WebNovels

Chapter 52 - CAMPAIGN

"Oh?" Blazkowicz raised an eyebrow, a glint in his eye. "Is she ready?"

Gloriana-class Battleships, the most powerful mass-produced battleships in the Imperium at this stage, were all unique.

The Emperor ordered them to be built on Mars or other Forge Worlds, incorporating extensive handcraftsmanship. Each one was a masterpiece, imbued with the painstaking efforts of master artisans.

When Russ returned, the Emperor bestowed upon him a Gloriana-class Battleship as his Primarch's flagship.

The Emperor also granted Blazkowicz one, which was currently accompanying the Void Wanderer to the Nur Stars for some modifications and upgrades.

"Thanks to the efforts of the Legion and those red-robed ones, she was fully prepared not long ago," Russ said, puffing out his chest with great pride when he mentioned his sons,

and not the eccentric members of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

"She's waiting for us there."

Russ pointed to space, and Blazkowicz looked in the direction of his finger, at a massive ship docked in the Lion's Gate Spaceport.

A Primarch's eyesight could naturally discern a wolf's head silhouette painted on her aft-quarter armor plate.

"The Hrafnkel," Russ said, hands on his hips, looking up at the Glory Queen-class Battleship, proudly explaining the origin of her name: "From Fenrisian mythology, the name of a great king."

"She deserves such a glorious, symbolic name," Blazkowicz nodded in agreement.

Gloriana-class Battleships, though mass-produced, were each unique, one-of-a-kind entities.

They were born noble, partnered with the Imperium's most powerful Primarchs, and worthy of being named after heroes and kings.

"Board, my brother, she will surely surprise you."

Russ' rugged face held a mysterious smile as he invited Blazkowicz to board his flagship, wanting to give his brother a small surprise.

"Let's go, I want to see the surprise you've prepared."

"I'm a little impatient." Blazkowicz naturally wouldn't refuse his brother's good intentions, actively taking Russ' arm, and with a bit of 'force,' pulling him towards the Spaceport.

Russ didn't expect Blazkowicz to be so enthusiastic; it was beyond his expectations. Surprised, he turned and roared to his Legionnaires behind him, "Board the ship, assemble!"

The Space Wolves exchanged glances, watching their Gene-Father being 'dragged' away by his brother.

The Hrafnkel. Due to the combat orders, she was ready for battle.

During the final tense calibrations, Blazkowicz and Russ, the two sons of the Emperor, boarded the battleship.

Walking down the corridors specially prepared for Primarchs, the serfs, Mortals, and Space Marines along the way all knelt, welcoming the two great Primarchs.

Compared to other warships, the Gloriana Queen's corridors and cabins were much wider, and the living conditions significantly better.

In his leisure, Blazkowicz had inspected returning warships and found that the living conditions for Mortals inside were extremely poor, with families living in cramped compartments.

There was competition between families, even fierce struggles over a single switch or valve.

"The environment here doesn't compare to your realm," Russ was perceptive; he naturally noticed the pity in his brother's eyes as he looked at the kneeling crewmen: "Machines are indeed convenient, but the Imperium cannot endure a second rebellion."

As a Primarch, Russ' wisdom was also extraordinary.

He had learned about Blazkowicz's origins from the Emperor and knew that the realm Blazkowicz governed was an enlightened, progressive utopia.

Humans and machines coexisted harmoniously; the people under his rule were free from hunger, and material needs were no longer the primary focus.

There, people were strong due to their martial spirit, revered honor, understood right from wrong, and it was a cradle for powerful warriors.

Russ admired his brother's magnanimity from the bottom of his heart, his broad mind accommodating machines and also encompassing the Imperium.

He believed Blazkowicz was a man of both might and wisdom—powerful in strength, yet with a higher spiritual realm.

He could personally establish the Nur Stars, such a hopeful, brilliant realm, and also tolerate the darkness and filth of the Imperium.

He never showed his pity for Mortals on the surface.

He clearly knew that the way to show compassion was not to pity an individual or a world, but to pull humanity out of the quagmire of war.

Because of this, Russ' evaluation of Blazkowicz in his heart had always been higher than that of Horus.

Both were Primarchs with leadership abilities, but Blazkowicz was far more capable than that bald-headed brute who was a bit of a 'daddy's boy.'

At least, that's what Russ thought.

"I know," Blazkowicz smiled easily, walking abreast with Russ towards what he called the palace of surprises.

His gaze left the serfs and Mortals; he naturally understood Russ' meaning.

The Emperor could have forcefully demanded Blazkowicz's realm be incorporated into the Imperium and then granted high autonomy, but he gave the Nur Stars equal status with the Imperium.

The purpose was simple: to completely isolate Argent Nur and the Imperium, allowing the two empires to develop in parallel.

Argent Nur's size was small, able to accommodate intelligent machines; the Imperium's size was too vast, with no room for artificial intelligence.

An independent Argent Nur was a compromise to Blazkowicz and also a protection for the remaining machines.

It provided intelligent machines with a clear place to exist, avoiding interference from the Adeptus Mechanicus and preventing a second Machine Rebellion.

With Argent Nur's size, even if its territory expanded tenfold, the Imperium could still crush them if machines rebelled.

As for the Adeptus Mechanicus and the Imperium's strict prohibition of artificial intelligence?

It's the Nur Stars researching intelligent machines; what does that have to do with our Imperium?

The Adeptus Mechanicus shouldn't come to the Imperium to reason; go to the Nur Stars, our relationship is equal.

The two Primarchs walked along, occasionally telling jokes to lighten the serious atmosphere.

"This is it," Russ placed his hands on the adamantium door, pushing it open with his immense strength.

Blazkowicz was equally expectant, wanting to see what his brother's so-called surprise looked like.

The door gradually opened, and the scene inside was indeed extraordinary, making Blazkowicz's eyes light up, as if he had arrived on Fenris.

The hall's layout was no different from the banquet halls on Fenris, only scaled up considerably.

The floor was adorned with various fur rugs, the dome inlaid with the spine and ribs of a giant beast, and the palace walls were carved with symbols of Fenrisian culture.

Several braziers burned with oil made from animal fat, casting a dim but warm light in the hall, strongly Fenrisian in style.

He couldn't help but praise, "It's really good, much more fitting than cold steel."

"My Lord, you've arrived!"

The Fenrisians enthusiastically greeted him, kneeling before Blazkowicz to show him the highest respect.

"No need for formalities," Blazkowicz sat on a fur rug, feeling at ease here.

Looking at the Fenrisians with their thick, braided hair, he kindly asked them, "Are you still accustomed to Terra's climate?"

"It's boiling! I almost want to shave my head—" The person asked sat beside him, looking displeased: "And those people,

telling us to follow all sorts of rules, it's just annoying."

Russ also sat cross-legged, asking the Fenrisians to prepare mead; he wanted to drink and chat.

"What do you think of this battle?" Russ shed his disguise; his eyes were sharp, and his large hand gently tapped the table.

Blazkowicz also became serious; he understood the dangers of this battle.

"Psychic," he took out the projection device again, placing it on the table, continuously playing intelligence on the Psychneueins.

"The alien race has powerful physiques; they have thick scales that can withstand bolter fire, but these are not the main point."

"Psychic power is the key!" Blazkowicz touched the projection, revealing the most crucial information, his expression serious, his narrowed eyes showing disgust: "Eerie supernatural power."

"Witchcraft," Russ agreed deeply, his face showing similar disgust: "Witches are a bunch of charlatans—"

He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, remembering his golden-glowing father, and changed his wording: "—mysterious beings."

Russ let out a long breath, almost cursing himself.

Although he didn't use psychic powers, he had strong psychic talent and could even perform some simple minor spells.

Blazkowicz nodded in deep agreement; no one knew the dangers of psychic powers more than him.

Masters who dabbled in psychic powers would eventually find Chaos waiting to devour their souls.

Blazkowicz had only ever seen one person use psychic powers without Chaos corruption—the Emperor.

The two remained silent, watching the projection continuously display recorded intelligence about the Psychneueins.

The more they watched, the deeper the two Primarchs' brows furrowed; the aliens, named "Psychneueins" by the Imperial vanguard, were indeed a bit troublesome.

Their species had clear divisions of labor and a high degree of social organization.

The warrior caste stood three meters tall, with extremely high scale defense, and their weapons could easily cleave through Space Marine ceramite armor, with individual strength far exceeding that of a Space Marine.

The resonant field formed by their scales allowed the Psychneueins to move through the earth like fish, even easily burrowing through human defensive fortifications.

The alien warriors possess psychic abilities, enhancing their physical strength while also creating terrifying psychic illusions that cause Mortal soldiers to lose their combat effectiveness in fear.

High-ranking shamans can calmly wield psychic power and use various spells.

