Scorching volcanic ash poured down like molten gold, shrouding the entire battlefield in a sulfur-colored chaos.
The ground trembled—not from tectonic activity, but from billions of Zerg units charging simultaneously.
From low orbit, beyond the 200-square-kilometer drop zone, the Zerg tides surged inward from all directions like a boiling purple-black vortex. Each wave crest contained tens of millions of alien creatures converging toward the center.
"All units, weapons free!"
With the command from the tactical channel, the reactors of thirty-six Titan-class mechs roared to life with a deafening hum.
These hundred-meter-tall war machines stood on the outermost defense line. Their 4000mm plasma cannons and 2000mm hardlight secondary batteries glowed ominously red from overload.
Ri~shoo—shoo—!!!
When the first salvo from the Titans struck the swarm, the entire battlefield lit up like a nuclear and hydrogen detonation had occurred simultaneously.
Dozens of blue-white and radiant-red beams scythed across the earth. Groups of Ultralisks caught in the blasts didn't even have time to scream before they were vaporized. The shockwaves peeled back several kilometers of creep, exposing the cracked ground below.
"Vulture squadrons, cover sectors G7 to K12."
At the same time, nearly a thousand Vulture gunships dove from the low cloud layers, their underbelly-mounted 30mm rotary hardlight cannons weaving dense, crisscrossing fire patterns.
Once within atmosphere, these anti-gravity-engine powered killing machines held tight formations, carving precise geometric shapes into the Zerg tide with their barrages.
Meanwhile, ten kilometers above, the Human Empire's carrier-based fighters engaged the aerial Zerg in a bloody "sky ballet."
Each shot from the upgraded high-output light lance cannons pierced over a dozen Mutalisks. The flaming corpses fell like meteors, crashing into the swarm below and leaving trails of fire and impact craters.
"For the Emperor! For Humanity!"
"Die! Die, you filthy xenos!!"
"Kill! Kill! Kill!"
Suddenly, a deafening metallic battle cry erupted from the frontline. Over 4,000 Astartes, forming a veritable "wall of steel," opened fire in unison.
The thunder of various boltgun models created a chilling harmony. Each rocket-propelled round blossomed into a miniature fireball amid the Zerg ranks.
One veteran of the Black Templar swung a massive power sword single-handedly. The Chinese characters etched along the blade flared with golden light as it cleaved through Zerg carapace, severing limbs with a single strike.
"Alert: Underground vibration frequency shift detected!" The HUD of a Flame Lizard helmet blinked. "Lurker clusters approaching!"
The ground suddenly split open as barbed bone spikes erupted upward.
These sharp, durable biological weapons easily pierced through the hydraulic lines of siege tanks. However, most were intercepted mid-flight by plasma blasts or explosive bolter rounds before reaching the Astartes.
"Hahahaha!!"
The Carcharodon shock troopers, having locked onto the Lurkers' positions, laughed maniacally as they activated their jump packs, plunging their power claws into fissures and yanking the buried enemies out in bloody chunks.
Meanwhile, General Warfield stood atop a hastily constructed command platform at the front, his CMC armor stained with Zerg blood, monitoring the entire battlefield via a holographic sand table.
"Third Armored Company, advance on coordinates E8! Don't let those damn cockroaches breach our flank!"
The Terran Marines of the Dominion were now witnessing the true art of war.
Ultralisks—once requiring concentrated fire for several minutes to take down—were now falling like livestock before the Astartes' coordinated attacks.
Two Weepers shattered the beast's knees with melta guns; a third leapt in, slicing its throat open with a chainsword as blood poured like a waterfall.
CMC helmet HUDs updated kill counts at an astonishing pace.
"Hold formation!" Warfield's voice cut through the dust storm with clarity. "Show these alien bastards what Terran Marines are made of!"
BOOM—BOOM—!!
The thunder of 180mm siege cannons replied best. High-explosive rounds carved hundred-meter-wide death zones deep within the Zerg lines. One shell struck a Hydralisk's acid sac, triggering a chain reaction that ignited the creep across half a kilometer into a towering wall of flame.
Suddenly, the sky darkened.
A vast swarm of aerial Zerg had broken through the air defense line, raining acid projectiles like a downpour.
At the critical moment, dozens of piercing light lances descended from orbit—
Orbital strikes from the Black Templar's warships were precise as surgical blades. Each beam vaporized hundreds of Mutalisks without harming a single friendly unit below. The superheated acid vaporized in the stratosphere, forming eerie green auroras that gave this bloody war a surreal beauty.
On the eastern flank, several Titans formed a mobile fortress.
Their ship-grade plasma and hardlight cannons cleared entire arc sectors with each volley. Their hydraulic legs crushed Leaping Zerg into pulp as they tried to scale them.
One Titan's right arm suddenly morphed into a missile pod. Dozens of tactical missiles launched with a shriek, striking down hidden Brood Lords and Zerg Queens buried deep within the horde.
"Report on ammunition expenditure."
Gaozan's voice rang out across the tactical net. His Terminator armor was smeared with bits of Zerg flesh.
