Dorian felt as if a red-hot branding iron had been shoved into his chest cavity; every breath brought a tearing pain, and his internal organs seemed to be dislocated. But his reckless and fierce nature was ignited by this intense pain and the fury of the ambush.
He let out a low growl, like a wounded beast, and, relying on sheer willpower and the aid of his Power Armor, he forcibly steadied his massive and heavy frame, suddenly rising from behind his makeshift cover!
"Ugh, ah, ah—! You damned bastards!"
His roar even drowned out the deafening bellow of the twin-linked Storm Bolter in his hands! The thick muzzle spewed forth scorching tongues of fire several meters long, and the terrifying rate of thirty rounds per second unleashed a storm of metal like pouring water onto the infected soldiers still firing from the rooftops!
"Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom—!"
Bolter rounds, like the scythe of death, instantly enveloped several firing points. The sturdy concrete edges were blasted, sending fragments of stone flying, and the infected hiding behind them, along with their weapons, were torn to shreds in the dense explosions, their dismembered limbs and shattered weapons raining down.
Dorian seemed to be channeling all the pain and anger within him through the gun barrel, responding to the enemy's sneak attack with the most ferocious firepower.
However, as the ancient proverb says, blessings never come in pairs, but misfortunes never come alone.
Just as Dorian was furiously unleashing firepower and drawing the attention of a large number of enemies, Gaius, lurking like a ghost from above, keenly noticed through his high-magnification scope a large number of dark figures moving rapidly in the shadows of the distant factory buildings!
Their figures flashed between broken windows and connecting corridors with astonishing speed, exhibiting a non-human, multi-limbed crawling posture!
They were Genestealers! Or rather, infected individuals whose mutation was deeper after infection, making them closer to Pureblood Genestealers! They had finally appeared! And their numbers… at a glance, countless shadows, difficult to estimate!
Gaius's heart sank. The situation was rapidly deteriorating.
Just then, the leman russ tank hidden behind the pile of steel completed another reload! The turret adjusted slightly again, and its deadly muzzle remained locked onto the most conspicuous target on the field—Dorian, who had just stood up and was firing wildly!
"Boom—!!"
The second armor-piercing round shrieked as it burst from the barrel!
Perhaps Dorian's wild movement and shooting caused a subtle, imperceptible shift, or perhaps it was the Emperor's blessing, but this shell did not hit his torso squarely like the first.
Instead, it grazed the upper part of his already severely damaged left shoulder guard, narrowly flying past!
The scorching heatwave and the hurricane-force wind generated by the shell body made Dorian's armor hum, and the already precarious fragments on his shoulder guard were completely blown away.
The shell ultimately crashed into a load-bearing structure on the exterior wall of the factory behind!
"Rumble—!"
Amidst the violent explosion, the massive wall, along with part of the roof, collapsed with a crash, raising clouds of dust that completely buried a section of the area behind.
If this shot had been a direct hit, the consequences would have been unimaginable!
"Confirm enemy heavy weapon position! Nine o'clock direction, behind the steel pile! Take it out!" Captain Ricao issued the command calmly and swiftly, his voice coming through the channel with decisive killing intent.
"Received!" a First Company Terminator warrior equipped with a heavy Plasma Incinerator immediately responded. His massive body slightly adjusted its angle, and the thick, dangerously blue-glowing muzzle began to gather destructive energy, its charging hum even overpowering the surrounding gunfire.
After a brief charge—
"Bang—!"
A colossal sound, unlike a Bolter shot, more muffled and full of energy! A highly concentrated, azure blue plasma bolt, as thick as a bucket, instantly cut through the dim space like Thor's hammer, accurately striking the leman russ tank behind the camouflaged steel pile!
There was no explosion, only ultimate purification and annihilation!
The instant the plasma contacted the tank, its thick armor rapidly melted and vaporized like snow in sunlight! Along with the fanatical infected crew operating inside the tank, they were all reduced to a splattering, sizzling slag of molten metal and flesh in the extreme heat!
Only a massive scorch mark, dark red at the edges and still emitting high heat and a pungent odor, remained on the spot.
This heavy firepower point, which posed a huge threat, was instantly obliterated!
However, the enemy's attack did not cease. Just as the plasma cannon fired, on another distant rooftop, an infected individual, clearly an officer mutant who retained some command consciousness, shouldered an Imperial-issue rocket launcher and aimed at a Terminator warrior who was strafing the rooftop with an autocannon.
"Whoosh—!"
The rocket, trailing a white exhaust, accurately struck the broad chest plate of that Terminator warrior!
"Boom!"
The flash and thick smoke of the explosion instantly engulfed him!
The infected officer who fired the rocket launcher seemed to think he had succeeded, letting out a distorted, triumphant howl, waving his mutated arm.
However, its cheer abruptly ceased.
Before the thick smoke had fully dispersed, the unique, muffled roar of the autocannon sounded again! And it was even more ferocious! A dense barrage of bullets instantly enveloped the location of the infected officer, tearing him and several other peeking infected into a rain of blood and flesh fragments!
As the smoke cleared, the Terminator warrior, who had been directly hit by the rocket, merely had a large black scorch mark on his chest plate, leaving some dents and burn marks.
His massive body didn't even sway! He glanced down at his chest plate, as if he had only been bitten by a mosquito, then continued to operate the autocannon, unleashing his fury on other enemies.
The absolute defensive power of Terminator Armor was fully displayed at this moment.
Gaius silently observed all this from above, like a calm chronicler. But his heart grew heavier and heavier. Although the ground battle was temporarily held, the real threat was approaching.
From all directions, through the passages and alleys of the factories, a flood of figures poured out like a broken dam! These were no longer the infected soldiers in tattered uniforms using weapons, but monsters with deeper mutations, fully exhibiting Genestealer characteristics!
Their skin was an ominous Tyranid purple, their bodies became more hunched and agile, and most terrifyingly, two additional arms had torn through their shoulder blades!
