Tychus stared in disbelief at the battlefield before him.
Just over a dozen Man-Eaters, together with a hundred Helljumpers, were somehow holding back a Tal'darim force more than ten times their number.
Even someone as proud as him found this hard to believe. If he had led just a few dozen Warthogs against a hundred Protoss warriors, the result would have been total annihilation.
"What the hell are these monsters..." he muttered, his six-barrel machine gun continuing to spew fire.
He watched with his own eyes as a Man-Eater grabbed a Zealot by the neck with one hand, the hydraulic system of his power armor screeching as he tore the Protoss warrior's spine out.
Another Man-Eater was even more outrageous—using a looted psionic blade to cleave through an Immortal's shield, then jamming a plasma rifle into its cannon port and pulling the trigger, reducing the war machine to scrap.
Ri\~—Shu—!!
At that moment, a piercing energy buildup sound echoed across the battlefield.
In the distance, the massive laser drill had finally completed preheating. A dazzling twenty-meter-wide beam erupted skyward, piercing the air and striking the ancient ruins' gate three kilometers away.
The moment the high-energy laser contacted the ancient metal, blinding sparks burst forth, and the runes on the surface of the gate extinguished one after another.
!!!
The reaction was like kicking a hornet's nest.
The entire desert trembled as the previously dormant Protoss forces surged forth.
Even more terrifying—over a dozen Tal'darim motherships emerged from the clouds. Their hangars opened, releasing thousands of carrier-based craft like a swarm of wasps.
"Damn it!" Tychus cursed, quickly leading his Warthogs to find cover.
The sky was instantly saturated with incoming fire. The Helljumpers' heavy weapons teams hadn't even launched their anti-air missiles before they were suppressed by beam cannons and forced to hunker down behind a rocky outcrop.
Seeing this, the Man-Eaters immediately shifted tactics.
Their Titan power armor shields began overloading and shattering under sustained bombardment. They had no choice but to rely on their superhuman reflexes to weave through the hail of fire.
One Man-Eater shoved two Helljumpers behind cover, then stood exposed in the open, absorbing fire from enemy aircraft. His pauldrons and power pack were soon billowing black smoke from concentrated hits.
"Contract the formation!" the Man-Eater squad leader's raspy voice growled through the comms.
The giants in black-gray armor began deliberately drawing enemy fire, buying precious time for the Helljumpers and Warthogs to regroup.
Tychus watched as one Man-Eater stood boldly in the open, firing a .1 cal heavy bolter at the motherships to draw attention. He then rolled into a crater, baiting the enemy aircraft to shift fire away from the Helljumpers' line.
The situation deteriorated rapidly.
Brave as they were, the Man-Eaters began to falter against absolute aerial suppression and the endless tide of Protoss forces.
Tychus and the Warthogs were forced to retreat with the Helljumpers. Along the way, people began to fall.
A Helljumper had just deployed his missile rack when he was cut in half by a mothership's main cannon. A Warthog trying to mount a counterattack was skewered through the chest by a Zealot's psionic blade.
Just as Tychus and the others at the front lines faced total collapse—
Boom—Boom—!
Deafening engine roars thundered overhead.
Tychus looked up to see a formation of more than ten Thunderhawk gunships tearing through the clouds. Missile bays and bolter cannons on both wings erupted simultaneously, creating a blazing wall of fire in the sky.
Further off, a transport fleet led by Hercules-class ships descended. Their cargo bays were already open, revealing battle-ready reinforcements.
And even before touching down, the Thunderhawks' hatches blew open—and over two hundred Man-Eater Astartes poured out like a black tidal wave.
Their Titan power armor gleamed coldly through the dust. The sound of bolter safeties being disengaged echoed one after another.
Following closely behind them—twenty thousand auxiliary troops.
Clad in power suits, they advanced in scattered formations. The hum and crackle of their hard-light rifles echoed like the buzzing of a swarm.
The ground shook.
More than ten Achilles assault tanks rumbled over sand dunes, their twin-linked laser or bolter cannons firing in unison, tearing Protoss into shrapnel.
