For Shadow Champion Ezio, everything that happened on Tacus V was not a battle that made him feel at ease or somewhat comfortable.
The impact of the Warp Storm on the Imperium was actually far greater than many people imagined. At the very least, for some already dispersed or under-strength fleets, the storm almost destroyed their organizational structure and logistics, forcing many warriors to fight with insufficient equipment.
This was the case for Ezio. Although the First Legion did not lack his ammunition replenishment and regular supplies, the loss of battle-brothers was difficult to compensate for.
In popular conception, shadow operations seemed like a simple concept, something an assassin could accomplish with a dagger or a silenced pistol. But at least for the shadows of the Second Legion, their tactics were far from crude.
Through more than a century of continuous exploration and experimentation, the "Shadow Operations" were far more complex than anyone imagined. The Fourth Fleet of the Second Legion had only about two thousand Astartes warriors, but their tactical diversity could rival many legions.
In addition to the most basic guerrilla, assassination, and infiltration operations, Ezio and his comrades also knew various arts of war, including but not limited to high-speed assault, orbital deployment, ambush operations, supply interdiction, asymmetrical warfare, and low-collateral damage siege warfare.
Some of the most dangerous individuals among them even learned the essence of terror tactics and verbal deterrence from the bloody executioners of the Eighth Legion. How to use high-speed vehicles and atmospheric aircraft was also a mandatory master course for the Shadow Champions.
Of course, the most dangerous individuals in the Second Legion always resided in the Third Fleet. Heaven knew what new forms those Psykers, daring to explore the Warp, would take to greet their long-separated battle-brothers.
Thus, the shadows continued their explorations, even the schism of the Legion did not stop their progress. This drew criticism from warriors of many other Astartes Legions. For these followers, who were keen on direct confrontations and endless glory, the attitude of some Sons of Morgan, content to lurk in their shadows, caring nothing for honor or titles, made them very uncomfortable.
But that was their business.
The shadows never cared.
——————
Ezio stopped walking. He waited for about ten seconds until every temporary teammate had gathered behind him.
The Shadow Champion silently made a gesture, indicating for his comrades to look at the wreckage of the fortress before them: clearly, it had been reactivated, with Randan patrol warriors moving on the high ground, and gun muzzles, deliberately concealed, faintly visible behind the various cracks and ruins.
This was J-47, the first objective of their mission and where they intended to find more friendly forces. However, it was clear that the defenders here had not lasted until the reinforcements arrived.
Hektor let his gaze extend from the shadows, carefully observing the ruined fortress, moving back and forth between the high vantage points around it, following the Shadow Champion.
"Twenty-seven."
After a while, Hektor reported all the overt and covert firing points and threats he had found.
Ezio shook his head.
He held up three fingers, twice.
But then his fingers paused in mid-air, as if hesitating whether to add one more. He was silent for a moment before turning to Hektor and whispering.
"I'll infiltrate first. You and your men wait for my signal."
Hektor nodded.
The next second, in an instant that the Second Legion's nova couldn't even catch, Ezio's figure had vanished into the shadows.
Hektor touched his face, seemingly annoyed that his reaction speed was still somewhat subpar. He wanted candy, but quickly suppressed the craving.
He turned and slipped discreetly down from the high vantage point. His squad had a hidden temporary base there, allowing them to rush into the ruins from the nearest opening at any time.
This shadowy spot was large enough for four Astartes warriors, but when Hektor returned, he found it had become somewhat crowded.
Because now, there were five people.
A new warrior had arrived at his Hunter Squad while he and Ezio were out on reconnaissance. Apparently, he had already identified himself to the experienced Ancient Warrior, Chiron.
"A Third Fleet recruit... a literal recruit."
The words of Teacher Chiron echoed in their private comms channel. Hektor nodded, quietly stepped forward, and shook hands with the uninvited battle-brother.
"Hektor."
He greeted first, and the new battle-brother enthusiastically gripped his hand. His appearance was not handsome; his face was a bit long and gaunt, but he indeed exuded a faint psychic aura: this aura was even stronger than that of Salieri, who had officially become a Librarian some time ago.
He smiled, his face beaming with the kind of smile that belonged to young warriors unfamiliar with the ways of the world.
"Eris."
He introduced himself.
"Just call me Eris."
——————
Above the firmament, the seemingly endless fleet battle continued. Compared to when the Tacus airspace battle first began, the First Legion's fleet had been reduced by roughly a fifth, but their achievements were exceptionally glorious: at least ten times their fleet's size in Randan warships had been halted by their tenacious sniping,
and the xenomorph fleet's aggressive offensive had begun to show signs of decline. The bloody ground war, which had been an effective means of breaking the stalemate, was gradually devolving into a bleeding trough that was more detrimental than beneficial to the Randan.
