The Aru Industrial Zone battlefield had experienced two massive upheavals within two hours.
The first was the complete descent of the Nurgle Great Unclean One, with dark green spores blotting out the sky and a cloying, putrid scent blanketing the battlefield. Under the trampling of its hooves, the ground softened, rotted, and sprouted fungal blooms.
The second was the exact instant this heaven-sent force completed their deployment.
Four thousand six hundred superhuman warriors unfurled into a full combat formation.
"Grey Knights, deploy in a psychic suppression diamond formation! Brothers of Silence Company, blanket the area with your blank fields, centering on me, three-hundred-meter radius! Check your positioning, watch out for friendly psychic units! Tech-Priest Detachment, heavy ordnance cluster, lock coordinates onto large targets! Astartes Chapters, form squads according to preset tactical plans, clear the trash, cut off reinforcements!"
Paul's voice echoed through the external speakers of his Praetor Terminator armor, every single word carrying absolute authority.
"Dreadnought formations! Terminator Companies… unload your firepower within the suppression zone of the Brothers of Silence."
Once the orders were issued, the tide of battle began to reverse.
The Brothers of Silence were the first to take effect.
Three hundred male Blanks clad in matte-black power armor fanned out radially in groups of twenty.
The moment they stepped onto the battlefield, the Warp corruption permeating the air—the Nurgle plague spores that could instantly rot and madden mortals, the corruptive energy fields that distorted reality, and even the soul-corrupting aura radiating from the Great Unclean One—encountered an invisible barrier.
Bzz... Bzz... Bzz...
The effects of these Untouchables' blank fields deploying were visible to the naked eye.
Within a three-hundred-meter radius, the movements of all low-tier Nurgle daemons froze simultaneously for a microsecond.
The bouncing Nurglings saw the pus-filled boils on their green skin begin to shrivel and dry up. Their chirping laughter turned into confused gurgling.
The Plague Zombies, reanimated from the corpses of Crimson Dawn PDF members, lost the support of the Warp energy, causing the vitality of their rotting muscles to plummet and their charging speed to visibly slow down.
Even the corruptive aura clinging to the rusted blades of the Plaguebearers crawling out of the rift dimmed noticeably.
"This... These are Untouchables from Holy Terra?!"
Behind the defensive line, Seranaphy Nori stared with wide eyes. Yellowish-red pus was still oozing from the festering wound on the Blood Angels Champion's cheek, but he completely ignored the pain.
"Psychic suppression fields... but how is the intensity so..." Seranaphy muttered.
He had seen the Sisters of Silence; those living relics of the Emperor truly could suppress psychic energy. But their range was usually only a dozen meters per person, and their intensity was nowhere near that of the unit before him. Moreover, Untouchables were overwhelmingly female, which was exactly why they were called the Sisters of Silence.
Since when did the Imperium manage to assemble a unit of three hundred male Untouchables?
And judging from the reactions of those Warp entities, the effect was far more than a simple weakening!
Once the blank fields took effect, the Grey Knights companies standing just outside the fields sprang into action.
The two hundred warriors in silver-grey psychic power armor formed small diamond arrays of twenty men each, the tips of their Nemesis force halberds glowing simultaneously with azure psychic light.
They didn't charge into the Nurgle daemon tide; instead, they stood in place and chanted in unison.
It wasn't High Gothic, nor was it any known human language. It was a Mantra of Purification compiled personally by Malcador the Sigillite, designed specifically to combat Warp entities.
"In the name of Terra—"
"In the name of Human Unity—"
"In the name of the Emperor's Will—"
The mantra materialized into tangible psychic ripples, expanding outward in rings with the Grey Knight arrays at the center.
When the first ripple swept across the battlefield, those low-tier Nurgle daemons already sluggishly suppressed by the blank fields were struck as if by an invisible, massive hammer.
Pop, pop, pop...
Massive swaths of Nurglings exploded, turning into fetid puddles of pus.
Rot Hounds and Plague Wyrms burst apart.
The rotting torsos of Plague Zombies disintegrated from the inside out, the sound of shattering bone echoing like popping beans.
Plaguebearers let out agonized shrieks as the fungal mycelium and pustules breeding on their skin rapidly withered and sloughed off under the wash of the psychic mantra.
Although these losses were quickly replenished by the endless stream of Nurgle daemons pouring from the massive rift crater...
"What are these grey warriors?"
"Astartes..." Seranaphy's throat went dry. These two hundred men...
Where the hell did they come from?!
Following the Grey Knights' mantra bombardment, the rest of the Astartes player legions began the harvest.
Three thousand four hundred warriors in various colors of power armor charged into the Nurgle daemon tide according to their preset tactical formations.
"Advancing formation! Heavy bolters clear the way!" Tony Stark, an Imperial Fists Astartes Sergeant, roared in the company channel.
The Imperial Fists squad he led, two hundred strong, advanced shoulder-to-shoulder in a wedge formation.
The front line wielded storm shields and power swords, dedicated to blocking the lunges of Plague Zombies and the rusted blades of Plaguebearers.