The Fifth Legion assessed that the Psychneueins have extremely high war potential, with over a million mature warriors in their entire race, hundreds of millions of lower-tier servant soldiers, and a large number of shamanic sorcerers.

They occupy eighteen dense star systems, with their sphere of influence spanning fifty light-years.

The only thing restricting their expansion is their relatively immature navigation technology, which relies on reverse-engineering human-leftover technology for interstellar travel.

"How should we fight?" Russ licked his fangs, looking at his brother.

Even without systematic war education, he was adept at planning combat strategies due to his innate war instincts.

He asked Blazkowicz if he, the King who had received systematic military training, was willing to offer advice.

"You fight your way, I'll fight mine."

Blazkowicz stated his war strategy without hesitation: "Find their core world. I will lead the Warhounds to the main world,

to draw the aliens back to rescue it."

"You hunt on the periphery, driving them to contract their defenses, using the mobility of the Imperial fleet to cut off the reinforcing fleets and resolve the battle in space."

"So be it," Russ thumped his chest in agreement, giving his approval to the overall strategy set by Blazkowicz.

He also knew that the core of his brother's strategy was to save the tens of billions of humans enslaved in over a dozen star systems.

Attract the main forces to return to defense, the wolves gradually dismantle the poorly defended outer worlds, resolve the enemy fleet in the void, eliminate the enemy's living forces, and then, when the time is ripe, destroy the alien's throne world, completely eradicating the entire species.

"I'm counting on you!" Blazkowicz earnestly entrusted Russ. He would descend into the alien core for a prolonged tug-of-war,

and the decisive factor behind him would be Russ' Space Wolves, responsible for annihilating all reinforcing forces.

"I will be your most reliable support!" Russ knew the weight of his responsibility; his brother had entrusted everything to him.

"To victory!" Russ raised his goblet.

The Fenrisians presented mead, and Blazkowicz and Russ drank it, finalizing the battle details.

The Gloriana-class Battleship trembled with the roar of its Warp engines. The Hrafnkel officially set sail, departing from the Sol System to the Ultima Orientis Sector, where the aliens were rampant.

In the Ultima Orientis Sector, the Twelfth Legion's forces were gathering. A powerful force was assembling at the rendezvous point, preparing to deliver a powerful blow to the aliens. "Karn, look!" The current Legion Master of the Twelfth Legion, through the Gloriana Queen's viewport, witnessed Imperial ships tearing through the Warp veil, pouring into the real universe like an iron torrent.

Legion Master Locke shook his head with a sigh; the scale of this war seemed somewhat vast.

The Imperium had summoned the Warhounds, as well as warriors from the Fourth, Seventh, and Fifteenth Legions, to be commanded by a great Primarch.

Furthermore, all fleets and warriors of the Sixth Legion were continuously arriving to greet their Primarch.

Two main Legions, and two Primarchs in command.

What an honor it was for several Space Marine Legions to dispatch personnel to assist the two Primarchs in combat!

And what trust it was for the Emperor to allow the bravest Warhounds to participate in such a glorious war!

Captain Karn of the Eighth Assault Company also saw the never-fading Warp light and expressed deep emotion: "The scale of this war far exceeds our imagination."

Since embarking on the Great Crusade, Karn had never seen a fleet of this size, with over a hundred thousand Space Marines assembled.

He anticipated the glory of conquest but also worried that the intensity of the war would cause heavy casualties among the Warhounds, who specialized in assault.

The Legion was not commanded by their Gene-Father, but by another Primarch.

Karn never feared death; dying in battle was a warrior's best end. His concern was how the Warhounds would be used.

It was like two people fighting, and the Warhounds were weapons in the Primarch's hands.

Would he use skill to kill his opponent, or brute force, chipping the weapon's blade?

"How will the Primarch use us?" Karn openly expressed his concern. The man before him was the Legion Master, who loved the Legion more than anyone.

"I don't know—" Locke shook his head, feeling a sense of bewilderment for the first time regarding the Legion's fate.

The Legion's fate was no longer in the Legion's hands, but in the palm of a Primarch.

The two resolute tough men gradually fell silent, contemplating the Legion's future, watching the brilliant star river outside the window and the continuously arriving fleets.

"What kind of person is the Primarch of the Twenty-First Legion?"

Karn suddenly asked, his voice, tempered by war, carrying a curious clarity.

"I don't know either," Legion Master Locke shook his head again. He had too many uncertainties today: "I heard from brothers from Terra that the Emperor personally prepared an unprecedented ceremony to welcome his return."

"Then he must be an extraordinary being." Karn nodded repeatedly, his eyes filled with anticipation: "Perhaps our Gene-Father will also be warmly welcomed upon his return."

Locke smiled, looking at the vast void, also with a face full of expectation.

"They've arrived," a hint of unnaturalness flashed across the Legion Master's face as he saw the discord in the void: "The Fifteenth Legion."

Astropathic messages had spread throughout the combat Legions, so they already knew which Legions would come, but seeing them in person, it was inevitable for their hearts to stir.

The Fifteenth Legion was small in number and always acted mysteriously. Rumors claimed that the gene-seed of their cousins was unstable, often resulting in some flesh mutations.

Such negative rumors caused many Space Marine Legions to maintain a certain distance from them.

Time passed quickly, the assembling fleet gradually thinned, and the star system slowly returned to calm. The vast majority of the fleet hovered tightly in the void, filling the entire star system.

However, the Space Marines waiting were not calm; instead, as time passed, their anticipation grew stronger. When the Warp rift opened, and the Gloriana-class returned to the real universe, proudly displaying her form, intense cheers erupted in the communication channels.

Everyone knew that two great Primarchs, two of the Emperor's sons, had arrived in the starry sky.

"Hail, great Primarchs!"

The dense communication channels echoed with the humble voices of warriors and captains, who, with subservient tones, welcomed the arrival of the two noble beings. "Twelfth Legion flagship, prepare to receive the Primarchs."

Without any return greeting, the Primarchs calmly accepted the humility from the Mortals; their appearance was a symbol of authority.

As the teleportation light flashed, everyone knelt in the bridge of the War Hounds Legion's Gloriana Queen flagship.

"Rise."

His voice was steady and deep, gentle yet full of power; no one dared to disobey him.

When the Legion warriors rose, they saw the Primarch for the first time, so great and powerful.

The Emperor's son's body was full of strength, his face heroic and extraordinary, and he sat on the throne, proclaiming his authority.

He wore a simple kilt-armor around his waist, battle-boots on his feet, with his thighs and upper body exposed. Shoulder pads were fastened to his waist with crossed leather straps, and he wore a red cloak.

At the first sight of him, some even knelt again, not daring to desecrate the Primarch's glorious heroism.

He was accompanied by thirty warriors of the Twenty-First Legion, who stood in two lines, guarding the throne. The Primarch, like a great king, looked down upon the humble subjects below.

"Report!" Blazkowicz's lips parted slightly, wanting to know if the warriors he requested were in position.

"Fourth Legion — Phrixus, salutes the Primarch, bringing two thousand Legion warriors for you."

"Seventh Legion — Appius, salutes the Primarch, bringing two thousand Legion warriors for you."

"Fifteenth Legion — Ahriman, salutes the Primarch, bringing one hundred Legion warriors for you."

"War Hounds Legion — Locke, salutes the Primarch. The War Hounds Legion awaits your command."

Blazkowicz nodded, his gaze sweeping over the Legion representatives. These resolute warriors puffed out their chests, accepting the Primarch's scrutiny.

To ensure nothing went wrong, Blazkowicz had called upon the siege engineers of the Fourth Legion, the defenders of the Seventh Legion, and the psychic warriors of the Fifteenth Legion.

His gaze fell upon the red-robed Mechanicus adept, whose sharp eyes made him tremble with fear, immediately kneeling again before the Primarch: "Two Titan Legions await your command."

"Six hundred thousand Solar Auxiliary Army await your command."

The Mortal officer, wearing a high velvet hat, also knelt and swore allegiance, reporting to the Primarch that the army was ready.

"All Warhound warships, one Titan Legion, and the Mortal Auxiliary Army will follow me. Other Legions will concentrate their warriors on the capital ships and follow, and the vacated warships and other vessels will be commanded by Russ."

With a simple sentence, he divided the military resources, separating the void warships and landing craft, giving clear allocations.

"Russ, the void fleet is yours!"

Blazkowicz informed him via the communicator, then said to the various Legion leaders on the bridge: "Move quickly! We must depart ahead of schedule!"

"You just watch, my brother!"

Russ' rough and wild voice came through the comms channel. He was also rapidly issuing orders, and the Space Wolves' fleet was gathering around the Hrafnkel.

Under Blazkowicz's swift command, the warriors of the supporting Legions immediately sprang into action, quickly assembling on the flagship and transferring command of the excess warships to Russ.

