"Khebril," Odysseus said to the Doom Slayer beside him, "we are about to reach our mission objective."
In the hangar of the scout ship, everyone was ready, and the most elite warriors of the Imperium of Man had gathered here.
Three hundred Custodians and ten Doom Slayers. This powerful force could conquer a world with ease.
Now they were gathered, all with the same goal—to board the alien Battle Moon.
"Three more hours," Khebril nodded, more precisely correcting Odysseus' statement.
"Two hours and fifty-seven minutes," the Custodian retorted, not to be outdone, giving an even more precise time.
They exchanged smiles, showing no signs of tension, and did not take the dangerous Battle Moon seriously at all.
It was as if the terrifying Rangdan before these warriors were not a threat, but a flock of lambs waiting to be slaughtered, or ants to be crushed.
"Beep~" A communication came from inside Khebril's armor. His expression changed; it was an urgent communication from the Captain.
"Sir!" The Captain's voice was urgent as he rapidly reported a sudden change in the situation: "A new alien fleet has entered the Morse Solar System!"
Odysseus looked at Khebril. They exchanged glances; the sudden news had altered the situation.
In the hangar, a holographic projection appeared, showing the scene observed by the ship.
The alien ships surged out of the Warp into real space, reinforcing the previously thwarted alien fleet.
The situation took a sharp turn for the worse. The Primarch's plan had encountered an unexpected development. Should they continue to execute it?
"What should we do?" A communication came through the psychic link. A brother from another scout ship asked Khebril.
"Wait a moment," Khebril replied through the psychic link. As a senior member of the Legion, he was obliged to answer.
Odysseus also waited. This concerned the Primarch of the Twenty-First Legion, and his sons held more authority than him.
"Wait!"
A faint, distant voice came through the psychic link, halting the operation and instructing the scout ships to remain on standby in the void.
"We obey your command," the Doom Slayers immediately knew who was speaking through the psychic link.
"Wait," Khebril said to Odysseus, "the Gene-Father's objective is to annihilate the alien fleet. We cannot disrupt his strategic goal."
"We will continue to wait until the Gene-Father destroys the alien fleet, then we will act when the opportunity arises."
Khebril spoke eloquently, giving logically clear reasons and using deduction to mask the psychic link.
"That is indeed the case," Odysseus nodded. The Primarch's strategic objective was indeed as stated.
He quickly raised a new concern: "Can the Primarch's fleet destroy the newly arrived alien reinforcements?"
Khebril silently looked at the holographic projection. The alien capital ships that had entered Morse now numbered three hundred, with countless other vessels.
"He must have a plan," Khebril was without worry. No matter when or where, he had full confidence in the Gene-Father.
Odysseus nodded and moved to the Custodian ranks, telling his comrades to continue waiting.
The Custodians had no objections. They followed the Emperor's command and accompanied the Primarch to war, naturally respecting the Doom Slayer's opinion.
Moreover, the environment on the Argent Nur ship was extremely comfortable.
Khebril walked to one side. He didn't need to explain to his brothers; they knew everything.
"Aliens! Daring to delay my return to the embrace of the Benevolent Father, I must take good care of them."
From the black-shrouded jar came a low curse. The Rangdan had earned the enmity of a Great Unclean One of Nurgle.
Clang, clang, clang~
Khebril kicked the jar, signaling the demon to behave.
"Don't misunderstand!" The Great Unclean One's voice was fearful: "I am targeting those damned aliens. I have no intention of going against Argent Nur."
The Great Unclean One dared not seek revenge on Argent Nur, but it had great courage when it came to avenging itself on other life forms.
"Better be," Khebril walked past it, heading towards the bridge to understand the specific situation.
Alien ships continuously appeared in the void, emerging from the Warp and, after a brief rest, immediately heading to the front line.
Blazkowicz sat steadily at the command console, looking at the dense array of warships on the star chart, a smile on his face.
"Excellent!" He slammed his hand on the armrest of his throne, clapping in approval.
The Rangdan reinforcements had arrived at just the right time, validating his plan to lure the enemy deep.
Days ago, a psyker had informed Blazkowicz that warships were approaching in the Warp.
Now, seeing the fleet's scale with his own eyes, he couldn't help but cheer, breathing a sigh of relief.
If the Rangdan forces hadn't come, he would have found it difficult to deliver on his promised honor and merits.
Blazkowicz slowly closed his eyes, sinking his consciousness into the Warp, sensing a part of himself.
Feeling the closeness of something familiar, he showed a joyful expression. His good brother had arrived on the battlefield just in time.
In the Morse Solar System, due to the arrival of the Rangdan reinforcements, the holographic star map was filled with ships as far as the eye could see.
"Humans! Our fleet will crush you!"
On the public channel, the indescribably eerie voice of the Rangdan rang out, filled with the arrogance of certain victory.
They cheered. Within the Morse Solar System, over five hundred capital ships had gathered, with countless more destroyers and frigates.
With such immense power, no intricate tactics were needed. Simply overwhelming the enemy with ships would be enough; humanity would not be able to resist.
This was a qualitative change brought about by sheer numbers, a massive fleet holding complete initiative.
However, the light of the Warp shone again, and new ships arrived in real space.
The leading ship, with the cool color of the north wind and a massive wolf head totem carved into its hull—the Hrafnkel—had arrived!
"Blazkowicz, my good brother!" Russ' wild voice echoed through the comms, boosting the morale of the Imperium of Man.
Two of the Emperor's sons had arrived in Morse. How could the xenos stand against their combined might?
"Russ, it's been a long time since I've seen you," Blazkowicz's smile was genuine and gentle as he looked at Russ in the holographic image.
His brother, unseen for many years, had changed greatly.
He wore a suit of master-crafted power armor, inscribed with Fenrisian runes. He wielded a power sword with a wolf's head for a hilt, its blade inscribed with ice-blue runes and jagged blue fangs.
Russ' golden hair was tied into a messy ponytail, with braids at his temples. His face was unchanged, but his demeanor was wilder.
"You truly didn't lie to me; a massive war awaits me here." Russ' face was full of joy. The Hrafnkel's augurs had detected the Rangdan fleet.
"How could I ever lie to a brother!" Blazkowicz declared confidently. He felt no guilt now.
Before the Rangdan reinforcements arrived, he had felt a bit uneasy, but now he was fearless!
As soon as the void forces of the First Legion had given him a warning, Blazkowicz had contacted the closest Legion for assistance.
He hadn't expected Russ to be the closest.
But at first, the Lord of Wolves, the Great Wolf, had not intended to help.
In his impression, Blazkowicz's personal abilities were too strong; he could solve all problems on his own.
Even with the dangerous Rangdan xenos, if he came, it would just be watching, offering no value.
Blazkowicz quickly sent an urgent message via Astropath.
He explained that the First Legion was being besieged, and a large number of xenos were entrenched in Morse. Only then did Russ agree to come.
He also stated that if his brother had lied to him, he would have to properly reward the Space Wolves, and the two brothers would have to get thoroughly drunk, with Argent Nur providing the fine wine.
Blazkowicz naturally agreed at once, prioritizing getting Russ to come.
To prevent Russ from being discovered, Blazkowicz had the Crucible Sword traverse the Warp, erasing the fleet's traces within the Warp.
"We'll catch up later; I need to clear an operating area first." Russ' expression became serious. He saw the scale of the alien fleet and knew this battle would be difficult.
"As it should be," Blazkowicz opened the star map, indicating a strategic point to his brother, and also provided intelligence on the Rangdan.
Russ quickly scanned it, his expression changing repeatedly, his mouth twitching, revealing two chilling canine teeth.
"Damned xenos, they even obtained intelligence from the Imperium. They clearly came prepared!"