Four arms covered in chitinous carapaces, ending in sharp bone claws, waved in the air, and guttural, hungry roars emanated from their mouths! Their eyes held nothing but pure, fanatical bloodlust for those not of their kind, as they roared like a tide, charging towards the Terminator squad in the open ground!
"In the name of the Emperor! Send these xenos scum to hell!" Captain Ricao roared.
Two Terminator warriors equipped with assault cannons immediately turned their muzzles, and a storm-like barrage instantly swept towards the surging purple tide!
"Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom—!!"
Dense Bolter rounds, like metal razors, instantly tore and shattered dozens of Genestealers charging at the forefront! Purple blood and dismembered limbs splattered everywhere, creating a brief death zone.
However, there were too many of these monsters! And they completely disregarded casualties, trampling over the shattered corpses of their companions, surging forward relentlessly one after another! Although the assault cannon's firepower was fierce, it could not completely stop this tsunami-like Impact.
As far as the eye could see, Genestealers pouring out from every passage seemed endless, their scale far exceeding Gaius's worst estimates based on prior intelligence!
Just then, Luna's voice, from the upper blockade where she remained, came through Gaius's helmet comms. Her tone still maintained the calm characteristic of a Tech-Sergeant, but upon closer listening, a hint of tension, triggered by the intense gunfire below, could be detected:
"Gaius, report your situation," Luna's voice came through the channel, with the faint commotion of the mid-level defense forces in the background, stirred by the violent explosions and gunfire below, "I'm detecting continuous high-intensity energy signals and vibrations here."
Gaius immediately responded, his speech fast and clear, ensuring accurate information transfer:
"Luna, we encountered a large ambush by Planetary Defense Forces soldiers infected by Genestealers; we are currently engaged in a firefight.
Dorian appears to have been directly hit by an armor-piercing round fired by a leman russ tank; his armor is damaged, and he may be injured internally, but he is still fighting."
He paused, his tone becoming more solemn:
"Most importantly, a large number of pureblood or near-Pureblood Genestealer units are joining the battlefield, their numbers… extremely vast, far exceeding any of our previous estimates.
The scale of infection is out of control; request immediate report to Captain Cassius, we need support! Repeat, we need urgent support!"
He clearly conveyed the worst-case scenario and the urgent need for reinforcement.
Silence lasted for a second on the other end of the communication, as if Luna was also processing this astonishing information. Then, her extremely concise reply came, only two words, yet carrying heavy weight:
"Understood."
The communication temporarily ceased. Gaius knew that Luna must now be sending this distress call, along with any battle data she might have already recorded, to the Macragge's Honour in orbit, with the highest priority.
He refocused his attention on the battlefield below. The wave of Genestealers had already crashed against the Terminators' line, initiating brutal close-quarters combat. Power Fists collided with bone claws, the screeching of chainswords tearing through carapaces, and the dying roars of the monsters intertwined into a bloody symphony of death.
When would support arrive? Could they hold out against this endless purple tide until then?
Gaius tightened his grip on 'Hawkeye.' Behind the cold sniper scope, his gaze was equally cold, searching for high-value targets. He had to do something before they were completely overwhelmed.
Facing the tide of infected surging close, Captain Ricaio's heavily armored head remained unwavering. His right arm's Power Fist had just slammed a roaring, four-clawed infected attacker into the hard steel plate beneath his feet, turning it into a blurry mixture of flesh and carapace. Simultaneously, the massive flamethrower on his left arm emitted a deep, pre-ignition hum, like a sleeping dragon awakening.
"Purge them!" Ricaio's low growl echoed through the comms.
Preheating complete!
"Boom—!!!"
A thick, immensely powerful stream of flame, hot enough to melt steel, roared out of the flamethrower's muzzle like a volcanic eruption! The scorching fire dragon instantly engulfed the Front fan-shaped area, completely consuming the infected attempting to surround them!
"Sizzle sizzle sizzle—Ah ah ah!"
Under the extreme heat, the purple figures couldn't even fully scream before violently burning and coiling in the flames, ultimately turning into piles of charred, still crackling remains. A pungent smell of burning permeated the air. The flames continued to burn on the ground's mucus, temporarily forming a scorching barrier.
However, the terror of the Genestealers was now clear. Even facing such destructive flames, even watching their comrades turn to ash before their eyes, the eyes of the infected surging behind showed no fear, only a more fanatical, almost programmed desire for slaughter. They stepped over the burning remains, ignoring their ignited bodies, still lunging madly at the blue steel giants from all angles, like zombies unaware of death.
Amidst this chaotic close-quarters slaughter, Gaius's keen, hawk-like gaze from above pierced through the explosions and pervasive smoke, sharply catching several extremely swift dark figures in the darkness, emitting a unique red compound eye glow!
Pureblood Genestealer!
These were the core and true threat of the Genestealers! They possessed far greater speed and strength than the infected, and terrifying bone claws capable of tearing through Terminator Armor, imbued with a disassembler field! Even heavily armored Terminator veterans could never underestimate these cunning and deadly hunters!
"Attention! Pureblood Genestealers are mixed in with the enemy! Repeat, pureblood units detected! Immediately evacuate current position, await support!" Gaius's urgent warning blared through the squad channel, carrying an unprecedented sense of urgency.
But his warning was a moment too late.
Almost as soon as he finished speaking, a ghostly swift purple figure, using a normal infected as cover, suddenly lunged from the shadows on the flank! It moved so fast it left only an afterimage, its four bone claws pushing off the ground, streaking like lightning towards the Terminator warrior — Curran — who was currently unleashing a barrage from his assault cannon at a distant rooftop strongpoint!
Those ominously red-glowing bone claws, with faint energy fluctuations, aimed directly for Curran's heavily helmeted head! If they connected, even if the helmet wasn't instantly torn apart, the terrifying disassembler field would be enough to severely damage the internal precision sensors and the warrior himself!
