Both sides possessed absolute fearlessness toward death and an unyielding resolve to win. This was a true player-versus-player war.
Real chainswords, real bolters, the genuine high of experiencing life as an Astartes.
The instant the firefight erupted, the three-hundred-meter-long corridor was entirely choked by a lethal crossfire.
The bright orange trails of mass-reactive rounds intersected with azure plasma bolts, painting the metal bulkheads with blinding cascades of sparks.
"Cover! Everyone find hard cover!"
Even as [Blue Pigeon Knows Nothing] screamed over the Wings of Freedom channel, he was already diving into a roll behind a rusted-out pipe cluster.
The reflexes of the five hundred Chaos players were nothing to scoff at.
Anyone who had survived this long had already been through the meat grinder of the Laeran campaign a few times over.
After a split second of chaos, they rapidly scattered behind whatever cover they could find...
Metal crates, maintenance terminals, reinforced pipe joints.
But the first volley had already drawn blood.
Those unlucky bastards who reacted half a beat too slow, or got caught out in the open, had their light power armor instantly shredded by the torrential downpour of bolters.
[Konnichiwa Slaanesh-chan] watched helplessly as a player next to him, ID'd as [Lucius is Still Bald Today], took ten rounds straight to the chest.
That suit of master-crafted light power armor, which cost him a staggering 170,000 Imperial Coins, completely cracked open under the continuous detonations. The second round found the breach, then the third...
The player detonated like a meat piñata, splattering [Konnichiwa Slaanesh-chan]'s face with gore.
"Holy fuck!!!"
He instinctively ducked back behind cover, his heart hammering against his ribs as he cursed:
"The hell kind of firepower is that?!"
"Are those Loyalist tryhards on stims or something?!"
[Let the Galaxy Burn] crouched opposite him, looking equally pale:
"No! Their firing tempo is way too synchronized! They're shooting in literal volley formations!"
[Blue Pigeon Knows Nothing] glared at the silver-grey figures three hundred meters away.
"Return fire! Don't just sit there!"
He screamed over the Wings of Freedom comms:
"Use rocket launchers! Use melta!"
"Use anything that explodes!"
"They only have three hundred guys! We can just attrition them out!"
Before the words even left his mouth, dozens of flashes lit up the entrance of the corridor.
Rockets.
The Chaos players had definitely been caught off guard, but their sheer numbers advantage was overwhelming.
Five hundred players, every single one sitting on six-figure bank accounts, completely kitted out with premium cash shop gear. And the most terrifying part? They absolutely did not care about dying.
The first wave of rockets shrieked through the air on white-hot exhaust trails.
Leon's pupils contracted slightly: "Take cover!"
Three hundred Loyalist players ducked back behind the barricades simultaneously.
A split second later, explosive fireballs engulfed the entire corridor.
Shockwaves sent shrapnel and chunks of ferrocrete flying in every direction, pinging violently against power armor.
A few rockets scored direct hits on the Loyalists' cover. Three unlucky players were blasted into the air, gaping, smoking craters blown straight through their chests.
"[Three Spoons of Sugar] just died for the second time!"
[Metal Garurumon Beast Girl] yelled over the channel.
"Tell him to stop buying power armor and spec into artillery gear!"
Leon's voice remained terrifyingly composed, "Third and Seventh Squads, extend to the left flank!"
"Ninth and Twelfth Squads, envelope the right!"
"Everyone else, lay down suppressive fire!"
Three hundred players, micromanaged down to the squad level.
This was exactly how [Defending the Imperium is My Sacred Duty] commanded.
Not some unga-bunga "charge in and kill them."
But precise, tactical orders mapped to specific coordinates and positions.
And the scariest part was, out of those three hundred Loyalist players, not a single one questioned him.
They had been rolling with the Iron Hands fleet for so long, they were practically hardwired to obey Leon's calls.
With a professional shot-caller like Leon running the show...
All they had to do was execute, kill, and stay alive.
It was that simple. Every fight felt easy.
