The air on the bridge of the Iron Lord felt solidified, heavy and suffocating. Lieutenant Casto, the Iron Warriors' adjutant, gripped his bolt pistol, knuckles white from the effort, the muzzle aimed squarely at the leading bat-faced Night Lord. Icy killing intent and an invisible terror clashed fiercely between the two sides.
"Sons of Curze," Lieutenant Casto's voice came through his helmet's vox-caster, carrying the characteristic coldness and disdain of the Iron Warriors, "I thought you had all rotted away in the garbage heap of history, dead and gone, along with your mad, pathetic Primarch. I didn't expect a few of you to slip through the net, crawling out like rats from a gutter."
He forced himself to be calm, trying to regain the initiative: "Leave my warship immediately! Otherwise..."
"Otherwise what?" The bat-faced warrior interrupted him unceremoniously, his hoarse voice carrying a hint of amusement, as if enjoying an interesting play. He raised an arm, and the Lightning Claw, sparkling with dangerous arcs of electricity, slowly opened and closed under the bridge lights, emitting faint crackling sounds. "Will you tickle us with that little toy in your hand?"
His gaze swept over Lieutenant Casto, then over the other Iron Warriors crew on the bridge, who were on high alert but dared not make a move. The red glow beneath his bat-winged helmet seemed to intensify.
"Look at us, and then look at yourselves, my dear 'cousins'." The Night Lords leader's tone was full of mockery and a twisted 'nostalgia'. "Both of our Legions betrayed that decaying Imperium, and neither of us... did not kneel before the so-called 'gods' of Chaos, begging for alms, like those spineless cowards."
He changed the subject, with a hint of self-mockery, but more so a sarcasm towards the Iron Warriors' current situation:
"But look at the difference, how ironic. You, sons of Perturabo, still possess a vast fleet, stable supplies, and even your own Forge Worlds and logistics system... truly the demeanor of a lost empire."
He spread his hands, his Lightning Claws seemingly embracing the warship:
"And us? The scions of the Eighth Legion, warriors of Nostramo, can only wander in the shadows of the galaxy like lost souls. The Imperium sees us as a stain to be purged, and Chaos warbands think we are not 'pious' enough... We have become stray dogs, disliked by everyone, belonging to neither side."
His voice suddenly turned cold and filled with predatory desire:
"So, my dear cousin, seeing as we are so 'alike in suffering'..." His gaze fell once again on the massive and fully equipped strike cruiser, his tone becoming undeniable, "This rather... excellent warship, and all that it represents, should be taken over by us, who better understand how to survive in the darkness."
He wiggled his Lightning Claw, not finishing his sentence, but his naked intention to plunder was already obvious.
Lieutenant Casto's heart seethed with anger, but he forced himself to remain calm. He knew the Night Lords were cunning and cruel, and a direct confrontation was definitely not the best strategy. He had to stall for time, looking for an opportunity to activate the bridge's emergency alarm or send out a message. As long as other nearby Iron Warriors ships received the distress signal, they could immediately come to reinforce and crush these damned Night Lords!
"Wishful thinking!" Lieutenant Casto roared, trying to mask his inner anxiety with a tough attitude. "You are nothing but a laughable Legion cobbled together from lunatics, murderers, and the scummiest prisoners! A laughable Legion, with your even more laughable, ultimately abandoned, mad Primarch! It's no wonder you've been reduced to scavenging on battlefields, barely surviving like wild dogs! You want my warship? You'll have to step over my corpse first!"
As he spoke, he quickly scanned the console out of the corner of his eye, searching for the inconspicuous emergency communication button disguised as a regular data port.
Meanwhile, far away in the Ultramar Sector, in the First Company's quarters of the Macragge's Honour, it was a different scene.
Kolesa returned alone to the temporary cabin assigned to her. The door silently closed behind her, momentarily isolating her from the world outside, which was filled with steel, discipline, and a sense of unfamiliarity. Her gaze fell on the metal table, where a new meal had already been laid out, completely different from the monotonous nutrient paste and apples she had before—fresh, colorful fruits, properly baked grain bread, and even some carefully cooked vegetables. This was clearly natural food that Chapter Master Calgar had ordered to be prioritized for the Aeldari.
However, faced with these foods, which could be considered luxurious after her arduous journey, Kolesa had no appetite. She sat quietly on the edge of the bed, her hands unconsciously twisting the corner of her white casual clothes.
The worry in her heart was like a heavy lead weight, making it hard for her to breathe. She worried about her kin, who had been settled on the supply ship, wondering if they were well and what their future held. What puzzled her even more was that in her mind, the silent but reassuring blue figure of Gaius involuntarily appeared.
'How is he... now?' A trace of confusion and worry flickered in Kolesa's violet eyes. 'Is that mission dangerous? Will he get hurt?' This concern for a human Astartes warrior was something that would have been impossible in her past understanding. But now, in this isolated and helpless situation, Gaius seemed to be the only connection to 'hope' that she could grasp.
Just as her thoughts were in disarray, immersed in worry and confusion, the electronic lock on her cabin door emitted an extremely faint, almost inaudible 'drip' sound. The indicator light on the lock instantly switched from red, signifying locked, to green, signifying unlocked, and then quickly extinguished, as if nothing had happened.
Immediately after, the cabin door was silently pushed open a crack, and a slender, stealthy figure, like a slippery loach, darted in with a 'whoosh,' then quickly and lightly closed the door again.
Kolesa was completely unaware of this. Shortly after Gaius left, she had been 'invited' to Chapter Master Calgar's office by the Chapter Master's Honour Guard. Under Chapter Master Calgar's personal supervision, a Tech-Priest installed an inconspicuous, dull metal ring-shaped device on her right ankle.
This was a psychic dampener.
In Chapter Master Calgar's cold words, this was "for the safety of both parties, to avoid unnecessary... misunderstandings and risks." This device effectively suppressed her already depleted psychic abilities, which were exhausted from overuse, and also greatly weakened her ability to perceive surrounding energies. At this moment, she felt unprecedentedly weak and dull, like an ordinary person with their eyes blindfolded and ears plugged, with her perception of the outside world at its lowest point.
The figure that had slipped in was Eilaas.
Her appearance at this moment was quite peculiar. On her petite body, she still wore the oil-stained Tech-Sergeant uniform, but her hands were strenuously holding a wildly styled 'quad-barreled assault cannon' that was almost as big as her upper body—it was her beloved Aila Si Storm! And on her head, she was wearing the Mark III 'Iron' helmet with white paint and 'bunny ear' decorations that she had 'borrowed' from the ancient armory earlier! The unlit 'I'-shaped visor of the helmet, in the dim light, was staring intently at Kolesa, who was sitting on the bed, lost in thought with her eyes closed.
Eilaas, holding her heavy 'masterpiece,' tiptoed like a pouncing kitten, silently approaching the bed. She looked at this strange, adult Aeldari woman with pointed ears, just like herself, her heart filled with curiosity, vigilance, and a hint of... displeasure at her 'territory' being invaded.
It wasn't until she was right in front of Kolesa, almost touching her, that Kolesa suddenly felt the close-range pressure and abruptly opened her eyes!
"Ah!" Kolesa exclaimed, instinctively shrinking back.
But Eilaas was quicker! She suddenly pushed forward with her shoulder!
"Ouch!" Kolesa, caught off guard, was pushed backward by the sudden impact, falling onto the bed which was too wide for her.
Before she could react, four dark, cold metal muzzles were almost poking her face! They were the four parallel barrels of the Aila Si Storm!
A girlish voice, deliberately putting on a fierce tone through the helmet but still unable to hide its clear essence, rang in Kolesa's ear:
"Don't move! You're under arrest!"