He gnashed his teeth in hatred. More detestable than the enemy were traitors from within.
Russ' expression was stern: "It's not the First Legion's recklessness; this is a trap to hunt our brothers."
As a Primarch, Russ quickly realized that this trap was not aimed at the First Legion.
The Rangdan's objective was to besiege or even kill a Primarch; the First Legion had merely stepped into the minefield.
The unexpected nature of this event surprised both the Imperium and the Rangdan.
"I'll deal with the alien ships first."
Russ nodded. He had understood the alien intelligence and knew what he needed to do.
"Space Wolves!" The Primarch's wild howl boosted the morale of the human side: "Tear through the Rangdan whelps' defenses! Make them regret offending the Imperium of Man."
At the Great Wolf's command, the Space Wolves fleet surged forth, like a pack of hunting wolves.
Another Primarch had arrived, and the war between the Rangdan and the Imperium grew fiercer.
The Morse Solar System, a seemingly simple star system, held extraordinary significance far beyond its existence.
More than 500 Rangdan capital ships and two Primarchs of the Imperium.
Blazkowicz suppressed the joy of reunion, refocusing his gaze on the star chart to plan a counterattack and hunt.
A cold smile played on his lips as he watched the Rangdan forces on Morse World.
The value of this Rangdan force had been proven; Rangdan could not afford the loss of tens of thousands of elite warriors.
"Atum, continue to pressure the enemy ground forces." Blazkowicz issued a simple command; the Doom Slayer knew what to do.
"By your command." Atum responded solemnly, accepting the trust of his Gene-Father.
Blazkowicz nodded, not responding. His focus shifted to the fleet Russ had brought.
Argent Nur's First Fleet, the First Legion Fleet, and the newly arrived reinforcement fleet combined for over 400 capital warships.
Among them, Russ' fleet was massive; he had brought 200 capital warships.
On the holographic map, the Space Wolves Fleet spread out like a pack of wolves, pouncing on the Rangdan fleet, driving it away and destroying it, clearing a safe space.
"Wolves! Chew the xenos fleet with the 'Fang Formation'!" Russ roared excitedly from the Hrafnkel, directing the fleet's maneuvers.
"Show your ferocity for my brother, as fierce as the storms of Fenris, sweeping away all enemies in your path!"
"Awoo awoo awoo~" Russ' wolf cubs responded to their Gene-Father, howling as they charged forward; they had never seen their father so excited.
After many years apart, Russ was eager to show his brother the wild warriors from Fenris.
At the Primarch's command, the Space Wolves Fleet spread out, with heavy forces on both flanks, like a ferocious giant wolf opening its hunting maw.
The 'fangs' in its mouth were woven from lances, macro-cannons, and torpedoes, slowly chewing the Rangdan in its mouth.
The 'throat' of the giant wolf was the Hrafnkel, swallowing any stragglers.
Under the wolves' relentless pursuit, the Rangdan fleet was forced to retreat, ceding a portion of space as a buffer.
While Russ was in action, Blazkowicz was not idle.
He ordered his fleet to maintain a defensive formation, staring intently at the star chart, observing any new reinforcements or disruptors that might enter, and how the battlefield might change.
As the Wolves Fleet drove them back, he indeed discovered a difference.
The Rangdan fleet, due to its excessive size, showed signs of cumbersome command and coordination, with frequent errors.
It was like a healthy adult suddenly gaining hundreds of pounds of fat, inevitably slowing down.
"Hmph!" Blazkowicz snorted, muttering softly: "It seems the Rangdan fleet is not entirely harmonious and unified."
The original Rangdan fleet could still contend with him somewhat, relying on its numerical superiority.
Now that reinforcements had arrived, they had become a burden to the Rangdan commanders, losing the fleet's subjective initiative.
"Good, good." Blazkowicz exclaimed with delight.
Rangdan's blind reinforcement had ironically become a breakthrough point for his side.
He opened the star chart and began a new round of deployment; there was no reason to refuse the fat meat Rangdan had offered.
As Blazkowicz was deploying his battle plan, the holographic image lit up, revealing Russ' imposing figure.
"Blazkowicz, the Wolves are driving out the xenos, do you have any new arrangements?" His golden eyes gleamed with divine light, asking his brother about his next move.
Though Russ was wild and unrestrained, he knew his place and would never overstep.
His question held deep meaning, handing the initiative to Blazkowicz, willing to follow his brother's arrangements.
"You run wild, and I will build an unbreakable wall." Blazkowicz looked at his brother with a smile in his eyes, a simple sentence settling the broad strategic direction.
Blazkowicz, of course, respected the initiative Russ offered, and he was willing to trust his brother's abilities.
Let Russ destroy the Rangdan fleet to his heart's content, biting them firmly and not letting go, making it easy for the xenos to enter but difficult to leave.
As for himself, he would build a sturdy wall and continue to execute the attrition tactic.
"Alrighty then~" Russ grinned, showing his teeth; he understood his brother's arrangement, just kill and bite the enemy to his heart's content.
The two extraordinary Primarchs could understand each other's arrangements with just a simple exchange.
"After we eliminate the xenos, you must reward the wolf cubs!" Before closing the communication, Russ reminded Blazkowicz again not to forget the promised fine wine.
It was as if nothing in his eyes could compare to a sip of fine wine, appearing to be a complete drunkard.
"Naturally, the ships carrying fine wines and delicacies are already on their way." Blazkowicz readily agreed, reassuring his brother.
For such crucial support, Russ asked for fine wine and food, not promises or favors.
Blazkowicz kept this bond of friendship firmly in his heart.
"You just watch!" Russ licked his lips, a look of anticipation flashing in his beast-like eyes.
He had heard his brother mention that Argent Nur's fine wines were uniquely rich and mellow; such a good thing must be tasted!
"The Space Wolves Fleet will hold the prey; they won't be able to escape." Russ solemnly promised, a cruel smile on his face: "Unless they pay a price that satisfies the Wolves."
"I look forward to the Wolves' performance." Blazkowicz nodded, what he said was what he thought.
Since his separation from Russ, he had returned to Fenris to reform the military system and reshape the Legion's culture.
Now, at their reunion, Blazkowicz greatly anticipated the Wolves' performance.
He eagerly awaited to see what kind of combat power the Astartes, imbued with Fenrisian culture, would display.
"You just watch!" Russ said with a mysterious expression, then closed the holographic communication.
He brought up the Legion overview — the thirteen Great Companies were fully organized and ready for action.
"Wolf cubs!" The Primarch's low growl echoed through the Legion's communication, delivering a pre-battle rallying cry:
"We are the Wolves of Fenris, the Space Marines of the Allfather; it is time to show our strength!"
"Blazkowicz Novick! My closest brother, a king from the stars. Show him your ferocity, let him inspect the fangs and claws of the wolf pack!"
Russ' voice changed, the impassioned roar turning into a sharp frost: "Trample Rangdan's pride, let the detestable xenos understand that humans have never been their slaves!"
"For the Allfather! For Russ! For the Primarch!" The Space Wolves roared fiercely, letting out howls of excitement.
The Emperor had etched the loyalty and wild strength of wolves into their genes; it was time to unleash it!
"This grand-scale battle must bear the name of the Wolves!" The howl of the Great Wolf inspired the pack to fearlessly advance.
"Use wolf pack tactics to destroy the xenos' peripheral fleet!"
The entire Space Wolves Fleet sallied forth, attacking from the right flank of Blazkowicz's defensive line, and under Russ' wisdom, assaulted the Rangdan reinforcements who had not yet established their footing.
Russ was highly intelligent; he had carefully studied the intelligence Blazkowicz sent, as well as various useful tactics.
He quickly organized the Legion fleet, using the same rotating attack as his brother, to launch an assault on Rangdan.
