[@Snarfulblast][@supertinyking][@Stephanie Dola][@Angel of Light]
Fighting and talking, politics occurred around this area that were of no concern to him. The Colonel had been his reference, a link to his homeworld, a representation of the law he served. Those who broke the law were sinners, heretics turned against the ultimate good represented by the God Emperor. Whilst they might think themselves to be moving of their own volition, those who turned against the God Emperor were mere puppets to the Dark Gods, who so violently opposed the order He embodied. Those who had fallen to heresy were enemies of life itself, and the only cure was death.

Of course, all that fell to naught in the face of the sin performed next to him. The abomination raised the dead, perverting nature beyond it's original purpose. Such was an act of twisted and dark power, forbidden for good reason. With this act of heresy the being revealed it's true nature, a mere pawn of darkness, an agent of evil. The Paladin reprised himself for having considered fighting by the creature's side, as the air around him became visibly hotter. Sigils on his armour glowed up, as the sky became darker.

"An abomination dares stand before the Instrument of the God Emperor. You will be purged from this life, to return to your dark masters." White flames played across the Terminator's armour, as he reached deep inside for power. When he raised his left hand, tongues of flame seemed to lick the ground around him. The undead turned, fear penetrating their fallen souls, as they realized the form of the magic that was to come. A power derived from absolute order, absolute purity. A pillar of white glowing flame twisted around Valentus, and as he splayed his fingers the full fury of the Apocalypse was unleashed on the foolish undead. "I am the Hammer, Instrument of His WILL!" Those were the last words holding back the wave of purging fire.

A blast of flame emerged, swallowing everything in the general direction he pointed. The zombies, as well as those agents they had defeated, were consumed by divine fire. Rex found himself struck by the force of a small nuclear missile, his body torn and burned as his mind and soul were torn to shreds. His very being was bathed in an inferno of pure order, a cataclysmic attack. Nothing was left untouched, as an area the size of a football field was completely engulfed. It was as if the sun had stepped down from the Heavens to have coffee on Earth.

When the flames cleared, it was as if the entire area had been cleansed of impurity. Those risen from the dead had been annihilated, not even their ashes remaining. Rex lay in the centre of the area, mere luck and stubbornness allowing him to cling to life. Those clone soldiers caught in the blast were similarly annihilated, and yet the soldiers of the Dominion appeared unharmed. They stared at their arms and legs, surprised by their continued non-vaporised-ness. The only exception would be those among them of inhuman origin, clones, or those who harboured heretical thoughts. All those things that would be considered 'impure' by the standards of the Space Marines had been purged, the only thing to survive was Rex.

The Terminator Paladin noticeably sagged within his armour, spending a moment to catch his breath. Apocalypse was the greatest spell used by the Paladins, and one was not supposed to cast it on their own. By doing so he had risked his mind and body. However, the risk had been a necessary one. He would display the power of the God Emperor to the heathens, and give them a single chance at redemption. A single window for the Emperor's Mercy to save them. He turned to the Clone forces, taking a step forward with hammer raised. Lucien found himself the target of perhaps unwanted attention. "I am the instrument of the God Emperor of Mankind. My actions are his will made manifest, and the absolute justice of the universe. You choose to face the tools of the government, to rebel against those that protect this world. Lay down your weapons and submit to the Emperor's will, or feel His wrath."

The Terminator was tired, of course. But he would keep fighting. He'd never stopped for the last 50 years. And if he were to meet his death at the hands of these heretics, he would die atop a mountain of corpses.