Boom—BOOM—!!!
The battle within the underground city continued to rage like an inferno, with waves of explosions and shockwaves tearing through the air. Shrapnel and debris streaked through the smoky atmosphere, painting the ruined landscape with fiery hues.
Ri~tatatatatata—!!
Rotary bolt cannons roared incessantly, their thunderous barrages echoing through the cavernous battlefield. The unrelenting fire created a suffocating pressure that could rattle even the strongest nerves.
Chris and his team had barely stepped off the Stormraven gunship when their eyes were drawn to the inferno in the distance. Amidst the ruins, battle lines blazed with fire and chaos. The streaking trails of explosive bolts lit up the air, cutting through the bloated and twisted heretical abominations.
Amidst the chaos, over a thousand Carcharodons and tens of thousands of Terminators and clones advanced with cold precision, their movements undeterred by the carnage around them.
Overhead, two Thunderhawk gunships roared past, their fiery exhaust trails cutting across the smoky skyline.
Even at a distance, Chris could make out the battered condition of the gunships—scorched plating, pockmarks, and craters marred their thick armor.
It was clear that the two Thunderhawks had exhausted their payloads and were now retreating through the tunnel to the surface, likely heading back to the Phoenix-class support ships stationed above the landing zone for repairs and rearming.
As the Thunderhawks disappeared from view, a brief silence fell, only to be shattered moments later by another thunderous explosion in the distance.
...
Chris stood amidst the rubble, his eyes lingering on the retreating gunships.
Beneath his helmet, his face grew taut with concern as his grip on his weapon tightened.
He knew full well that Thunderhawks were among the most durable aerial assets the Imperium had to offer, equipped with energy shields and reinforced armor capable of withstanding most conventional attacks.
Yet the visible damage on these craft, their shields already depleted and their armor struggling to hold, served as a stark reminder of the heretical forces' formidable firepower.
If even Thunderhawks were being pushed to their limits, it was clear that the enemy posed a serious threat.
However, the fact that the heretics had yet to break the Imperial advance was a testament to the sheer might of Tyberos and the Carcharodons.
The enemy was not weak—it was Tyberos and his brothers who were simply too strong. Their overwhelming strength had crushed the tides of heretical forces, forcing them back and shifting the battle entirely in the Imperium's favor.
The battle's continued intensity owed everything to the unparalleled combat prowess of the Carcharodons.
The company had pierced through the enemy lines like a blade, and Tyberos himself had become the focal point of the battlefield, his power dominating the heretics at every turn.
Still, Chris remained cautious.
He understood all too well the danger posed by Nurgle's corrupted followers, particularly the Ghostface Clans and gnolls who had become twisted pawns of Chaos. Their grotesque, revolting appearances belied their devastating power and relentless charges, which rivaled those of rabid war beasts.
Before the arrival of the Carcharodon fleet, these abominations had annihilated an entire contingent of five hundred clone soldiers in a single attack, despite the clones' advantageous terrain.
Even the ODST and special forces tasked with defending the surface suffered devastating losses.
Had reinforcements not arrived in time, those elite units might have been completely wiped out.
Chris activated the star map on his helmet's HUD, pulling up an overview of the Quicontor star system and its surrounding sectors.
The Imperium's 36th Fleet was continuing its systematic eradication of remaining Covenant remnants and pirate factions, while various Dawn Raiders companies provided tactical support.
Meanwhile, the 1st Company Fleet of the Sons of Medusa, which had been the first to deploy through the Warp Gate, was en route to reinforce Quicontor.
A smaller fleet from the Dawn Raiders had already entered the Warp, its destination also being Quicontor.
Leading this fleet was none other than Mortarion, the Primarch of the Dawn Raiders.
Seeing this on his HUD, Chris felt a small measure of relief.
He understood the unparalleled power of a Primarch, and Mortarion's mastery of chemical warfare made him uniquely suited to combating Nurgle's heretical forces and demonic entities.
If Mortarion and his fleet arrived in time, it would significantly stabilize the current chaotic battlefield and potentially secure a decisive victory.
While Tyberos and the Carcharodons displayed extraordinary combat effectiveness, Chris remained pragmatic in his assessment.
He knew that should they encounter a Greater Daemon of Chaos—a towering entity from the Warp, wielding reality-warping power—not even Tyberos could guarantee victory.
Such creatures possessed not only immense physical strength but also the ability to corrupt entire battlefields, turning them into festering swamps of disease and decay.
Only a Primarch or the Emperor himself could utterly annihilate such a foe.
Unfortunately, since the unification wars of the Halo universe had drawn to a close, the Emperor had returned to the home galaxy, rarely leaving the Imperial Palace unless absolutely necessary.
This strategic choice served the Imperium's broader interests but also meant that the forces in this sector could no longer count on the Emperor's direct intervention.
As such, Chris could only hope that the heretics—particularly the corrupted Ghostface Clans and gnolls—had not succeeded in summoning a Greater Daemon to the material universe.
If such a ritual had been completed, the consequences would be catastrophic, not only for the mortal forces present but even for the elite Carcharodons.
"This is Tyberos."
The comm channel crackled as Tyberos's steady, commanding voice cut through the noise of battle.
There was no trace of emotion in his tone, only an unyielding authority that brooked no dissent.