And Curran, as expected of a First Company Terminator veteran, was saved by his battle instincts honed through countless bloody wars! Just as the bone claws were about to touch his helmet, he sharply dodged and turned his head, a small but incredibly precise movement!
"Rip!"
The Genestealer's claws grazed the edge of his helmet, leaving only a few deep scratches on the heavy ceramite, sparking faintly, but failing to cause substantial damage.
Having missed its attack, this Pureblood Genestealer was about to use its agility to strike again when Captain Ricaio's dragon-like flames had already redirected, instantly engulfing it!
"Hiss—!" With a brief, sharp shriek, this dangerous hunter was reduced to charcoal in the intense flames.
However, this was just the beginning. More Pureblood Genestealers, like venomous fish hidden beneath the tide, began to use the infected's frantic assault as cover, maneuvering across the battlefield, seeking opportunities for a fatal strike. Their limited but focused hunting instincts quickly locked onto a visibly compromised target on the field — Dorian, whose left shoulder armor was severely damaged and whose movements seemed to be slowing!
As some silent command was given, the previously dispersed infected soldiers, as if receiving a unified signal, immediately poured most of their laser and Bolter fire, like focused beams, madly onto the shield in front of Dorian!
"Clang clang clang! Sizzle sizzle sizzle—!"
The shield field flickered violently, and energy readings plummeted. Dorian felt as if he was being continuously hammered by countless heavy blows. His power system, already severely damaged from enduring a tank shell, was now even worse. The system status panel blared warnings at the edge of his vision, most of it now a blinding red.
"Warning: Power core output decreasing to 43%... 41%... continuing to drop..."
"Warning: Left servo system severely damaged, left arm movement restricted..."
"Warning: Blessed system completely offline... Communication module unable to connect... Internal status monitoring failed..."
"Damn it!" Dorian cursed. He couldn't hear his teammates' communications or see detailed damage reports, only relying on his physical sensations and the stiffness feedback from his armor to judge that things were bad. He swung his still-intact Power Fist, smashing away or pulverizing approaching infected, while intermittently firing his twin-linked storm Bolter in his right hand, clearing threats further away.
He felt his movements becoming increasingly strenuous; every punch and step was like struggling in quicksand. His Terminator Armor was no longer a combat partner he could command effortlessly, but more like an incredibly heavy shackles. Yet, his genetically enhanced body, tempered by countless battles, was still squeezing out its last reserves of strength, forcibly driving this collapsing steel body to fight.
However, he didn't know that deadly threats were silently approaching. Three Pureblood Genestealers, like ghosts, mingled in the frantically surging tide of infected. Using their agile movements and environmental cover, they were silently closing in on him from three different directions. Their red compound eyes were fixed on Dorian's damaged left side, bone claws slightly opening and closing, waiting for the optimal moment to strike.
Captain Ricaio saw all of this. The appearance of the Pureblood Genestealers and Dorian's clearly worsening condition made him realize they couldn't linger any longer. Every extra second spent here increased the risk of casualties exponentially.
"All attention!" Captain Ricaio's steady and resolute voice, cutting through the din of the battlefield via the still-functional comms channel, rang out, "Mission change! Immediately retreat towards the entrance! Repeat, retreat immediately!"
He quickly designated the rearguard: "Curran! Gochi! You two are responsible for the rearguard, use maximum firepower to delay enemy pursuit! Everyone else, prioritize covering Dorian, ensure his safe evacuation! Move!"
The orders were clear and decisive.
"Understood!" Curran and another Terminator warrior named Gochi, equipped with an assault cannon and Power Fist, immediately responded. The two quickly adjusted their positions, facing away from the retreat direction, their heavy weapons once again roaring deafeningly, temporarily suppressing the surging infected and the Pureblood Genestealers attempting to approach.
The other five Terminator warriors quickly rallied around Dorian, forming a loose protective circle, using their heavy bodies and sustained firepower to clear a path for Dorian to the stairwell entrance at the rear.
"Dorian! Follow us! Retreat!" a Terminator warrior shouted loudly at Dorian, trying to get his attention.
But Dorian's communication system was already out of order. He could only see his teammates closing in on him and moving towards their original path. He struggled to his feet, smashing another lunging infected with his Power Fist, and with leaden legs, he laboriously followed the squad, beginning a difficult retreat back the way they came, through the endless purple tide and hail of gunfire.
Every step was incredibly heavy. And the hunters in the shadows were still patiently waiting for the opportunity to deliver a fatal blow.
At Captain Rykaao's command, the Terminator squad began an orderly retreat.
Curran and Gochi, acting as the rearguard, unleashed a torrent of assault cannon and storm Bolter fire into the densest areas of the pursuers, temporarily suppressing the enemy's frenzied charge.
After emptying a drum magazine, the two of them, with unspoken coordination, simultaneously hurled two high-explosive fragmentation grenades into the tide of infection chasing behind them.
"Boom! Boom!"
The grenades exploded within the purple tide, and the sharp shrapnel and shockwaves instantly cleared a small area, sending severed limbs flying everywhere.
Taking advantage of this brief chaos, Curran and Gochi immediately turned, their heavy footsteps quickening, and swiftly caught up with the main force that was retreating.
Sergeant Karl, from his elevated position, saw his brothers beginning to withdraw and immediately put away his 'Hawkeye' sniper rifle.
Like a nimble lynx, he quickly and silently retraced his steps along the ventilation shaft he had used to arrive, preparing to rendezvous with the squad at a safer location.
However, the enemy clearly had no intention of letting them leave easily.
The cunning and deadly Pureblood Genestealers, like a persistent disease, easily bypassed or endured the suppressive fire, using their speed and agility, far superior to that of the infected, to swiftly weave through the ruins and shadows, relentlessly pursuing the retreating Terminator squad.
Their blood-red compound eyes glowed with a cold, hungry light in the darkness, especially focused on Dorian, who was noticeably slower and lagging at the very back of the squad.
Dorian's condition was extremely poor at this moment.
