The battle erupted in the fault zone on the edge of the Third District.
Given the high threat level and the potential presence of powerful psychic xenos, Cassius did not hold back. The residents of the district, having received the evacuation order, fled in terror, leaving the area a ghost town of rusted metal and deep shadows.
The Sons of Medusa squad demonstrated the terrifying depth of the Maglar clan's armory. The first sound was the roar of heavy engines and the rhythmic thud of ceramite on steel.
Three Cataphractii-pattern Terminator units—mobile fortresses of ancient design—strode out of the Thunderhawk gunship. Instead of assault cannons, they were equipped with the classic Storm Shield and Thunder Hammer combination.
The thick, curved shields hummed with energy capable of withstanding almost any frontal assault. The massive hammers, wreathed in leaping blue lightning, were icons of melee destruction. Additional shield generator modules hummed on their pauldrons, enveloping them in a shimmering kinetic veil.
Following them were three Indomitus-pattern Terminators, armed with twin-linked assault cannons and heavy flamethrowers. Mounted on their shoulders were Cyclone missile launchers, ready to provide a continuous, ferocious rain of fire.
But the centerpiece was the Land Raider Redeemer. With a deep, mechanical growl, the massive tank rolled forward. Its iconic Flamestorm Cannons—known as the "Flame Dragons" to the Space Wolves—stood ready to turn the cramped fault lines into a literal hell.
These weapons converted massive amounts of promethium into a viscous, clinging torrent of white-hot fire, designed specifically for clearing dense biological infestations.
Cassius himself donned Cataphractii Terminator armor for this engagement. He stood at the vanguard, his white helmet shining like a lighthouse in the dim light. The Iron Halo behind him slightly distorted the air with its protective field. He wielded a master-crafted Thunder Hammer that crackled with arcs of deep blue electricity.
Under his command, the steel torrent crashed into the depths of the fault.
The battle was instantaneous and brutal. The Genestealer Magus's lair was more heavily fortified than Raynor had imagined. Hundreds of hybrid offspring emerged from every vent and crevice, utilizing complex traps and rudimentary but effective firearms. Some variants appeared psychically enhanced, their movements blurred by speed and their shells hardened by kinetic barriers.
But the Sons of Medusa were more efficient. Led by Cassius, the Terminators advanced as an unshakeable wall. Every swing of a Thunder Hammer was met with the muffled thud of shattering bone and a dazzling burst of lightning.
Storm Shields absorbed bone-blades and acidic sprays with ease. The Land Raider guarded the rear, its Flamestorm Cannons emitting low, furious roars as they spewed liquid fire that melted even the rocks of the Hive.
However, the Magus possessed a desperate cunning. As the Astartes neared the core, a powerful psionic shockwave—a visible, twisted pulse of pale purple energy—erupted from the lair. It was a psychic hammer aimed directly at the soul, carrying a tide of fear and confusion.
The elderly, mechanized Librarian-adjunct—the companion who had assisted in the previous hunt—stepped forward. His withered hands shook as he attempted to manifest a psychic shield.
"Ugh...!"
The two streams of energy collided. The old man shuddered violently, blood seeping from his eyes and ears. The soldiers behind him heard the sickening crack of ribs breaking under the psychic backlash. The barrier held, but it was fragile. The air filled with the scent of ozone and the faint, burnt odor of scorched internal organs.
"Suppress it," Cassius's voice cut through the comms, cold and perfectly calm.
A Terminator switched his shoulder-mounted launcher to a specialized "Mind-Bolt" missile. Simultaneously, the Land Raider adjusted its aim, injecting a jet of molten promethium into the source of the psychic pulse. An inhuman scream echoed from the depths, and the psionic energy dissipated instantly.
The Magus's final counterattack had been countered with cold, Iron Hand efficiency. The price was the near-total incapacitation of the squad's only psychic defense.
All of this was observed by an invisible bystander.
High on a vertical steel structure, a massive, ferocious beast with a purplish-red carapace clung to the shadows like a patient gecko. The [Thousand-Faced Armor] rendered Sarah a ghost. The electromagnetic coating made her background noise on the auspex scanners. Her body temperature matched the cold rock, and the damping mucus beneath her shell absorbed every vibration.
She watched the collision of steel and flesh, her compound eyes recording every detail for Raynor. She saw the rhythm of the charge, the range of the hammers, and—most importantly—the severe injury of the psychic companion.
This data was transmitted in real-time to Raynor, who was currently posing as a "home visitor" in District 7, investigating cult leads.
Raynor wiped away non-existent beads of sweat, swearing inwardly. Cassius... where did he get all this gear? A Land Raider? Terminators? That's enough to level a city block!
But when he received the confirmation of the psychic's injury, a sense of resolute relief washed over him. The Librarian was the key to responding to unconventional threats. His injury meant a brief, real weakness in the Astartes' defensive curtain.
Now, all he had to do was guide the "hunting dogs" to the Tyranid Armory.
"Cassius senpai," Raynor muttered, looking at the dark horizon where distant explosions flickered. "The stage is set. The actors are in position. I'm just waiting for the curtain to rise."