Eilaas, mimicking the tone of Astartes warriors she had seen interrogating prisoners on the battlefield, began her self-proclaimed serious 'interrogation':
"Speak! Who are you?! How did you sneak into Ultramarines territory?! What ulterior motives do you have?!"
Kolesa was a bit dazed by the sudden "attack" and interrogation, but when her gaze, passing through the four intimidating gun barrels, fell upon the small figure wearing a peculiar white helmet, she immediately recognized her.
"It's… it's you… Eilaas…" Kolesa gasped, calling out her name with some uncertainty.
"Impudence!" Eilaas immediately corrected loudly, pushing the gun barrel forward again, trying to increase her deterrence, "You should call me 'Lady Eilaas'! You pointy-eared xeno of unknown origin!"
She tried to make her voice sound fiercer:
"Speak! Confess honestly! What exactly do you intend to do, sneaking onto this ship?! Are you trying to steal our Ultramarines' technical secrets?! Or are you trying to cause sabotage?!"
Kolesa looked at the little one before her, feigning fierceness yet exuding a childishness and comicality, especially the white helmet with "bunny ears" that severely clashed with the overall aesthetic. For a moment, she was at a loss.
Eilaas was immersed in her role as a "stern interrogator," trying to pry some "secrets" from this suddenly appearing adult Aeldari woman. Kolesa, on the other hand, was bewildered by her sudden actions and the comical, peculiar helmet, unsure how to respond to this childish "interrogation."
However, what neither of them knew, or rather, what Kolesa vaguely suspected but couldn't confirm, was that the temporary cabin assigned to her was already under strict surveillance. Chapter Master Calgar and Company Commander Cassius would never fully trust a xeno witch, especially after the inhibitor was installed on her ankle. Necessary monitoring was essential to ensure the safety of the warship and the execution of the protocol.
Therefore, when Eilaas used her superb skills to hack the door lock, slipped into the cabin, and pointed her exaggerated "Aila Si Storm" at Kolesa, the duty personnel on the other end of the monitoring system immediately detected the anomaly.
Almost as soon as Eilaas's words, "Speak! Confess honestly!" had faded, the cabin door silently slid open again, without any warning.
Two warriors, clad in deep blue artificer power armor, wearing imposing eagle-winged helmets, and draped in blue cloaks symbolizing honor, stood at the doorway like two suddenly descended steel towers. They were members of the Chapter Master's Honour Guard, responsible for security and discipline in the core areas.
The gaze of one Honour Guard warrior was like lightning, instantly sweeping over the scene inside the cabin—Kolesa lay startled on the bed, while the little one in a Tech-Sergeant's uniform pointed a dangerous-looking, multi-barreled weapon at her.
Without a moment's hesitation, the Honour Guard warrior strode forward, moving with lightning speed. His power-armored hand reached out, precisely grabbing Eilaas by the back of her collar, and effortlessly lifted her from the ground, like an unruly kitten, raising her to the height of his helmet's optical sensor.
"Whoa!" Eilaas exclaimed, her "Aila Si Storm" almost slipping from her grasp. She quickly clutched it tightly.
The Honour Guard warrior's cold, eagle-winged optical sensors, through his mask, scrutinized the struggling little one in his hand, and the extremely conspicuous white helmet she wore.
"Eilaas," the warrior's voice came through the vox-caster, carrying an undeniable authority and a hint of helplessness, "What trouble are you stirring up here?"
His gaze focused on the white helmet, especially the "bunny ear" decorations rising upwards on both sides, and his tone took on a clear hint of surprise and sternness:
"Also, this World Eaters helmet—where did you get it?! And this…" He glanced at the strange weapon with four welded barrels that Eilaas was clutching tightly, "…odd-shaped weapon. All confiscated!"
As he spoke, his other free hand reached out, moving swiftly and decisively, plucking the white Mark III helmet from Eilaas's head and handing it to the other Honour Guard warrior beside him. The warrior took the helmet, examined it carefully, confirmed its style was indeed associated with the World Eaters Legion, and silently put it away.
"Ah! My helmet! Give it back!" Eilaas immediately grew anxious at the sight, kicking her legs in the air and protesting loudly, "That's my spoils of war! I found it!"
However, her protest was like a stone sinking into the sea. The Honour Guard warrior's gaze fell upon the "Aila Si Storm" she was clutching tightly.
"And this 'toy'," his tone carried an unyielding implication, "It's too dangerous, also confiscated."
"No! This is my 'Aila Si Storm'! I spent a long time making it! You can't confiscate it!" Eilaas shrieked, hugging the weapon even tighter, almost hanging onto it.
The Honour Guard warrior looked at her desperate and defiant struggles, his imposing helmet tilted slightly, and he spoke in a tone of sarcasm and questioning:
"What? Eilaas, have the barbaric World Eaters also installed a 'Butcher's Nails' in your head? Why are you causing trouble here? And pointing such a dangerous thing at… a 'guest'?"
He deliberately emphasized the word "guest" to remind Eilaas of Kolesa's special status.
Seeing that her weapon couldn't be saved, Eilaas quickly explained: "I… I wasn't causing trouble! I came to interrogate her!" She pointed a finger at Kolesa, who was still lying on the bed, "A xeno of unknown origin suddenly appeared here! Who knows if she's a spy? Or if she has any ill intentions? I'm helping the Chapter eliminate risks!"
She tried to rationalize her actions, speaking with righteous indignation.
"Oh?" The Honour Guard warrior's voice suddenly rose, with undisguised mockery, "So, when you're a few years older, will even Chapter Master Calgar's position have to be given to you, 'Lady' Eilaas?"
This blatant sarcasm instantly flushed Eilaas's small face. She opened her mouth, wanting to argue further.
But the Honour Guard warrior had no more patience for her unreasonable antics.
"Now," his tone became cold and resolute, "Immediately, right now, go to the brig and reflect properly! You can come out when you realize your mistake!"
With that, he ignored Eilaas's struggles and protests, picked her up, and turned to walk out of the cabin.
"Let me go! Let me go! I don't want to go to the brig! It's dark and no fun at all!" Eilaas struggled desperately in his hand, like a cat held by the scruff of its neck, "I'm going to find the Company Commander to reason with! No, I'm going to find the Chapter Master! You're bullying me! Just wait for your scolding! Ouch! Be gentle! Let me go…"
Her voice gradually faded as the Honour Guard warrior's footsteps receded down the corridor, eventually disappearing completely.
The other Honour Guard warrior glanced at the white World Eaters helmet in his hand, then at the situation inside the cabin. Without another word, he silently turned and left, closing the cabin door behind him. The lock made a faint "beep" sound again, returning to its locked state.
Inside the cabin, silence instantly returned.
Only Kolesa remained, still in the pushed-down position, lying on the cold, spacious bed.
The brief farce had ended, but what followed was a deeper despair and coldness.
Even Eilaas… this girl who shared similar blood and was also Aeldari, though her behavior was childish and comical, her undisguised vigilance and hostility were so real and glaring. In this human world, she was indeed a complete "other," an existence not trusted, monitored, and even seen as a threat by a child.
Moreover, the appearance of the Honour Guard completely confirmed her previous suspicions—her every move was under strict surveillance. That pervasive gaze, like invisible shackles, made her feel suffocated. The cold touch of the inhibitor on her ankle constantly reminded her of her lost power and her status as a prisoner.
Weakness, loneliness, fear, grievance… all these emotions surged back like a tide, even more turbulent than before. She no longer suppressed herself, and tears, like broken strings of pearls, silently streamed down her pale cheeks, soaking the gray sheets beneath her. She curled up, burying her face in the soft pillow, her shoulders trembling slightly from silent sobs.
Deep within this vast and cold steel warship, in this monitored, cramped cabin, she felt as if she had been abandoned by the entire world. Where was the path forward? Where was hope? She saw no answers, only endless darkness and suffocating despair.