"Prepare for an assault," came the succinct order before Tyberos ended the transmission.
Simultaneously, an updated tactical map appeared on Chris's HUD. A point ten kilometers north of their current position had been marked with a red "▼" inverted triangle, identifying it as a rendezvous point.
"We're moving," Chris declared, his tone equally decisive.
Without hesitation, he led his squad of agents—clad in nano-combat suits and armed with high-powered hard-light weapons—toward the forward zone.
As they advanced, Chris and his team witnessed scenes of incredible carnage.
Swarms of heretical wasps, mutated by Chaos, filled the air.
These creatures bore enormous moth-like wings on their backs, each flap sending unnatural gusts of air as they dived toward the Carcharodon-occupied positions. It seemed they sought to overwhelm the Imperium forces with sheer numbers.
Yet the defensive line held firm.
Clone soldiers outfitted with heavy exoskeletons, miniature missile pods, and rotary Gauss machine guns unleashed an unceasing barrage. The wall of fire they created was impenetrable, decimating the incoming wasps en masse.
Deeper within the defensive lines, the Carcharodons stood as immovable sentinels.
Among them, heavy gunners wielding 1.0-caliber bolt machine guns targeted the mutated, bloated wasps that resembled airborne bombers.
Each time one of these massive creatures descended, its impact triggered devastating explosions.
But the precise firepower of the Carcharodons ensured that these threats never reached the core of the defensive line.
However, not all enemy tactics relied on aerial swarms.
Lumbering forward were hordes of grotesquely bloated gnolls, their bodies warped into rolling masses of flesh.
These abominations seemed driven by suicidal intent, charging through the dense crossfire with heretical resilience.
Boom—BOOM!!
As they reached the outermost defenses, their bodies suddenly expanded before erupting in catastrophic explosions.
Green, toxic mist spread across the battlefield, accompanied by sprays of corrosive acid that melted anything in its path.
While the clone infantry vehicles and tanks managed to endure, thanks to energy shields and reinforced armor, the unprotected clone soldiers fared far worse.
Their armor and combat suits dissolved almost instantly under the acidic onslaught, exposing their flesh to the poison mist.
The results were horrifying.
Within seconds, the exposed flesh corroded into gory craters, revealing bone and internal organs.
The poison mist carried deadly microorganisms that invaded the clones' nervous systems, turning the infected into mindless, hostile puppets.
Just as these corrupted soldiers' eyes began to glow with an ominous green light, their self-destruct implants activated—
Boom. Boom!
A series of muffled explosions rang out as their heads detonated, destroying their brain stems and denying the heretics the chance to exploit their bodies further.
Meanwhile, the Carcharodon Astartes remained unshaken.
Encased in their indomitable Titan power armor, their energy shields weathered the toxic storm with ease.
Even as the corrosive mist and acid battered their defenses, the Astartes stood their ground, roaring with defiance:
"Die! Die! DIE!"
"Filthy scum!"
Fueled by rage, they abandoned their defensive positions, surging forward into the fray.
One Carcharodon grabbed a mutated wasp's carcass with one hand and smashed it into the ground before shredding it with his chainsaw axe.
Another swung his power hammer with devastating force, pulverizing several Ghostface Clans in one blow.
With the Carcharodons' advance, the defensive perimeter expanded by tens of meters.
Their relentless assault disrupted the heretics' cohesion, splitting the enemy forces into smaller, more manageable groups. This created opportunities for the Imperium's ranged units to sweep through the scattered remnants.
It was a massacre without mercy, a battle that made the blood boil.
Both the "disposable" clone soldiers and the heavily armed Carcharodons fought with unyielding resolve, writing an unrelenting saga of courage and defiance against Chaos in the poisonous swamps.
Chris and his team paid little attention to the broader battlefield as they reached the marked rendezvous point.
Situated on the northernmost edge of the frontline, this position served as a stable forward stronghold amidst the chaos.
The surrounding ruins suggested that this area had once been a residential district, with over a dozen megastructures dominating the skyline.
Now, those buildings lay in ruins, their surfaces scorched and their corrupted, plant-like growths reduced to ash by the Carcharodons' bombardments.
At the heart of this wasteland, Tyberos and his hundred-strong company guard paused for a brief resupply and tactical adjustment.
Dozens of aerial Hunter drones hovered nearby, delivering crates of explosive rounds, condensed energy cells, and other munitions.
The drones' mechanical arms assisted the Carcharodons in reloading their heavy weapons and missile pods with remarkable efficiency.
As Chris approached, his HUD updated with new data from Tyberos.
A location ten kilometers away had been marked with a red inverted triangle, accompanied by Tyberos's message:
"The marked area exhibits significant anomalous energy fluctuations. According to intelligence, it's highly likely that those filth are performing a summoning ritual.
We have two options:
Escort your team to disrupt the ritual and capture high-value heretical targets for interrogation.
Retreat and authorize an Exterminatus on Quicontor."
Chris paused briefly to consider his response.
But before he could speak—
Ha—Ha—Ha—!!!
The deep, nasal laughter that had echoed through the underground city upon Tyberos's arrival now erupted once more, louder and more pervasive than before.
At the same time, blinding green light radiated from the marked location.
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