"Restoration!" Tal Rasha pressed a hand against his chest, chanting the words of creation to mend the physical trauma brought on by the warp backfire, completing a full cycle of incantations.
A relentless barrage of spell-directives poured forth: devastating thunderbolts falling from the void, absolute sub-zero frost that froze souls, and miracles that rewound time and space to snatch Dark Angels from the jaw of death itself.
One second, Legion warriors were meeting an unwilling demise; the next, they miraculously slipped free from death's talons. Offering quiet gratitude to their cousins, they rose once more, pouring their vengeful fury into the xenos with bolter shells and roaring flames.
The two sides were locked in a chaotic, entangled melee. The battle cries of the warriors echoed to the heavens, striking terror into hearts like the shrieks of death itself.
"Your opponent is me!"
Astelan roared, hurling his spear to knock away a plasma blade that was about to cleave an Astartes in two. Charging like thunder, he transformed into a human tank and slammed straight into a Shadow Spectre.
The former champion swordsman fought with terrifying valor. His combat boots smashed through the cockpit of a xenos craft before he drew his hilt, instantly igniting a dimensional lightblade. The runic edge gleamed with an eerie glow, etched with the names of countless formidable foes who had fallen beneath it!
An unyielding, sharp force ran amok. The blade pierced chitinous armor, severing jointed limbs without the slightest resistance, butchering the Shadow Spectre before it could even dodge.
Suddenly, an extremely faint whistling sound pierced the air from behind his ear, aimed directly at Astelan's neck—the thinnest point in his armor. Turning his head within a thousandth of a second, his eyes caught nothing.
Yet his instincts, honed over countless battlefields, told him the danger was undeniably real.
Astelan did not swing his blade to parry. Instead, his armored hand shot out like a phantom, his five fingers snapping shut as if seizing something out of thin air.
"Show yourself!" With a low growl, he exerted sudden force with his fingers, dragging a warped silhouette out of the void and slamming it hard onto the deck, kicking up a cloud of dust.
"Puny thing!"
As he barked the insult, his fingers squeezed with crushing force. The silhouette churned through the dust as he slammed it down once more. Light particles flickered through the air as the camouflage cloaking failed, revealing the assassin's form.
A slender Aeldari assassin clad in a midnight-black skintight suit lay twitching in the crater, blood spurting from her back. Coughing up crimson, her grip on the mirrorblade went limp as the last trace of life faded.
Astelan snapped the alien's slender neck to ensure the assassin was dead, then scooped up his thrown dimensional spear.
"Watch for Aeldari assassins," Blazkowicz's voice echoed through the comms. Astelan turned to see King Novik swinging his triple-barrel rotary beam cannon, crushing an Aeldari ambusher to paste.
Hauling up a fallen Space Marine, Astelan asked, "Can you still walk?"
"I won't stop marching until the heat death of the universe." Reloading his boltgun and picking up his fallen power sword, the Dark Angel spoke with a heavy, fearless tone.
"Good." Astelan turned and departed, stepping up his pace to catch up with the charging column.
With the Primarch acting as the spearhead, the vanguard swept forward like an unstoppable force, launching a counter-charge into the Rangdan lines.
The elite forces of two empires engaged in brutal, bloody slaughter within the barbican sector spanning less than twenty square kilometers.
The Shadow Spectres could no longer exert their terrifying dominance. The Custodes had once been a formidable match for them, but the arrival of the Doom Marines was like an immovable mountain crashing down from above.
Side by side, blade to blade, the Doom Marines followed directly behind their gene-father, executing swift and ferocious raids. Like a hurricane sweeping through dry leaves, they leveled every enemy standing in their path.
"Foot sensors picked up seismic shockwaves," a comms transmission arrived from the Iron Man beneath his feet. The helmet projection sketched out the epicenter of the vibration. "Originating from within the Rangdan landing base. A large-scale explosion has occurred."
Blazkowicz calculated rapidly; the center of the vibration was not far from his location. He kept up a steady stream of suppression fire with his rotary cannon to hold back the Rangdan counter-attack, his mind already clear on the situation.
Selene had already infiltrated the Rangdan base to detonate the enemy's massive reactor array.
Sure enough, stealing a quick glance at the distant sky amid the chaos, Blazkowicz saw the radiance of the massive hemispherical shield visibly dim. The pale blue transparent forcefield flickered unsteadily, its power supply rendered severely unstable.
"Order the force to wheel left and strike the Rangdan siege units from the flank to relieve our allies!"
At the Primarch's command, the vanguard pivoted immediately, driving straight through the flank of the xenos siege forces to relieve the Dark Angels defending the wall.
Standing atop the Iron Man platform, Blazkowicz multitasked seamlessly—directing the beam cannon against the Rangdan while calculating the exact breakdown time of the Rangdan fortress.