The Honour Guard warrior was carrying Eilaas down the corridor leading to the detention cell, much like someone carrying a constantly struggling blue package. Eilaas was still squirming in his hands, muttering protests and threats non-stop, calculating how she would 'persuade' the detention cell guards to let her off the hook when she saw them.
Just then, his helmet's built-in, highest-priority private communication channel rang, connecting directly to the Chapter Master's office.
"Desimosis." Chapter Master Calgar's steady and authoritative voice rang out, devoid of any emotional fluctuation.
"Chapter Master!" Desimosis immediately stopped, straightened his body, even though he was still carrying a person.
"Change of orders. Bring Eilaas to my office. Now." Calgar's voice was beyond question. "Also, that... weapon in her hand, and that helmet, bring them both."
"Understood! Chapter Master!" Desimosis did not hesitate and immediately accepted the order.
He turned around, carrying a suddenly quiet and somewhat bewildered Eilaas, who was blinking her big eyes, and walked towards the Chapter Master's office in the upper core area of the battleship.
Along the way, Eilaas certainly had her moment in the 'spotlight'. Everyone they encountered, whether hurried Astartes Monks or mortal crewmen clutching data-slates, couldn't help but cast their gaze upon this peculiar scene—an imposing Honour Guard warrior carrying the battleship's notorious 'little troublemaker', Tech-Sergeant Eilaas, like a chicken. In her arms, she clutched a bizarre weapon with an extremely wild design, welded with four barrels, her small face filled with reluctance and... a hint of guilt?
Eilaas felt uncomfortable under these gazes, wishing she could bury her face in the 'Aila Si Storm' she held. It was too humiliating! It was simply a stain on her Tech-Sergeant career! She had already cursed Desimosis countless times in her mind.
Finally, they arrived at the heavy and ornate office door, symbolizing the Chapter's highest authority. Desimosis put Eilaas down, not exactly gently. He took the white World Eaters helmet from his comrade's hand, placed it in Eilaas's arms, and then said in a deep voice: "Chapter Master Calgar wants to see you."
Having said that, he and another Honour Guard warrior stood like two door gods on either side of the entrance, no longer paying her any mind.
Eilaas, hugging the heavy helmet and the even heavier 'Aila Si Storm', made a big grimace at Desimosis, stuck out her tongue, then took a deep breath, turned, and pushed open the sliding door to the office.
The Chapter Master's office was not unfamiliar to her. It was vast and solemn, filled with the scent of ozone, ancient parchment, and Power Armour maintenance oil. On one side was a huge observation window, outside of which lay the deep starry sky and patrolling ship silhouettes; on the other side was a tactical wall covered with data-slates and star charts; and at the far end of the room, the towering obsidian throne, which was Marius Calgar's usual seat.
At this moment, Chapter Master Calgar was seated on his throne. He was not wearing his ornate Autarch Power Armour, but had changed into a relatively lighter deep-blue commander's uniform. However, this did not diminish his authority as Chapter Master in the slightest. His weathered face showed a hint of barely concealed fatigue, but his eyes were still as sharp as an eagle's.
Eilaas, clutching her 'belongings', walked slowly and hesitantly to the empty area below the throne, her head bowed. She had been here many times, mostly because she had pranked some rigid Tech-Priest, or accidentally caused a small-scale power outage or alarm during her 'experiments', and was 'invited' here for a reprimand. She had long grown accustomed to this and had even developed a strategy of 'having a good attitude when admitting fault, but refusing to change'.
Calgar's gaze fell upon the small figure below, clutching a weapon and helmet more exaggerated than her own size. Watching this girl, whom he had seen transform from a scrawny, terrified Dark Eldar captive into this... overly lively Tech-Sergeant, the hard corner of his warrior's heart couldn't help but soften slightly.
He had always thought that Eilaas's endless stream of mischievous ideas and pranks were mostly influenced by that brute, Dorian. After all, besides fighting, that fellow's greatest passion was to mess around with Eilaas. However, Calgar also knew clearly that Eilaas's talent in mechanical invention was real and even astonishing. Her independently designed 'Eilaas-pattern' micro Power Fist was not only widely equipped among the Tech-Sergeants and snipers of their Chapter, but even the Forge Masters of the Salamanders Chapter, renowned throughout the galaxy for their forging skills, gave it high praise after evaluation, considering its design ingenious and highly practical.
He spoke slowly, his voice not as full of the iron-blooded killing intent of the battlefield, but with a hint of elder-like weariness and a touch of helplessness:
"Eilaas," he called her name, "What new 'invention' have you come up with this time? Welding four assault cannons together, is it for scaring people, or do you really intend to use it against enemies?"
His gaze then fell upon the white helmet in her arms. Its unique shape and paint scheme instantly made his eyes complex, and his tone deepened by a few points:
"And this helmet... where did you get it from?"
Eilaas's heart sank. The thing she feared most was the Chapter Master asking about the helmet's origin! She couldn't possibly honestly explain that she had secretly snuck it out of the heavily guarded ancient armory, which wasn't fully open to her, could she? The consequences of that would be far more severe than being confined!
Her small brain whirred, and in a moment of quick thinking, she lowered her head and replied in a voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz, filled with undeniable guilt:
"Re... reporting, Chapter Master... The wea... weapon is something I made myself... The hel... helmet... is also something I... I made myself..."
She herself had little confidence in what she was saying. Making a complex multi-barreled weapon might barely be explainable, but making a Mark III helmet with such an ancient style, clearly bearing Legion-era characteristics? And painted in World Eaters colors? This lie truly lacked any technical finesse.
As expected, Calgar on the throne paused for a moment upon hearing this, then let out an extremely faint chuckle, full of exasperation. He shook his head, not immediately exposing her clumsy lie.
He subtly gestured to an Honour Guard warrior standing behind the throne. The warrior immediately stepped forward, approached Eilaas, and extended his large hand covered in Power Armour.
Eilaas looked at the Honour Guard warrior's outstretched hand, then at her beloved 'Aila Si Storm' in her arms. Her small face was filled with reluctance and struggle, but under the Chapter Master's calm gaze, she still reluctantly and slowly handed over the heavy quad-barreled weapon.
The Honour Guard warrior took the 'Aila Si Storm' and respectfully presented it to Calgar.
Calgar did not stand up, but merely extended his large hand, scarred and calloused, to take the wildly designed weapon. He carefully weighed and examined it. He saw the rough but effective weld points, the clearly self-installed cooling system and feeding mechanism, and the crude counterweights added to balance the recoil.
"Four standard-issue assault cannons... forcibly linked in parallel. Structural integrity is the biggest problem. The recoil would probably be difficult for even a Terminator to control stably..." He commented in a low voice, his tone professional and objective.
Eilaas's heart was in her throat, terrified that the Chapter Master's next words would be, "Worthless, dispose of it."
However, Calgar changed his tone, handing the 'Aila Si Storm' back to the Honour Guard warrior, motioning for him to return it to Eilaas.
"The idea is very... bold." Calgar slowly said, looking at Eilaas, who was re-embracing the weapon with a look of astonishment. "Although there are many problems, the concept is not entirely unfeasible. Concentrating firepower for a short burst, in certain specific tactical environments, might achieve miraculous effects."
He actually gave a positive evaluation! Eilaas could hardly believe her ears!
"The Chapter's Tech-Sergeant hierarchy will provide you with the necessary resources and guidance," Calgar continued, with a hint of encouragement in his voice. "You can continue to improve it, optimize its structure, and solve the recoil and feeding stability issues. If it can ultimately pass safety and practicality tests, perhaps... it could be deployed on a small scale to specific assault units."
This was undoubtedly fantastic news! Eilaas instantly cast aside her previous frustration and embarrassment, her small face glowing with excitement, and she nodded repeatedly, hugging her 'Aila Si Storm': "Yes! Chapter Master! I will definitely improve it to perfection!"