"Where are the tongues?"

Facing the Primarch's gaze, Locke immediately responded, "Bringing them up now!"

Even before the Primarch arrived, the Warhounds, following Astropathic directives, had captured Psychneueins alive on a frontier world for interrogation.

He suddenly knelt, along with the warriors of the War Hounds Legion: "I am very sorry—Lord, the Legion interrogators couldn't extract any intelligence."

Locke's voice was full of frustration. The War Hounds Legion had failed the Primarch's expectations: "They would rather die than surrender, rather endure torture to death than utter a single word."

"That is not your fault. The galaxy is full of stubborn individuals who would rather die than yield."

Blazkowicz did not blame the War Hounds Legion Master. It was a trivial matter; he had many ways to make Xenos speak.

Locke and Khârn breathed a sigh of relief. The Primarch's leniency far exceeded their expectations; the Warhounds had even prepared to accept punishment.

"You weren't entirely without gain. At least you let us know that the Xenos races have deep bonds and won't easily betray their own kind, didn't you?"

The Primarch, with a benevolent smile and an extremely serious tone, said to the Warhounds, "We can make a big deal out of this, can't we?"

The leaders of the various Legions on the bridge marveled at the Primarch's generous spirit.

Their bodies beneath their power armor trembled slightly. The great being's unintentional encouragement deeply moved the Legion warriors.

"Lord," Locke, in his excitement, was about to kneel again, but Blazkowicz stopped him with a raised hand: "No need for that. Save your energy for the battlefield."

"We will never fail your expectations!" The Warhounds' warriors pounded their chest plates, making a resounding thud. Their resolve was firm and powerful.

As they spoke, a steel cage was carried up by Legion soldiers, holding a yellowish Psychneuein.

Its claws scraped against the steel, making a "hissing" sound. Its large vertical pupils constantly scanned its surroundings, and it kept flicking out its tongue to test the air.

Blazkowicz saw the full appearance of the Xenos: a three-meter-tall body, capable of walking on two legs like a human, with short, powerful lower limbs and strong, slender upper limbs with four fingers for gripping weapons.

The Psychneuein's body was strong and powerful, protected by thick, bony scales, and its back featured prominent, brightly colored dorsal fins.

"Human—" Its cold face showed disdain, saliva constantly dripping from its sharp mouth, as it spoke in halting human language: "I will say nothing."

Having long enslaved humans, the creature naturally knew some human language. It remained arrogant even in its cage.

Its eyes reflected the stern array of the Gothic bridge. It saw the solemnly standing humans and the giant figure on the throne.

The creature's vertical pupils contracted sharply; it didn't even dare to look directly at the giant, continuing to utter syllables in its broken language: "Will not—yield to you!"

"You!"

Khârn stepped forward, preparing to reprimand the captive Psychneuein, but saw the Primarch raise his hand.

"Do not get angry with a beast. Destroy their culture, eliminate their race, and completely erase them from the memory of the universe." Blazkowicz spoke the judgment of a race in calm language, as if describing a trivial matter.

The Psychneuein struggled in its cage. It had, of course, understood the humans' plans for its race.

"Ahriman, read its memory and obtain the location of the Xenos homeworld."

"Yes, Lord."

Ahriman, from the Fifteenth Legion, responded solemnly to the Primarch, walked in front of the Psychneuein, and closed his eyes.

As he acted, the superhuman soldiers on the bridge clearly felt an invisible force connect with the Psychneuein.

The Xenos' body twitched. It trembled under the psychic invasion, but it curled into a ball, instinctively adopting a defensive posture.

Ahriman, in his red armor, withdrew his psychic power and said somewhat hesitantly to the Primarch: "Lord, their race has a psychic barrier. Forcing an invasion will lead to its death."

"Cough~ cough~ Human—powerless." The Xenos was still mocking, laughing at humanity's helplessness.

"So, it just needs to voluntarily lower its mental defenses?" Blazkowicz nodded slightly, asking Ahriman calmly, without blaming him.

"Yes, Lord." Ahriman was somewhat flustered but still nodded heavily.

"Beast." Blazkowicz sat on the warship's throne, calling out to the trapped creature in the cage: "Raise your lowly head and face me."

The Psychneuein felt the scorn. It angrily raised its head, looking at the tall human on the dais.

"Hmph!" Blazkowicz snorted coldly. His gaze met the Xenos' instantly, and the suppressed killing intent in his mind pierced directly into the Psychneuein through his eyes.

All the Mortals on the bridge knelt, sweat pouring down like rain.

The Space Marines did not blame them. The killing intent and fury released by the Primarch in an instant made their two hearts beat erratically.

The Psychneuein was enveloped in boundless rage. The killing intent instantly pierced its brain's defenses. It suddenly reared up and fell backward, its genitals ejecting a yellow liquid from fright.

It curled up in a ball, clutching its tail, shrinking into a tight mass in the cage, its scales rubbing together uneasily.

The Primarch's majesty swept through the bridge like a storm.

Ahriman seized the opportunity, immediately employing psychic invasion to gather intelligence on the Xenos race.

"Lord, I know everything."

After a few breaths, Ahriman bowed to the Primarch, his power armor's servo-system whining from overload.

While sifting through the creature's memories, he had glimpsed a primal horror, and the secretion of sweat triggered the power armor's purification alarm.

Ahriman walked to the bridge's command console. After some operations, he quickly pinpointed the Xenos homeworld among the stars.

"Notify the fleet to proceed to the Xenos homeworld."

Blazkowicz immediately gave the order. His forces set off, like a sharp dagger, stabbing directly towards the Xenos homeworld.

"Compile the rest of the intelligence into a written report; I want to review it at any time."

"Understood, Lord."

"Russ, I'm taking the lead." Blazkowicz opened the holographic image to bid farewell to his brother. His accompanying fleet was entering the Warp.

"Be careful!" Russ reminded him very seriously. He knew his brother's tactic was a crazy move to directly descend upon the Xenos homeworld: "The Space Wolves' fleet will blockade space."

Blazkowicz nodded, then closed the communication. The ships entered the Warp for a brief system jump.

Ultima Orientis Sector—Salts System. This is what the Psychneueins called this high-density star system.

Ahriman quickly organized the intelligence and displayed it on data-slates for the fleet to read.

When the War Hounds Legion's Gloriana Queen flagship exited the Warp and entered real space, the Salts main star was below.

The preceding fleet had already spread out into the system, continuously scanning the entire system to gather the intelligence the Primarch needed.

The Xenos homeworld, a temperate jungle world, was lush with greenery.

The fleet's augurs quickly completed their scans and then compiled and transmitted the data, bringing the entire system to life on the holographic command display.

"Warships, attack them. Drive away the Xenos warships, and transmit the news of our arrival to their society."

Seeing the images of the star system, Blazkowicz quickly made a decision, ordering the fleet to drive away the Xenos warships from their star system.

To avoid presenting overwhelming superiority, Blazkowicz specifically dispatched destroyers to attack the xenos' rock-like warships. In the jungles of Salts, Xenos Hive Cities stood, with huge reactor plumes rising, turning into vapor that nourished the dense forest.

Compared to the Imperium's unrestrained development, the Xenos seemed to understand harmonious coexistence.

There were a total of six Xenos Hive Cities. The augurs also discovered a large number of human slaves in the Hive Cities.

"Here, use plasma bombardment to clear the surrounding jungle."

Blazkowicz selected the city to attack. It was not far from the Xenos capital, deep within a dense jungle. After clearing the jungle, it would be an exposed plain with no defenses.

The Primarch's will was quickly relayed. A destroyer adjusted its posture, its broadside macro-cannons firing continuously.

The Xenos city quickly raised a psychic shield to defend against the fleet's attack from space.

Plasma clusters crashed down, piercing the green jungle city, like a doomsday judgment from the heavens.

Facing the purple psychic shield, the macro-cannons attacked relentlessly, engulfing the Xenos city in scorching plasma.

Blazkowicz knew it was futile. The xenos' psychic talent was strong. When they gathered, the resulting psychic resonance could stack, and the city's psychic shield was a manifestation of their convergence.

When the destroyer ceased its bombardment, the green jungle Hive City still stood. The surrounding jungle had been vaporized, leaving a vitrified crystalline desert.

"Are the Warhounds warriors ready?"

The Primarch inquired through the comms channel. His voice was as calm as water, a seemingly ordinary question yet carrying an inexplicable majesty.

"We are always ready to fight for you!"

Locke's suppressed roar echoed back through the comms channel. They had already retreated from the bridge and entered the drop pods, awaiting orders.

"Thirty thousand Warhounds, divided into three waves, will conduct precision orbital drops to seize the city's outer facilities."

"The Titan Legion will drop according to my designated positions, acting as mobile fire platforms to cover the Space Marines' advance."