The power system's output had plummeted to twenty-two percent and was wildly fluctuating between nineteen and twenty-one percent, with alarms flashing like a death knell on his internal display.
He felt as if he were moving in a constantly collapsing iron mountain; with every step, the joints of his power armor groaned with metallic friction and protest under the strain, requiring immense willpower and physical effort to complete.
He was gasping for breath, and the circulation system inside his helmet seemed to be affected, making the air hot and thin.
He was quickly left behind by the squad.
Looking at the still steady backs of his comrades ahead, a wave of despair washed over Dorian.
He realized that his proud Saturn-pattern Terminator armor might not be able to sustain him in retreating from this death zone.
It was transforming from a symbol of strength into an iron coffin for him.
A sense of Astartes Monks' sacrifice surged within him.
He could not drag down the entire squad!
He tried to contact Captain Rykaao via the comms, wanting to ask them to retreat first, leaving him to hold the line and buy time for his brothers.
"Cap... Captain... you go first... I..." He spoke with difficulty, but only a harsh static noise and system error message came through the comms.
"[Comms Module: Severe Fault, Unable to Connect.]"
He couldn't even convey this last request.
Captain Rykaao was constantly monitoring the entire squad's situation, and he immediately noticed Dorian falling further and further behind, his movements becoming increasingly stiff and slow.
Without hesitation, he issued another command:
"Curran! Gochi! Follow me to hold the line! Everyone else, protect Dorian and retreat at full speed! Don't look back!" He had to ensure that most of the squad, especially Dorian, who was in the worst condition, could escape safely.
Four Terminator warriors in relatively good condition immediately slowed their pace, attempting to cluster around Dorian and accelerate his movement.
Meanwhile, Rykaao, Curran, and Gochi turned again, facing the surging tide of pursuers, forming a solid steel defensive line.
However, in the brief interval of this formation change, the Pureblood Genestealers, who had been lurking in the shadows, waiting for their moment, launched a long-planned surprise attack!
Three Pureblood Genestealers, like three purple lightning bolts, simultaneously pounced on the lagging Dorian from three different, tricky angles!
Their target was clear—this injured, incapacitated giant!
One leaped from the front, its claws aimed directly at Dorian's face; another swept in from the flank at low altitude, targeting Dorian's now unpowered left leg joint; and the last pounced from the shadows of an overhead pipe, at the most insidious angle, its bone claws, shimmering with the eerie glow of a decomposition field, savagely clawing at Dorian's unprotected back neck and the connection point of his helmet!
"Look out!" A resilient Terminator warrior guarding Dorian reacted incredibly quickly, his autocannon instantly rising and firing, a dense hail of Bolter rounds forming a barrage in the air, accurately tearing the frontal Genestealer into fragments mid-air!
Almost simultaneously, another Terminator's right arm, encased in a power fist, swung upwards like a cannonball!
With a muffled "thud," it sent the Genestealer attempting to attack Dorian's left leg joint flying like a baseball, smashing it against a distant wall, turning it into a blurry mess of flesh.
But the last Genestealer, pouncing from above, had an incredibly tricky attack angle and extreme speed!
Dorian heard the rush of air and instinctively tried to raise his right arm's power fist to block, but his failing power system caused a fatally slow delay in his movement!
Just as those deadly bone claws were about to shatter his helmet—
It was at this critical moment!
"Bang!"
A crisp and unique Bolter shot echoed from above!
Unlike the continuous roar of an assault cannon, this sound was sharper, more solitary, filled with precision and decisiveness!
The next second, the Pureblood Genestealer, on the verge of success, exploded in its upper body as if struck by an invisible, immense force!
Purple blood, shattered carapace, and internal organs splattered like a downpour onto Dorian's helmet and shoulder pads, as those dangerous bone claws scraped powerlessly off his helmet.
It was Gaius!
During his retreat, he had constantly monitored the battle below, especially Dorian's situation!
This shot, timed to perfection, saved Dorian's life at the last moment!
Gaius, having landed a hit, did not hesitate for a second.
His sniper scope moved rapidly, locking on! Locking on!
"Bang! Bang!"
Two more precise single shots!
Two Pureblood Genestealers, which had just darted out of the shadows, attempting to flank Gochi, who was suppressing the enemy with his assault cannon, had their heads explode like rotten watermelons, their bodies tumbling to the ground under inertia.
Gaius's presence, like a Sword of Damocles hanging over the enemy's heads, instantly relieved the immense pressure on the rearguard squad.
However, three consecutive precise sniper shots also completely exposed his position!
Almost simultaneously with his third shot, the more intelligent Pureblood Genestealers below immediately turned their hateful gaze towards the blurry figure on the high ventilation shaft!
Several Genestealers let out sharp shrieks, abandoned their ground targets, and, like agile geckos, began to climb the pipes and walls with astonishing speed, heading straight for Gaius!
Gaius's heart tightened, knowing he could no longer stay.
He quickly raised his rifle, and relying on instinct and lightning-fast reflexes, "Bang! Bang! Bang!" fired three shots in quick succession!
Three specially designed armor-piercing Bolter rounds whistled out, accurately hitting the chests of three Genestealers on a climbing route, the immense kinetic energy instantly tearing them apart, their remains falling from above, temporarily hindering the ascent of those behind them.
He immediately put away his sniper rifle and, without hesitation, activated his optical camouflage cloak.
His figure rapidly became transparent, preparing to swiftly retreat along the pipe.
But just as his figure was about to completely merge with the environment—
"Whoosh—!"
A rocket, fired from a distant rooftop, trailing a prominent exhaust plume, crossed a long distance with an incredibly precise trajectory, slamming violently into the outer side of the ventilation pipe where Gaius was located!
"Boom—!!!"
A violent explosion erupted!
The rocket's warhead fiercely released its charge, and scorching flames and shockwaves instantly engulfed that section of the pipe!
Although Gaius attempted to evade at the last moment, the terrifying impact still struck him squarely!