But immediately after, Calgar's gaze once again fell on the white World Eaters helmet that Eilaas held tightly in her arms. His eyes became serious and profound once more.
"As for this helmet..." Calgar's voice deepened, carrying an undeniable resolve, "It will be confiscated by the Chapter."
Eilaas's small face instantly fell, and she opened her mouth to plead.
But Calgar didn't give her a chance. He continued, his voice imbued with a sense of historical gravitas: "The World Eaters... are a name the Ultramarines Chapter does not easily speak. They, and the scars they left, are our eternal pain."
He didn't elaborate on the tragedy known as the 'Shadow Crusade' that happened in the distant past, and the subsequent series of misfortunes, but Eilaas could feel the heavy weight behind the Chapter Master's tone.
"This helmet, as a... special 'trophy'," Calgar arranged, "will be placed in the Chapter's Hall of Honour. The next time the Hall of Honour is open, you will see it there."
This was already the most lenient way he could handle it. Instead of severely punishing her for privately taking an ancient artifact, he transformed it into an exhibit with a cautionary and educational meaning.
Although Eilaas was a bit reluctant to part with this 'interesting' helmet, she knew this was the best possible outcome. She obediently handed the helmet to the Honour Guard warrior who had stepped forward again.
"Alright, go back." Calgar waved his hand. "Remember, put more of your energy into proper matters beneficial to the Chapter, and less into... harassing our 'guests'."
"Yes, Chapter Master!" Eilaas, as if granted a great pardon, bowed to Calgar, clutching her "Aila Si Storm," then quickly turned and scurried out of the office, afraid the Chapter Master would change his mind.
Watching the sliding door close again, Calgar shook his head helplessly, yet a faint, almost imperceptible smile involuntarily curved his lips. This troublesome little one sometimes truly gave him a headache, but also... was not without her endearing qualities.
In deep space, two Ultramarines Thunderhawk Gunships, like two dark blue steel eagles, tore through the thick industrial clouds above the Korha-IV Hive City world, descending with an ear-splitting roar towards the massive Hive City clusters below, which stood like metal mountains.
From orbit, these Hive Cities resembled gigantic, rust-stained metal beehives, layered upon layered, towering into the clouds, their scale breathtakingly immense. At this moment, they lay dormant on the planet's surface, as if silently waiting for something.
Inside one of the relatively standard Thunderhawk Gunships, the three members of Sanks Squad were secured in their respective seats, experiencing the violent turbulence and G-forces of atmospheric re-entry.
Luna was intently operating her portable data-slate, her relatively slender fingers flying across the virtual keyboard, seemingly analyzing the newly received Hive City structural data or debugging some detection program. Her light pink short hair was particularly striking under the cabin lights.
Dorian, clad in his heavy Saturnine Terminator armor, was firmly secured in a specialized reinforced seat, like a bound colossus. He watched Luna's focused demeanor and couldn't help but say in his voice, amplified by the vox-caster and still carrying a rough, boorish quality:
"I say, Luna, you Tech-Sergeants, all you know is to poke around with those cold cog-lumps and data-slates all day, it's utterly boring. A true warrior should speak with bolters and chainswords!"
Luna didn't even lift her head, her gaze still fixed on the constantly updating information stream on the data-slate. She merely responded in her calm, unruffled, yet always precisely cutting tone:
"Is it very interesting to be locked in a dark confinement cell like you, hungry and facing the wall in reflection?"
"Uh..." Dorian was instantly choked speechless, his face beneath the helmet flushing slightly. He could only huff in annoyance, swallowing the rest of his words. He feared nothing, but he feared Luna's "precision strikes" that lacked any hint of anger.
Gaius sat opposite them, also secured in his seat, the various indicator lights on his artificer power armor steadily blinking. He did not participate in their bickering, but silently closed his eyes to rest, while repeatedly rehearsing various possible scenarios and countermeasures in his mind. Steadiness was his consistent style.
"Attention! Entering final stage of atmospheric re-entry, estimated seventy seconds until landing at target location! Everyone, prepare for impact!" The pilot's voice came through the internal comms channel, clear and calm.
The turbulence suddenly intensified. The three immediately ceased their conversation and activities, performing a final quick check of their equipment—weapon energy, ammunition reserves, power armor system status. Red lights began to flash in the cabin, signaling the imminent start of the landing procedure.
"Bang! Boom—"
With a violent jolt and the dull thud of the landing gear impacting the metal ground, the Thunderhawk Gunship settled steadily onto a designated landing pad in the middle sector of the target Hive City. This was a relatively safe area controlled by the Planetary Defense Forces.
The hydraulic hiss of the locking clamps disengaging sounded. Gaius, Dorian, and Luna almost simultaneously unfastened their seats, their heavy boots stepping onto the Hive City's grimy and oil-stained, yet exceptionally sturdy, steel deck. A turbid smell, a mixture of industrial exhaust, ozone, and some... indescribable odor generated by countless lower-level lives congregating, assailed them, starkly different from the strictly filtered air inside the warship.
Immediately after, another Thunderhawk Gunship, noticeably larger in size and with specially reinforced construction, also landed smoothly nearby. The rear ramp lowered, and nine members of the "Demolias" squad, clad in Indomitus-pattern Terminator armor, emerged one by one, their unique, ground-shaking heavy footsteps echoing. Their massive physiques and heavy armor brought an unparalleled sense of oppression upon their appearance, as if nine mobile steel fortresses.
Dorian looked at the nine Terminators, then at the visibly larger Thunderhawk they had emerged from, and nudged Luna beside him with his elbow, lowering his voice: "Hey, Luna, look at those nine big guys, crammed into one Thunderhawk, how cramped must that be! Can't imagine, can't imagine..."
Luna didn't even spare him a glance, merely responding flatly, pointing out his lack of observation: "That's a 'Stormhawk' heavy gunship; its carrying capacity and space are designed for Terminators. It's a whole size larger than our standard Thunderhawk. Didn't you notice?"
Dorian then realized, touching his helmet somewhat awkwardly.
At this moment, a Captain in a Planetary Defense Forces officer's uniform, looking nervous but trying to maintain composure, hurried forward with several guards. He saluted Sergeant Karl Horn, who was at the forefront, with a standard military salute.
"Greetings, esteemed Angel! I am Captain Marcus, commander of the Seventh Regiment of the local Planetary Defense Forces." The Captain's tone carried reverence and a hint of relief.
Gaius returned the salute, his movement concise and powerful. "I am Sergeant Karl Horn of the Ultramarines Chapter First Company. We have reviewed the situation brief; now we require more detailed intelligence." His voice, transmitted through his helmet, was calm and authoritative.
"Yes, Sergeant!" Captain Marcus immediately signaled his adjutant to hand Gaius a data-slate, which displayed the Hive City's structural map and marked Genestealers activity zones.
While quickly scanning the data-slate, Gaius subtly issued instructions to Luna via a private encrypted comms channel: "Luna, conduct a full scan of the surrounding environment, record all details. Pay close attention to the behavioral patterns and physiological readings of these Planetary Defense Forces soldiers, as well as any possible anomalous energy signals or communication fluctuations."
"Understood." Luna responded concisely, the sensors beneath her helmet and the data-slate in her hand already silently working, like the most precise scanners, collecting all information from their surroundings.
Gaius returned the data-slate to the adjutant, his gaze returning to Captain Marcus, and began to ask key questions:
"Captain, when did you first confirm the discovery of Genestealers activity?"
"Approximately thirty-seven standard hours ago, Sergeant," Captain Marcus immediately replied, "Initially, there were reports of missing personnel and abnormal gnawing of goods in the bottom-level H-7 sector's supply warehouse."