"Orbital drop initiated!"

With the Primarch's command, the fleet's warships aligned their undersides with the Xenos homeworld. The first wave of 2,500 drop pods, under the cover of fleet firepower, rained down like a meteor shower onto the Xenos homeworld.

The Space Marine Legions of the Imperium of Man, riding in drop pods, resisted the increasing atmospheric drag with superhuman endurance.

Two thousand five hundred drop pods, carrying ten thousand Death Angels, slammed into the Xenos Hive City.

The Xenos Hive City on the ground saw the dense meteors streaking across the sky, and their cold, bestial eyes narrowed in terror.

The powerful humans had long since fallen; where did these new humans come from, and when would they rise again?

As the human slaves looked up at the sky, the dense drop pods ignited hope; they could not be mistaken, these were technological creations belonging to humanity.

The sky of Salts was enveloped in fear; the drop pods screamed as they tore through the atmosphere, their tail thrusters firing to maintain speed, signaling that the Legion was about to set foot on Xenos land.

The Xenos warriors were eager for battle, heading towards the landing zone before the humans could land.

Their weapons awaited blood, determined to expel the humans who had invaded their home world.

When the drop pods crashed, Space Marines in blue and white power armor stepped onto the crystallized sand, and the war between humans and Psychneuein officially began.

The Psychneuein surged out of the city, diving into the sand like fish, evading long-range fire, and rapidly charging towards the War Hounds Legion, intent on destroying the human landing zone.

"Protect the landing zone!"

Legion Commander Locke was the first to rush out of his drop pod; he was the temporary ground commander, responsible for establishing the landing zone.

He glanced at the dust stirred up by the rapidly moving Psychneuein and ordered the Legion warriors to hold their ground, covering the later landing forces.

Those lowly Xenos dared to charge the Warhounds, a sight that would never have occurred in previous battles.

Today, the Warhounds were constrained by their Primarch; they had to restrain themselves to achieve victory in the grand strategy.

"For the Emperor! For the Primarch!"

Locke activated the power axe in his right hand, ignited the massive engine of the chainsword in his left, and shouted for the Emperor and the Primarch.

He led his brothers to the front, providing cover for the landing zone and clearing the area while awaiting support.

The Psychneuein, like fish leaping from water, also roared, shouting their battle cries in their own Xenos language, defending their homeland.

Melee combat!

There was no long-range exchange; the first ground engagement between the two sides was the most brutal melee.

Along a five-kilometer front, ten thousand Space Marines fought a bloody battle.

They had Berserkers engaging in close combat, fending off enemy charges, and also Marksmen providing covering fire from the rear for their brothers at the front.

"Abominations! Face the wrath of the Imperium!"

Karn wielded two chain axes; his wild roar was chilling, and the monomolecular saw blades of the chain axes chewed through death.

The Psychneuein warriors shrieked, their vibrating weapons emitting high-frequency sound waves that grated on the teeth.

Mixed with the natural vibrations of their scales, they produced an unbearable noise, infecting the enemy's auditory system.

The Legion warriors activated their Lyman's Ear implants, shield ing the Psychneuein's sonic interference, and engaged in battle with their weapons.

The power of the Space Marines was fully demonstrated at this moment.

Their close-combat weapons cleaved through the Psychneuein's scales, tearing apart their bodies.

Bodies reshaped by the Emperor shed hot blood in the savage slaughter, continuously killing the surging Psychneuein.

Although not superior in physical strength, with agile movements and swift reactions, the Space Marines' overall combat power far surpassed that of the Psychneuein.

Karn was undoubtedly the star of the battlefield; his chain axes swung continuously, and his kill counter numbers jumped rapidly.

He stood amidst piles of Xenos, red blood staining his blue and white power armor, constantly slaughtering the enemies of humanity.

The Psychneuein's psychic abilities were suppressed; psychic illusions could not affect the Space Marines' minds, leading to a completely even fight.

High-frequency blades tore open human power armor, and sharp claws and hisses were equally deadly; their ferocious strength could send enemies flying.

On the front line of the landing zone, the first ten thousand Space Marines clashed with an endless stream of arriving Psychneuein.

The blood spilled by both sides boiled on the still scorching sand, a hatred between them that would not end until one was dead.

"Clang, clang, clang~"

Karn felt something hit his power armor; he immediately retreated from close combat.

Not just him, the Legion warriors' decisions were extremely swift, with most choosing to retreat.

The Psychneuein' Auxiliary Army arrived; their bodies were smaller than the warriors', and they advanced slowly, carrying automatic weapons.

Among the Auxiliary Army, the Space Marines saw human figures; they were emaciated and expressionless, firing their weapons.

The fleet in orbit did not cease; new airborne units arrived quickly.

Soon, a roar came from the sky again; this time it was not Space Marine drop pods, but Mortal Auxiliary Army landing craft.

"Brothers! Hold on! The Primarch's reinforcements have arrived!"

Legion Commander Locke raised his weapon and let out an excited cheer; he truly hadn't expected that the Mortal forces would land in less than two minutes of close combat.

Amidst his excitement, he marveled at the Primarch's ability; such coordination was simply incredible.

The Mortal Legion marched out of the landing craft; their formation had already been completed inside the ship, allowing them to fight immediately upon landing.

They quickly moved into the battle line, using the Space Marines as a pivot, providing long-range fire support for the powerful demigod warriors.

Adeptus Mechanicus members installed shield generators to ensure the landing site was protected from heavy fire.

In the second-largest city on the Psychneuein home world, within the landing zone established by the Legion, the Imperium's army had gained a foothold.

The Xenos became even more frenzied; all city gates opened, and under the protection of psychic shields, Psychneuein warriors and the Auxiliary Army continuously poured out.

The Auxiliary Army was too numerous; the Psychneuein's Auxiliary Army also burrowed underground, evading artillery fire and circumventing the powerful human long-range firepower.

Furthermore, Psychneuein warriors infiltrated from underground outside the battle line, directly rushing into the human lines and attacking weak points.

For a time, the fearless Psychneuein caused no small trouble within the human lines.

"Retreat to within the shield's protection!"

The Adeptus Mechanicus members shrieked, their cold mechanical voices surprisingly filled with urgency and excitement: "The Titan thrones will arrive in twenty seconds!"

The urgent shouts in the comms channel pulled back the Warhounds' constantly advancing line; no one could ignore the Titans descending from the sky.

Twenty seconds; the Adeptus Mechanicus' timing was precise, and a huge oppressive force descended from the sky as three Titan thrones slammed down around the landing zone.

Rumble!

The Mortals knelt in the violent tremors, closing their eyes and crouching to maintain balance; the Space Marines also lowered their bodies, taking a brief rest amidst the intense impact.

Only the Adeptus Mechanicus members, observing the shield readings, praised the Omnissiah and the great power of machinery.

Outside the shield, the Psychneuein army and the stealthy burrowers in the sand were shaken to death by the immense impact.

When the dust settled, the Titan thrones stood tall outside the shield; as their hatches opened, three Warhound Titans slowly rose from within the thrones.

"The Titan war machines have arrived! Destroy the enemies of the Omnissiah!"

The thirty-meter-tall Warhound Titans, as arranged by the Primarch, slowly retreated to the side of the battle line, their various weapons continuously striking the Xenos Hive City, suppressing the Psychneuein's psychic barrier.

"You can rest for a while; the Xenos won't dare to come out now."

The Primarch's voice came through the comms channel; his voice was reassuring, calming the hearts that beat fiercely from the intense fighting.

As his voice faded, five Stormhawks descended from the sky, and ten tall figures emerged, along with ten Adeptus Mechanicus personnel.

The Doom Slayers, at Blazkowicz's instruction, arrived at the ground battlefield to carry out a critical mission.

The most difficult aspect of the Psychneueins was not their powerful bodies, but the combined psychic field they generated when gathered together.

They only needed to stand together, and the converged psychic field became a shield, with an endless source of energy.

Macro-cannon bombardment and ground fire strikes were not very effective and wasted time, and Blazkowicz's greatest shortage was time.

The city had to be captured quickly, and a foothold secured, otherwise, reinforcements from the enemy's home world would surround them, leading to a difficult war of attrition.

The Doom Slayers who landed, after a brief discussion, re-boarded the Stormhawks and headed to their mission location.

Lances of light continuously fell from the sky, striking the Xenos city, and the psychic shield glowed and flickered.

"This is it."

A five-man squad of Doom Slayers, riding a Stormhawk, left the main battlefield and arrived at an open jungle area.

The towering Xenos Hive City housed a large population; their water source was a hundred kilometers away, with underground pipes leading directly to the Xenos Hive City.

Standing above the pipes, even through the soil, one could feel the vibrations.

"The Xenos are under siege; they are extracting water resources to ensure a sufficient supply."

