The hyperspace pocket dimension smelled of absolutely nothing. For Udzat, this gap between the dimensions was familiar terrain. For two weeks, he had stood motionless in this blackness, his synoptic disintegrator at the ready. He was waiting.

Through the green, flickering viewing window into reality, he observed his target: Lord-Commander Jakob von Braun.

The Imperial commander stood on the balcony of his palatial command bunker. He was a tall, gaunt man with an affected moustache and a powerful aquiline nose, so heavily laden with golden medals, a thick fur cloak, and an absurd bicorn dress hat that he could barely move. Von Braun was delivering a pompous speech to ten thousand soldiers. He spoke of the “invincibility of the human spirit” while punching holes in the air with his finger.

Udzat calibrated his targeting optics. A single shot from his synoptic disintegrator would turn the Lord-Commander’s brain into molecular dust. Clean. Efficient. A fatal blow to Imperial morale.

Just as Udzat was about to step out of the pocket universe, his internal communication network crackled.

‘Udzat,’ rasped the rusty, squeaking voice of the commanding Deathmark, Qentep. ‘Status report.’

‘Target acquired, Lord Qentep,’ Udzat replied emotionlessly, never taking his eye from the sight. ‘The Imperial Lord-Commander will cease to exist in three seconds.’

‘Stop,’ Qentep commanded. A digital sigh crackled over the line. ‘The Overlord has seen the live feed from your optics. He finds a simple hole in the head… boring. He demands a demonstration of our technological superiority. It must be a warning. Something to shatter the primitive minds of the flesh-sacks.’

Udzat lowered his weapon. ‘The Overlord wishes for me not to kill the Lord-Commander, then?’

‘Oh, do kill him,’ Qentep hissed. ‘But utilise your disintegrator’s transdimensional matrix. Be creative.’

Udzat stared through the sight. He analysed the Lord-Commander’s pose. Von Braun was currently spouting, ‘Nothing can shake the foundation of our loyalty. The Emperor protects,’ while proudly thrusting out his chest.

If machines could laugh, it would have been this sound. A tiny, mechanical click echoed inside Udzat’s metallic skull. He altered the frequency of the energy beam.

Udzat stepped out of the pocket universe and pulled the trigger.

The shot was silent. The barrel of the rifle fired no physical impulse, but tore a microscopic rift in the fabric of the universe. A green-glowing beam of transdimensional energy cut through the dimensions and overlaid reality. Rather than burning or smashing matter, the matrix shifted the atomic bonds within the target area to an offset frequency. Flesh, bone, and ornate fabric were not vaporised – they were instantly decoupled and cleanly banished into the infinite void between dimensions, while the quantum boundaries of the remaining tissue were sealed on a molecular level.

The result was mathematical perfection. The transdimensional field of the synoptic disintegrator cut an exactly circular hole, thirty centimetres in diameter, straight through the middle of the Lord-Commander – precisely where his chest and his countless golden medals had been.

The hole was cut so cleanly that the spine, organs, and clothing at the edge were instantaneously sealed at a molecular level. There was no blood. No wound. Simply a perfectly circular, empty hole, through which the Lord-Commander’s bodyguards could be seen.

Jakob von Braun froze. He looked down at himself. He blinked. Through his own body, he could see the flagpole behind him, from which the banner bearing the double-headed Imperial Eagle flew.

A paralysing silence hung over the square below. Ten thousand soldiers stared with open mouths at the no longer existing chest of their Lord-Commander.

‘W-What?’ von Braun stammered. His voice sounded strangely hollow, lacking the resonance chamber of his torso.

He took a step forward and lost his balance, because he suddenly had a completely different centre of gravity, and tumbled headfirst over the railing. He plummeted ten metres down into the Astra Militarum honour guard, where the guardsmen attempted to catch him, but were knocked over like bowling pins. Udzat stepped back into the pocket dimension.

Pure chaos instantly erupted across the square. The soldiers shrieked in absolute, hysterical confusion. A preacher of the Ecclesiarchy fell to his knees and prayed loudly to the God-Emperor, while the Commissars attempted to shoot anyone who hysterically sniggered.

‘Target eliminated,’ Udzat reported. ‘The Lord-Commander has perished due to… insufficient structural integrity.’

‘Excellent,’ Qentep replied, the metallic clicking of applause audible in the background. ‘The Overlord is highly amused. Return to base.’

Udzat looked once more through the window at the chaos now reigning below. Once again, a click echoed within his chest.

Who said mathematics couldn’t be fun?