"What was their scale when discovered? Had they already formed an organized cult?"
"Based on our preliminary reconnaissance, the scale... is not optimistic." The Captain's expression grew solemn. "They seem to have been lurking for quite some time. Their numbers are estimated to be at least several thousand, possibly more. Moreover, they have indeed formed a rudimentary organization; we observed planned attacks and relocation behaviors. Many areas in the lower levels already show clear signs of cult activity, with some murals and blasphemous symbols."
"Are there currently any signs of infection detected in the upper and middle sectors?" This was one of Gaius's most pressing questions, related to whether the infection had spiraled out of control.
"Currently... there are no reports of confirmed individual Genestealers activity in the middle and upper levels," the Captain replied, "But we have intensified monitoring and blockade of all passages and ventilation systems, and we are strictly isolating and inspecting personnel coming up from the middle and lower levels."
Gaius listened carefully, while also noting Luna's feedback in the comms channel: "Environmental scan shows no significant anomalies. Planetary Defense Forces soldiers' physiological readings are within tense but normal ranges; no Genestealers-specific biological signals or psychic residues detected. Communication signals are conventional military frequencies, with no abnormal encryption or interference."
For now, it seemed this Planetary Defense Forces unit that came to meet them was all normal.
Gaius nodded, but then posed a sharp question, his gaze falling on Captain Marcus's face as if tangible:
"If that is the case, you possess a large number of personnel and relatively advanced equipment, so why, in the early stages of discovery, did you not attempt to rally forces to reclaim the infected areas of the lower levels, but instead chose to... directly abandon and blockade them?"
This question seemed to hit a nerve with Captain Marcus; his eyes flickered, and his previously fluent answers showed a subtle delay and... panic?
He stammered, his voice lower, explaining:
"This... Sergeant, the situation is more complex than anticipated... We... we initially did try to organize cleanup teams to go down, but... but..."
He took a deep breath, as if having made up his mind, and spoke a startling truth:
"But we discovered that a very large portion of... the soldiers originally stationed in the lower levels to maintain order and production... were also... also infected! They attacked us alongside those monsters! We suffered heavy losses and were forced to retreat... we had no choice but to abandon the lower levels..."
This information, like a huge stone thrown into calm water, instantly made the atmosphere even more somber.
Gaius's brows furrowed tightly beneath his helmet. Widespread infection within the Planetary Defense Forces? This undoubtedly greatly increased the difficulty and risk of the mission, and also cast a question mark over the reliability of these "normal" soldiers before them.
A cloud of suspicion began to quietly spread.
The intelligence Gaius received from Captain Marcus suddenly elevated the complexity of the mission. The lower Hive City was not deserted; an unknown number of civilians remained there—primarily factory workers maintaining the Hive City's basic operations and their families. Whether they had already been infected and controlled by Genestealers, or were still struggling to survive in some corner, everything was unknown.
This meant that the previously relatively straightforward 'reconnaissance-assessment-eradication' mission now had to incorporate the extremely tricky and time-consuming elements of 'rescue' and 'identification.' In a treacherous environment where the enemy was hidden and they were exposed, the difficulty of both finding and eliminating the xenos threat while ensuring the safety of innocent civilians increased exponentially.
Gaius quickly integrated all information in his mind, then first had a brief communication with the captain of the Demolias Terminator squad, reiterating the current situation. The Terminator captain, his head covered by a heavy helmet, nodded slightly in understanding, and his team members, like a steel bulwark behind him, silently adjusted their heavy weapons, preparing for more complex scenarios.
Immediately after, Gaius directly connected to the encrypted communication channel with Captain Cassius on the Macragge's Honour, clearly and concisely reporting the acquired intelligence, especially the possibility of a large number of uninfected civilians in the lower levels.
On the other end of the communication, Captain Cassius listened to the report. Even across the vast void and communication interference, Gaius could feel the sudden increase in his solemnity from the captain's brief silence.
"Civilians..." the captain's low voice came through, carrying a hint of barely perceptible annoyance, "This will make things much more troublesome."
He quickly weighed the pros and cons. Abandoning the civilians did not align with the Ultramarines' creed of protecting Ultramar, but launching a large-scale rescue rashly could place the squad in extreme danger, possibly even falling into a meticulously laid Genestealer trap.
After a moment of thought, Captain Cassius made his decision, issuing clear orders:
"Sanx, Demolias, your mission priority has been updated. Proceed immediately to the lower-level blockade zone for initial reconnaissance. Primary objective: confirm the extent of the Genestealer infection, and locate their main hive or primary gathering areas as much as possible. Secondly, attempt to confirm the approximate distribution and condition of surviving civilians."
He emphasized the operational principles: "Focus on reconnaissance and assessment, avoid large-scale engagements with the enemy. If you encounter an irresistible encirclement, or confirm the situation exceeds your handling capabilities, you are authorized to immediately call for orbital or ground support. Repeat, prioritize your own preservation and obtaining accurate intelligence."
"Understood, Captain," Gaius responded in a deep voice. The captain's instructions matched his own predictions, cautious and pragmatic.
After ending the communication, Gaius immediately gathered all his team members, repeated the captain's orders, then turned to Captain Marcus, who had been waiting nearby.
"Captain, the situation has changed. We need to proceed immediately to the entrance of the blockade line leading to the lower levels. Please lead the way."
Captain Marcus, hearing that the Astartes were decided to venture into the lower levels, a flicker of worry crossed his face, but he dared not question the angels' decision. He immediately bowed and said, "Yes, Sergeant! Please follow me!"
He called his adjutant and a squad of fully armed soldiers to act as guides and escorts, leading the way deeper into the Hive City, though in front of the Astartes, they looked more like an honor guard.
Gaius stepped forward, walking at the front of the team, his steady figure like a stabilizing anchor. Luna followed closely at his side, her datapad and helmet sensors continuously working, like a mobile reconnaissance station, not missing any environmental anomaly. Dorian and the nine Indomitable Terminators walked at the very rear of the team; their heavy footsteps, especially the "CLANG! CLANG!" of the Terminators, echoed through the Hive City's metal corridors and pipes, like a drumbeat announcing the arrival of power.
Wherever they passed, the Planetary Defense Forces soldiers stationed or working along the way all cast gazes of shock, awe, and... relief. Many soldiers spontaneously stopped their work in the distance, straightened their bodies, crossed their arms over their chests, and performed the standard Aquila salute, watching this powerful force head to the most dangerous front line.
After traversing the labyrinthine mid-level structure of the Hive City for about fifteen minutes, the team reached their destination—the massive entrance blockade line leading to the lower levels.
The scene here was completely different from the areas they had passed earlier, filled with pre-battle tension and grimness. The once wide connecting passages and huge stairwell entrance were now blocked by dense defensive fortifications. Heavy sandbag walls were piled up like small fortresses, behind which ammunition boxes and energy cells were stacked. Above the sandbags, multiple heavy Bolters, laser cannons, and multi-melta guns were mounted, their dark muzzles, without exception, pointed firmly down the deep, dim, massive staircase that seemed to lead to the abyss of hell.
Approximately a hundred Planetary Defense Forces soldiers were stationed here, wearing heavy flak armor and enclosed helmets, gripping their weapons tightly, their expressions highly tense, their eyes fixed on the unknown dark area below, not daring to relax even slightly. When they saw Captain Marcus leading the Astartes Monks, their taut nerves seemed to relax somewhat, and their eyes showed a glimmer of hope.
Captain Marcus turned around, facing Gaius, his face still showing unconcealed worry, as he made one last attempt to persuade: "Respected Angel, are you... are you truly determined to go down? Down there... down there is truly very dangerous! We have lost many excellent soldiers; the situation there... has completely spiraled out of control!"
