After the enemy fleet was finally expelled from the system, and there was no longer any threat of orbital bombardment outside the void shields, the Skitarii Legions fully transitioned to conventional ground warfare beyond the protective barriers.
Under the cover of the god-machines, towering Titans of the Collegia Titanica and the monolithic war engines of the Knight Houses advanced alongside the Adeptus Mechanicus assault formations. Their role was direct and practical: destroy hardened enemy strongholds, break armored concentrations, and clear corridors for advancing infantry and armor.
Meanwhile, reinforcements from the First Legion struck the enemy flank from the rear sectors of the conflict zone. The sudden assault forced the invaders to split their forces between maintaining pressure on Imperial defensive lines and responding to the new threat behind them.
On several battlefronts where the enemy already held fortified positions and numerical superiority, the wider situation remained mostly unchanged. Imperial forces dug in, reinforced kill-zones, and stabilized their defensive lines while the enemy redistributed troops to contain the First Legion incursion at their rear.
The polar region of the Forge World, however, developed differently.
The defense and reconquest of the polar zone had been delegated almost entirely to the First Legion by the presiding Tech-Priest Dominus. This decision freed large numbers of Skitarii maniples and Astra Militarum regiments for deployment to more heavily contested warzones closer to the central manufactorum districts.
The 44th Regiment was assigned to the polar theater.
The regiment's First Company, numbering roughly thirty thousand troops, received orders to reclaim the western industrial sector currently occupied by hostile forces. Alongside the primary objective, they were also tasked with field-testing a new combat doctrine developed by Talon strategists and approved for live deployment under controlled battlefield conditions.
Instead of concentrating troops into large spearhead formations designed to seize fortified objectives one at a time, First Company advanced in dispersed combat groups spread across an extremely wide front. The doctrine emphasized mobility, independent unit operation, continuous reconnaissance, and rapid exploitation of weak points.
Heavy resistance would be bypassed, isolated, and marked for elimination by follow-up armored formations rather than directly assaulted by infantry.
Now acting commander of First Company, Grot rode inside a modified Command Variant Leman Russ Battle Tank while monitoring the tactical holo-display mounted beside him. The battlefield icons showed his forces scattered across dozens of kilometers, with some sectors defended or advanced by only a few hundred troops at a time.
Grot climbed halfway out of the command hatch and surveyed the terrain personally.
Two Ogryn Bodyguards clad in oversized powered armor marched beside the tank with heavy footsteps that shook loose ash from nearby debris. Behind them, Grot's five-hundred-man command detachment advanced in loose clusters rather than rigid formation. Squads maintained wide spacing between one another to reduce vulnerability to artillery, airstrikes, and massed heavy weapons fire.
This was how First Company moved: scattered and light-footed across a battlefield that, flexible, and constantly advancing.
Despite being located at the South Pole of the Forge World, the region showed no sign of snow or ice. The planet's industrial output had long ago destroyed its natural climate.
Instead, endless manufactorums, refinery towers, generator stacks, and abandoned industrial blocks stretched across the horizon beneath thick clouds of ash and chemical fog. Massive pipelines crossed overhead like iron bridges, while flickering warning lights blinked through the haze.
To Grot, the region looked less like a battlefield and more like a dead hive city still operating out of habit.
Above them, Imperial strike aircraft occasionally screamed across the polluted sky. Flashes of distant explosions rippled along the horizon, followed several seconds later by the dull vibration of detonations. Anti-air batteries barked continuously somewhere far beyond visual range, while burning wreckage occasionally fell from the cloud layer.
Artillery batteries assigned to support the 44th Regiment continued bombarding targets far ahead of the main advance, although even Grot lacked full information regarding what exactly was being targeted. The bombardment schedules were being coordinated directly through automated command networks.
"Commander, what exactly are we doing out here?" the tank driver asked over the internal vox, glancing back briefly from his controls.
"I honestly don't know," Grot replied.
The loader snorted from his station. "Best campaign I've ever been on. We walk for hours, then arrive after the enemy's already dead."
"That's because the flyboys and artillery are stealing our kills," another crewman added.