"Ugh!"
He felt an irresistible force, and his entire body was violently thrown from the pipe!
His optical camouflage instantly failed, his blue figure tumbling helplessly through the air, falling rapidly from tens of meters high like a broken kite, towards the hard, cluttered ground below!
"Thud—!!!"
A deafening, heart-stopping thud!
Gaius's body slammed heavily onto a pile of discarded metal parts and viscous alien secretions, kicking up a cloud of dust and splashing filth.
In the distance, the infected individual who had successfully fired the rocket launcher, dressed in a tattered Planetary Defense Forces uniform, let out a distorted and excited howl, seemingly celebrating his success in shooting down a powerful "angel."
The impact of the fall and the damage from the explosion instantly left Gaius severely wounded.
He felt as if all his bones were shattered, and excruciating pain overwhelmed him like a tide.
He coughed up a large mouthful of blood, the warm liquid filling the inside of his helmet, making him feel suffocated.
He tried to support himself with his hands, but his arms were in unbearable pain and completely useless, leaving him to collapse helplessly onto the cold ruins.
His comms inside his helmet, severely damaged by the violent impact, continuously emitted harsh static, but Captain Rykaao's anxious, repeated calls still came through intermittently, as if from the distant sky:
"Sergeant Karl! Report your status! Sergeant Karl! Respond if you hear me! Gaius... Sergeant..."
Sergeant Karl's vision blurred and wavered from pain and internal bleeding. His damaged bionic eye flickered with an unstable red light, and through his shattered facemask and the pervasive smoke, he could barely make out dark shapes with glowing red eyes, like sharks scenting blood, silently and swiftly crawling towards his fallen position from the dark corners and crevices of the ruins.
At the entrance to the barricade between the mid-level and lower levels, Tech-Sergeant Luna was intently operating the portable communication enhancer she had brought. Her brows were tightly furrowed beneath her light pink short hair, and her black eyes were filled with confusion and a hint of imperceptible anxiety.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Just a short while ago, she had received an urgent distress call from Sergeant Karl from the lower levels. The message clearly indicated a large-scale Genestealer ambush, Dorian was damaged, Pureblood units had appeared, and immediate support was needed. She could even faintly hear the muffled, thunderous explosions and the roar of Bolters from below, attenuated by layers of structure, through the communication channel.
However, just as she was about to send this crucial information, along with the initial combat data, to the Macragge's Honour in orbit with the highest priority, the communication link suddenly cut off!
It wasn't ordinary signal interference or attenuation; it was as if an invisible hand had forcibly severed it! No matter how she tried to reconnect, adjust frequencies, or boost signal power, contact with the battleship always showed as unreachable, with only a dead silence of static noise. This was far from normal; it was more like some kind of… deliberate, targeted communication jamming or interception.
She immediately tried to contact Sergeant Karl's squad below, wanting to confirm their situation and inform them of the communication blackout. But the result was equally disheartening—no connection! It was as if all of them had instantly disappeared into the dark abyss of the lower levels, or… were completely isolated by some powerful interference field.
"Communications have been deliberately cut off," Luna said, looking up at the Demolias squad Terminator warriors who stood guard beside her like two steel giants. Her voice was still calm, but her words were slightly faster than usual. "We've lost contact with orbit and with Sergeant Karl and his squad."
The heavily helmeted heads of the two Terminator warriors turned slightly, exchanging a glance. Though they said nothing, their suddenly tense posture conveyed their vigilance. One of the Terminator warriors asked in a deep voice, "Tech-Sergeant, can you pinpoint the source of the interference?"
"Attempting to locate it, but the interference type is very unusual, the range might be extremely wide, or the source's transmission power is extremely strong," Luna replied, her fingers flying across the data pad as she tried to decipher this sudden communication silence.
Just then, behind the barricade, from the corridor leading to the more prosperous areas of the mid-level Hive City, an unusual commotion arose. It wasn't the clamor of battle, but a mix of arrogant reprimands, the rustle of luxurious fabrics, and the rhythmic clatter of metal-soled boots.
The Planetary Defense Forces soldiers stationed there were also drawn by the noise, turning their heads in curiosity.
A group of extravagantly dressed Hive City nobles and corpulent merchants, adorned with various status-symbolizing jewels, were approaching the barricade entrance, surrounded by a large contingent of well-equipped private armed soldiers in uniform power armor. Their faces bore an expression mixed with dissatisfaction, arrogance, and… a hint of indescribable stiffness.
Captain Marcus had clearly not anticipated such a situation. He paused, then his face showed confusion and a touch of unease. These high-and-mighty noble lords never usually set foot in such sweat-soaked and dangerous military-controlled zones; why were they all here today?
He instinctively straightened his uniform, preparing to step forward to inquire about the situation and fulfill his duty as the highest-ranking officer present.
"Wait," Luna suddenly interjected, her voice not loud, but carrying an undeniable sense of prohibition.
Captain Marcus stopped, looking at the Astartes Tech-Sergeant in confusion.
Luna didn't look at him. Her enhanced visual sensors and keen observational skills were fixed on the approaching "nobles" and their private armed guards.
Outwardly… at first glance, there was nothing wrong. Their attire, accessories, and even their air of pampered privilege were indistinguishable from the upper echelons of Hive City society. The equipment and discipline of the private armed soldiers also met the standards of large commercial guilds or noble retinues.
But… their eyes!
Luna's heart gave a sudden lurch. The eyes of those nobles and merchants, though they tried to maintain their usual arrogance and condescension, concealed a subtle, almost imperceptible blankness and hollowness deep within their pupils! It was as if all their actions were merely executing a preset command, lacking genuine emotional fluctuations and lively spirit. And the eyes of the private armed soldiers were even more direct—cold, indifferent, like machines, completely devoid of the vigilance, curiosity, or reverence for the Astartes that human soldiers should possess.