Gaius stopped, his gaze sweeping over the deep staircase below, then looking at the tense and weary soldiers around him. His voice, transmitted through his helmet, was calm, yet carried an unquestionable firmness and sense of mission:
"Danger is the very reason for the Astartes Monks' existence. To protect humanity for the Emperor, to remove threats from Ultramar, this is our mission, and it is our glory."
His words were simple, yet weighed a thousand pounds, moving all the soldiers present.
After speaking, Gaius turned to Luna and began to deploy the specific action plan. Delving into an area of unknown enemy strength, they had to have a backup plan.
"Luna," Gaius said, "you and two of our brothers from Demolias, stay here."
He pointed to the rear of the defensive fortifications: "Your mission is: establish and maintain a stable communication relay node, ensuring our continuous contact with the upper levels and with the orbital warship. Simultaneously, assist the Defense Forces in consolidating this defensive line and monitor any abnormal situations. If we need support from below, or if important intelligence is discovered, you are the first information gateway."
Luna immediately understood Gaius's intention. Leaving the Tech-Sergeant and some heavy firepower would ensure both a retreat path and communication, and also provide powerful fire support when necessary. She nodded, responding concisely: "Understood. Be very careful."
The captain of the Demolias squad immediately designated two Terminator warriors to step forward; they would remain with Luna.
Luna and the two Terminator warriors then left the main team, and under the awed gazes of the Defense Forces soldiers, entered the defensive fortifications, beginning to select suitable positions to set up communication equipment and establish fire support points.
Gaius glanced at the remaining team members—Dorian, and seven giant-like Indomitable Terminators.
"The rest of you, follow me," Gaius's voice came through the comms channel to each team member, "Maintain vigilance, advance in stages. Dorian, you are responsible for flank security. Terminator squad, pay attention to fire coverage and formation."
He led the way, his heavy power boots stepping onto the massive, grime and unknown slime-covered staircase leading to the lower Hive City, resolutely heading towards the area shrouded in darkness and unknown danger. Dorian let out a low growl, shouldered his Storm Bolter, and followed closely. The seven Indomitable Terminators moved with heavy, stair-shaking steps, like mobile steel walls, slowly descending.
The light gradually receded behind them, leaving only the illumination lights on their power armor and weapon indicator lights, twinkling like stars in the profound darkness, steadfastly piercing the mist ahead.
The Astartes squad continued to descend into the lower levels of the Hive City along the massive and dilapidated staircase. The further down they went, the dimmer the light became, and the stronger the strange odors in the air—a mixture of rust, decaying organic matter, mold, and an indescribable, sickly sweet smell belonging to xenos creatures. The ambient temperature seemed to be slowly rising, with an unnatural stuffiness.
The sights along the way were shocking, silently narrating the fierce battles and terrifying erosion that had taken place and were still ongoing.
On the walls, the originally rough metal surface was covered with deep scratches, as if left by massive claws, crisscrossing like some frantic graffiti.
Between these scratches were blasphemous symbols — twisted, multi-limbed outlines, and some incomprehensible geometric patterns — drawn with an unknown dark red pigment or directly with blood, emanating an unsettling, sinister aura.
On the stairs and platforms on both sides, incomplete corpses were scattered.
There were Planetary Defense Forces soldiers, clad in tattered uniforms, their bodies mostly torn beyond recognition, some reduced to mere limbs.
Even more chilling, among them were mixed bodies that had begun to twist and show xenos characteristics — bulging foreheads, elongated fingers, and unnaturally grey-purple skin — these were the unfortunate souls infected by Genestealers' genes and undergoing mutation.
Spent casings, scorch marks from energy weapons, and craters left by explosions were ubiquitous, clearly indicating that the PDF forces had put up fierce resistance here, but ultimately failed to stop the erosion from the deep darkness.
In some places, the remnants of hastily constructed but violently destroyed defensive fortifications could still be seen.
Throughout the entire descent, apart from their own heavy footsteps and the low hum of their power armor systems, there was a deathly silence.
But this silence was not peaceful; rather, it was the suffocating oppression before a storm, as if countless eyes were peering at them from the shadows all around.
In this oppressive atmosphere, an indomitable Terminator warrior named Corran, belonging to Demolias's squad, seemingly to alleviate the tension, teased Dorian, who was walking ahead, through the squad's internal channel, his voice amplified by the speaker and resonating with a metallic echo:
"Brother Dorian," Corran's voice carried a hint of the playful banter unique to veterans, "I say, if a real fight breaks out down there later, don't you go getting hot-headed again, like before, and charge headfirst into those bugs' nests with your big weapon."
He patted the heavy assault cannon on his shoulder: "I don't want to have to bring a few brothers afterwards, risking being surrounded by thousands of bugs, to delve deep into the enemy ranks just to retrieve your power armor, which might already be chewed up, and the gene-seed inside.
That's not an easy job at all."
This level of banter was not uncommon among Astartes, especially between comrades who had faced life and death together.
Dorian, hearing this, far from getting angry, instead let out a hearty, unconcerned laugh, his rough voice echoing through the passage: "Brother, you can rest easy! Even if I, Dorian, really have bad luck and have to report to the Emperor on the Golden Throne, it will definitely be after sending all those bastards down there to meet their vile gods!
I'll make sure to clear the path for you so cleanly that the brothers retrieving the gene-seed won't even touch a bug's hair! Absolutely safe!"
His tone was filled with blind confidence and an absolute trust in his own combat prowess.
Gaius, who had been at the forefront of the team and silent, now spoke through the channel, his voice calm yet carrying undeniable weight, adding to Corran's reminder:
"Brother Corran is right, Dorian. Impulsiveness and recklessness will not only endanger yourself but also potentially drag the entire squad into unnecessary peril.
Our primary mission here is reconnaissance and assessment, not a frontal assault. I need you to remain calm and obey orders."
Gaius's words, compared to Corran's teasing, obviously carried more weight.
Dorian seemed to rein himself in a bit, but his tone still carried his characteristic devil-may-care attitude: "Got it, Brother Gaius! Don't worry, I, Dorian, am very reliable when it counts! Besides," he brandished the twin-linked Storm Bolter in his hand, the muzzle gleaming coldly in the dim light, "I don't believe any of those bugs down there can withstand my darling's thirty rounds per second of enthusiastic greeting! I'll make sure to turn them all into sieves!"
Gaius said nothing more; he knew that for Dorian, too much preaching had limited effect, and he could only remind and restrain him as needed during actual combat.
The squad continued to descend for about half a standard hour, finally reaching the end of the long staircase and stepping onto a relatively open, large platform area.
This seemed to be a major transportation hub or gathering square in the lower Hive City, vast in scale, but now it was like a ghost realm.
The platform floor was covered with a sticky, translucent, foul-smelling slime, making a "splat" sound when stepped on—a typical trace of Genestealer activity.
On the surrounding walls and support pillars, the blasphemous symbols and claw marks were even denser, and in some places, there were even biological tissues resembling egg sacs or nest structures that had not yet fully dried.
Gaius's heart sank.
The situation was worse than he had anticipated.
The entrance above was heavily blockaded, yet these xenos dared to operate so brazenly and leave such obvious traces in an area not too far from the blockade.
This could only mean one thing—the number of Genestealers in the lower Hive City had probably reached an astonishing scale; they had completely claimed this place as their territory and had no fear of the blockade above.
"Situation has changed; the scale of infection may far exceed estimates," Gaius immediately whispered to all squad members via the comms channel, simultaneously activating his power armor's built-in combat recorder to begin real-time recording of environmental data, and preparing to report the preliminary assessment to Captain Cassius via Luna at any moment.
Following this, Gaius made tactical adjustments.
He knew that in such a complex, dim, and uncertain large space, a sniper and observer hidden in the shadows was far safer and more effective than everyone being exposed in the open.