"Good," said the driver. "Means I get to survive long enough to complain about it."
A few tired chuckles filled the cramped tank interior.
This time, Grot was not being sarcastic.
He understood the objective well enough: advance westward, reclaim territory, and maintain pressure across the entire front. But so far, they had encountered little organized resistance.
The campaign felt strangely uneventful.
Most enemy positions identified by reconnaissance were already destroyed before First Company reached them. Others had simply been abandoned. Entire sectors were being reclaimed without major infantry engagements.
The regiment was advancing faster than enemy command structures could react.
Grot suspected the same thought had already spread among the troops. Officially, they were participating in a major planetary warzone. In practice, much of the operation felt like an armed march through ruined industrial districts.
Suddenly a deep, rhythmic rumble rolled across the landscape.
Every nearby soldier instinctively turned toward the sound.
It was not artillery. It was not bombardment.
It was the synchronized footfall of Titans of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
Several colossal war machines crossed the far horizon, partially obscured by smoke and industrial haze. Warlord Titans advanced at the center of the formation, each one over one hundred meters tall and carrying enough firepower to erase entire city sectors. Reaver Titans moved alongside them, smaller but still massive, their plasma reactors glowing beneath armored carapaces.
Each step shook the ground hard enough for nearby rubble to vibrate.
The Titans were redeploying toward more heavily contested warzones under direct orders from Mechanicus high command.
As they passed, one of the Warlords emitted a low-frequency horn blast in acknowledgment of the First Legion troops below. The sound rolled through the battlefield like controlled thunder, vibrating through armor plating, tank hulls, and human ribcages alike.
Several soldiers instinctively straightened at the sound.
One young legionnaire stopped walking entirely and stared at the distant Titans.
"First time seeing one?" one of the older trooper beside him asked.
"Yeah."
The older soldier adjusted his rifle and kept walking. "You never really get used to it."
Grot watched the Titans continue toward the distant warfront before climbing back into the tank.
For all their differences in scale, their jobs were currently identical.
Keep advancing.
Inside the vehicle, Grot refocused on the tactical holomap.
Despite the limited combat, the wider offensive was clearly succeeding. Enemy-held outposts and industrial compounds across the western sector were steadily changing designation from hostile control to reclaimed territory.
Many of these positions had not required direct infantry assaults at all. Airpower, orbital strikes, artillery saturation, and rapid maneuver warfare had done most of the work beforehand.
The advantages of the new doctrine were becoming increasingly obvious. Enemy formations struggled to establish stable frontlines because First Company rarely attacked where resistance was strongest. Instead, they advanced through weak sectors, bypassed fortified positions, and forced defenders to fight in isolation.
Then Grot noticed a concentration of red contact markers ahead of their current position.
Unlike previous scattered signatures, this cluster was dense and stationary.
"We're finally getting some action," Grot muttered before switching to the company-wide vox. "All units, stay alert. Possible enemy concentration ahead."
The reaction over the vox was immediate.
"About damn time."
"Thought this whole war was just walking."
"Check your charge packs and quit whining."
Approximately ten minutes later, the Leman Russ approached a massive warehouse complex built between several refinery towers.
The entire site had already been heavily bombarded. One side of the structure had collapsed inward, leaving behind twisted support beams and burning debris. Defensive emplacements positioned around the perimeter were reduced to blackened wreckage.
Bodies covered the approach routes. Most were already burned beyond recognition.
Whatever serious resistance had once occupied the facility had already been destroyed during the preliminary bombardment phase.
Only survivors remained.
As the tank halted outside the shattered warehouse entrance, hostile troops emerged from cover and charged.
Grot observed them through the command optics.
Most displayed severe physical corruption. Some possessed elongated limbs or exposed bone growths protruding through their skin. Others had horns, fused flesh, distended jaws, or clusters of malformed eyes.
Their equipment was inconsistent and poorly maintained. Some carried rusted stubbers or scavenged autoguns. Others wielded chain weapons, axes, or crude melee implements. Many wore almost no armor beyond scrap plating and scavenged flak gear.