Though the Doom Marines were not part of the primary strike echelon, they still had to make full preparations. Once the Rangdan fortress shields fell, the unshielded xenos horde would inevitably launch a desperate, all-out assault against the human base.
How best to repel that final, suicidal push?
Although Lion had already prepared countermeasures, the battlefield was ever-changing, and a faint thread of worry still lingered in Blazkowicz's mind as he formulated contingency plans.
"Multiple waves of seismic shockwaves detected again." The Iron Man reported data continuously, alerting its commander to the exact timing: "Based on the propagation speed of the shockwave, the explosion occurred twenty seconds ago."
"Dark Angels forces have begun contracting their lines, abandoning fallen outer sectors and pulling back inside the Seventh Wall."
The holographic projection rotated continuously, updating the latest tactical movements across the rapidly shifting battlefield.
"Wheel around and disengage. Disengage via the flank gate to reorganize inside the high wall."
The Doom Marines and Custodes—having reaped a bloody harvest through the xenos flank like a scythe—pivoted once more. The black-and-gold tide forced its way through layered blockades, entering the Seventh Wall under the covering fire of the Dark Angels.
Their objective had been achieved: Blazkowicz's spearhead had dealt a crushing blow to the Rangdan's offensive momentum. Taking advantage of the chaos sown by the Primarch, the First Legion gathered scattered units from the fallen sectors, regrouping to solidify the wall's defenses.
The moment the main portal sealed shut, four Iron Men faced one another, their optical sensors projecting a holographic display that pieced together a rudimentary tactical sandtable.
On the sandtable, pure chaos reigned within the Rangdan camp as several massive mushroom clouds laced with plasma lightning billowed into the sky. The forcefield collapsed in a flickering haze, exposing the unshielded fortress to heavy artillery strikes.
Yet despite the chaos, the army maintained a grim order. Before the shields inevitably fell, every xenos force within the Rangdan fortress had already begun a rapid advance toward the human stronghold.
Watching the dense, dark tide of the Rangdan army surging across the sandtable toward various targets, Blazkowicz remained entirely unmoved. He knew that Lion El'Jonson's vengeance had only just begun.
Selene—having just returned from the Rangdan fortress—appeared behind the wall without warning.
The Dark Angels warriors knelt in unison. They had been briefed that the Primarch of the Eleventh Legion was active on the battlefield, executing surprise raids against the xenos straight from the void.
"Rise," the tall silhouette spoke in a clear, bright voice carrying unquestionable authority, motioning for the Legion warriors to stand.
"How did it go?" Selene walked over to Blazkowicz's side, shaking bloodstains from his pelt as he pointed outside the wall toward the mushroom clouds reaching into the thin upper atmosphere. "Phase One complete."
He picked up the teleportation beacon slung at his waist, a smile tugging beneath his bone mask: "Once the heavy bombardment concludes, we begin Phase Two."
Blazkowicz nodded, noticing the slightly rapid rise and fall of Selene's chest. "Take a moment to rest and prepare for Phase Two."
A terrifying gift like instantaneous teleportation offered immense utility, but it exacted a heavy toll on stamina and willpower. It was only because Selene was a Primarch with extraordinary regenerative capability; a lesser psyker or gifted warrior would have been drained of mind and spirit after just a few jumps.
"It is nothing," Selene waved a hand. After a few deep breaths, his stamina was largely restored. Leaning against the treads of an Iron Man with his staff cradled in his arms, he watched the shifting tactical situation on the sandtable: "Now, we wait for Lion to unleash his fury."
"It has already begun," Blazkowicz split the battlefield projection, placing half the display onto the human base. He pointed to the rear, where massive structures were deploying into the sky: "The projectors have been deployed. Lion is meticulous—he will not give the xenos a single moment to catch their breath."
"What is that?" Selene marvelled at the gargantuan object ascending into the sky.
"A deflector," Blazkowicz naturally knew what his own tech was, "Used to bend the trajectories of siege cannon fire, bypassing planetary curvature entirely—"
As he spoke, beyond the horizon of the human base's sprawling iron forest, an anti-gravity platform lifted a massive deflector into position at the edge of the planet's curvature.
It was a hollow cylinder ten kilometers long with an inner diameter three kilometers wide. Inside the giant tube, forcefield lightning crackled to constrain the immense energy passing through it.
Urgent sirens blared as four siege cannon mounts rose from the ground below, their barrels glowing with charged energy as they awaited the deflector's final alignment.
In the fortress command hall, a cruel smile touched the corner of Lion's mouth, a look of pure catharsis flashing deep within his eyes.
The killing instrument prepared long ago could finally unleash its full devastating power—to mercilessly trample the Rangdan xenos and claim blood vengeance for the sons of his Legion!