Three kilometers south of the Royal Court: Dawn Defense Force Landing Zone Alpha.
The second wave of transport craft, disgorged by the eighty-six transport ships in orbit, plummeted through the atmosphere like a storm of steel rain.
Unlike the surgical precision of an Astartes drop pod assault, the Dawn Defense Force deployment was a textbook, massive-scale planetary invasion.
An entire three-block radius was designated as the drop zone, and wave after wave of transport craft rapidly touched down.
"Move, move, move! Establish a perimeter!"
The voice of General Roger Theodore, Commander of the First Legion's Third Division, boomed across the battlefield through heavy vox-hailers.
The forty-two-year-old general stood atop the hull of a Dawnhammer self-propelled artillery vehicle. He wore customized command carapace armor—thirty percent lighter than standard issue, but heavily augmented with enhanced tactical command-and-control suites.
All around him, Dawn Defense Force soldiers poured from the transport craft like a surging grey tide.
They rapidly fanned out into squad formations, the high-pitched whine of lasrifles charging merging into a singular, deafening hum.
"First Company! Seize the building on the left! Second Company! Establish barricades! Third Company! Lay down suppressive fire!"
The roars of junior officers cut through the smoke and noise.
These soldiers were highly disciplined... the absolute culmination of twenty-three years of mandatory, universal military training.
They didn't cower under artillery fire like the ragged Imperial Auxilia, nor did they scatter into disorganized chaos like certain Planetary Defense Forces.
Every single man knew his position. Every single man knew exactly what had to be done.
"Dal incoming! Three o'clock!"
The moment the spotter shouted the warning, a dense, black swarm of Dal infantry flooded out from the end of the street.
These were standard grunts, lacking energy shields and wielding a chaotic assortment of weapons: crude kinetic rifles, makeshift plasma pistols, and even throwing spears and machetes.
But their sheer numbers were staggering. At a glance, there had to be at least six or seven thousand of them.
"Fire at will!"
Hundreds of lasrifles discharged simultaneously.
A searing crimson web of death crisscrossed the street. The vanguard of the Dal charge was mowed down like wheat before a scythe.
Yet the ranks behind simply trampled over the corpses of their kin, continuing the charge while shrieking with fanatical fury.
"For King Charles! Tear these human outsiders to pieces!"
"These weak, pathetic humans exist only to be our food!"
"Why?"
"Why should humans be the only ones who can't be slaughtered and eaten?!"
"Our rise exists to prove..."
"...that humanity is nothing special!"
"We are the true apex race!"
"Slaughter them all! Pen the survivors up like the cattle they are!"
A Dal officer shrieked these battle cries. He was clad in superior, rivet-studded composite armor, dual-wielding curved blades as he vaulted a barricade and cleaved down at a Dawn Defense Force soldier.
The soldier raised his lasrifle to block. The blade sliced clean through the weapon's casing and dug deep into his shoulder blade.
"Aaargh!"
As the soldier screamed, two men beside him instantly opened fire, their las-beams punching straight through the Dal officer's chest.
From the very first second, the battle devolved into a bloody, point-blank meat grinder.
--
Core Perimeter of Landing Zone Alpha.
Two thousand soldiers of the Dawn Vanguard Battalion anchored the center of the defensive line.
These elites were clad in Aurelian's indigenously developed Crimson Guard Mark I Power Armor.
While nowhere near the defensive capabilities of an Astartes' Mark-series ceramite plate, it was still two full generations ahead of standard Imperial composite carapace.
They wielded light bolters, loaded with stripped-down bolt rounds.
The recoil was significantly reduced compared to standard Astartes-issue bolters, allowing baseline humans to safely fire them, yet the explosive payload was still more than enough to shatter the energy shields of elite Dal infantry.
"Mortar teams! Coordinates B-7! Three-round high-explosive burst!"
"Artillery batteries! Blanket Sector D! Armor-piercing shells!"
"Melta squads! Heavy stubber nest in the building on the left flank! Slag it!"
The command network operated with ruthless efficiency.
Twelve Thunderstrike 120mm mortars rained down shells at a rate of ten rounds per minute.
Eight Earthshaker self-propelled artillery vehicles unleashed deafening roars, their smoothbore cannons lobbing shells that detonated into twenty-meter-wide spheres of fire.