Even more awe-inspiring were two Knight-class mechs—twenty meters tall, striding forward with thundering steps that left craters in the sand.
Their thermal cannons began charging, the air around the muzzles distorting from intense heat.
"They're finally here!" Tychus pulled back his helmet's visor and spat out sand. His rotary cannon began spinning up again.
The Warthogs around him stood as one, rising to launch a counteroffensive alongside the armored forces.
The air battle above reversed just as swiftly.
Shu—Shu—!!
Precision orbital strikes from the Man-Eater cruiser hammered the Tal'darim motherships. Their ethereal blue shields flickered under constant bombardment.
Dozens of aircraft, alongside nearly a thousand drones in coordinated attack formations, bombarded the motherships' engines with long-range missiles and hard-light cannons.
Boom. BOOOOM—!
Quickly—
The first... the second... more mothership shields overloaded, their hulls tipping, flaming wreckage falling like meteors.
With the skies cleared of threats, the ground offensive surged forward like an unstoppable tide.
Tychus saw a Man-Eater leap onto an Achilles tank turret and rig a looted Protoss cannon onto a makeshift mount—and it actually worked??
Shu—Shu—!
Several blue beams fired, vaporizing three Zealots on the spot.
"These maniacs..." Tychus muttered, shaking his head as he charged forward.
He saw another Man-Eater smash open an Immortal's armor with his power fist, rip out the psionic core by hand, and stuff it into a tactical pouch on his waist.
Even crazier, one squad had started collecting Protoss helmets and armor as trophies, hanging them from their belts.
Meanwhile, the auxiliary heavy weapons teams were setting up artillery.
Twenty hard-light cannons opened fire in unison, red-glowing projectiles arcing perfectly through the sky—only to suddenly correct midair as if guided, striking the rear of the Protoss formation.
Explosions ripped apart dozens of retreating Zealots. Smoking remnants of psionic weapons littered the sand.
The two Knight mechs were already at the edge of the ruins.
Their thermal cannons targeted the last psionic turrets, beams of searing energy reducing the advanced technology to molten metal.
One mech accidentally stepped on a Tal'darim corpse. Inside the cruiser, the Man-Eater pilot controlling it by neural interface let out a faint "tsk" of disdain.
Tychus and his Warthogs finally reached the front line.
They assisted the Man-Eaters in wiping out the last of the resistance. Their Gauss rifles picked off the remaining Protoss warriors with surgical precision.
Meanwhile, the Helljumpers who had pulled back were now aiding the clone troops and Terminators in incinerating any Protoss corpses that hadn't "phased out" with their armor—preventing potential psionic resurrection.
"Gate breached!"
Suddenly, an engineer's voice crackled over the comms.
Everyone turned toward the ruins.
The massive laser drill had finally melted through the last defense. The ancient metal gate collapsed like molten butter, revealing a pitch-black void beyond, lit only by occasional flashes of psionic sparks.
The Man-Eaters immediately formed an assault formation, checking the chambers of their bolters. Auxiliary troops set up a perimeter outside.
Tychus checked his ammo reserves and grinned at his Warthogs: "Ha! Boys, we're getting rich today!"
Some time later—
A medical shuttle's ion engine flared with a blue glow as it slowly landed on the ruins' platform.
As the hatch dropped, Jim Raynor was the first to step out. His CMC power armor boots clanked sharply against the mirror-smooth floor.
Behind him came ten Ranger Marines, along with Leon and Chris in nano-combat suits, and ten Special Ops members.
Immediately after exiting, the Special Ops team fanned out in tactical formation. Their optical camo shimmered faintly in the low light.
Entering the breach melted by the drill, the team found that the interior of the ruins was far vaster than the exterior suggested.
The towering dome ceiling was composed of countless faceted crystals, each as smooth as a mirror, reflecting an eerie blue light from some unknown source.
The walls were inlaid with flowing runes—flickering in and out like breathing.
The floor was made of some unknown alloy, completely silent to the touch, as though they were walking on void itself.