Several were shirtless despite the toxic atmosphere, their bodies covered in ritual scars, fresh wounds, and symbols dedicated to the Ruinous Powers.
The bombardment had broken their organization, but not their fanaticism.
What they lacked in gear, they made up for in sheer rage.
Fueled by raw fury, they charged the tank and power-armored Legion troops with no trace of hesitation.
Grot's command detachment opened fire immediately. The Leman Russ sponsons joined in a moment later.
The battlefield became a wall of lasfire, heavy bolter rounds, and fragmentation detonations.
The first wave of cultists was torn apart almost instantly. Bodies collapsed in pieces before reaching effective engagement range. Others continued running despite losing limbs or suffering massive wounds.
Within seconds, more than half the attackers were dead.
The survivors kept charging anyway, screaming prayers and threats to their Dark Gods.
It was a one-sided massacre.
Had the warehouse's anti-armor batteries and artillery positions remained operational, the assault might have developed into a costly engagement. But the bombardment phase had already destroyed nearly all heavy resistance before infantry arrived.
As the final wave of mutants rushed forward, battlefield telemetry continued feeding data into the command network through each legionnaire's armor systems.
Then new contact alerts appeared.
A single hostile marker was approaching rapidly from the eastern flank.
"Eastern contact! Intercept formation!" Grot ordered immediately while redirecting nearby squads and rotating the tank turret.
He pressed his eye against the magnified optics to get a visual.
The incoming figure moved far faster than normal infantry.
A Chaos Space Marine in blood-red corrupted power armor sprinted through the wreckage with unnatural speed, dual chainaxes held low at his sides. He moved aggressively between debris fields and shattered machinery, using terrain to break firing angles while rapidly closing distance.
The Leman Russ fired first.
Its battle cannon thundered across the battlefield, followed by concentrated infantry fire.
The Traitor Astartes avoided the shell impact by changing direction at the last possible second. Shrapnel and debris slammed into his armor, but he pushed forward regardless.
A moment later, he crashed into the nearest Legion squad.
One sweep of his chainaxe removed the heads of two power-armored soldiers instantly. Before their bodies hit the ground, the Chaos Marine seized one corpse and used it as temporary cover while continuing his advance toward Grot's tank.
"Lute! Kill him!" Grot shouted.
One of the armored Ogryn bodyguards roared and charged forward immediately.
Servo-assisted armor amplified the abhuman's already monstrous strength and mass, turning his sprint into the equivalent of a moving battering ram.
The Chaos Marine didn't retreat nor attempt to dodge
He swung one of his chainaxes directly into Lute's shoulder guard. The corrupted weapon bit deep enough to throw sparks and carve through outer plating, but the blow failed to stop the Ogryn's momentum.
Lute's massive fists slammed downward an instant later.
There was the sickening crunch of ceramite breaking, followed by the wet squelch of crushed flesh.
The Chaos Marine's head and helmet exploded like a fruit under pressure. His shoulder was smashed down to his waistline. Bone fragments and blood sprayed across the surrounding debris.
The Traitor Astartes crumpled to the ground in a ruined heap, armor and body mangled beyond recognition.
"I… I smashed three big'uns! I'm da best!" Lute roared triumphantly while raising both blood-covered fists.
Grot opened his mouth to correct him.
It was just one, but stopped mid-sentence.
Something on the battlefield had changed.
The blood pooling on the battlefield began to... shift unnaturally.
Every nearby soldier noticed it at nearly the same moment. Combat chatter across the vox abruptly fell silent.
Pools of blood from both the cultists and the dead Chaos Marine began pulling together across the broken ground as though dragged by an invisible force. Thin streams connected into larger masses, swirling unnaturally between rubble and corpses.
Then, just as suddenly, it began to vanish, the blood evaporating into the air like red mist caught in an invisible wind.
"What the hell is that?" one soldier muttered.
"The blood's moving…" another answered.
Even Lute stopped celebrating and stared.
Grot immediately activated his armor's recording feed and linked it directly into the Thunderborn central relay network.
"We need this analyzed immediately," he said while transmitting the footage. "Possible warp-related phenomenon in western sector grid seventeen."
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