These were absolutely not the eyes of normal people! Especially not when something as earth-shattering as a Genestealer invasion had erupted in the lower levels of the Hive City!
A terrifying thought flashed through Luna's mind like lightning, chilling her to the bone.
They… were also infected! The Genestealer infiltration was far more serious, far deeper than they had imagined! They had not only controlled the commoners and some of the military in the lower levels, but even the ruling class of the upper Hive City had long since been silently replaced or controlled!
"They're infected!" Luna, almost the instant she reached this conclusion, issued a high alert to the two Terminator warriors beside her via the internal communication channel! At the same time, she unhesitatingly raised the Bolter in her hand, and the plasma pistol on her blessed arm instantly charged, emitting a dangerous hum, its muzzle aimed at the approaching, "distinguished" infected individuals!
She had to expose them immediately and take control of the situation!
However, just as her finger was about to pull the trigger, and her warning cry was about to escape her lips—
"Bang!"
A crisp and deadly sniper shot rang out from a hidden vantage point in the distance!
Luna didn't even have time to make any evasive maneuvers, feeling only a tearing pain in her right shoulder blade! A specially blessed armor-piercing sniper round accurately penetrated a relatively weak point in her power armor's shoulder guard, and the immense kinetic energy instantly destroyed the internal muscle tissue and bone!
"Ugh!" Luna let out a muffled groan, the powerful impact sending her stumbling backward. The Bolter in her hand nearly slipped, and the plasma pistol's charge instantly cut off. She fell heavily to the ground, her entire right side instantly engulfed by intense pain and numbness, blood gushing from the seams of her damaged power armor.
This sudden sneak attack instantly stunned everyone at the barricade entrance!
"Enemy attack! Protect the Tech-Sergeant!" one Terminator warrior roared, his massive body moving to shield the fallen Luna, using his heavy armor as a barrier. At the same time, the assault cannon on his shoulder instantly rose, pointing in the general direction from which the bullet had come.
The other Terminator warrior also immediately raised his weapon, and together with the remaining, uninfected Planetary Defense Forces soldiers, nervously searched for the sniper's position, aiming their weapons at the frozen "nobles" and their private armed guards.
However, what happened next sent shivers down everyone's spines.
In the few short seconds while everyone's attention was drawn to Luna's attack and the search for the sniper, the group of elegantly dressed "nobles" and "merchants" who had been standing in front, along with the well-equipped "private armed" soldiers beside them, had… vanished without a trace, as if they had evaporated into thin air!
The spot where they had stood was now empty, leaving only a faint, lingering, sweet and alien scent in the air, and a few rapidly fading footprints on the ground, as if made of slime.
It was as if they had never appeared, and everything that had just happened was a collective hallucination.
But the wound on Luna's shoulder and the flowing blood, as well as the real sniper shot, coldly proved that what had just occurred was no illusion.
In this eerie silence and bewilderment, a new, even more unsettling sound began to drift down from the upper levels of the Hive City, through the intricate passages and ventilation systems, like a tide of death, clearly audible—
It was the sound of countless sharp, teeth-grinding claws scraping against metal floors!
It was the heavy and rhythmic footsteps, like battering rams striking the ground—the roar of tank treads crushing the pavement!
Interspersed with twisted, inhuman hisses and roars!
The sounds grew from distant to near, rushing with extreme speed towards their mid-level barricade!
The Terminator warrior shielding Luna, even through his heavy helmet, seemed to feel the overwhelming pressure coming from above. His deep voice, filled with unprecedented gravity, echoed in the dead silent entrance:
"The upper levels… have also fallen."
On the outskirts of the Aeldari Craftworld, in the fallen zone, in front of the magnificent and sturdy wraithbone gate leading to the inner core area, the Iron Warriors' Tech-Sergeants were working intensely. A massive, crude, high-energy laser cutting device, embodying a utilitarian aesthetic of violent beauty, was set up directly in front of the gate. Thick energy conduits, like twisted blood vessels, connected it to the portable reactor behind it. The focusing lens array at the front of the device was aimed at several nodes on the gate where energy flow was most concentrated, emitting a slender laser beam so intensely white it was impossible to look at directly.
"Zzzzzzz——!!!"
The laser beam continuously scorched the wraithbone gate, emitting a harsh, high-frequency noise and a strong smell of ozone. In the targeted area, the incredibly sturdy wraithbone material, which glowed with a soft luminescence, was melting and vaporizing at an extremely slow rate, leaving a deepening, scorching crater. Progress was slow, but this was the most direct and effective method of breaching the gate the Iron Warriors could currently conceive.
Captain Masos sat on a pile of cleared Aeldari art debris not far away, his repaired mechanical arm resting on his knee. His head, covered by a damaged helmet, watched the Tech-Sergeants and the stubborn gate with boredom. This waiting and stalemate made him feel a surge of irritation; it was far less satisfying than a direct charge into battle.
His gaze swept over and landed on the Aeldari dancer who had been brought back by the warriors and was now kneeling on the ground not far from him, still sobbing softly. Her magnificent gown stood out starkly in the gloomy war-torn ruins, and her small body trembled uncontrollably from fear, like a startled young beast.
Captain Masos's heart stirred. Perhaps he could use this useless xenos to pass the difficult time. He turned his head and urged a Tech-Sergeant of the Iron Warriors next to him, who was debugging equipment and had multiple precise mechanical arms extending from his power pack, in his voice with a metallic friction quality:
"Tech-Sergeant, how much longer for that translator?"
"Almost done, Captain Masos." The Tech-Sergeant didn't even lift his head, his mechanical arms moving nimbly as he soldered several microchips and vocal units together, "It's just a temporary modification, so accuracy and vocabulary might be limited."
Soon, a somewhat crude add-on device with exposed wires was installed by the Tech-Sergeant onto a universal interface on the side of Captain Masos's helmet. The indicator light blinked a few times, then turned to a steady green.
"Translator online, Captain Masos. Your gothic will be converted and played in Aeldari in real-time," the Tech-Sergeant reported.