"Brother Ricaud (Terminator squad leader), you lead your squad and Dorian to establish a defensive formation at the platform entrance for initial reconnaissance; do not push deeper rashly," Gaius swiftly ordered, "I will provide sight and vigilance from above."
Having said that, Gaius retrieved a folded sniper's stealth cloak, made of special fibers, from his gear attachment point.
He deftly draped it over his power armor, put on the wide hood, and covered his "Hawkeye" sniper rifle with the cloak as well.
Then, like a nimble cat, he swiftly ran and pushed off, using the power of his power armor to easily climb the outer wall of a nearby, higher-positioned, large ventilation duct leading to other areas.
He crouched on top of the duct and activated the stealth cloak's device.
A very subtle energy fluctuation flashed, and his cloaked figure, along with the sniper rifle in his hand, quickly became blurred, transparent, and finally almost perfectly blended into the surrounding dim environment.
Only with extremely careful observation could a slight inconsistency be detected in the subtle differences of light refraction.
This was advanced optical camouflage technology specifically designed for scouts and snipers.
"I am in position, good visibility," Gaius's voice came through the encrypted channel, calm and clear, "You may begin to advance slowly.
I will be on high alert, marking any potential threats."
Below, Dorian and seven indomitable Terminator warriors immediately executed the order.
The Terminators spread out in a standard assault formation, their heavy bodies like moving fortresses, weapons pointed in all directions where threats might appear.
Dorian, meanwhile, excitedly stretched his shoulders, his twin-linked Storm Bolter in a ready-to-fire state, and his eyes, hidden beneath his helmet, scanned the darkness ahead like a leopard.
Gaius, through the precise multi-function scope on his "Hawkeye" sniper rifle, like a patient hunter, began to meticulously scan the vast, unknown space deep within the platform, shrouded in slime and shadows.
The muzzle adjusted slightly with his gaze, ready at any moment to precisely deliver death to any enemy daring to show itself.
One hidden, one exposed; one shield, one spear; the reconnaissance mission officially began.
And in the darkness, the countless stirring shadows also seemed to sense the arrival of the intruders and began to grow restless.
Under Sergeant Karl's ghost-like silent vigilance, Captain Ricaud led the Demolias Terminator Squad and Dorian deeper into the lower Hive City.
Seven iron giants clad in Indomitus-pattern Terminator armor, along with Dorian's equally massive Saturn-pattern Terminator body, formed an impregnable mobile fortress, slowly and steadily stepping into the vast platform area shrouded in slime and darkness.
"Clang! Clang! Clang!"
The heavy metal soles of their boots struck the cold, slime-covered ground, emitting regular, muffled thuds that echoed far and wide in the deathly silent space.
This sound, normally a symbol of strength and order, now seemed to become a provocation that broke some subtle balance, sounding particularly harsh in the silence.
Aside from their own footsteps, the low hum of their power armor systems, and the faint buzzing of their scanners, there was a deathly silence all around.
There were no anticipated Genestealers' characteristic hisses or scuttling sounds, nor any signs of human activity.
This excessive quiet, however, set off alarm bells in the experienced warriors' hearts.
Silence often presages a storm.
"Initiate full-spectrum scan, pay attention to thermal signatures and biological movement trajectories," Captain Ricaud calmly ordered, his head, covered by a heavy helmet, slowly turning.
The muzzle of his assault cannon followed his gaze, sweeping over the derelict factory buildings ahead that stood like the skeletons of giant beasts.
The Terminators' helmet sensors and shoulder-mounted scan arrays operated at full capacity, emitting almost inaudible operational sounds.
Invisible detection waves swept over the surrounding buildings, pipes, and mountains of discarded steel.
"Report, Captain, scanning is ongoing… No clear life signs detected.
Environmental interference is strong; there may be scan blind spots," a Terminator warrior reported the scan results.
They advanced along the predetermined route towards the first marked point—a large-scale steel rolling mill.
The factory's huge, rust-stained iron gate was long gone, and the interior was pitch black, like an open maw.
"Approaching the entrance of the first steel rolling mill.
External scans still show no anomalies," Ricaud reported their position via the comms channel to Luna, who remained above, and Gaius, who was at a higher vantage point.
"Received.
Stay vigilant, proceed deeper," Gaius's voice came from above, calm as ever.
The crosshairs of his "Hawkeye" sniper rifle, like the eyes of the calmest hunter, slowly swept over the huge, dilapidated roof and dark windows of the steel mill, not missing the slightest movement.
The squad cautiously entered the steel rolling mill.
Beneath the towering dome were massive, long-inactive steel rolling machines, covered in thick rust and dust.
Various sizes of steel and parts were scattered on the ground, some piled high, forming complex obstacles.
The air was thick with the smell of rust and… that faint, alien, sweet scent.
"Inside the steel rolling mill, in the steel storage area.
Proceeding as planned towards the adjacent workers' residential area," Ricaud continued to report.
Their goal was to investigate as many key areas as possible to assess the extent of the infection and potential hiding places for survivors.
However, none of them realized that from the moment they stepped onto this open factory platform, they had already walked, step by step, into a meticulously laid death trap.
This area, with its relatively open view, was surrounded by tall factory buildings, forming a natural "urn city."
These seemingly silent and deserted factory buildings harbored countless deadly threats within their interiors and on their rooftops.
Just as Ricaud's squad reported "no life signs detected," above their heads, in the shadows of the factory rooftops or behind the shattered windows of the upper floors, pairs of eyes, gleaming with fanaticism and twisted light, were fixed intently on the slowly moving blue team below.
These were no longer normal humans.
They were mutants completely infected and controlled by Genestealer genes.
Many of them still wore tattered Planetary Defense Forces uniforms, but their bodies had undergone horrific deformities—arms elongated with reversed joints, foreheads bulging, and unconscious, suppressed gurgling sounds emanating from their mouths.
In their hands were standard-issue Lasguns, Heavy Bolters, and even heavy weapons plundered from armories!
These infected soldiers still retained some military knowledge and tactical awareness, making them more dangerous than ordinary Genestealers.
Like the most patient hunters, they hid in the darkness, cleverly evading the Terminators' conventional scan detections by utilizing the factory buildings' metal structures and residual energy signals.
They were waiting, waiting for this powerful invading force to fully enter the center of their pre-set ambush zone.
And the true, fatal killing blow was hidden even deeper.
Inside the steel rolling mill, behind a seemingly casually stacked but meticulously camouflaged pile of discarded steel, a larger shadow quietly lurked.
It was a Leman Russ Battle Tank!
Its thick, battle-scarred cannon barrel was now adjusting its angle extremely slowly and silently, peeking through the gaps in the steel, its dark muzzle precisely aimed at Dorian, who was walking relatively at the front of the team and was the most conspicuous in size!
Beside the tank, shadows writhed, and several even taller, more heavily mutated infected individuals squatted silently.
In their hands were terrifying melee weapons such as huge industrial cutting axes and modified power hammers, and their twisted faces were filled with fanatical anticipation and a desire for slaughter.
They were like venomous snakes lurking in the grass, just waiting for the command to strike, unleashing the fiercest firepower and the most frenzied melee attacks to completely overwhelm this Astartes squad.
The entire ambush was set, a deadly net quietly tightening.
And the warriors within the net, though maintaining high vigilance, were still completely unaware of the impending, devastating attack from all directions.
High above, Gaius's brow furrowed slightly.
A sniper's intuition told him something was amiss.
It was too quiet, unusually quiet.
His scope scanned the edges of the factory rooftops and the interiors of the windows even more carefully, trying to find any incongruity.
"Captain Ricaud, pay attention to the buildings on both sides and above.
I feel… it's a bit too quiet," Gaius issued a warning, but his scan was also affected by environmental interference, failing to directly detect the perfectly hidden ambushers.
"Understood.