He was more aggressive; the Space Marines commanded by the Primarch unleashed unimaginable combat power.
The Space Wolves Fleet, like a pack of attacking wolves, under the command of their alpha, tested Rangdan's strength.
They each performed their roles, constantly dividing, encircling, and using wolf pack tactics to destroy Rangdan warships.
The wolf pack was hunting, using lances and macro-cannons as blades to tear at the massive, soft flesh of Rangdan, constantly weakening the prey's vitality.
Facing the fierce assault of the Wolves, Rangdan quickly responded, sending ships to counterattack the human fleet.
Rangdan's move made the eyes of the two Primarchs in different locations light up — Rangdan's defeat was now a foregone conclusion.
Facing the Imperium's reinforcements, the xenos commander did not choose to retreat, but continued to fight, which played right into their hands.
The Imperial fleet's command chain was not at all chaotic; the presence of two Primarchs greatly boosted the fleet's morale.
Although the number of warships was insufficient, their combat power definitely far exceeded the Rangdan fleet's.
The Wolves fiercely attacked the right flank with flexible and varied tactics, catching the Rangdan reinforcement forces off guard.
In desperation, the Rangdan commander had no choice but to take a risk, sending a fleet from near the Battle Moon as reinforcements.
"Good!" On the star chart, Rangdan's tactical adjustment gave Blazkowicz an opportunity.
"First Legion Fleet." He opened the Void Lord of the Legion communication, summoning the First Legion's fleet.
"The Lord of the Legion is always ready!" The Lord of the Legion immediately responded, his excitement barely contained; the excellent commander had a keen sense of smell and knew the time for a counterattack was ripe.
Blazkowicz commanded him: "You will attack from the left flank, flanking with the Space Wolves, forming a pincer movement against Rangdan."
"Relieve the Wolves' pressure, push back Rangdan's lines, and force their fleet not to maneuver freely."
"Understood, Lord Primarch!"
The Lord of the Legion stood ramrod straight; he knew the importance of the action, as it was a great opportunity for the Legion to redeem itself.
The First Legion's warships gathered, pressing in from the left flank, forcing the Rangdan to hesitate in redeploying forces.
The tide of this battle had completely turned.
From the moment Primarch Leman Russ, the Wolf King, arrived, the human fleet shifted from passive to active, launching their first offensive against the Rangdan.
A massive void war erupted!
The accompanying chroniclers were teary-eyed, their tears reflecting the flashes of exploding warships.
They wielded their pens, documenting this battle that could only be described as an 'Apocalypse'.
Every moment, a warship exploded in the void, emitting a dull wail.
Proud warships, carrying hundreds of thousands of lives, became coffins under the assault of lance beams and macro cannons.
Life was so fragile, warm lives vanishing into the void, becoming burial goods for cold steel.
Blue plasma and orange lance beams intertwined, shields overloaded instantly, and torpedoes slammed into hulls.
"It's so beautiful~ So magnificent~" A chronicler by the viewport knelt, leaning over to write with a quill, using words as a medium to depict the most poignant chapter.
Russ' mouth twitched, and he roared at his guards, "Throw him out!"
The chronicler ignited an uncontrollable rage within him.
The sacrifices of the Space Wolves, the deaths of Imperial humans, became 'beautiful' and 'magnificent' in the eyes of these literati?
If beauty and magnificence were such, then no artistic embellishment, no literary rendering was needed.
Russ' personal guard—the Wolf Guard—pounced, their large hands grabbing the chronicler by the collar of his neck, dragging him out of the bridge.
"No! No! No!" The robed chronicler reached out, grasping at the viewport's scenery, wailing and pleading incessantly:
"Let me see! Please, great Primarch, let me see, I must record all of this. The people of the Imperium must know all of this, let these magnificent scenes be forever etched in the annals of the Imperium."
"Pah!" Russ' spit was incredibly accurate, hitting the chronicler's pages: "Get them out! From now on, there will be no more chroniclers among the Space Wolves."
A Primarch's command was not to be questioned; chroniclers on Space Wolves' ships were swiftly expelled.
Those with humble attitudes were imprisoned and guarded, while those who resisted stubbornly became scribes, continuing to contribute with their words.
"Sir, the Rangdan fleet has dispatched ships from its rear to intercept us," the Adeptus Mechanicus advisor warned, his cogitator linked to a divinatory array, detecting the Rangdan's movement.
"Don't worry about them," Russ waved dismissively, his hands resting on the command console, making no counter-response:
"Blazkowicz is in charge of the grand strategy. My brother will solve this problem; he would not betray the Space Wolves and put us in danger."
The array of Cogitators vibrated their bionic throats, continuously reporting the battlefield situation: "The First Legion's fleet is attacking the xenos from the left side of the stellar disk."
"The xenos' intercepting fleet has turned back, forced to engage the First Legion's attacking fleet."
"Send a message," Russ' golden eyebrows furrowed as bad news came from the fleet battle. "Tell the Space Wolves to be cautious when boarding; the xenos' warships are full of traps."
Just now, the Space Wolves attempted to board the bio-warships, only to discover that the ships' interiors were filled with Rangdan slave races.
These races, completely different from humans, were entirely controlled by the Rangdan and responsible for their space operations.
Their fearless resistance, fighting in the narrow, slimy conduits, resulted in the deaths of hundreds of Space Marines.
Russ immediately shared the intelligence with Blazkowicz and the humans, making the xenos race information transparent to prevent unnecessary losses for allied forces.
On the holographic image, Russ' large hands moved like phantoms, constantly maneuvering the fleet's movements, performing detailed micro-management.
Compared to his return to the Imperium, his command style had matured considerably, and his actions were more seasoned.
The Space Wolves plunged into the enemy formation, fiercely clinging to the Rangdan fleet, making it difficult for them to escape.
Void combat was protracted; ten hours had passed since the Space Wolves joined the battle and the First Legion engaged the enemy.
The First Legion, experienced in fighting the Rangdan, achieved significant results on the left flank, eliminating several small fleets.
The Space Wolves' offensive was orderly yet wild, destroying fifty enemy capital ships with very minimal losses.
Blazkowicz sat like a chess player, the unfolded battlefield situation before him like a giant chessboard.
His opponent was the Rangdan's space fleet commander.
"First Fleet, advance one million kilometers," Blazkowicz issued the order, setting the First Fleet in motion to intimidate the Rangdan fleet.
The First Fleet's communication was swift; he immediately felt the Royal Majesty accelerate, beginning its push forward.
On the chessboard, the First Fleet's ships moved forward, approaching the Morse star by one million kilometers.
Soon, the Rangdan's defensive fleet responded.
They advanced the same distance and began to increase their altitude, appearing as if they intended to bypass the star.
"Fleet to the left, assume a posture of attacking from the left side of the star," Blazkowicz's expression was calm, ignoring the Rangdan's movements.
War was a struggle for initiative; one must never be led by the enemy.
The Rangdan fleet immediately turned, advancing from the First Fleet's rear-left, preparing to use this opportunity to move towards the planet Morse.
The xenos commander's intention was clear: to force the First Fleet to turn back and defend.
"Full speed ahead, objective directly to the Battle Moon," Blazkowicz issued the order again; the fleet's engines engaged at full thrust, heading straight for the Battle Moon.
As expected, the Rangdan fleet turned again, circling around from the fleet's rear-right.
Blazkowicz had enough capital to take risks; he dared to confidently entrust Morse to Atum, allowing the Rangdan fleet to go to its aid.
But the Rangdan commander dared not gamble; the threat of the Royal Majesty was like a 'Sword of Damocles' hanging over the Battle Moon.
The commanders on both sides were like playing a wargame, constantly adjusting fleet postures in a strategic contest.
