"Cowards!"
Having learned the whole story, the Night Warden shook his head at the corpses: "Yet worthy of respect."
"The bond of comradeship was etched into their very hearts, something they could never let go of."
He shook his head once more, a faint sigh breaking through his deep voice: "It is equally tragic."
"Their souls remained trapped in memories of the past. Having lost the pillar of their faith, with no one left to walk beside them, they no longer possessed the courage to press forward."
Miles nodded heavily beside him. Night Wardens underwent centuries of training, allowing them to comprehend the situation with ease; these superhuman warriors understood all too well the trauma brought by war.
"I will not report this," the Night Warden said to Regimental Commander Cole. "An endless war of attrition has broken these mortal souls. Let them rest in peace here."
He added softly, "Together with the dust of the stars."
Hearing those obscure words, Miles's frame shuddered slightly. He turned an inquisitive gaze toward the giant warrior, hoping for some enlightenment. The phrase sounded poetic, but it was by no means a good omen.
"Honored Guardian of the House of Slark," Commander Cole removed his power armor helmet, a somber expression settling over his angular face. He asked the Night Warden with utmost sincerity, "Please tell me—what is about to happen? Though I have my suspicions, I cannot fully predict the trajectory of this battle."
"There are no explicit orders handed down yet," the Night Warden gestured toward the distant horizon, pointing at the edge of the Rangdan-controlled hemisphere. "But it is not difficult to guess."
"The Doom Marines and King Nowick have breached the Rangdan fortress. The xenos can no longer hold the line."
He tapped his foot lightly, his white war-boot clicking against the steel deck plating: "Planet V sits at the innermost edge of System J-11."
The Night Warden's vivid blue visor swept across both their faces as he posed a quiet counter-question: "If you were in command, and you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that a strategic position capable of threatening the entire theater from the flank could no longer be held... what would you do?"
What would we do?
A look of intense contemplation flashed in the eyes of both regimental commanders before their pupils contracted violently—clearly, a horrifying realization had struck them.
"Destro—"
Their synchronized response was cut short as the Night Warden raised his hand, halting their answer before it could be spoken aloud.
"It is enough that you are mentally prepared," he said, turning to leave as he carried his power lance back onto patrol along the trench line.
Miles and Commander Cole exchanged a glance, reading the utter horror in each other's eyes. In silence, they slowly shook their heads.
Guided by the Night Warden's subtle hint, they finally understood why Headquarters had ordered the abandonment of the forward positions.
The Rangdan were going to destroy this world!
To maintain strategic balance across the flank, the Rangdan had succumbed to madness—unhesitatingly sacrificing the trillion reserve slaves and hundreds of thousands of elite warriors within the fortress!
"We need to leave, now!"
The two men glanced back toward the orbital bombardment zone. The Rangdan forces could not possibly charge through that inferno, making this the absolute best window for an army-wide retreat.
Stepping lively, they quickly parted ways after a brief farewell, hurrying off toward the positions of other regiments. Before destruction descended, they needed to notify friendly brother regiments to ensure they were mentally prepared.
The news spread within a tight circle. Miles did not even dare use communication channels, instead riding a swift bike as he wove through the defensive lines. He feared sparking a panic, which would disrupt an orderly withdrawal.
Even though he knew full well that the fortress defenses were secure, who—aside from those superhuman warriors—could remain impassive in the face of a planet's destruction?
As tens of billions of frontline troops retreated, the command bunker grew even more chaotic.
Ten thousand high-ranking commanders wore virtual neural-helmets, lying within the cradles of command pods as they orchestrated the orderly withdrawal of their respective regiments. Unlike the frontline troops who remained in the dark, their source of information was the Command Throne itself, granting them first-hand intelligence.
Inside the command bay, the officers sat rigid. No one wished to see their own regiment buried in this place; a single momentary lapse in judgment could reduce millions of lives to ash.
Junior remained seated upon the Command Throne. The sandtable beneath him had vanished, replaced by light-and-shadow displays depicting massive networked arrays.
"Forcefield structure is operating smoothly, shield systems are stable, and auxiliary plasma engines have full reserves," a Stone Artisan reported, holding a data slate as he inspected the equipment status, delivering continuous updates. "All subterranean facilities within the fortress are fully opened; they can accommodate every regiment within two days."
"The forcefield architecture network is fully integrated. The continental tectonic plate and the fortress are now unified—we are as solid as bedrock!"
As the Stone Artisan spoke, the holographic projections shifted continuously, displaying the fortress and base floating as an independent, self-contained entity.
Junior's brow furrowed tightly into a knot. His hand gripped the armrest of the throne as he carefully analyzed the projected telemetry, running calculations in his mind.
Before the planet fractured, the fortress would complete its total seal. The forcefield network array would strip the continental shelf from the planetary crust, unifying it with the fortress foundation into a completely independent structure. Even if the Rangdan succeeded in destroying the planet, the fortress—leveraging its forcefield arrays and planetary-tier shields—could maintain an atmosphere to provide a living environment. Coupled with giant plasma thrusters, it could freely adjust its orientation and maintain its own orbit.