Over the comms, Leon's orders came rapid-fire, cold and hard as iron:
"Fourth Squad, prep rocket launchers. Grid E-7, elevation thirty-seven degrees, three-round volley."
"Copy that!"
Four rocket launchers instantly popped out from cover. Three rockets shrieked across the gap, slamming perfectly into a cluster of Chaos firing positions.
Amidst the explosions, another seven or eight Chaos IDs grayed out.
"Sixth Squad, spin up melta cannons. Twenty targets behind that wall across from you. Melt right through it."
"Copy!"
Blinding white beams tore through the air, instantly melting massive, slagged holes straight through the heavy metal bulkhead.
The screams from behind the wall were cut short, drowned out by the follow-up bolter barrage.
Leon wasn't just sitting back, either.
His bolter stayed locked on semi-auto, every single shot finding its mark on any Chaos player stupid enough to peek out.
No spray-and-pray. No wild suppression. Just cold, calculated single-taps. One shot, one kill. Absolute perfection.
Hiding behind a pillar, [Blue Pigeon Knows Nothing]'s face turned ash-gray.
His Wings of Freedom channel had devolved into a complete screaming match.
"What the fuck! Is their shot-caller a literal aimbot?!"
"I barely peaked and got insta-headshot! They've got snipers!"
"That's not a sniper, that's just insane accuracy!"
"It's that guy, [Defending the Imperium is My Sacred Duty]!"
"I don't care who he is! Use the rockets!"
"Everyone just spam rockets! Blow 'em to hell!"
In the sheer chaos, the Chaos players began to blindly dump their arsenals.
Rockets, melta blasts, plasma bolts—some absolute madmen even pulled out compact Cyclone missile launchers bought straight from the cash shop.
The fiery explosions practically filled the entire corridor, shattering section after section of the Loyalists' barricades.
Every so often, a silver-grey figure would be launched into the air by a blast, crashing heavily to the deck.
Yet, Leon's commands never faltered.
"Second Squad, you're down four men. Shift left and plug the gap."
"Eighth Squad, fall back twenty meters and establish a secondary defensive line."
"Eleventh Squad, load incendiaries. Deny their left-flank push."
In his hands, the three hundred players operated like a finely tuned machine.
If a gear broke, a new one was instantly slotted in.
If a firing position got suppressed, a new one was established immediately.
Meanwhile, the five hundred guys on the other side... Sure, they had the firepower, the premium gear, and the suicidal courage. But their counter-attacks were completely disorganized.
A few rockets over here, a random melta blast over there. It looked incredibly flashy, but the actual combat effectiveness was garbage.
[Blue Pigeon Knows Nothing] gritted his teeth, screaming into his mic:
"Listen to my fucking calls! Stop randomly spamming! Focus fire on their left flank! LEFT FLANK!"
But his voice was completely drowned out by the roar of explosions and battle cries.
The Chaos players were already seeing red.
[Konnichiwa Slaanesh-chan] leaned halfway out of cover, hoisting a rocket launcher onto his shoulder.
Right as he pulled the trigger, three bolter rounds slammed dead center into his chest.
His light power armor shattered instantly, his upper torso practically obliterated as he tumbled backward.
But in the exact moment he fell, the rocket fired.
The projectile spiraled wildly toward the Loyalist line, detonating against the wall and blowing away two players who couldn't dodge in time.
[Konnichiwa Slaanesh-chan]'s ID grayed out in the Wings of Freedom channel, only to light back up three seconds later:
"Hahahaha! I traded one for two! Big W!"
[Let the Galaxy Burn] hyped him up: "Hell yeah! That's how we do it!"
"One-for-one is fair, one-for-two is a straight profit!"
"We got five hundred guys! We'll just throw bodies at them until they break!"
[Number One Handsome of the Soul Hall] screamed while unloading his melta cannon: "Kehkehkeh! I got more Imperial Coins than God!"
"I could die a hundred times and not care!"
"Rush 'em! Rush 'em down!"
--
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