On the bridge of the Hrafnkel, Russ observed the overall situation, realizing his brother was playing a very new game.
His eyes lit up, and he carefully observed the changes in both sides' postures, learning the tactical thinking behind them.
Pulling and shifting. Two simple objectives, but the underlying tactical thinking was vastly different.
Russ watched as the Argent Nur fleet and the Rangdan fleet danced in the void, pulling and probing each other.
This kind of pulling was a war without gunsmoke.
For three full Terran days, the battles on the left and right flanks raged fiercely, with fleet combat gradually reaching its climax.
Yet, the central fleets of both sides had not fired a single shot, as if unrelated to the battlefield.
"Gentlemen, we are about to launch a general assault," Blazkowicz announced in the holographic channel, making the final arrangements before the general assault.
After three days of attrition, the results of the two flank forces were diminishing, and the Rangdan were also adapting to human warfare.
Blazkowicz clearly realized that continuing this way would yield no more significant results; once losses exceeded expectations, the Rangdan would all withdraw.
Now, the only way was to charge through; a price must be paid to achieve substantial results.
"The timing is just right," Russ agreed profoundly; Blazkowicz's timing for the attack was roughly what he had estimated.
The skirmishes were over; it was time to charge in and feast.
War was never bloodless; his brother had done his best, wearing down the Rangdan's strength to the maximum extent.
"Yes," Blazkowicz composed himself, maintaining his dignity before all the commanders: "The Rangdan will not send any more fleets; the investment in this war has already exceeded their expectations."
"They are likely considering abandoning this place now to avoid greater losses."
"Sir. To hold the xenos, the First Legion is willing to charge first!" Grand Master Urian tightened his face, not daring to let the Legion's spirit falter before the two Primarchs.
"Only this way can we prevent the xenos from escaping." Blazkowicz nodded, his gaze passing over him, instead looking at the Lord of the Void Sky Army: "Only through sacrifice can the xenos be severely damaged."
"I obey your command." The Lord of the Legion knelt in the holographic image. "The First Legion will not bring shame upon you."
Blazkowicz nodded gravely, then looked at Russ, his Primarch brother.
He wanted to say something, but then remembered that his brother had depth; Russ, like himself, was a Primarch who understood the cruelty of war.
"A worthy death." Blazkowicz said nothing else, but spoke the words they had both understood on the Vengeful Spirit back then.
"A worthy death." Russ nodded heavily, then relaxed his expression and smiled crookedly: "Don't forget your promise."
"Of course not." The heavy atmosphere instantly vanished; Blazkowicz snorted with a laugh, scolding, "Want to compete with me again?"
"You just wait for me!" Russ' eyes widened, remembering his defeat, and he pointed at Blazkowicz in the holographic image: "This time I'll drink you under the table."
Blazkowicz showed a scornful expression, spreading his hands and looking down on everything: "I fear nothing."
Russ grinned and abruptly cut the communication.
Blazkowicz's expression became serious again: "Notify the fleet to launch a general assault on the Rangdan. All forces, attack!"
"My Lord." Sophia stood by the throne, faithfully performing her duty: "Fleet-wide communication is online, and your projection has been clearly cast onto every battleship."
Blazkowicz nodded, straightening his posture, presenting the most resilient and majestic image to all Imperial Fleets.
Space Wolves, First Legion, First Fleet—
In the projections of all the bridges, the magnificent figure seated on the throne simultaneously lit up.
He was exceptionally heroic, with deep eyes and extraordinary personal charisma.
In the Space Wolves Fleet, Russ smiled faintly. His extraordinary brother, in terms of outward appearance and temperament, indeed aligned more with human aesthetics than he did.
The Captains of the First Legion knelt on one knee on their respective bridges, remembering the teachings of the Emperor's Son.
On the Argent Nur ships, the people of the Nur Stars listened to King Nowick's declaration in their final moments.
"Citizens of the Imperium, fellow humans." Blazkowicz spoke slowly, without the expected uplifting tone; his solemn voice was full of sorrow: "I am ordering you to die…"
The Primarch's voice, coupled with the heavy atmosphere, felt like a lead weight, crushing the hearts of everyone who heard his voice or saw his image.
"Death is terrifying; it symbolizes the end of everything, the final destination where all life ceases. You will fear it, and this is not a sign of cowardice; no one is unafraid of death."
The Primarch's magnetic voice expounded on the inevitability of death, yet unexpectedly eased the anxiety in the Mortals' tense hearts.
Just as the Emperor's Son said, death is the end of everything; no matter how much one resists, it will eventually come.
"But I admire you…" Blazkowicz's voice deepened, then slowly rose as he applied the oratorical knowledge he had learned: "I admire the courage of every mortal."
The great Primarch, his words held no falsehood, and his eyes shone with admiration:
"You set out from your respective worlds, challenging the endless, profound void with your courage, illuminating humanity's path with the radiance of your courage, facing death without fleeing, but confronting it with bravery!"
Upon hearing this, the mortals proudly puffed out their chests; they were the bravest among them.
"You do not possess powerful bodies like mine, nor the ceramite armor of a Space Marine, nor even clothes to cover your bodies."
"All these reasons combined make the ordinariness of mortals seem so mediocre and humble compared to our extraordinariness."
"But my admiration also stems from this!" Blazkowicz's solemn voice suddenly rose, becoming exceedingly impassioned:
"The courage of the most ordinary life, when facing terrifying Xenos, to pick up a weapon, is purer than that of a Space Marine or even us!"
Hearing the Primarch's address, the mortals could not stop their tears and choked up; their efforts had been seen and given the highest affirmation.
The Space Marines also listened silently, then turned to look at the kneeling Mortals; even the extraordinary warriors pondered the Primarch's words.
The Primarch's words were like a thunderbolt, exploding in their minds.
If they were to shed this armor, without the power bestowed by the Emperor, would they be more courageous than mortals when facing Xenos and the dark void?
"The war is thus; the Imperium's destiny has come to a crossroads. You have witnessed the Ran'dan threat firsthand."
"Now! I order you to die, to fight the Xenos to the death!" Blazkowicz roared, making everyone straighten their backs.
"With your deaths, lay the foundation for the Imperium's victory; with your deaths, overcome the Xenos threat; with your deaths, secure the peace of the human race!"
"Are you willing?" the Primarch sternly demanded, his voice beating a war drum, questioning every single person.
Willing? Of course, willing!
It was just that this unspoken sentiment was buried deep within their hearts; no one had ever asked them this way before.
"Willing…"
Deep within the ship, slave laborers in tattered clothes uttered faint whispers.
Like a chain reaction of atoms, one after another, the most humble people, who usually remained silent, spoke their smallest desires.
"I am willing to die for you, willing to sacrifice for the Emperor!"
The lowest echelons roared with the purest conviction; their voices were incredibly small, but they ultimately converged into a surging tsunami.
"For the Imperium! For the Emperor! For the Primarch! For victory!"
The mortal Captain stood up, drew his ceremonial command blade, pointed it at the Ran'dan fleet, and let out a deafening roar: "With our sacrifice, let us lay the foundation for the Imperium's victory!"
At this, morale was unsurpassed.
Blazkowicz roared: "All forces, attack! Annihilate the Xenos!"
As if the battleships were also inspired, their engines emitted blazing plasma trails, charging unhesitatingly towards the Ran'dan battleships.
All the battleships transformed into fervent longswords, eager to drink the enemy's blood.
"Wolf cubs, do you hear me?" Russ' wild roar echoed through the Space Wolves communication channel: "With the blade of sacrifice, slaughter the Imperium's foes!"
"For the Allfather! For Russ! For the Primarch! For victory!"