"We need to be fast; these pipes will be shut down before long, the Xenos aren't fools."

Onesimus urged the Adeptus Mechanicus personnel to act quickly, digging through the soil to access the pipes.

The ten of them were to enter the city along the water flow, giving the entrenched Xenos a surprise.

In the Gene-Father's first major battle, the cold hearts of the Sons of Destruction felt a hint of urgency, not daring to relax in the slightest.

In the Xenos Hive City, the Psychneuein Priests guided their kin's psychic energy, continuously resisting the Human World's attacks from space.

They only needed to hold on a little longer, and reinforcements from the nearest city would arrive.

Then, once the city gates opened, they would flank the humans outside with the reinforcements, making their defeat inevitable, forcing them to slink away in their spacecraft.

This had been the Psychneuein race's rule of war for thousands of years: relying on their unique psychic talents, they conquered one Human World after another, enslaving humans as livestock.

As for the psychics among humans, the Priests had confined them to towers, extracting their psychic energy to maintain the barrier and resist their own kin's attacks.

At the current rate of consumption, the barrier could hold for a long time, long enough for the humans to be completely defeated and for their filthy feet to leave Salts.

"Bang."

With a loud bang, the water pipe, cut by a laser cutter, burst with pressure, sending the pipe-cutting machine flying.

Normally, such a commotion would definitely attract attention and alert the xenos.

But the current situation was different; the landing zone was ablaze with cannon fire, and the sound was quickly drowned out.

"Sir, the submersible speedboat has been successfully deployed."

The Doom Slayers were already waiting inside the speedboat; the Stormhawk lifted the submersible speedboat and lowered it into the pipe.

Ten Doom Slayers, aboard two submersible speedboats, entered the hundred-meter-wide pipe.

They piloted their speedboats through the pipe, constantly dodging traps in the passage, heading towards the heart of the Xenos Hive.

Meanwhile, inside the city, the Psychneuein technician at the water treatment center naturally noticed the pressure loss in the water pipe.

It tilted its head in confusion, hesitating whether to report it; the technician didn't understand what was happening.

With cannon fire raging outside the city, it was highly possible that the vibration had caused the sensors to malfunction, or even that a damaged pipe had led to the pressure loss.

The technician noticed two large shadows flashing across the pipe monitoring screen, completely unlike the usual water weeds or large fish that sometimes strayed in.

It felt very uneasy and finally decided to report the anomaly.

At such a critical moment in the siege, even a small mistake could lead to complete failure, and it, being just a small technician, could not bear such a heavy responsibility.

"An anomaly has been found in the water pipe, possibly an enemy invasion!"

After reporting the anomaly, the technician's tense nerves relaxed slightly, but immediately became anxious again over a possible false alarm—if the warriors made a wasted trip, it would not escape punishment.

Soon, summoned by the alarm, nearly five hundred xenos warriors arrived at the water treatment center, and more were still coming.

With the Hive City currently blockaded by humans, and warriors sheltering inside the city, the internal alert level had naturally been raised several notches.

Seeing so many warriors arrive, the technician became a little flustered.

It was a technical staff member, and if a mistaken report caused the warriors to make a wasted trip, punishment would be unavoidable.

"Great Warrior, please look here."

The technician pointed to the screen, where two shadows were frozen, somewhat resembling large fish.

"It's humans!"

The warrior leader's beast eyes narrowed, and he quickly identified the true nature of the shadows: "They want to destroy us from within."

"At most ten people."

He cursed, his voice hissing: "Damn humans, they attempt to defeat an entire city with a dozen people?"

"Fools—"

"Stupid bugs—"

"Arrogant two-legged white sheep—"

The leader's curses resonated with the xenos warriors, and some even clamored: "Let the humans in, then close the floodgates, leaving them no retreat, no burial ground."

"Exactly, let them in, then close the gates."

The leader warrior stared at the monitoring screen, his eyes burning with killing intent: "Let them in," he hissed, "I will personally torture and kill these humans who don't know their place."

"Alright, Leader."

The technician's lizard eyes swiveled, and after a brief thought, found no major problem; there were hundreds of powerful warriors here, so could ten humans really rush in and kill everyone?

So, it extended a scaly finger and disabled the waterway defenses, allowing the humans to arrive more quickly.

"What happened?"

Osiris in the speedboat was very confused; why were the waterway traps closed? The path ahead was clear.

He spoke through the psychic link: "Speed up, our mission is vital; although the Gene-Father has other means, we must not disappoint him!"

"They are inviting us."

Osiris saw the water gate closing, leaving only a narrow gap, just enough for the speedboat to pass through.

"This is the arrogance of the xenos whelps; they will pay a heavy price."

As the two speedboats passed through the water gate, the gate behind them immediately closed, cutting off the humans' retreat.

The human underwater vehicles surfaced from the giant reservoir, and the Psychneueins at the pool's edge smiled cruelly.

The moment the Doom Slayers opened their hatches, the anticipated attack did not come.

They slowly stood up, only to see ferocious Psychneueins standing by the pool, their eyes red and faces grim.

"Get ashore first, establish a foothold, and gain an advantage."

Osiris ordered through the psychic link; the Doom Slayers knew these xenos wanted to play a game of torture and slaughter.

The Psychneueins also saw ten warriors in dark black armor rise from the speedboats floating in the pool.

They looked taller and more threatening than those outside the city, and their equipment was more refined.

"Hu—mans."

The Psychneuein leader's voice was awkward, and it even waved from the pool's edge: "Welcome to approach death."

The warriors said nothing, merely silently piloted their speedboats closer to the edge of the pool, looking as if they had accepted their fate.

The leader could understand, understand the despair of being surrounded, that indifference to life and death, the sorrow of a heart that had given up, knowing that no struggle would be of any use.

Osiris shook his head; the most difficult first hurdle of entering the city was passed, and now the lizards were actively making way, allowing the Doom Slayers to come ashore.

He even felt like thanking the xenos, for leaving the leader's entire family intact.

When the ten black-armored warriors came ashore, the leader warrior raised his head, his gaze condescending, intending to deliver a speech about mercy: "Humans—"

"Slay these ignorant xenos scum! Let them learn the wrath of the Doom Slayers!"

Osiris' roar, like a thunderclap from a clear sky, exploded with endless fury in the xenos' ears.

The power of the Doom Slayers surpassed anyone's imagination; they were the embodiment of wrath.

One of the most aggressive brothers launched a fierce attack first; he was an unstoppable killing machine.

Equipped with blood-red lightning claws on both hands, the longest blade was a meter long; when the disintegration field was activated, he was an undeniable slaughterer.

His movements were too fast for the Psychneueins to react; he swung his arm, tearing the nearby xenos to shreds, and before the bodies could even split apart, the Doom Slayer had already knocked it aside.

His palm opened, pushing forward, the claw blades like five sharp swords in front of him; the warrior's charge was as fast as lightning, leaving only shattered corpses and fragments in his wake.

The disintegration weapon in his other palm continuously fired, turning the Psychneueins, who hadn't yet reacted and were still laughing madly, into atomic sparks.

Some wielded twin swords, cutting a bloody swathe; some swept xenos aside with halberds; others wielded war hammers, smashing violently.

The weapons custom-made by the Emperor's private artisans unleashed a massacre, leaving xenos corpses strewn across the field.

When the first spray of Psychneuein blood splattered on the ground, more than half of the five hundred xenos had already been reduced to fragments.

The ten-man squad of Doom Slayers, their minds connected, acted as one.

Their millennia-honed slaughtering techniques were now infused with the most genuine killing intent; the power from the Gene-Father was unrivaled!

By the time the warrior leader reacted, a sea of red was before his eyes; the blood of his comrades stained the pool.

His gaze fixed, he saw only the ghostly figures of the black-armored warriors, along with scattered body parts, and the constantly fading lives of his kin.

Only then did he realize what kind of monster his arrogance had let in.

"Al—ert—"

Before he could even sound the alarm, Osiris' halberd aimed, and the disintegration weapon reduced it to atoms.

Five seconds later, ten Doom Slayers burst out of the water treatment center, leaving behind over five hundred xeno corpses.

They were unstoppable gods of war! Their dark black armor was stained with blood, the red lines becoming even more eerie.

The Doom Slayers did not roar, did not bellow; their attacking footsteps were unstoppable.

They advanced along the xenos' city streets, climbing towards the top of the Hive City, where psychic energy readings were off the charts.

The servants' shots couldn't aim, and the warriors' desperate charges turned into corpses.

Blood flowed weakly on the main road; the only thing the xenos could do was use their blood to add some stickiness to the Doom Slayers' boots.

This ten-man squad, like a black torrent, rolled through the streets, heading straight for the psychic core at the top of the Hive City—the heart of the Psychneueins' filthy rule.

