Cleaves Terminator in two

The mortal wound he had struck it had been nothing of the sort and despair touched Kul Gilad at the thought of his failure. The leering daemon towered over him, terrible in aspect and horrifying in the single-minded violence it represented. He hated it with every breath left to him. The black paint of his armour peeled back at its proximity and he struggled to rise. With the one arm left to him, he raised himself onto his elbow and saw why he couldn’t move. He was cut in two at the waist. His armoured legs lay across the deck from him and he lay with the looping meat coils of his packed innards slowly oozing from his scorched, bifurcated body. The daemon stood in the pool of his blood, and he tasted the chemical-rich stink of its hyper-oxygenation as it burned. It lowered its flamewreathed weapon to touch his chest, and the tip of the blade sank into the Imperial eagle mounted there in one last insult. Kul Gilad’s life could now be measured in breaths.

Priests of Mars