The Wolves howled, piloting their battleships towards the Xenos, the wolf cubs secretly competing, their courage not to be outdone by mortals.
In the Morse Solar System, the human fleet poured out, declaring the beginning of the decisive battle.
"Humans, let us set aside formalities and fight a real battle."
Just then, the Ran'dan's full-channel challenge arrived, still as arrogant and disdainful as ever.
"I will smash your brains onto the floor and trample them." Russ responded to the Ran'dan, his fleet's objective clear, charging towards the Ran'dan's largest flagship.
"I wouldn't mind having another dog as a pet." The Ran'dan fleet commander's imposing manner was not to be outdone, responding with a war of words.
At the climax of a decisive battle, one must not lose face even if one loses the battle, for if morale differs, the battle will be a complete rout.
The Imperium's combined fleet advanced without regret, colliding with the Ran'dan bio-ships, becoming entangled in a mutual slaughter.
Both sides crashed like waves, each wave consisting of dozens of battleships, locked together and refusing to yield.
The Imperium's fleet was numerically disadvantaged, but its high morale was like adrenaline, injecting extraordinary power into the fleet.
The fearless passion caught the Ran'dan fleet off guard, and in the initial engagement, they fell behind.
"Pay attention to fleet posture." Seeing this, Blazkowicz's thick brows furrowed as he issued a warning: "Courage does not equal recklessness."
He constantly monitored the battle, coordinating the deployment of the front lines, preventing any hot-headed Captains from breaking formation and leading damaged battleships to self-destruct.
The difficulty for a commander lies in both boosting morale and preventing soldiers from getting carried away by their passion.
Under his command, the fleet, using the star as a base point, advanced in a sweeping motion, like the second hand on a clock face.
The Wolves fleet, led by Russ, flanked from the other side of the star, encircling the Ran'dan fleet.
Lances, macro-cannons, torpedoes, fighters. The Imperium of Man deployed all its weapons, holding nothing back.
The Royal Majesty and three Gloriana-class Battleships advanced abreast, serving as four fire support points to sweep through the Xenos fleet.
The Royal Majesty was the largest, equipped with Argent Nur technology, personally operated by Gates, and possessed the most formidable firepower.
Its macro-cannon array could launch projectiles at half the speed of light, far exceeding the Imperium's conventional weapons, which reached one-tenth the speed of light.
Projectile kinetic energy increases with the square of velocity, so the power increase is far from linear.
The battleship charged at the front; no Xenos battleship could withstand two macro-cannon blasts. She was an unstoppable force; every weapon volley shattered several Xenos battleships.
Because of such powerful firepower, the Argent Nur fleet received special attention; two hundred capital ships led the fleet, attacking from the front.
Blue plasma continuously bombarded them, and the impact of heavy bio-torpedoes caused the void shields to flicker incessantly.
Some smaller battleships, unable to evade in time, exploded in the void, creating dazzling flames.
Blazkowicz's expression remained unchanged; he understood that war inevitably involved sacrifice. Although Argent Nur ships were advanced, they were not invincible.
What pleased him most was that Argent Nur's advanced teleportation technology allowed personnel to transfer before a battleship exploded.
Highly automated battleships required few people to operate, avoiding heavy losses of naval personnel.
After this naval battle, these novice naval personnel would also become qualified void veterans.
The Royal Majesty's shields flickered; as the spearhead, twenty Ran'dan capital ships were besieging her.
Gates' consciousness was directly linked to the battleship; mechanical arms adjusted systems with inhuman efficiency, calculating the trajectories of Ran'dan firepower, and evading with incredibly precise maneuvers.
"Boarding ~ Boarding ~" The blue rim of its disc suddenly turned red, emitting a mechanical alarm: "During a shield flicker interval, Ran'dan boarding parties have entered the shield."
"Heh heh." Blazkowicz gave a mirthless smile, "Let the Iron Man brothers stretch their limbs; didn't they say their bodies were getting rusty?"
"Confirming your command, contacting the Iron Man brothers now." Gates' mechanical hand moved like lightning, completing the corresponding operation: "Iron Men, attack!"
Rangdan boarding pods breached a weak point on the Royal Majesty, and hundreds of elite Rangdan warriors streamed in.
Before their eyes, there were no human thralls as they had imagined, and the vastly different internal structure of the warship was also not what they expected, with almost no trace of human thralls.
At both ends of the wide corridor, the Rangdan warriors saw several tall machines approaching with heavy footsteps.
The machines varied in form: some carried four heavy mechanical legs on their backs, with their torsos equipped with over a dozen weapons; others were humanoid, slender and delicate, moving with an elegant and refined gait.
"Fragile, scarce, not enough to kill." The machine's synthesized voice uttered a few words, and although devoid of emotional fluctuations, the contempt within was palpable.
The Rangdan warriors did not hesitate, raising their weapons and firing blue plasma bolts.
"I'll go first." The slender humanoid machine flickered, and its body vanished from its original position.
In the next instant, short-range teleportation brought them into the Rangdan ranks.
Their bodies were as black as mirrors, thin blades extended from their hands, and their crimson electronic eyes gleamed with killing intent: "Aliens, die!"
The killing machines manufactured by humans were born with an inherent hatred for aliens.
During the Golden Age, galactic aliens were not friendly.
Humanity stood tall in the galaxy, creating the Golden Age not through diplomacy, but through killing machines.
The Iron Man machines moved with extreme swiftness, their finger blades exceptionally sharp, specifically designed for close-quarters alien slaughter.
A long mechanical arm swept through, and before the Rangdan could react, their personal shields failed to stop the blades, and they were instantly cut into pieces.
Having struck successfully, it leaped lightly with its legs, its body spinning in the air, hanging upside down from the ceiling of the corridor.
Such terrifying killing machines struck terror into the hearts of the Rangdan warriors, who raised their firearms and shot at the terrifying machine suspended from the ceiling.
Before the plasma could get close, the Iron Man's computational unit completed its prediction, and the black shadow flickered again, plunging back into the alien ranks.
They spread their arms, tiptoeing like elegant dancers, initiating a dance of death amidst the barrage.
The blades in their hands were unstoppable, gliding effortlessly over the alien bio-armor, the fine cutting lines proving the completion of the kill.
With every leap and descent, Rangdan warriors instantly perished, their brains within their armor precisely shredded.
Two Iron Man of the same type cooperated, their electronic communication making them seem like one, throwing the Rangdan formation into disarray.
"Target locked on aliens." As their comrades wantonly slaughtered the aliens, the two heavily armored Iron Man immediately opened fire, their bodies unleashing an endless array of killing weapons.
Disintegration rays, plasma cannons, gravity weapons, decay fields, disrupter cannons.
The two heavily armored Iron Man's mechanical legs sank slightly, and the weapons mounted on their torsos opened fire en masse, overwhelming the Rangdan troops in an instant.
Miniature missiles from their four legs poured forth, and the weapon emplacements on their platforms, various weapons locked onto targets, unleashing devastating firepower.
The former were elegant assassins, the latter heavy firepower tanks.
Ancient creations, a single heavily armored Iron Man machine, delivered the firepower equivalent of a company of mortals.
In the face of such powerful firepower, the Rangdan personal shields instantly overloaded, and their bio-armor was blasted into particle dust and mangled corpses.
Its control over firepower was incredibly precise, perfectly eliminating the Rangdan aliens without harming its Iron Man brethren.
The Rangdan's counterattack was weak and ineffective; all plasma and ion streams were blocked by the Iron Man's multiple, overlapping shields.
Ten seconds of concentrated firepower, highly effective in the dense formation, left not a single living Rangdan standing from those who had emerged from the boarding pods.
The wide corridor was filled with traces left by various weapons; only scorched earth lay before the Iron Man.
