Chapter 67 This is War!

"This is not a viable solution."

Swinging his power hammer to shatter the head of a mutating monstrosity, Orlando frowned as he watched these creatures continually surge upward.

Some among them had landed to purge chaos, some to investigate this semi-forged world, and others to eliminate their own teacher. Yet upon landing, there was no sign of chaos whatsoever, the investigation hadn't begun, and they had no clue where to find their target.

Instead, they were immediately blocked inside the Mechanicus Sanctum by a horde of death-defying xenos.

"Almost there."

Vast quantities of data flashed through Romulus's eyes as his rapidly constructing calculation model quickly computed the magnitude of the shadow cast by these Genestealers.

As the vanguard of the Great Devourer, aside from possessing an excess of ego due to infecting native organisms, these Genestealers were fundamentally no different from a gestalt swarm.

To stem the endless charge of these monsters, they had to eliminate the psychic units acting as their command nodes.

The psychic network of the Great Devourer lineage was similar to that of the Orks—it was a localized network, appearing in the eyes of daemons as shadows of varying sizes.

The stronger the node, the larger the area covered by its shadow.

"Ramses."

Ramses understood, stuffing a few more daemons into the daemon host within the sarcophagus.

The coverage area of the "Imperial Horizon" expanded abruptly, growing increasingly sharp and distinct.

Romulus carefully identified the discrepancies, gradually overlapping them with the hive city model constructed from the map, and finally locked onto a location where the shadows converged.

The Departmento Munitorum.

The core administrative institution governing an Imperial world.

"...These Imperial higher-ups are practically machine-spirits in human skin."

Romulus wanted to massage his two throbbing hearts, but could only brush against a layer of heavy steel plating.

"Arthur, lead the breakthrough team and ensure the execution of the node entities. The Carcharodons will accompany the squad, and the breakout routes for each team will be commanded by the veterans."

In a hive city environment—even the upper hive—things were far too complex. Based on the map, Romulus could only manage the broad direction, especially since this map was a blueprint they had fished out of the Mechanicus archives prior to landing.

There was a specific reason for sending Arthur to assassinate the psychic units; after all, he was the one who had managed to beat Ramses to his knees despite Ramses's output.

"Standard protocol: no more than six members per team. Use jump packs for the breakthrough."

A returning Stormbird opened its cargo bay, revealing rows of old-pattern, experimental-grade jump packs.

Modeled after fighter jet plasma propulsion systems, these were smaller and lighter than the jump packs used during the M41 era, possessing a higher thrust-to-weight ratio capable of short-distance flight.

"First Company, Third Company, select personnel for equipment change."

Tyberos methodically accepted the order, utilizing a Techpriest's assistance to strap a pack onto his back.

"My Lord!"

Watching the sharks swap out their gear, Orlando felt a sudden pang of grievance.

In truth, his Black Templars were also exceptionally skilled at breakthrough operations.

"The Black Templars will accompany Karna to break through into the interior of the sanctum. We must hold the chokepoints and promptly clear out the xenos once they fall into chaos."

"Understood!"

Watching the Imperial Fists depart with Karna, Orlando quickly fell in line.

This way, both sides were accounted for.

Arthur instinctively touched the gene-seed storage device at his waist, and finding everything in order, leaped directly into the empty sky ahead.

[740 M41-P · am 11:32 - Location: Principal World of Pyre-Prime - Upper Hive Munitorum Sector]

[Mission Objective: Hunt down the psychic node entities.]

High in the sky, over a hundred Astartes adjusted their postures like extreme athletes, and as they plunged into the cloud cover, their power packs began to glow with a faint, ghostly blue light.

Then, they began their rapid descent.

"Mark the zone. The Razorwings will strike first, followed by the assault troops deploying melta charges."

Logically speaking, their current combat methodology violated the Codex Astartes quite severely.

Coincidentally, however, none of the three Chapters present gave any regard to the Codex's restrictions.

Boom!

The thermite cannon fire from the Razorwing dropping from the spire instantly pierced through the Munitorum's armor plating, which was as thick as a cruiser's hull.

Melta charges, requiring a single Astartes to embrace in one arm, had their detonation sequences primed before being dropped without hesitation.

Boom—

The bombardment was instantaneous, over a hundred melta charges hurled into the breach simultaneously.

Endless explosions.

A surging torrent of thermal metal crushed the majority of the architecture and destroyed the perimeter of the entire vital department. The shockwave triggered by the temperature difference rushed outward like a tidal wave, only to be contained and trapped within the building by the massive walls.

Before the xenos within could even react, those guarding the perimeter were reduced to dust, crushed completely as the toppled structure collapsed upon the aliens who had been diligently at work.

Splat—

The closely following shadow of death descended, permanently mixing these tenacious lives with the gradually melting concrete and plasteel.

Whoosh, whoosh—

The Lemur Russe Exterminator pivoted its cannons and opened fire from an elevated position, arcs of thick plasma energy cutting through the atmosphere like blades.

The Ryza-pattern plasma generators entered an overload mode, their machine-spirits rejoicing as they cast out dense firepower, drawing a blockade line named death around the towering architecture to intercept the Genestealer horde from the upper hive attempting to reinforce the Munitorum.

"The perimeter has been breached. The psychic entities have not moved."

Arthur made a final mental note of the map within his field of view.

Hoo—

The experimental jetpacks entered a low-power operational state, beginning to exhaust large quantities of waste gases.

The plasma-infused gases completely nullified the surrounding light and thermal sensory systems, rendering the figures of this force, engulfed in fog, hazy and nearly invisible to the naked eye.

"......"

Their connection with the main force was completely severed.

Fortunately, every Astartes was a warrior capable of standing alone since the moment of their birth.

The black-clad warriors were the first to move. Within the mist, the sharks began their hunt under the guidance of the elders.

The knights rode the smoke and clouds to charge through the corridors, invisible swords sweeping past, leaving only headless, mutilated corpses in their wake.

Splat—

The teeth of a chain-fist erupted in sparks, brutally grinding a Lictor from head to toe.

Tyberos marched forward with heavy yet silent steps.

Behind him, laser fire and bolter shells concentrated on the killing zones. He raised his hand slightly, and his lightning claws sliced an alien hiding in a ventilation duct into pieces.

Hoo—

Dense plasma exhaust filled the corridor, leaving nothing of the enveloped xenos save for their dying shrieks as they were swallowed whole.

The sharks were utterly in their element in such an environment.

Tyberos's expression was grave, his perpetually cold and steady heart beating with a fierce, burning heat.

Tearing through the battlefield with extraordinary firepower, plunging into the enemy lines with the swiftness of blazing fire, and launching a scorching, devastating assault on the enemy's weaknesses from the smoke behind roaring flames.

This was the signature breakthrough tactic mastered by the Ashen Claws, one of the Six Wings of the First Legion during the Great Crusade.

A wealth of firepower projection that bordered on the limitless, coupled with technological equipment perfectly attuned to the Astartes.

The sharks always accepted every change with composure, yet the battlefield before him genuinely caused his blood to run hot.

Something deep within their genes was being awakened.

This was a war without restrictions, a war without a single care for the future.

A war where an Astartes simply needed to peacefully accomplish the command to kill.

Crack!

Flesh burst, blood sprayed.

The giant shark's teeth chewed through its prey, lightning-dazzling claws tore through walls, and a crimson path of blood strode heedlessly into the next room.

This was war!