The airspace maintaining the landing operations had become a significant weakness in the Randan Grand Fleet. The First Legion's fleet relentlessly targeted Randan transport ships, constantly destroying the Randan Escort Fleet,
which was unable to move due to protecting these transports. This half-baked air superiority greatly hampered the xenomorph army's ground advance. Although they had committed a large number of troops at any cost, pushing forward with endless bombardments, this offensive encountered an insurmountable obstacle as it drew closer to the center.
The Primarch of the Eighteenth Legion, Vulkan, Lord of the Firedrakes and Master of Nocturne, precisely seized the most crucial chokepoint on the Randan's advance path and established the strongest defense there:
Vulkan himself, leading his Primarch Guard and at least three thousand hand-picked Salamanders warriors, held this plaza already littered with corpses. Tens of thousands of xenomorph remains were piled up at his feet. At this moment, this most compassionate Primarch gripped his warhammer expressionlessly, like a Demon God who had brought the netherworld to the human realm.
The massive Randan offensive here never ceased, yet never achieved any actual progress. They even assembled an armored column at great cost, but after witnessing how the Lord of the Firedrakes single-handedly, with pure strength, overturned the largest land warfare engine of the entire Randan Empire, no armored vehicles dared to charge before him again.
The ground offensive thus fell into a stalemate and attrition, and the battle in the skies was almost identical: after paying an unimaginable price, the xenomorph legions finally tore through the First Legion's firepower net. Brutal boarding actions began on the largest warships of both sides, but boarding attempts against the Imperial core battleships consistently failed.
The Randan had assembled a large number of elites, and their teleportation technology was far more advanced than the Human Imperium had imagined, capable of securely teleporting an entire combat group to the bridge and deck of a Human warship in one go.
At first, these boarding actions would proceed smoothly, with entire decks changing hands in an instant under fierce assaults. But soon, from the deeper parts of these warships, several familiar faces, calling themselves "Inner Circle" or "Sandalwood Confraternity," would emerge...
Thus, whether beneath the firmament or in the void, both sides seemed to have fallen into a strange stalemate. But no one believed this stalemate would last indefinitely, because successive Randan fleets continued to emerge from the Warp.
Although a large portion of them would suffer various non-combat casualties in the shortest possible time, the most significant being that the Psykers on their warships were discovered by a certain Spider Queen controlling the overall situation, with wails, struggles, and devastating self-detonations affecting everyone as the only outcome for these xenomorph sorcerers.
But despite this, the Randan continued to advance. The Human Imperium's resistance significantly delayed their progress, but did not completely stop it. As more and more massive xenomorph warships poured into the star system, the true core strength of the Randan invasion force also seemed to be planning to join the war, to play a truly decisive role.
Even at the very edge of Morgana's perceptible vision, the two unsettling presences seemed to be only a stone's throw away from this star system.
The real pressure was about to arrive.
——————
But for Ezio, these matters were temporarily unrelated.
Three minutes after leaving Hektor, the Shadow Champion was lurking in the core of the fortress ruins, tallying his recent gains: seven hidden sentries, one overt sentry.
He concealed himself in the shadows, quietly placing the Randan xenomorph he had just killed, leaving it in its original posture. But then, he sensed an unsettling presence.
His gaze quickly swept over the cold xenomorph corpse, and the Shadow Champion immediately noticed something was wrong: embedded in the xenomorph's thin eyelid was a nearly transparent micro-electronic device. As he saw it, he noticed its light was extinguishing.
Damn it.
Ezio didn't hesitate or think for a moment. He instinctively flipped his body, rolling along the ground to the side.
Almost simultaneously, he felt a flash of light from a lens sweep across the air in front of him, followed by a violent gunshot. A specialized bullet pierced through the shattered wall, directly blowing the xenomorph's body into two halves.
Ezio looked up. Based on the fleeting light he had just seen, he had already pinpointed the location of the thirty-fourth Randan xenomorph: it was indeed an extremely clever hiding spot.
The wind brought with it the sound of gunshots from outside the ruins: clearly, his temporary comrades were not idle.
Ezio looked up again, narrowing his eyes, listening to the footsteps of the Randan xenomorphs coming at the sound.
He felt everything, everything within and outside the shadows.
The light, the wind, the explosive sound of bullets tearing through the air, and the sound of an emergency magazine change.
The distance was enough.
The time was also enough.
The thought of temporarily retreating flashed through his mind, but he suppressed it. Ezio quickly assessed his situation: based on the sounds from outside the fortress and his recent successes, he would probably have to face eighteen more enemies, and as for the sniper, he was confident he could dodge three more shots.
...That was enough.
The footsteps grew closer, a signal of the first enemy's approach.
The Shadow Champion took a breath, temporarily stepping out of the shadows, and temporarily sheathed his Dark Blade.
Although, he pulled out a new weapon from behind him.
An old throwing axe.
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