The assassin emerged from the remaining Rangdan corpses, its steps still elegant, and its mechanical voice said to its comrade: "Crude."
The heavily armored Iron Man retracted its weapons, activated its weapon cooling system, and its eyes flashed as it replied: "Efficient."
"Madam Sophia, you can send out engineering machinery to repair the damaged warship; we will proceed to the next boarding point for support."
"No need." Sophia's digital signal conveyed the message: "They have already dealt with the alien threat. You are the slowest group."
The four Iron Man stopped in place, their electronic eyes scanning each other, then turned back the way they came.
"Aliens, fragile." The Iron Man's electronic synthesized voice echoed through the corridor, seemingly still wanting more.
A minor interlude in the fleet battle, Argent Nur's ships had various solutions for Rangdan boarding attempts.
Sentinels, Custodes, Iron Man, Doom Slayer. These high-end combat forces could teleport to boarding points immediately.
The First Legion's ten thousand Astartes, integrated into the void fleet, also had the capability to defend against Rangdan boarding.
With the Space Wolves Fleet commanding a full Legion, and a Primarch personally present, Rangdan boarding was nothing short of suicidal.
The combat and slaughter in space were incredibly brutal; in the engagement zones between the two sides, the wreckage of human and alien ships was ubiquitous.
And within the spatial domain, the bodies of humans, Rangdan, and other aliens, thrown from ships, filled the cosmic void.
Their frozen bodies, contorted in grimaces, silently spoke of the brutality of the battle.
And the ground battle, as the space battle commenced, also became brutal, like the sharp teeth of two meat grinders, churning through flesh and bone, grinding them into paste.
Various heavy cannons roared in unison, like the war hammers of a god of war striking the ground, the trembling earth unsettling the heart.
The air was filled with the smell of gunpowder, and the unyielding stench of blood, mixing together to create a sickening odor.
Around the human positions, the former wasteland had become a swamp, a dark red mire formed from human blood mixed with the ashes of corpses.
In the swamp, zombie-like humans stumbled forward, only to be struck down by bullets in an instant, sinking into the dark red blood-mud.
Such a terrifying, hellish scene tested the spirit of every soldier, honing their limits of endurance.
"Sir, they are coming." The Mechanicum Master reported to Atum; he had detected sounds mixed with the bombardment shockwaves, indicating the Rangdan intended to assault by tunneling underground.
"There are a total of one hundred targets, seventy heading towards us, and thirty towards the Imperial positions."
Atum looked at the tunneling locations and shouted through the comms: "Sentinels brothers, your work has arrived."
He flicked his finger, transmitting the message to the Sentinels, entrusting a specialist to handle the matter.
"Understood." The Sentinels replied via comms: "We will eliminate them immediately."
Atum nodded, then shared the intelligence with Grand Master Urian, to assist the Imperial defense line in preparing for the underground assault.
A strange scene unfolded along the Argent Nur front line.
A thousand Sentinels gathered at various points along the front, at exactly seventy locations, arrayed in neat lines.
"This is it." The veteran used his rifle butt to draw a horizontal line on the ground, having the new recruits line up: "Aliens are directly below at a depth of one hundred meters, passing here in ten seconds. This will test your blind-firing skills."
The Sentinels recruits aimed their weapons at the ground, awaiting the veteran's command, ready to use their dimension rays to cut down the aliens underground.
A fleeting opportunity, the veteran did not give a verbal command, but held a timer, ready to press it.
"Prepare." His tone was calm, his eyes fixed on the approaching countdown.
The Sentinels recruits held their long rifles, their eyes fixed on the holographic image inside their helmets, watching for the convergence point of the angles.
"Fire!" The veteran roared, pressing the timer in his hand. His calculations were precise, even factoring in the recruits' reaction time.
Sizzle ~ Sizzle ~ Sizzle ~
The ten recruits continuously activated their dimension rays, cutting into the underground tunneling machines; they fired as they retreated, constantly shooting at the signal points.
The dimension rays penetrated everything, passing through a hundred meters of sand and rock as if nothing, cutting into the tunneling machinery below ground.
The Rangdan advanced underground, their warriors extremely tense, going to raid the human defensive lines, to strike from within.
Then they saw blue rays penetrating downwards from the top of the tunneling machines, continuously cutting through everything inside the compartments.
Their warrior comrades were shredded, the tunneling machine engines were destroyed, and they were trapped underground.
Soon, the seismograph reported back that the tunneling devices had stopped moving.
"Well done, lads." The veteran waved his hand, signaling dismissal; the Rangdan aliens underground were already trapped:
"Technicians can move in now, come drill holes and fill them with concrete, completely sealing off the aliens."
Such scenes occurred simultaneously along the Argent Nur front line; Atum used the unique properties of their weapons to deal with the assaulting aliens.
Meanwhile, on the Imperial front line, the First Legion was already prepared; when the aliens burst forth from underground, a group of black-armored tough men awaited them.
The First Legion suffered a total loss of approximately ten thousand warriors in the ground battle.
The remaining thirty thousand warriors were all gathered at the base, and naturally, they easily dealt with the Rangdan assault.
The ground war moved with the space war, but the Rangdan in the space battle could no longer maintain their advantage in naval combat.
The heavily damaged alien fleet, no longer able to consider anything else, decided to deploy the Battle Moon.
Two Battle Moons, one remained in place to prevent a surprise attack from the left fleet, while the other moved extremely slowly towards the Space Wolves.
The Royal Majesty's weaponry deeply concerned the Rangdan Overlord, severely limiting the Battle Moon's firepower advantage.
The Rangdan fleet held back the Royal Majesty, concentrating heavy fire on the right flank, where the fleet's ferocity was close to tearing through their defensive line.
The xenos' movements were quickly noticed; these two massive artificial celestial bodies had always been a key focus for humanity.
No one could ignore their power.
"My brother, you wouldn't be unprepared, would you?" Russ contacted Blazkowicz via holographic communication, asking if he had made any preparations.
He knew that his brother, being skilled in textbook warfare, must have already prepared.
Though he thought that, Russ said something else: "If you have no other way, I will have the Hrafnkel ram it, then destroy the xenos' creation."
On the Hrafnkel's bridge, Russ' hands clasped together under the table; he was genuinely a little nervous.
He was afraid his brother would say, "Alright, at this point, the only way is to ram it with a battleship."
"I am well prepared," Blazkowicz's response reassured Russ.
He also understood that while Russ' words carried a joking tone, they also represented a viable combat plan.
Facing such a behemoth, a Gloriana-class Battleship seemed minuscule; only a desperate ramming attack could halt the Battle Moon's advance.
"I look forward to your surprise," Russ grinned and closed the holographic communication.
He could now focus on the fleet battle before him, without worrying about that thing's threat.
Blazkowicz closed his eyes, linking to his sons' psychic beacons through their psychic connection: "Commence operation!"
In the scout ship's hangar, Odysseus paced anxiously; the mission target was slowly moving away, while the Doom Slayers were still meditating.
Suddenly, all the black-armored warriors moved, and Khebril shouted to him, "Captain Odysseus, the time is now!"
"Board!" Odysseus roared at the Custodes, not even asking where the information came from.
With the Morse Solar System in chaos, taking action was better than doing nothing.
Khebril nodded, signaling his brothers to grab their Khorne weapons and board the transport ship with the Custodes.
They had waited too long for this moment, eager to destroy the xenos' creation and secure victory for their Gene-Father.
"The hunt has begun!"
The demons whispered in glee; after a long wait, they could finally leave the real universe and return to the Warp.
"Rest assured, everyone, we will explode loudly and brilliantly, living up to your expectations!"
"Less talk," a Doom Slayer, carrying a jar, shook it violently, making the Great Demon slam into the runic barrier, leaving him disoriented.