"This place gives me the creeps," Jim muttered, his helmet's tactical light scanning the surroundings but unable to penetrate the darkness ahead.
Chris reviewed the data stream on his visor and said, "Psionic levels are off the charts, but the structure is stable. No traps detected."
Leon remained silent, his gaze locked forward—
At the end of a straight corridor hovered a circular altar.
Twelve crystal pillars surrounded it, each containing flowing liquid psionic energy, like galaxies imprisoned in glass.
At the altar's center floated their target—the artifact, glowing with an eerie blue light.
"Stay alert," Jim ordered.
The ten Rangers immediately took positions along the corridor walls.
The Special Ops members, already in stealth mode, didn't need orders—they each found optimal vantage points to monitor for any threats.
The group advanced cautiously.
As they neared the altar, the artifact's features became clearer. A repulsion field caused ripples around it, and psionic particles in the air were being drawn toward it.
"Structure's similar to last time," Leon calmly noted. "But stronger energy fluctuations."
...
Jim felt like the artifact was whispering to him, sending shivers down his spine. Not wanting to dwell on it, he looked to Leon. "You doing the honors again?"
Leon nodded and stepped forward. Two Special Ops agents produced a lead-alloy containment case etched with suppression runes. Its seals were already primed.
Leon walked toward the altar silently. His nano-suit's dampening systems made his approach completely noiseless.
The two Special Ops followed closely. Chris and the others stood watch, weapons trained on every direction.
When Leon was three steps from the artifact, all twelve crystal pillars suddenly lit up. Psionic currents surged between them like living things.
The entire ruin glowed blindingly bright, forcing everyone to squint.
"Leon! Watch out!" Chris shouted, raising his weapon.
But the anticipated attack never came.
The psionic flows merely circled between the pillars—as though an ancient ritual had reawakened.
Leon didn't hesitate. He extended his hand, the insulation layer on his glove glowing faintly to block energy interference.
The instant his fingertips touched the artifact—
Hummm—!
An invisible psionic ripple spread outward from the artifact.
His arm was immediately wrapped in blue energy, but he was ready—
"Now!"
The two agents rushed forward. The three of them carefully placed the artifact into the container.
As the lead case shut, the rune locks glowed red, cutting off all internal psionic signatures.
The ruin's light dimmed. The crystal pillars darkened one by one, as though their purpose had been fulfilled.
"All done?" Tychus's rough voice crackled through the comms. In the background, bolter fire and Protoss screams echoed.
"Recovered successfully," Jim replied curtly, pressing a hand to his headset and signaling the team to withdraw.
"Heh, then there's only one left," Tychus said excitedly. "Alright boys, time to pull out!"
Without delay, the team retraced their path and exited the ruins.
Special Ops led the way. Rangers covered the rear. As they stepped out of the gate, the battle outside had already concluded—
The Man-Eaters and auxiliary forces were retreating in formation. Thunderhawks hovered low, providing cover.
Tychus stood next to a dropship, his six-barrel machine gun resting on his shoulder. His armor was coated in dust and scorched by energy weapons.
Surprisingly, Jim didn't return to the Hyperion. Instead, he boarded the Man-Eater dropship with Tychus. Leon, Mike, and Chris followed closely.
The interior was spartan. Black-gray armored walls featured only essential tactical lights. A few Man-Eaters sat on long benches, checking their gear.
They glanced briefly at the newcomers, then returned to their tasks. Their breathing beneath their helmets was calm and steady.
"Straight to the cruiser?" Jim asked Tychus.
"Cass insisted," Tychus shrugged. "Said he wants to 'ensure safe delivery' of the artifact."
He emphasized the last words, clearly aware of the Man-Eaters' reputation.
The hatch slowly closed, and the engines' hum grew louder.
Through a narrow viewport, Jim could see the Hyperion in the distance deploying landing craft to recover remaining troops, while the Man-Eater cruiser waited like a slumbering beast.
Leon sat in a corner, gently tapping his fingers on the artifact container...
(End of Chapter)
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