Captain Masos moved his neck, feeling the slight weight of the new device. After confirming the translator was active, he turned his gaze back to the weeping Aeldari girl and slowly spoke. He still spoke in cold gothic, but through the translator, a distinctly mechanically synthesized, yet perfectly accurate, Aeldari version was simultaneously played:
"Xenos, look up, look at me."
The sudden command, spoken in her native tongue, made the girl tremble violently. Her sobbing ceased abruptly, and with immense fear, she very slowly raised her delicate, tear-streaked face. Captain Masos's massive, rusted, and cold steel body was reflected in her purple eyes, and fear made her almost unable to breathe.
Captain Masos looked at her, feeling no pity, only a curious scrutiny of an alien. He continued, and the translator faithfully converted his words:
"I've heard that you, the Aeldari, each choose your own 'Path' in life. Tell me, what is your Path? Dancer? Or... something else?"
The girl froze at the question, apparently not expecting this terrifying human to ask such a thing. She cowered, answering in a tearful, trembling voice, barely a whisper:
"I... I chose... the Path of the Dancer... I only know how to dance... not fight... I pose no threat to you... please... let me go... I'll do anything..."
She repeatedly emphasized her harmlessness, trying to evoke a glimmer of possible mercy.
After hearing the translation, Captain Masos's lips, hidden beneath his helmet, seemed to curve into an almost imperceptible arc, carrying a hint of sarcasm, and also a hint of... twisted approval.
"You have chosen the correct Path." Captain Masos's voice came through the translator, the mechanical Aeldari carrying a peculiar sense of affirmation, "This ensures you won't die immediately at our hands like those warriors who only hide behind shadows and shields, brandishing ridiculous warblades."
His words left the girl somewhat bewildered, not understanding why he would say such a thing.
"You do not need to wield a warblade," Captain Masos continued, his tone carrying a peculiar Iron Warriors' understanding of non-direct combat forces, "Because your dance is the best weapon."
The girl was completely stunned. Dance... a weapon?
"Sometimes, a passionate speech, a beautiful dance, can often inspire morale, solidify will, and even... break the enemy's resolve more effectively than blades and bolter rounds," Captain Masos's voice carried an air of quoting scripture, "This is a truth the great Iron Lord taught us. Strength does not only come in one form."
He mentioned the "Iron Lord," a being revered as a deity in the hearts of the Iron Warriors.
The girl didn't understand what he was saying at all, nor did she know who the "Iron Lord" was. She just instinctively felt afraid, shaking her head frantically, tears welling up again: "No... I don't understand... please... I just want to live... I'm still very young..."
Captain Masos seemed unsurprised by her reaction. He changed the question, his tone still flat, but carrying the casualness of one who controlled life and death:
"Tell me your name, age, xenos. Perhaps... I will plead for mercy from the Iron Lord, and spare your life."
These seemingly hopeful words only deepened the girl's fear. She stammered, not daring to conceal anything:
"My... my name is Kolesa... this year... I just turned eighty cycles..."
Eighty Aeldari cycles, translated into human standard time, meant she was indeed still in the infancy of Aeldari life, with a long life just beginning.
"Kolesa..." Captain Masos repeated the name, as if savoring the pronunciation of an unfamiliar species. Then, his tone abruptly shifted, filled with an undeniable, almost evangelical fervor and disdain:
"Kolesa, remember. Those so-called 'gods' you Aeldari worship, whether the warlike Khaine, or the benevolent Isha, or any others... they are all weak cowards! They have either long since fallen, or are clinging to existence in dimensional rifts, utterly unable to give you true protection and strength!"
His voice, amplified through the translator, grew impassioned:
"And the Emperor of the Imperium of Man? Hmph! Nothing but a hypocritical dictator! A madman who molded himself into a god, yet transformed countless human subjects into emotionless war machines, the Astartes, who know only slaughter and obedience! He uses lies and brainwashing to make warriors die for his meaningless ambition!"
He abruptly raised his intact mechanical arm, pointing to himself and to all the Iron Warriors around him:
"But we! Under the leadership and enlightenment of the great Iron Lord, Lord Perturabo, have long seen through the true face beneath the Emperor's false mask! He abandoned us, betrayed the ideals of the Primarchs! It is we who chose the correct Path! It is we who, relying on iron will and unparalleled strength, control our own destiny in this dark galaxy!"
His words were filled with a deep-seated hatred for the Imperium and the Emperor, and an boundless reverence for Perturabo.
"As for those so-called 'Dark Gods' in the Warp?" Captain Masos's tone was filled with extreme contempt, "They are even more ridiculous! Nothing but pathetic wretches clinging to existence by feeding on mortal emotions and souls, trembling in the depths of the Warp! They do not deserve to be called gods!"
Finally, he suddenly stood up, his massive body exuding a powerful oppressive presence. He roared with all his might, and that roar, through the translator, transformed into equally powerful Aeldari, echoing throughout the entire area:
"In this vast galaxy, there is only power! Only reason! Only immortal steel! Only our great Iron Lord, Perturabo, is worthy of the name 'True God'!"
He raised his mechanical arm and roared the battle cry that the Iron Warriors had inherited for millennia:
"Hearts of Steel!"
As if perfectly rehearsed, all the Iron Warriors around him, whether operating cutting devices or patrolling, simultaneously stopped their actions at that moment, straightened their bodies, and, with all their might, let out a thunderous response that converged into a torrent of steel, shaking the entire space:
"Steel Within, Steel Without!"
This sudden, earth-shattering battle cry, filled with fanatical faith and power, scared Kolesa, who was kneeling on the ground, out of her wits. She screamed, covered her ears with her hands, curled into a ball, and trembled, as if she would be torn apart by the terrifying sound at any moment.
Captain Marsos looked at her fragile, easily broken state and, far from being angry, seemed to feel a sense of satisfaction. He sat down again, and his mechanically synthesized Aeldari language sounded once more, with an almost commanding tone:
"Do you see, Kolesa? This is the power of faith, this is the will of steel."