We are accelerating through this open area," Ricaud responded, and the Terminator squad's formation tightened slightly, their advance speed increasing marginally.
However, their current position was precisely at the core of the ambush zone.
Just as Dorian's massive Saturn-pattern Terminator body was about to step past a specific pile of discarded steel, fully exposing him to the leman russ tank's optimal firing range… Gaius's unease, like a rising tide, almost broke through his usual calm.
The deathly silence of this area contrasted too sharply with the heavy footsteps of the squad members below, like the suffocating calm before a storm.
He held his breath, raising all his senses to the extreme, his power armor's auditory enhancement system amplifying, filtering, and analyzing the slightest surrounding sounds.
Just as Ricaud's squad was about to fully cross the open ground and approach the residential area deeper within the steel mill—
"Click."
An extremely faint metallic friction sound, almost masked by the power armor's own operational noise, like a stone dropped into a still lake, was instantly captured by Gaius's honed, acute hearing!
That was… the sound of a shell being chambered!
And it was the heavy, distinct reloading sound of a large armored vehicle's main cannon!
Location—just behind that camouflaged pile of steel in front and to the side of Dorian!
"Ambush! Scatter!" Gaius's voice, like a thunderclap, roared through the squad's comms channel, with an unprecedented urgency and warning!
However, his warning was still a fraction of a second too late.
Almost at the same instant his words fell—
"Boom—!!!"
A thick tongue of flame suddenly erupted from the gaps in the discarded steel!
The deafening roar of the cannon instantly tore through the silence!
A high-explosive armor-piercing shell, moving at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye, carrying devastating kinetic energy, slammed viciously into Dorian's left shoulder plate, who had instinctively turned aside at the sound but couldn't fully dodge!
"Bang—!!!"
A violent explosion erupted suddenly!
Scorching flames and a shockwave instantly engulfed half of Dorian's body!
His massive, multi-ton Saturn-pattern Terminator body, as if struck by an invisible giant hammer, staggered violently backward, his heavy metal boots carving two deep furrows in the slime on the ground, almost causing him to fall flat on his back!
The flash of the explosion, like a momentary sun, instantly illuminated the dim area as bright as day, completely exposing the positions of everyone in Ricaud's squad!
"Ugh!" Dorian let out a muffled groan; even with the dual protection of Terminator armor and a genetically enhanced body, this direct hit from a tank's main cannon made him extremely uncomfortable.
His left shoulder plate was severely deformed and shattered, and the internal servo systems and a portion of the power system instantly failed, emitting black smoke and electrical sparks.
Even more terrifying was the horrific impact force that penetrated the armor, shaking his internal organs as if they had shifted, bringing a churning, intense pain, and a sweet taste in his throat, almost making him vomit blood.
"Enemy attack! Defensive formation!" Captain Ricaud's roar immediately followed, his composure laced with suppressed fury.
And the enemy's attack had only just begun!
With the leman russ tank's opening fire, it was as if the signal for a general assault had been sounded.
In an instant, intense flashes of gunfire erupted from the previously silent factory rooftops and upper-story windows!
"For the Four-Armed Emperor! Slay the Astartes!" Crazed, distorted shouts came from above.
Countless laser beams, Bolter rounds, and heavy Bolter shells, like torrential rain, poured down from all directions, instantly engulfing the entire area where the Astartes squad was located!
The infected soldiers, their eyes glowing with fanatical red light, fired wildly and indiscriminately at the blue giants below!
"Clang, clang, clang! Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle—!"
The dense hail of bullets struck the Terminators' incredibly thick armor, erupting in continuous impacts and the sounds of energy beams burning.
Lasers and light Bolter rounds mostly only left tiny scorch marks or shallow dents on the dark blue ceramite, sparking sporadically, unable to cause substantial damage.
But for Dorian, who had just endured a direct tank shot, with damaged armor and internal injuries, these continuous attacks were undoubtedly adding insult to injury.
"Fire! Suppress rooftop firepower!" Captain Ricaud roared, raising his assault cannon first.
"Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump—!"
"Sizzle—!"
"Boom!"
The seven Indomitus Terminator warriors instantly transformed into seven mobile fortresses spewing deadly flames!
Assault cannons spat out a dense storm of metal, storm Bolters roared dully, and plasma cannons fired deadly azure energy balls!
Their counterattack was precise and efficient!
The exposed infected on the rooftops were instantly subjected to devastating blows.
The assault cannon's barrages tore apart infected individuals who couldn't dodge, along with the concrete beneath their feet; plasma spheres exploded violently upon impact, instantly vaporizing enemies in an area; and the storm Bolter's sweep, like the scythe of death, cut down any enemy who dared to show their head!
Dismembered limbs and shattered weapons rained down from the rooftops, and the enemy's frantic firepower paused.
Dorian endured the intense pain and dizziness within his body, the power armor system's alarm blaring shrilly in his helmet.
He let out a roar and activated the shield field generator beneath his still-intact shoulder plate.
"Hum—" A translucent shield, swirling with energy ripples, instantly unfolded before him, blocking most of the light firepower from directly ahead, buying him precious time to breathe and stabilize.
He raised his right arm, the still-intact twin-linked Storm Bolter, and aimed at a particularly dense point of enemy fire on the rooftop, pulling the trigger!
"Thump-thump-thump-thump—!" The Storm Bolter roared ferociously, its thirty rounds per second rate of fire instantly shredding several machine gunners in that area, along with their cover, into a storm of flying debris.
On the high-up ventilation duct, Gaius crouched, his body slightly tense from the fierce firefight below.
His "Hawkeye" sniper rifle had already locked onto a mutated soldier on the edge of the rooftop, operating a heavy Bolter and firing wildly downwards.
His finger was on the trigger, and with a slight movement, that threat could instantly disappear.
However, just as he was about to pull the trigger, Captain Ricaud's voice came through the internal channel, calm and decisive:
"Sergeant Karl! Maintain concealment! Do not fire!
They haven't discovered your position yet!"
Gaius's finger stiffened slightly, and he instantly understood the Captain's intent.
He was the squad's only "dark chess piece," an eye hidden in the shadows and a potential fatal blow.
If he exposed his position too early, he would not only lose his tactical advantage but also potentially draw concentrated enemy fire, or even be targeted by enemy snipers or heavy weapons.
He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the instinctive urge to immediately support his comrades, and slowly released his finger from the trigger.
But the crosshairs of his scope remained fixed on the heavy machine gunner, and further away, those enemies who were faintly visible in the shadows, seemingly commanders or special units.
He completely integrated himself into the environment, like a lifeless rock, only his eyes, peering through the scope, coldly observing the battlefield, his brain rapidly calculating, analyzing the distribution of enemy fire points, the location of commanders, and… the precise position of that leman russ tank that had just fired and now seemed to be reloading.
His silence was for the sake of delivering a more lethal blow at the critical moment.
The battle below entered a brief stalemate.
The Terminators, relying on their heavy armor and powerful firepower, barely withstood the attacks from all directions and continuously cleared out exposed enemies.
But the enemy was numerous and held the high ground, and more importantly, the tank hidden in the dark remained a Damocles sword hanging over their heads.
Dorian leaned against a relatively intact pile of steel, panting heavily, using his shield and remaining armor to fend off stray bullets, while intermittently returning fire with his Storm Bolter.
He glanced at his severely damaged left shoulder and cursed, "Damn it… these annoying bugs…"
Captain Ricaud, while firing bursts at enemies on the rooftop with his assault cannon, quickly spoke into the comms channel: "Gaius, prioritize finding that tank and any potential command units!
We need to remove these obstacles!"
"Understood.
Locating," Gaius responded calmly, his "Hawkeye" circling the chaotic battlefield like the most patient hawk, searching for the most important prey.
The hunt in the darkness entered a new phase.