crushed within Jovian’s embrace, while the Apothecary himself was unharmed.

Of Honour and Iron