Twenty two-man melta teams specifically hunted down Dal heavy weapon platforms and suspected command nodes.
Yet the Dal retaliation was equally vicious.
They ambushed the defensive lines from the sewers, burst out of basements, and even blew holes through building walls to flank from inside the structures.
Their crude kinetic weapons posed little threat to the Vanguard Battalion's power armor, but they more than made up for the lack of quality with overwhelming volume.
One kinetic slug might not dent a breastplate, but what about ten hitting the exact same spot?
One crude stick grenade wouldn't breach a barricade, but what about twenty detonating all at once?
"Medic! Casualties at three o'clock!"
"Second Squad is down three men! We need ammo resupply!"
"Anti-tank teams! Heavy armor at two o'clock! Suspected energy turret!"
Casualties began to mount.
Twenty minutes after planetfall, the Dawn Defense Force had suffered one hundred and forty-seven casualties.
Forty-three were killed in action. The rest were critically wounded.
--
Northwest Sector of the Royal Court: Dawn Defense Force Landing Zone Beta.
[Crimson Zealot] Chris lay prone behind a low, crumbling wall, the barrel of his lasrifle burning so hot he could barely hold it.
He had just slammed home his third fresh power cell.
"These damn Dal... why won't they stop coming..."
He gasped for air, a grimy mixture of sweat and dust stinging his eyes.
Thirty minutes ago, he and sixteen thousand other new players had dropped into this sector alongside the Dawn Defense Force.
Of the 3,000 Imperial Coins the Crimson Dawn had fronted them, he had blown 2,100 decking himself out, plus another 120 on a combat knife.
He honestly thought he was ready.
Right up until the first Dal kinetic slug grazed his helmet and blew a hole the size of a dinner plate in the wall behind him.
Right up until he watched [You Ashe I Soraka], who had dropped right next to him, take a direct hit from an energy rifle to the chest.
His composite armor was instantly slagged through, and he collapsed with a look of absolute, blank bewilderment frozen on his face.
Chris's hands had violently shaken.
This was way too damn realistic. You could die here. Boiling blood splattered across your face. Fragments of internal organs clung to your armor.
In the regional chat, [You Ashe I Soraka]'s ID grayed out for a few seconds before popping back online:
[You Ashe I Soraka]: "Holy shit! I died!"
[You Ashe I Soraka]: "Base respawn fee with minor upgrades is 150 Imperial Coins!"
[You Ashe I Soraka]: "And I have to wait fifteen freaking minutes for the next drop wave before I can deploy again!"
"Left flank! Dal are scaling the walls!"
The roar violently yanked Chris back to reality.
Three Dal soldiers vaulted out of a second-story window from a flanking building, plummeting straight toward their trench.
Pure survival instinct took over. Chris raised his rifle and fired.
The las-beam caught the first Dal squarely in the face. The split-jawed simian features carbonized and violently exploded under the intense heat.
The second Dal had already closed the gap, bringing a heavy machete down toward his neck.
CLANG!
The blade struck his armored collar, sending a shower of sparks into his face.
The sheer kinetic force staggered Chris backward, knocking the lasrifle out of his grip.
The third Dal lunged at the opening, a short spear gripped in each hand, thrusting brutally at Chris's chest and gut.
I'm dead...
The thought barely registered before a veteran Dawn Defense Force soldier next to him violently shoved him out of the way.
THWACK-THWACK!
Both short spears buried themselves deep into the veteran's torso.
"Ghk..."
The veteran let out a muffled grunt, but in the final fraction of a second, he jammed the barrel of his lasrifle under the Dal's chin and pulled the trigger.
The crimson beam punched straight through the creature's lower jaw and blew out the top of its skull.
The Dal collapsed instantly.
The Dawn veteran turned his head, gave Chris a weak nod, and slowly crumpled to the ground.
"M-Medic!" Chris threw himself forward.
The veteran lay flat on his back, thick blood bubbling rapidly from two massive puncture wounds in his chest.
His helmet visor had shattered in an earlier skirmish, revealing a weathered, deeply lined face in its late forties.