Screams rushed forward! Then death. Xenos warriors from the entire city arrived, but seeing the horrific scene, they were terrified, unable to suppress the fear in their hearts.

Slippery blood everywhere, shattered body parts, and comrades reduced to dust.

This was not a battle; it was a pure massacre.

Their race was lambs to the slaughter, awaiting the black reaper's harvest, unable to resist that fate.

The deeper the ten-man squad advanced, the fiercer the interception they encountered, but these had no effect on them.

The Gene-Father's gift bestowed the Doom Slayers with endless stamina, keeping them in peak condition.

They had no pity, showing no emotion when slaughtering the Xenos, as if cleaning filth.

"Humans! That's enough!"

A Psychneuein Priest, wearing a feather crown, shrieked. It raised its scepter amidst heavy protection, chanting spells to unleash blue psychic flames.

The Warp fire ignited upon touching the ground, transforming into towering pillars of flame that engulfed the black-armored warriors.

The Psychneuein Priest and the warriors protecting it breathed a sigh of relief, finally having halted the black-armored warriors' advance.

In just two minutes, the Humans had slaughtered thousands of elite warriors and countless auxiliary troops.

No being could block the Humans' path for even one second, not even one second!

Before they could celebrate, the sound of 'pat-ta, pat-ta' footsteps came from within the fire.

The ten warriors continued to advance, emerging from the blue flames. As their footsteps fell, the blue flames receded, and the psychic energy recoiled in fear of the warriors' will.

The Doom Slayers' black armor remained, the blue flames having burned away the blood and filth on it. They were no different from when the battle began.

The Emperor forged the Doom Slayers' armor with "Radiant Gold," a rare metal that does not react to psychic energy.

Osiris led his brothers forward, the Xenos before them trembling, their weapons almost slipping from their grasp.

The blade formed by the black warriors was slowly piercing the Psychneuein's scales, pressing against their fragile hearts, freezing their courage with icy slaughter.

"Cover my retreat! I need to prepare new psychic spells!" the Psychneuein Priest shrieked in a panic, ordering its warriors to cover it.

The Priest raised its scepter, emitting a sickly green light. It roared, whipping its servants, and the Lizardmen carrying its chair scurried backward, their scales scraping the ground with a harsh sound.

"We must stop the Humans! They cannot be allowed to approach the High Priest."

"If we lose the barrier, we are finished!"

Hearing the Priest's urging, the warriors regained their courage, grabbed their high-frequency blades, and charged forward with bared fangs and claws.

"Continue to advance," Osiris said emotionlessly, calling his brothers to move forward.

Although they didn't understand what the Xenos were saying, their panicked expressions suggested their destination wasn't far.

"Roar!" With a strange cry, the Psychneuein lunged again.

The first bird gets the shot; the Doom Slayer reduced it to atomic ash, turning it into dust in a flash of light.

The Doom Slayers advanced relentlessly, charging too fast.

The Priest's summoned flames could not stop them; lightning and frost were weak and powerless; storms felt like a gentle breeze.

In the center of the Hive City, Psychneuein corpses fell from the spiraling tower.

So much blood flowed down the spiral staircase that the Psychneuein reinforcements arriving from behind slipped in their panic.

Weapons wreathed in lightning that disintegrated everything, cleaved the Xenos, body and blade, into fragments, making them die as base as mud.

The power of the Doom Slayers even exceeded the Emperor's expectations.

At this moment, fighting for their Gene-Father, they unleashed power far beyond their usual capabilities.

They didn't need to hide, didn't need to worry; they only needed to destroy the enemy before them!

At the landing zone outside the city, keen warriors had already noticed that the stable psychic barrier was beginning to waver, seemingly loosening.

Legion Commander Locke also noticed it; he immediately informed his brothers: "Get ready, we might be launching a surprise attack soon!"

The Space Marines immediately prepared their armaments; they were also excited, for the Warhounds were the Empire's best assault warriors.

After a All the way of slaughter, the Doom Slayers stormed into the top of the tower, the transparent dome surrounded by the city.

Osiris cut off the Priest's panicked head, pressed it against the security door, and opened the final security door.

"Humans—"

The Psychneuein High Priest was grief-stricken. It floated in the center of the dome, watching the Humans slaughter its kin, then irresistibly burst into the room.

The Priest was channeling psychic energy, preventing the barrier from fully collapsing and the Humans outside the city from pouring in.

"I will make you all die with me."

The High Priest also wore a feather headdress; it was even more ornate, with blue feathers shimmering with iridescent light.

The Doom Slayers surrounded the Priest from ten directions. If the Gene-Father hadn't needed this Xenos, it would have died ten thousand times over.

They quietly watched the frenzied Xenos Priest, curious to see what it would do.

The High Priest felt the contempt and grew even more insane, chanting incantations.

Its consciousness reached out to a mighty being in the Warp for help, promising to sacrifice countless Humans and begging for its arrival.

Soon, a look of joy appeared on the Priest's deranged face; the mighty being in the Warp had responded and was coming immediately.

A strange rumble of thunder boomed across the Xenos Hive City.

The warriors at the landing zone outside the city were a little surprised, wondering what was happening inside.

High above, Blazkowicz frowned slightly; he sensed the stench of Chaos.

Ahriman also looked up, gazing at the star below from the viewport, detecting some change, but not knowing what it was.

Within the high platform in the city, a Warp rift opened, and evil energy surged out.

"Caw~ Caw~ Caw~"

Bird-like cries, mixed with ethereal laughter, and a giant bird-like figure slowly appeared.

A Daemon!

The Doom Slayers present immediately saw through the true nature of this foul, twisted being—an embodiment of malice from the Warp.

"Let it come out."

Before his brothers charged, Osiris calmed them through their psychic link: "Prevent it from escaping!"

"Mortal, you called me~ I will defeat your enemies for you. Do not forget your promise once it is done."

The Lord of Change had arrived. It held its head high, seeing everything as nothing.

Few beings in the Mortal realm could threaten it. The Lord of Change enjoyed the Priest's worship, even calculating how many souls it would harvest.

"Take as you please, everything is yours."

The Priest floated in the air, yet humbly bowed its head, not daring to look directly at the mighty being descending from the Warp.

Its lowered beast eyes reflected the motionless figures of the Human warriors.

Those Human warriors stood still, not interrupting the ritual. By the time they reacted, it would be too late.

The mighty being of the Warp would destroy these warriors, then destroy the army outside the city.

As the illusory became real, amidst the iridescent glow, the Lord of Change's body fully solidified.

The Lord of Change spread its wings, its blue wings shimmering with the light of wisdom. It held a scepter, and wisdom and arcane magic flowed from its fingertips:

"Mortal beings, worship—"

Then it saw the warriors below its feet. They were staring at it, and the killing intent in their eyes beneath their helmets gradually surged.

It also saw the mark on the warriors' armor, the crimson Godslayer mark.

"Cough~ Cough~ Cough~"

The Lord of Change's bird neck craned, and its tongue swallowed the rest of its words between gasps.

As if annoyed, its dark bird claw seized the Psychneuein Priest's throat, and in the Priest's stunned gaze, it offered a benevolent, slightly fawning smile.

The Lord of Change's arrogance was completely gone, replaced only by panic: "I said I took a wrong turn, do you believe me?"

The Great Daemon of Tzeentch was truly panicking now. Warriors with the Godslayer bloodline were right before it; being killed by them meant complete annihilation.

Their existence erased, their essence plundered, vanishing without a trace.

Seeing no response from the warriors, it bluffed: "I won't disturb~ I'm leaving now~ You all carry on~"

"This damned Xenos," clutching the Psychneuein Priest, the Lord of Change pondered its words for a second, finally nodding with satisfaction: "Indeed, this damned Xenos is all yours~"

Ignoring the terrified Psychneuein Priest, it began chanting spells to itself, preparing to leave the real universe.

Its heart was filled with anxiety, only wanting to leave quickly; the scene here was too terrifying!

"Stay!" Osiris' cold roar came, and the Great Daemon of Tzeentch despaired.

A spear tore through the air, piercing its bird beak, completely silencing the Great Daemon.

Next, its wing was pierced, the Great Daemon fell from the air, and a warhammer shattered its chest.

In an instant, daemon blood splattered everywhere, blue, foul blood covering the ground.

In a dazzling blur, the Lord of Change truly felt life draining away. It glared venomously at the stunned Priest.

Its still-moving dark bird talons aimed at it, wanting to take revenge with a lightning strike.

Another sword strike came, the longsword severing its arm and wing, cutting off the Daemon's last hope.

In its dying moments, the Lord of Change saw a black war boot, stepping towards its head.

Osiris crushed the Daemon's head, feeling a surge of power integrate into his body. He was momentarily at a loss.

"A normal reaction, you will know more later," Blazkowicz's voice echoed in the psychic link, calming his agitation.