The golden and black-armored warriors boarded the transport ship, flying out of the stealthy scout ship's hangar, drifting like a leaf towards the Battle Moon.
The internal transport ships of the scout vessel used optical camouflage; aside from initial acceleration, their engines dared not ignite.
There were few warships around the Battle Moon; the front-line battle was intense, and all warships had gone to the battlefield.
This provided an excellent opportunity for the boarding party; the Battle Moon's internal port was wide open, with only a few damaged warships undergoing repairs.
The optical stealth transport ships, in addition to visual stealth, only had minimal scanning evasion.
If the Battle Moon were to scan its immediate vicinity now, it would detect the approaching landing craft.
Unfortunately, the intense fighting on the front lines meant the scanning function was focused at maximum power on distant space, filtering out minor disturbances nearby as floating space debris.
The Doom Slayer pilots precisely adjusted their course using inertia, stealthily entering the Battle Moon's port.
"That's enough," he quickly got up and rushed to the hangar, where his brothers helped him don his flight pack.
"Prepare for descent! The cabin top will open in five seconds, and we will thrust upwards!"
The Custodes remained silent, looking up at the top of the transport ship, their flight packs already activated.
In the communication channel, the auxiliary AI counted down: "Three..."
"Two..."
"One..." As the final countdown ended, the top of the transport ship burst open with a bang.
For maximum speed, directional explosives had been installed on the transport ship's top, allowing everyone to deploy instantly.
"Move!" Before the xenos could react, the flight packs suddenly engaged, propelling the boarding party skyward!
"What powerful armament!" Odysseus exclaimed in the communication channel; the plasma thrusters of the Argent Nur-pattern boarding wingsuit were tearing through physical limits.
Data showed it could fly at Mach 3 in the atmosphere, and in space, it could instantly burst to over Mach 10.
The flight pack resembled bird wings, with numerous automatic joints that adaptively adjusted posture.
Ten wing-like plumes extended from the wing bones, ejecting multi-state jets, making the entire flight process incredibly smooth.
The lightweight structure and immense power allowed the Shield-Captain to enjoy the flight pack's experience.
"Everyone, fly upwards," Khebril announced over the comms; he had marked a location.
Only by passing through there could they truly enter the Battle Moon's interior.
"Alert! Alert!" Red lights flashed throughout the Battle Moon; the warship's AI reported: "Enemies have invaded the spaceport."
"According to the AI protocol, spaceport access routes are being sealed, all technical personnel are to evacuate, and warriors are to intercept the invaders."
The Battle Moon's AI reacted quickly, immediately sealing the spaceport and dispatching combat personnel.
"The xenos know we're here! Be extra careful," Odysseus warned, leading the charge deeper into the Battle Moon.
The flight packs built for Doom Slayers were incredibly fast, and the Custodes could just about handle the reaction.
Over three hundred superhuman warriors moved swiftly and agilely, sweeping across the spaceport from above.
Their agile figures were like birds amidst the complex xenos architecture.
"Human intruders, prepare to die!" The Rangdan boasted triumphantly; how could a small squad of over three hundred people possibly harm this behemoth?
"You warriors, arrogant trash, dare to board our war fortress?"
The Rangdan cursed angrily; Lolos had sent back information that the golden-armored warriors were incredibly powerful.
Even human informants had relayed intelligence, speculating that the golden-armored warriors among humans were even more formidable than Space Marines.
But how much more formidable could they be?
This was the Battle Moon; a single spit from each of them could drown the invaders.
"I'll clear the way ahead," Khebril accelerated, rushing to the front of the team, illuminating his dimensional halberd.
The artificial intelligence had sealed the passage, but that couldn't stop them.
The three-meter-long, high-power dimensional blade sliced into the steel like cutting tofu, carving a large hole in the sealed door.
Odysseus charged forward, his gleaming golden boot kicking open the foot-thick door panel, a perfect assist that wasted no time.
"Custodes, begin dispersing and penetrating," the Shield-Captain gave the order, instructing the boarding party to split into multiple squads to further infiltrate the Battle Moon.
This was a pre-planned tactic: over three hundred people divided into multiple small teams, making it difficult for the xenos to determine the boarding party's exact objective.
To create a diversion, each Doom Slayer carried a jar, making it difficult for the xenos to distinguish between real and fake.
Odysseus nodded to Khebril and was the first to charge into the Battle Moon's interior.
His body experienced a slow descent as the internal gravity generators captured the flying Custodes warrior.
However, the flight pack's anti-gravity device quickly engaged, and the wings adjusted in a series of motions, allowing the operator to hover steadily in mid-air.
"Good stuff," Odysseus thought with joy; this flight pack was an industrial marvel.
He had no time for awe or reflection; looking around, xenos were rushing in from all directions in the steel hall.
With such a scene before them, there was no need for words; the Custodes and Doom Slayers knew what they had to do.
They tacitly increased the flight pack's output, not lingering in combat, and flew close to the hall's ceiling.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The Custodes' boltguns fired, targeting and eliminating the Rangdan Overlords to prevent their fire from interfering with the flying team.
The Doom Slayers' shoulder cannons and weapons targeted high-threat objectives, with their flight packs at full power, flying at Mach 1 in the gravitational environment.
Mach 1 was not the pack's limit, but the limit of the Custodes and Doom Slayers.
Flying within the complex xenos structures, firing to kill intercepting Rangdan warriors, and still needing to pay attention to their flight path.
These ultimate beings among humans, piloting their flight packs like lightning, nothing could stop them.
Rangdan Overlords, wearing flight suits, came to intercept, but the two merely brushed past each other, and their bodies fell from the sky.
"Landing ahead, no flight space."
In thirty seconds, the squad advanced ten kilometers, entering a cramped pipe environment.
The Rangdan couldn't catch up; their speed couldn't match the boarding party members.
A Custodes warrior took a golden reconnaissance eagle from his waist and released it to scan the terrain ahead.
"We are still two hundred kilometers from the outermost blast point," Khebril reminded solemnly: "It must be detonated within that range to cause maximum damage."
"Our journey is a bit bumpy," Odysseus raised his arm, showing Khebril the images transmitted by the reconnaissance eagle.
"The xenos are intercepting us ahead; they've deployed fighters and anti-aircraft fire, not allowing us to pass."
"Isn't that perfect?" Khebril's voice came out relaxed from under his helmet: "Fighters and anti-aircraft fire mean there's ample space inside; once we get past them, our path will be clear."
"If all else fails, we have this," Khebril pointed to the Khorne demon weapon: "It will make the xenos fight among themselves."
The Custodes were silent; they were ultimate beings personally forged by the Emperor, with superfluous emotions removed, making them more focused on the present and better serving the Emperor.
Their charge was silent and swift. The Custodes, on a psychological level, would instinctively cooperate with their comrades.
Coincidentally, the Doom Slayers were equally silent.
After ten thousand years or more of mental tempering, their hearts were full of hardship, accustomed to lonely indifference.
In terms of cooperation, Doom Slayers didn't need special notification through a psychic link; tested warriors possessed a more intimate telepathy.
Black and gold, equally tall warriors, silently rushed into the gate, entering the vast ecological space.
A strip city, over a hundred kilometers wide and endlessly deep, suddenly filled the superhuman warriors' vision.
Several miniature artificial suns floated high in the sky, a glass dome mimicked blue skies and white clouds, and on both sides were sci-fi landscapes interwoven with steel.
The ground was planted with various exotic trees, blue, white, and purple flowers mixed together, and an ecological river, shimmering with clear waves, flowed longitudinally through the entire eco-city.
Such a scene should have been harmonious and beautiful, a place of peace within the Battle Moon.