The middle line consisted of heavy bolter gunners, unleashing .75 caliber explosive rounds at a rate of six hundred rounds per minute. Every hit blew a basin-sized hole into a daemon's torso.
The rear line was made up of melta and plasma gunners, specifically picking off charging Beasts of Nurgle, Plague Drones, or even mid-tier daemons like Heralds of Nurgle.
This standard Imperial Fists entrenched-advance tactic, backed by the dual support of the blank fields and the Grey Knights' mantra, was terrifyingly efficient. A two-hundred-man squad cleared every single daemon in a two-hundred-meter fan-shaped area in just three minutes, racking up a kill count of over a thousand.
The players from other Chapters were no less impressive.
"Mobile maneuver! Don't stop! Keep moving!"
The mobile squad led by White Scars Astartes Cavalry Captain Peter Parker were all equipped with jump packs and chain-halberds.
They didn't establish fixed positions; instead, they wove through the daemon tide at high speeds, using the brief hovering capability of their jump packs to launch aerial assaults. Every swing of a chain-halberd took out two or three Nurglings or slimes.
"Dark Angels squads, cover the flanks! Iron Warriors, establish temporary firebases! Ultramarines, plug the gaps!"
The players from every Chapter flawlessly executed the tactical contingencies that Cogboy and Schrödinger Bro had simulated countless times.
The green daemon tide in the center of the battlefield was being eradicated at a visible rate. Although their numbers were still immense, the clearing efficiency was abnormally high.
But what truly made the pupils of Seranaphy—and Azkaellon on the bridge of the Red Tear in orbit—constrict, was the Tech-Priest detachment.
Three hundred cybernetically enhanced Tech-Priests, divided into two groups.
The one hundred and fifty melee variants were mounted on modified Chimera transport tracks or multi-legged walker chassis. Their upper bodies sported terrifying power claws, lightning claws, and thunder hammers.
They didn't bother with the trash mobs; they specifically sought out the big guys.
A Beast of Nurgle had just crawled out of the rift and hadn't even had time to stretch its bloated body before it was surrounded by three melee Tech-Priests.
The Priest on the left dug its power claw into its carrion carapace, sinking the five alloy claws in deep.
The Priest on the right smashed a lightning claw into its flank, the high-temperature plasma instantly melting through the carapace and burning a smoking hole.
The Priest in the front was the most brutal; possessing an incredibly stable six-legged chassis, he wielded a thunder hammer in each hand, raised them high, and brought them down with full force!
CRACK!!!!
The instant the thunder hammers struck the Beast of Nurgle's head, shockwaves visibly rippled outward.
The thing's head exploded like a ripe pumpkin, spraying yellowish-green brains and pus over ten meters away. The headless corpse swayed and crashed to the ground.
The entire termination process took less than ten seconds.
The other one hundred and fifty heavy support Tech-Priests pushed the term "saturation bombardment" to its absolute extreme.
The multi-meltas they shouldered each had six barrels, capable of firing six volleys in a single minute.
Thirty heavy support Tech-Priests firing simultaneously meant one hundred and eighty melta beams.
An elite squad comprising three Beasts of Nurgle and over twenty Plaguebearers was massing at the edge of the rift.
Fire.
Blinding white beams pierced across the battlefield and struck their targets.
There were no massive explosions, because the principle of melta weapons was to instantaneously heat the target into a state of plasma.
Where that squad had been standing, there was now a molten glass crater thirty meters wide and five meters deep. At the bottom of the crater lay a few charred bone fragments and metallic slag—the remains of the Plaguebearers' weapons.
As for the daemons themselves?
Completely vaporized; not even soul residue remained.
"Emperor above..." On the bridge of the Red Tear, Azkaellon gripped the railing unconsciously as he watched the real-time feed on the tactical screen.
As the Commander of the Sanguinary Guard, he had seen countless massive battles. Ork Waaaghs!, planetary defense campaigns of all kinds, and grueling struggles between Astartes and xenos on worlds overrun by aliens.
Yet this scene unfolding before him still exceeded the boundaries of his comprehension.
An army of just over four thousand had completely seized control of the battle's rhythm within three minutes of making planetfall, stabilizing a defensive line that had been on the verge of collapse. And not only had they stabilized it, they were actually pushing it back!
The rational composition of this army's unit types, the precision of their tactical execution, their highly targeted countermeasures against the characteristics of Warp entities...
It was as if they had been tailor-made specifically for this exact battle.
"Commander, energy readings indicate that the Warp corruption concentration in the Aru battlefield is decreasing." The Tactical Officer's voice carried a tone of disbelief. "It's dropped by... seventeen percent, and the rate of decrease is accelerating."
This result silenced Azkaellon for several seconds.
Then, he spoke slowly, "Contact the Terra's Glory. Ask the Praetor... if he requires orbital fire support from the Red Tear." He paused. "Convey our highest respects."
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3 bonus chapter in one day, and my only regret is that I couldn't post more of them.
Lets break the record with 4 bonus chapters today! (I am willing to post more though)
We are on Rank 15 right now and for those who don't remember I will post 2 more chapters if we reach Top 10. Also only for this week every 100 Powerstones = 1 Bonus chapter!
Thanks for all the powerstones! Sayonara!