"I understand."

A Doom Slayer punched the Priest unconscious, completely shutting down the psychic barrier.

"Charge!!!"

The closing of the barrier was the horn of attack. The impatient Warhounds screamed as they charged into the Xenos city.

The Adeptus Mechanicus' Titan engine, the Omnissiah's avatar, a Warlord-class Titan, unleashed its full firepower.

Its arm-mounted plasma cannon shrieked with a charging sound, like a human taking a deep breath, then roared forth, and the walls of the Xenos Hive City crumbled.

The Space Marines' charge followed closely, the tremor of power armor impacting the ground intertwined with the thunderous crash of drop pods, forming an overture of destruction.

Drop pods once again descended like rain, plummeting towards the earth, their targets fixed on the Xenos Hive City.

It was as if in an instant, the entire battlefield was activated, and the human offensive surged like a wild tide, engulfing the Xenos city.

A Doom Slayer's cold voice cut into the comms channel: "Landing zone cleared."

In the center of the Xenos Hive City, five Doom Slayers leaped from a tall tower, clearing a plaza.

When they looked up, drop pods had already crashed down, and Space Marines in blue and white livery stepped out of the hatches.

"Purge the Xenos!"

They nodded to their powerful cousins, admiring the bravery of the "Ten Heroes," and charged, yelling, towards the trembling Xenos.

When the barrier dissipated, the battle was decided; all that remained was the thorough extermination of the Xenos.

Mortals and Space Marines streamed through the breaches in the city walls, and new Legion warriors descended from the sky.

Warriors of the Fourth Legion and Seventh Legion arrived via landing craft; they studied the Hive City's weak points, helping their cousins and Mortals gain an advantage in urban warfare.

All units participating in the battle seemed to feel a piece of music.

A peaceful melody, composed by the great Primarch, played in an orderly fashion, layered and clearly articulated, a symphony leading to victory.

From his battleship, he planned the landing point for each drop pod and indicated the paths for the warriors to clear.

What seemed like a casual arrangement ultimately converged into the climax of the music, a perfect symphony of Xenos destruction.

The vanguard forces eliminated the Xenos combatants, while the Mortals in the rear switched to heavy flamethrowers, clearing every room.

All Xenos, regardless of age or weakness, were incinerated in the plasma flames.

Only a dead Xenos is a good Xenos.

"Captain Ahriman."

In high orbit, Blazkowicz put down his command; precise guidance was no longer needed, as the Space Marines could complete the work independently.

He relinquished his authority, entrusting it to the Space Marines on the battlefield; they could do it very well.

"My Lord Primarch." Ahriman knelt on one knee, showing utmost respect for the Primarch.

A strange panic surged within him; ever since his audience with the Primarch, a restless unease had lingered.

It was an instinctive fear, especially noticeable when he used his psychic abilities.

So Ahriman stood far away, maintaining a subtle distance from the Primarch, which made him slightly more comfortable and prevented any disrespect in the Primarch's presence.

"No need to be nervous." Blazkowicz lowered his voice, calmly reassuring the psychic warrior of the Fifteenth Legion.

He didn't need to ask; he probably knew why Ahriman stood so far away.

His presence made psychics uncomfortable, a deep-seated unease, similar to a Mortal's discomfort breathing thin air.

"I need the psychic talent of the Fifteenth Legion to sustain a psychic barrier." Blazkowicz opened the holographic image on the command console; several warships formed a square in the void, encircling the Xenos homeworld.

"What exactly do you intend to do?" Ahriman stepped forward, looking at the warship positions on the command console: "Are you going to set up a blockade barrier?"

"That would be somewhat difficult." The warrior of the Fifteenth Legion was reserved, speaking without the wildness of other Legion warriors, but rather with cautious inquiry.

"One hundred Legion psychics could erect a barrier, but it wouldn't have any practical effect."

Ahriman was very careful, explaining from his professional perspective, clarifying the pros and cons to the Primarch.

"My apologies for not being clear." A hint of surprise flashed in Blazkowicz's eyes, quickly turning into a smile as he rephrased to Ahriman: "I need a barrier that severs psychic communication, to block the Psychneuein's communications."

"That is highly feasible." Ahriman was surprised by the Primarch's magnanimity, able to frankly admit his own mistake.

His superhuman mind raced, and after a moment of silence, he replied to the Primarch: "The mission is feasible, and my brothers and I will certainly accomplish it."

"It must be done." Blazkowicz's expression subtly hardened as he made his demand to Ahriman: "The success or failure of this operation depends on you."

He clicked on the Xenos Hive City, where the sorcerer's tall tower stood: "This tower has the effect of amplifying psychic power; it can draw on the Psychneuein's psychic energy to help you."

Ahriman's eyes lit up at the sight of the Xenos device, and his admiration for the Primarch's foresight and meticulous strategy grew: "I can assure you with certainty, it will be no problem at all."

"Go and prepare quickly."

Blazkowicz nodded to Ahriman, signaling that he could leave at any time, then looked at the two Legion representatives beside him.

"Breaker of Cities, Frix of the Fourth Legion, and Appius of the Seventh Legion."

Blazkowicz called out to the two Legion representatives, speaking their names.

"Please, great Primarch, issue your commands." The two warriors knelt on one knee, their voices as cold as steel and as resilient as rock and grit.

"Rise, for I have an important task to entrust to you." Blazkowicz looked at the two warriors, bidding them to stand and await orders.

"We will never fail to live up to the Primarch's expectations!"

Breaker of Cities, Frix, and Appius, the Legion warrior, promised the Primarch in unison.

'Come look at this.' Blazkowicz called them closer, and a complete image of the Xenos Hive City was displayed.

The warriors, clad in raw steel and bright yellow armor, focused intently on receiving the Primarch's instructions, not daring to miss anything.

"I need Frix to construct fortifications, to make the Xenos city hold out for at least three months, and Appius to study the city's structure, preparing to capture and attack the next city."

Blazkowicz clearly stated his requirements, then looked up at the two Legion representatives: "Do you have any objections?"

"My Lord," Appius of the Seventh Legion spoke with some hesitation, kneeling before the Primarch: "Please forgive my presumption, but did you perhaps say that in reverse?"

Breaker of Cities, Frix, also knelt, though he said nothing, expressing the same sentiment.

During the glorious Great Crusade, the Astartes leveraged their genetic advantages, earning legends and renown for their Legions.

The Fourth Legion were siege breakers, and the Seventh Legion were architects.

One excelled at attacking and capturing strongholds, the other at building fortifications.

They were like natural opposites, the "Destroyers" and "Guardians" in the Emperor's design.

Now the Primarch was asking the Legions to take on each other's roles, which made it difficult for them to understand, even leading them to believe the Primarch had made a mistake.

"I did not speak incorrectly." Blazkowicz helped them rise, looking at the warriors of vastly different styles, offering his encouraging affirmation: "You absolutely can do it well."

He placed his hand on Frix's shoulder, making the latter feel flattered: "A siege breaker must understand a city's defensive weaknesses to shatter strong fortresses, so why can't he build a fortress without weaknesses?"

The Primarch's words made the Breaker of Cities' body tremble; he lowered his head, pondering his words intently, his eyes constantly flashing with insight, as if he had received some revelation.

"The same applies to you." Blazkowicz looked at the Seventh Legion warrior: "The best guardian knows a city's weaknesses, so why not use this talent to reflect on the weaknesses of enemy fortresses and capture strong cities?"

After hearing the Primarch's words, the representatives of the two Legions exchanged glances, and as their eyes met, intense sparks seemed to fly.

"We will never fail the duty given by the Primarch!"

They knelt on one knee again, then bowed and exited the bridge to carry out the work the Primarch had commanded.

The two Legion representatives, inspired by the Primarch's words, suddenly felt a clarity like the clouds parting to reveal the moon.

Both were eager to put their new insights into practice under the Primarch's witness.

Soon, Blazkowicz's orders were swiftly relayed, and the four Legions worked methodically, preparing to defend the city exactly as the Primarch had planned. Blazkowicz personally led the Doom Slayers and the Fifteenth Legion warriors to descend to the planet, arriving at the High Priest's tower.

"Primarch."

As the tall figure entered the dome, the Adeptus Mechanicus Bio-Sage immediately stepped forward: "We have prepared everything you commanded."

Blazkowicz nodded, looking at the crudely set up operating table; the Psychneuein High Priest had already lost consciousness, with surgical marks on its head.

"Their body structure, though different from ours, is still traceable."

The Bio-Sage raised a mechanical appendage, projecting a holographic image: "We have removed the thinking part of its brain; it will now obey our commands."

"Ahriman."

Blazkowicz called the Legion psychic, instructing him to begin controlling the Xenos, using their species' psychic communication to transmit psychic signals across the star sea.