Now, in front of the eco-city, a large number of xeno warriors had gathered, operating various anti-aircraft weapons, looking tense and ready.
The human intruders had broken the harmony; they were charging in aggressively.
"Fire! Shoot them down." The Rangdan Overlord said nothing, but pointed its command sword at the high part of the gate, and a psychic wave swept across the field.
Various slave races: humans, xenos, a mixed slave army, obeyed its psychic will.
"Spread out, draw the xenos' anti-aircraft fire, and regroup at the marked locations."
Odysseus' communication was brief and direct. The flight pack behind him ignited, and his body shot out like an arrow from a bowstring.
Behind him, the Custodes warriors who had rushed into the gate's breach immediately scattered across the eco-city's sky, following the Shield-Captain's movements.
The Custodes knew their mission: to provide sufficient cover for the Doom Slayers' task.
With their flight packs on overdrive, the Custodes broke the sound barrier, their bio-enhanced joints and shield buffering systems working together to withstand the deadly inertia.
Behind them, the Rangdan's anti-aircraft fire was dense and lethal, solid projectiles and energy weapons tearing through the sky.
Crackle, crackle, crackle—the sky shattered, sonic booms roared, and golden figures pierced through the barrage.
The Custodes' bio-computers, enhanced by bio-alchemy, were comparable to precise biological supercomputers.
They moved through the barrage, their extraordinary bodies enduring sudden increases and decreases in G-force during repeated stops and accelerations.
With nanosecond reaction speeds, coupled with excellent physical capabilities, the Custodes were more agile than ultra-high-speed fighter jets.
"Doom Slayers entering." Captain Odysseus spared a tenth of a second, at the moment of the densest barrage, to call his mission comrades to enter.
His timing was astonishing.
The dense anti-aircraft fire, drawn by sixty Custodes, was no longer a fatal threat.
The Doom Slayers immediately entered the gate, carrying their daemon weapons, and continued forward under the cover of the Custodes.
The sky had become a chaotic mess, and the Rangdan's interceptor fighters had become a hindrance.
The Custodes demonstrated their flying skills, using the flexibility of their flight packs to stick to the belly or back of the fighter jets, forcing the automatic fire to cease.
When pursued by fighter jets, they would instantly pull up and turn, firing the boltgun mounted on their Guardian Spear, killing the pilot.
Their flight paths were winding and erratic, tearing violent arcs through the barrage.
Bang ~ Bang ~ Bang ~
Several distinct sounds, different from the others, came through. The Custodes were not unfamiliar with them; it was the unique sound of Auramite being hit.
Like a reverse waterfall of firepower, several anti-aircraft shells exploded, and dense projectiles tore and enveloped the Custodes.
Amidst the flickering of their dimension shields, the Custodes' personal shields instantly overloaded, and the wings of their flight packs were shattered.
The Rangdan's morale was greatly boosted; this was the first time casualties had occurred among the human forces entering the Battle Moon.
The Custodes fell from a height of over a thousand meters above the ground, a height where even Auramite armor would be fatal.
Gravity would make every high-flyer pay the price.
"Loss of power pack, I will withdraw from this mission." The Custodes confirmed via comms, activating the teleportation ankh on his hand.
A blue-white light curtain emanated from the ankh, enveloping the Custodes' entire body like a cocoon.
Then, with a flash of white light, the falling golden figure vanished, completely disappearing into the air.
Odysseus breathed a sigh of relief, seeing several Custodes depart safely.
Even without fraternal affection, their genetic code still compelled them to attach absolute efficiency to the survival of their comrades.
The Primarch had indeed been thoughtful, valuing the life of every warrior.
The Rangdan Overlord froze, its mind racing, and it shrieked over the public comms: "Find the human transport ship, it's near us."
It looked up at the heights; human warriors flew chaotically like flies, heading deeper into the city.
"You still want to leave?" The Rangdan Overlord seemed to answer its own question: "Then we will leave first!"
After a brief thought, the xeno overlord confirmed that the human mission was not suicidal.
There was a spaceship outside for rendezvous; the humans wanted to destroy the Battle Moon and then leave safely.
"Humans will not succeed! Before you achieve your goal, the Battle Moon will leave here, taking you out of the real universe. Even if we are destroyed, we will make you lost in the Warp!"
The Rangdan Overlord's furious shriek, watching the human assault team depart, received no response.
The Custodes and Doom Slayers, after a brief entanglement, had already broken through the anti-aircraft fire net.
Along the way, there were also fixed defensive turrets, which could be avoided by dodging their trajectories.
A distance of two hundred kilometers, with an open field of view, the flight packs accelerated to three times the speed of sound, reaching the target in two hundred seconds.
During the flight, Khebril looked down, and the surface of the calm artificial river trembled for a moment.
"I need to detonate the first bomb; the xenos have activated the Battle Moon's engine, they plan to leave."
The xenos' next move must be stopped!
Khebril warned over the comms: "Custodes, beware of the furious psychic impact!"
"Understood!" Captain Odysseus immediately responded. He had never seen the power of a daemon weapon, but he had to respect it.
"There will be a powerful psychic impact next; be careful not to get lost in it." He notified his Custodes comrades to avoid accidents.
Khebril asked his brothers in the other assault team via psychic link: "How is your progress? We are about to detonate the daemon weapon."
With two missions proceeding simultaneously, he had to ask his brothers about their specific progress and timing.
"Can detonate, synchronize detonation in ten seconds." The psychic link relayed the response, making Khebril breathe a sigh of relief.
He also knew the progress of his brothers' team, which was not far behind his own.
"Throw it down!" Khebril ordered without hesitation, instructing his brothers to release the daemon weapon.
The Doom Slayer acted quickly, opening the detonation device, setting the synchronized time, pulling back the black cloth, and dropping the Greater Daemon of Khorne.
"Hehehe! Goodbye everyone, I won't miss you!" The Bloodthirster let out a final, desperate roar: "Never to meet again!"
The daemon container free-fell from the sky, its runes glowing, emitting dense red lightning, reflecting the runes carved on the Greater Daemon of Khorne's body.
"Come on, I can't wait." The Bloodthirster spread its arms, allowing the power within its body to drain, the runes absorbing its power through the blood-red lightning.
The Bloodthirster's form dissipated, condensing into a red sphere, emitting a chaotic concept.
Before it was fully detonated, the daemon's concept began to corrupt reality.
The Rangdan Overlord felt very uneasy. Its race was naturally psychically powerful, capable of sensitively detecting changes in emotions.
After the humans dropped an object, the controlled servant army's desire for slaughter began to rise within them.
"Do not look directly at that thing." It immediately ordered the servant army to turn around.
Now was not the time to intercept the humans; if the influence was not eliminated, the servant army would go berserk in a short while.
At that point, let alone fighting, whether they would even obey orders was another matter.
Looking at the falling container in the sky, emitting a crimson, ominous light, the Rangdan Overlord thought it was a new weapon developed by humans, specifically targeting their race's psychic control, a targeted weapon.
After the servants turned around, the Rangdan Overlord heard a malicious roar from within the container: "Damn xenos, feel the wrath of the Blood God!"
"What is that thing?" While the overlord was still thinking, the container holding the daemon exploded in mid-air!
There were no dazzling fireworks, no deafening explosion, but a blood-red circular shockwave spread out.
The essence of bloodthirsty rage, a psychic impact, ignored all obstacles, spreading through the cold mechanical constructs.
At the moment the daemon weapon detonated, Russ, who was in combat, looked up at the Battle Moon in the distance through the viewport, feeling two bursts of bloodthirsty malice erupt.
In the Warp, Khorne, upon his Skull Throne, sat up straight.
He felt a Bloodthirster return, one that had once been outside his sight.