This way, even as half a shattered planet, it would still pose a threat to the entire system!
"My thanks to the Stone Artisans for their hard work," he nodded slowly, expressing his gratitude to the Stone Artisans providing technical support.
A flicker of tension rose within Junior's heart—May it not deviate from the calculations!
The destruction of the planet—and the orders issued to prepare for it—stemmed entirely from his own tactical forecast; there was currently no physical evidence to prove it. As the Legion High Consul and Commander-in-Chief of the Planet V Campaign, he had to translate his foresight into reality, converting it into an opportunity for ultimate victory.
From the very first day he had sat upon the Command Throne, he had foreseen the omens of this world's destruction. Junior had overruled all objections, expending several times the standard resources to construct the fortress precisely to prepare for the moment the Rangdan backed themselves into a corner.
"Notify the fleet in high orbit to begin moving toward our hemisphere to avoid the debris from the planet's shattering."
"Notify the First Legion: once Planet V breaks apart, our force will drive our half of the world toward Planet VI. Tell them to seek an opportune moment to strike."
"Notify all human combat factions: the final battle is at hand!"
His steady voice resounded, and the directives were dispatched across the quantum network to allied forces, reaching every major command post.
As the human fortress made its preparations for the next phase, the Rangdan fortress was likewise executing its final deployment.
With the Rangdan Overlords dead, command had fallen to a Warlord making a desperate last stand.
Upon the holographic sandtable, the human assault teams had advanced far too fast, capturing countless strategic points. Across the vast continental fortress, the Space Marines moved as if in an uninhabited land, rapidly advancing toward the main command hall.
A bleak atmosphere hung over the command hall. The secondary warlords were utterly despondent; the death of the Overlords had dealt an unhealable blow to their morale, leaving their kin with no heart left to fight. They had lost all hope. The sheer strength of Blazkowicz—the King of D'Nur—had been branded into their very souls like a nightmare, smothering any thought of resistance.
The collapse on Planet V rippled across every theater in the Conquest Corridor. High-morale human forces were pushing elite Rangdan troops back on every front. One did not need tactical genius to see that the Rangdan defeat was absolute.
Yet they would not surrender, making their final, frantic struggle.
High Command had already issued the order: destroy Planet V to prevent it from falling into human hands and threatening the entire theater.
Another feed on the sandtable showed deep-boring machinery having already pierced the planetary core, ready to deploy the charges at a moment's notice. Every living being on Planet V would be dragged into the abyss as a funeral sacrifice for the Rangdan's demise!
THUD—!!!
The adamantine doors of the command hall buckled inward, scattering sparks as they shook beneath a violent impact. The heavy strike landed like a sledgehammer upon the hearts of the Rangdan commanders, who snapped their heads toward the central sandtable.
The AI-driven holofeed revealed a slaughterhouse outside: human warriors were stepping over blood-drenched stairs, charging straight to the doors of the command hall.
Doom Novik—he was storming up the stairs once more, slamming his shield violently against the doors!
BANG!!!
The adamantine doors exploded outward in both directions, crashing to the ground with a shrill groan. Over thirty giant warriors stood beneath a cascading waterfall of sparks. Their power armor glinted with a slick sheen, draped in severed organs and mangled flesh, bathed in blood so thick their original colors were entirely unrecognisable.
In the flickering light, ray-beams woven into a net of slaughter executed the elite xenos guards in an instant. That utterly ferocious, terrifying aura alone was enough to send a chill running down anyone's spine.
"The King of Warriors!"
The Rangdan Warlord shrieked in terror as panic echoed through the hall, sending the Rangdan commanders stumbling backward in horror. The Overlord Guard hesitated, their weapon-bearing arms trembling uncontrollably, their resolve long since shattered.
"You and your Legion will be buried alongside us!"
Screaming in absolute terror, it slammed its hand down on the projection button, transmitting the command to detonate the World-Breaker charges within the planet's core.
There were no grandiose speeches or mad boasts; the Warlord knew all too well that if it hesitated for even a fraction of a second, the human Primarch would charge forward and tear it to shreds before the charges could be triggered.
"What did you just do?" Obelisk took a step forward, demanding an answer from the xenos warlord.
"A parting gift," the Warlord's panic began to ease slightly as it pointed toward the holographic projection, its grotesque voice tinged with a sliver of smugness. "Detonating Planet V—ensuring you are buried along with the Rangdan."
"Is it irreversible?"
Having fulfilled its final duty, the Rangdan Warlord answered freely: "Correct! To prevent it from being aborted, no fail-safes were installed!"
"Good." Obelisk nodded with certainty, stepping back into formation.
Blazkowicz snapped his round shield onto his back, his deep voice resounding: "Initiate dimensional transit. Take us back to the Voidfarer."