"Now, repeat after me—"
"Hearts of Steel! Steel Within, Steel Without!"
He wanted to forcibly drag this xenos girl into his mad worship of the Iron Lord, even if only formally; it was a form of conquest and desecration.
Kolesa raised her head in terror, looking at the eyes hidden behind the broken helmet, which seemed to burn with cold flames. She felt a chill throughout her body and couldn't utter a single word.
Far away in the Ultramar Sector, in the temporary cabin assigned to Kolesa aboard the Ultramarines flagship, the Macragge's Honour, there was silence. Only the unchanging low hum of the battleship's engines existed as background noise.
Kolesa sat alone on the edge of the bed, which was too wide for her, still wearing the slightly oversized white Astartes recuperation uniform. Her silver hair was somewhat disheveled, falling over her shoulders. She hung her head, her purple eyes filled with confusion and lingering worry, for the future of her people, and also for… the human warrior who was now somewhere unknown, performing a dangerous mission.
Just as she was immersed in her own worries, suddenly, the Spirit Stone she wore on her chest transmitted an extremely faint yet incredibly clear tremor without any warning!
It wasn't an energy fluctuation, but a deeper, soul-essence resonance, like a small pebble dropped into a calm lake, creating a subtle yet undeniable ripple. The feeling was fleeting but left a deep imprint on her heart.
Kolesa suddenly looked up, her hand instinctively covering the cold Spirit Stone on her chest, her face instantly turning pale.
The source of this resonance… she recognized it!
It was Kolesa! Her sister!
The two sisters had been telepathically connected since childhood, especially after each inherited a Spirit Stone representing their soul imprint. This connection, at certain specific moments, especially when one's emotions fluctuated violently, would become clearer. Although separated by vast star-spanning distances, this connection was extremely faint and intermittent, but the feeling transmitted in that instant, Kolesa would never mistake—it was Kolesa's soul fluctuation, and… it was filled with extreme, almost collapsing fear and despair!
A cold, ominous premonition instantly gripped Kolesa's heart, making her almost unable to breathe.
'Kolesa… she's on the Craftworld… could it be… could something have happened?' This thought, like a venomous snake, slithered into her mind, causing her a dizzying panic. Their mobile Craftworld had always been drifting, but it had always been relatively peaceful and tranquil. What could cause her lively and cheerful sister to feel such profound fear?
She abruptly sat up from the bed, wanting to do something immediately to confirm her sister's safety. However, a distinct sense of restraint came from the cold metal inhibitor on her right ankle, and at the same time, a wave of weakness washed over her, making her vision momentarily dim. She had to reach out and steady herself against the nearby wall.
This device, installed by the Chapter Master's direct order, not only suppressed her already depleted psychic abilities but also, like a bottomless pit, continuously absorbed her remaining vitality and energy, keeping her in a state of fatigue and weakness.
She gasped a few times, forcing herself to calm down. She sat on the edge of the bed, leaning against the cold metal wall, trying to steady her rapid breathing. She raised her slightly trembling hand and carefully smoothed her disheveled long hair behind her ears, trying to make herself look less disheveled.
Then, she closed her eyes, concentrating all her mental power, trying to ignore the interference and weakness caused by the ankle inhibitor, and establish a psychic connection across the distant star sea through the Spirit Stone on her chest, which was of the same origin as her sister's. She wanted to call out to her sister on a soul level, to confirm her safety.
'Kolesa… Kolesa… can you hear me? Answer me…' She called out silently in her heart, transmitting her worry and urgency through the resonance of the Spirit Stone.
However, attempt after attempt was like a stone sinking into the sea.
All she felt was an endless, cold silence, and the faint sound of her own heartbeat coming from the Spirit Stone itself. The already weak psychic connection between her and her sister seemed to have been completely cut off by some stronger force, or… swallowed by the endless void and interference.
No matter how hard she tried, how much she concentrated, she couldn't penetrate that barrier or perceive any response from her sister.
After several unsuccessful attempts, Kolesa weakly released her tightly gripped Spirit Stone and slowly opened her eyes. Her purple eyes were filled with frustration, anxiety, and an even deeper unease. No contact… absolutely no contact… She gently pressed her hand to her chest, feeling the cold touch of the Spirit Stone, and silently prayed in her heart, with a glimmer of almost desperate hope: 'I hope… I hope it's just my illusion… Perhaps it's the interference from this human battleship, perhaps I'm too weak… Kolesa must be fine… She must still be on the Craftworld, practicing her dance as usual…'
She tried to comfort herself with these thoughts, but the shadow of fear in her heart, born from the soul resonance, could not be dispelled.
Her thoughts involuntarily drifted again, to another figure she worried about.
Gaius… the taciturn human warrior who, unexpectedly, gave her a sense of security and protection. Where was he now? Was he safe? He said he was going on a mission when he left, to clear a terrifying xenos called "Genestealers"… That must be very dangerous, right?
She recalled his serene blue eyes, like a calm lake, when he left, and his slightly clumsy but sincere comfort and admonishments. On this cold and unfamiliar steel behemoth, he was the only one who made her feel less like a "prisoner" or an "outsider."
'The Emperor protect… May he return safely…' Kolesa silently recited in her heart. Although she did not believe in human deities, at this moment, this was the only way she could express her worries.
She leaned against the cold wall, hugging her knees, burying her face in the crook of her arms. The inhibitor on her ankle was like cold shackles, constantly reminding her of her predicament; the Spirit Stone on her chest carried the unknown fear for her sister's safety; and in her heart, there was a faint worry for that blue warrior.
Loneliness, helplessness, worry… all these emotions intertwined, like heavy chains, binding her tightly within this cramped cabin. Outside the window was the vast and boundless starry sky, but no glimmer of hope could be seen. She could only wait here, silently, praying, enduring this double torment from afar and near.