For technologically undeveloped species, interstellar communication is extremely difficult.

The Psychneueins use psychic communication to contact their kin light-years away, maintaining basic communication.

What Blazkowicz intended to do now was to hack into the Xenos' communication network and send a distress signal, calling all Xenos warriors back to their homeworld for rescue.

Ahriman followed the Primarch into the dome, and he quickly noticed the unusual bloodstain on the circular carpet.

The dome was not broken, there were no drag marks of bodies, and a giant beast with an astonishing amount of blood had vanished without a trace.

He had no further questions, knowing the importance of speaking cautiously in the presence of the Primarch.

Ahriman knew that every Legion had its secrets; even his own Fifteenth Legion harbored unspeakable ones.

The Psychneuein High Priest was placed in the center of the dome, surrounded by warriors from thirteen Legions.

They removed their leather gloves, spread their hands with fingers aligned, guiding their Psychic power to soothe the rampant force.

A strange look flashed in the eyes of the Fifteenth Legion warriors.

When guiding Psychic power at high intensity, the terrifying physical mutations did not appear, and the Psychic energy was no longer rampant.

It was like a docile sheep, following the shepherd's lead, walking steadily along the designated path.

This anomaly did not last long; they poured their power into the Psychneuein Priest's body, making it float in the middle of the ritual.

"It can begin."

The War Hounds Legion, waiting below the tower, threw the Psychneuein warriors, whose limbs had been broken, into the Psychic extraction machine at the Doom Slayer's signal.

They were terrified but powerless to struggle.

Once the executioners who dictated the fate of human Psykers, they were now lambs to the slaughter, fear engulfing their sanity like a tide.

A purple halo spread along the tower, eventually converging at the dome, forming a terrifying force.

"Call for help to all our kin."

Ahriman's voice trembled; he had never guided such a vast power.

With Psychic light flashing in his eyes, he used the Psychneuein language he had read to command the Psychneuein Priest: "Make them return at all costs!"

Having lost its 'prefrontal lobe' brain tissue, the Psychneuein Priest was like a puppet, manipulated at will by an external force.

It woodenly raised its arm and numbly uttered a few syllables: "Call for help... homeworld attacked... return to homeworld at all costs."

As the language was completed, Ahriman guided the Psychic energy, pouring it into the Xenos' body.

Boom!

A purple light shot into the sky, disappearing beyond the planet's atmosphere.

Accompanying the distant Psychic energy was the unique Psychic fluctuation of the Psychneueins, mixed with a distress signal, spreading to their colony worlds.

The Psychneuein main city also received the message; they widened their eyes, immediately understanding humanity's intention.

Surround and strike! But not a simple surround and strike.

Humans now occupied the homeworld city, using false information to trick the colonial troops, allowing them to harvest the outer worlds with minimal cost.

Using strong ships and powerful cannons, they would eliminate the elite warriors of their race in the void.

The High Priest immediately summoned the priests, preparing to initiate a ritual to reissue commands, but saw a translucent barrier rise.

"Damn humans!"

The High Priest's voice was venomous, cursing with the most malicious words as the barrier cut off communication.

"Inform our kin to throw all human Psykers into the spires, drain them to send out warnings."

He thought of a countermeasure, using immense Psychic power to break through the barrier and notify the colonies not to act rashly.

The priest's countermeasure was normal, but he overlooked an important factor.

"High Priest, human warships are above us!"

The subordinate's report was like a death knell; the High Priest's fine scales flared open, hissing as his body swayed precariously.

"Raise the barrier..."

He said weakly, telling the priests to raise the Psychic barrier.

The fate of the race, in the humans' intricate calculations, was heading towards the brink of destruction.

Six Xenos Hive Cities, six main cruisers.

They were parked in high orbit, an altitude difficult for the Xenos to counterattack, unleashing orbital strikes at will.

Dense arrays of lance beams bombarded the ground continuously, forcing the Xenos to expend vast energy to erect Psychic barriers, leaving them no time for other matters.

At this moment, the fate of the Psychneueins was sealed.

They relied on their powerful physical bodies to plunder the old human worlds, acquiring various technological resources.

However, their own technology had not developed; they relied entirely on their innate Psychic talents.

Having been too comfortable in an environment without strong enemies for too long, the external factors that promote war technology advancement were absent, leading to their demise.

Success by Psychic power: the Psychneueins did not need power armor; their thick scales could resonate to withstand gunfire.

A simple intimidating gaze, a projected illusion, could strike fear into enemies, and the priests' spells could even achieve interstellar communication.

Failure by Psychic power: without Psychic means, or if restricted by opponents, their combat effectiveness was greatly reduced.

The only powerful threat to humans remaining was the millions of elite warriors unafraid of gunfire, and billions of combat servants.

As Psychic communication transmitted across the stars, on the Hrafnkel, Leman Russ sensed the burst of Psychic energy; he abruptly rose from his throne.

"My brother has succeeded!" Russ' beast-like eyes flashed with excitement; he crushed the wine glass in his hand: "Now it's our turn to perform."

"Notify all fleets: when you discover Lizard ships, do not rush. Wait until they approach the 'Mandeville Point' before attacking."

The Mandeville Point is a stable Warp jump point in a star system.

Entering or exiting a star system from here would not affect the star system's structure, avoiding a series of catastrophic consequences.

"At the same time, pay attention within the star system to prevent them from entering the Warp in an emergency, regardless of the cost."

"Not a single one can escape!" The Wolf King gnashed his teeth, almost threateningly: "This is my promise to my brother."

Another Primarch, leading his Gene-Sons, joined the battle, intercepting enemies in space and eliminating enemy reinforcements.

The fleet attacked like a pack of wolves, searching for enemies in the starry sky, hunting in the hunting grounds.

On the Xenos homeworld, Salts, two thousand warriors of the Fourth Legion, inspired by their Primarch, began to modify the Xenos city-state.

They dismantled the irrational, re-planned the city, and gradually built fortresses that eliminated all weaknesses.

Soldiers of the Seventh Legion patrolled the city, searching for irrationalities within it, recording them as means to attack the Xenos.

In this process, the two Legions, whose roles were swapped, helped each other identify shortcomings and filled gaps, fostering mutual understanding and friendship.

All the landing forces entered the city, assisting the Legions in building defenses and clearing the remaining Xenos deep within the city.

Everything was in full swing; the various Legions were highly motivated, collaborating to rapidly expand their gains.

Blazkowicz left the dome, instructing Ahriman to send distress signals irregularly, and also left a Doom Slayer to prevent any overstepping actions he might take.

Psykers are always full of curiosity; reading a priest's memory and glimpsing the Warp's great powers is dangerous.

At the highest point of the city, overlooking the entire city, was the High Room, which was kept impeccably clean.

The Primarch was staying there, serving as his temporary command post and residence.

In a rare moment of leisure, Blazkowicz found the corpse of a Psychneuein warrior, lit a bonfire, and displayed his culinary skills.

His tall figure leaned by the fire, cutting meat from a chopping board, laying slices onto the grill.

Here were high-ranking Space Marines, leaders of Mortal Legions, and the red-robed Adeptus Mechanicus.

"I actually don't like fighting," Blazkowicz said, grilling meat and distributing it to the high-ranking officers of various armies, recounting some past events: "I like farming and enjoying the harvest; I like traveling and broadening my horizons."

The Space Marines took the grilled meat from the Primarch, savoring the Psychneuein's fearful memories, their tongues seeking the delicious aroma in the muscles.

They listened quietly; what the Primarch said was true, he indeed yearned for such a life.

"After the Great Crusade, perhaps you can finally rest."

Karn was enjoying the moment; he had been invited to the banquet for his bravery in combat, to taste the grilled meat personally cooked by the Primarch.

Everyone at the banquet felt immense respect and the Primarch's warmth.

They felt the extraordinary greatness of the Primarch, and also got to know him in his everyday life, to understand the brilliant human ordinariness that still existed within his great soul.

"We look forward to that day."

Blazkowicz smiled gently; he knew in his heart the direction of the Great Crusade and the Emperor's plans for the future.

The Great Crusade might end, or it might never end.

A simple barbecue banquet, because it was hosted by the Primarch, made it meaningful.

Space Marines and Mortals chatted freely, and even Adeptus Mechanicus personnel participated, sharing the dangers and glories of the battlefield.

A brief banquet soon ended, and everyone quickly dispersed, leaving only the Doom Slayers and their Gene-Father.

"You may also leave."

Blazkowicz sat alone in front of the grill; despite the guests having left, he continued to turn the meat slices with focus: "This banquet is not yet over."

Seth narrowed his eyes at these words; he glanced at a corner of the room, then ultimately chose to leave. The Doom Slayer had never relaxed for a moment; during the banquet, he keenly noticed the Gene-Father looking at that empty corner three times.

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