Chris recognized him. Back on the transport ship before the drop, the veteran had smiled at him and said, "Don't sweat it, kid. Just remember to stick close to me."
"Don't... don't waste... the energy..."
With every word he choked out, fresh blood frothed at his lips.
His eyes were already beginning to glaze over, yet his hand gripped Chris's arm with surprising strength.
"I think... I'm done for..."
"Shut up! Hold on! A medic is on the way!"
Chris screamed, pressing his hands desperately against the wounds in a futile attempt to stem the bleeding. It wasn't stopping.
"Heh... don't... don't feel sorry for me..."
The veteran managed to pull his lips into a strained smile, his teeth stained completely red.
"Fighting for a sliver of dawn... for our people... it's my absolute duty..."
"Twenty-three years ago... I was just... an underhive miner... working sixteen-hour shifts... eating synthetic paste... My daughter... she was six... died of sickness... I couldn't afford the meds..."
His breathing grew shallower by the second.
"Then Crimson Dawn... arrived... They purged... those parasites... gave us real jobs... built schools for the kids..."
"If my little girl... had lived to see today... she'd be in university by now..."
The veteran's gaze drifted up toward the sky, tracing the fiery exhaust trails of descending transport craft.
"Crimson Dawn... took care of us... for over two decades... I've had more than enough..."
"I think... I'm going to go find my daughter now..."
His grip suddenly tightened, his fingers digging so hard they almost pierced Chris's composite armor.
"You have to... keep fighting... for the dawn of mankind..."
"For the Dawn Defense Force... sacrifice... is the highest honor..."
"I guess... I'll get to enter the Crimson Dawn Garden of Heroes now, huh..."
The veteran's arm slowly went limp, sliding off Chris's shoulder.
His eyes drifted shut, a peaceful smile lingering on his face.
Chris remained kneeling in the dirt, completely frozen.
The tactical HUD inside his helmet flashed the soldier's bio-tags: Dawn Defense Force, 1st Legion, 3rd Division, 2nd Regiment, 7th Company. Corporal Jeremy Walsh, Serial Number LM-114731.
With trembling hands, Chris pulled up the Regional Chat and transcribed the veteran's final words, syllable for syllable.
Then, he added one last line:
[Crimson Zealot]: "His name was Jeremy Walsh."
[Crimson Zealot]: "He said he didn't regret dying for the Dawn. He said it was the highest honor."
The chat channel fell utterly silent for a moment.
And then, the screen exploded with messages.
[How Many Floors Can You Carry a Sack of Rice]: "...Fuck."
[Optimus Lemme Pilot You Real Hard]: "I had a veteran take a blade for me over here too... God damn it..."
[Have You Been Loyal Today?]: "Listen up, rookies. Do you understand why we're fighting now?"
[Execute Old Man the War Criminal]: "It's not for Imperial Coins. It's not for leveling up."
[Execute Old Man the War Criminal]: "It's for the people who are willing to throw themselves in front of a blade for us."
[Paradox Players Aren't War Criminals]: "Data update: Dawn Defense Force KIA count has hit 389."
[Paradox Players Aren't War Criminals]: "Dal casualties are estimated to be over ten thousand."
[Paradox Players Aren't War Criminals]: "However, due to some form of genetic hybridization, their strength and speed far exceed baseline humans."
[Paradox Players Aren't War Criminals]: "They are effectively a militarized society. Conservative estimates put their armed combatants at hundreds of millions."
[Paradox Players Aren't War Criminals]: "If they fully mobilize... we might be looking at..."
[The Imperium's Last Gambler]: "Who gives a shit? We'll slaughter them all."
[The Imperium's Last Gambler]: "We kill them until they're too terrified to fight back. Penning humans up, treating us like slaves and cattle—it's an unforgivable sin."
Chris slowly stood up.
He picked up the veteran's lasrifle and checked the power cell... thirty-seven percent remaining.
Then, he unclipped the combat knife from his webbing, gripping it tightly in his left hand.
"Corporal Jeremy," he whispered softly. "I promise you, the Dawn you fought for will come."
"I'll carry out the will you left behind."
He vaulted over the barricade, charging head-on toward the nearest Dal soldier.
This time, his hands didn't shake.
--
Goal = 300 Powerstones.
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