"Plasma group at 67% energy, bolter munitions at 41%," replied a tech-sergeant swiftly.
At the rear, Leon closely monitored the artifact's energy levels.
The surface runes of the Xel'Naga artifact began to glow a pulsating blue, almost alive.
"Energy concentration at 37%. Estimated time to critical mass: two hours, seventeen minutes." He turned to Mike. "Have Engineering recheck the field stabilizer."
Above, the first round of Human Empire supply drops commenced. Hundreds of thousands of pods landed precisely at designated coordinates, delivering ammunition, medical supplies, and replacement armor plating.
A Weeper apothecary noticed a Marine impaled by a bone spike writhing nearby. He rushed over and applied a nano-spray to stop the bleeding. Empire medical tech could seal even critical wounds in under twenty seconds.
The entire battlefield functioned like a precision killing machine. Every unit performed their role to maximum effect.
Zerg corpses piled into mountains, but their numbers seemed endless. Tens of thousands died each second, only to be replaced by more from the horizon.
This war of attrition tested every soldier's mental limits.
More precisely, it tested the Terran Marines' limits.
The Astartes, Helljumpers, and support forces—having fought in countless battles—remained unfazed.
Some veterans had even faced the horrors of the Warp. So this slaughter—where tens of thousands of Zerg were shredded every second—was just routine to the four elite companies.
Were it not for the order to capture the Queen of Blades alive, they would've already issued Exterminatus on this Xeno-infested world.
The Raiders fighting alongside Jim Raynor had long adapted to the Astartes' style.
Now, the sulfur sky burned a sickly orange from endless fire, volcanic ash falling like an eternal avalanche.
The Terran Marines were undergoing the cruelest baptism of their military careers.
Tens of thousands of Zerg turned to pulp each minute in the grinder of steel and flame, and they had to maintain precision and sanity through it all.
At first, these colonial soldiers were stunned by the spectacle.
The towering Astartes were gods of war, each bolter shot tearing swathes of Zerg apart. Helljumpers and support troops carved blackened trenches with hardlight and Gauss weaponry.
Titan salvos raised mushroom clouds on the horizon.
Now, after tens of minutes of bloodshed, the Marines began adapting. Their initial panic gave way to coordination, matching the Astartes' rhythm.
They started fighting in sync with the Astartes, Helljumpers, and support forces.
"Left flank breach! Hydralisk swarm inbound!"
A Terran Marine squad pivoted, their CMC servo motors whining under stress.
Their 8mm rail rifles fired in bursts, dropping the Hydras thirty meters out.
One soldier's accuracy stood out—three bursts, three headshots, glowing green blood fanned through the dust.
"Nice shooting, kid."
A metallic compliment came through the comms.
?!
The soldier turned, stunned, to see a Flame Lizard apothecary behind him—white-and-forest-green armor spattered with Zerg remains.
The Astartes casually tossed him a scaly-etched shell casing—a Flame Lizard's mark of mortal recognition.
The soldier caught it instinctively, feeling its residual warmth.
"Keep it up. Your name?" The apothecary's visor glinted.
"Corporal Marco Leighton, sir! Fourth Marine Division!"
"Your kills meet Helljumper recruit standards," the Astartes said with approval. "If you're interested, you can apply to join our unit after the war."
Nearby Marines went still with awe.
An Astartes' acknowledgment… a path to ascension?
Elsewhere, a Weeper tactical team coordinated with a Dominion siege tank.
An Ultralisk broke through the fireline, crushing three Marines. Just before stomping the fourth—
BOOM!
A 180mm shell shattered its knee, blowing through the armored joint.
As the beast staggered, three Weepers leapt atop it.
VRRR—SLICH—SPLURT!!
Chainswords with molecular destabilizers tore through the plates. Blood gushed like a fountain.
The Ultralisk collapsed. The tank gunner delivered the final shot, finishing the beast.
Soon after, the gunner received a private message—from Weeper Captain Marakin Forros.
"That shot deserves a hymn, soldier," Forros' voice was like a harp. "Give me your name and your crew's. You'll be recorded in our company's annals."
The gunner's throat tightened. His shot entered Astartes war records?
He didn't yet grasp its meaning—but it outshone any medal.
As the battle raged, the Terran Marines improved rapidly.
They mimicked Astartes tactics—targeting joints, setting crossfire kill zones, tossing grenades to disrupt Zerg charges.
One squad even preemptively destroyed Lurkers by overclocking railguns to detonate their spines underground.
"These kids learn fast."
Tychus stood beside Jim Raynor, his minigun glowing red from overuse. "Better than those parade clowns on Korhal."
Raynor didn't reply. His eyes were locked on the retreating Zerg tide.
The artifact's readings had reached 67%. Rippling blue waves shimmered visibly in the air.
But now, the Zerg assault had mysteriously slackened.
Ultralisks began withdrawing. Hydralisks stopped spraying acid and fell back in formation.
"Something's wrong." Leon looked up. His helmet screen flickered with wild data. "The swarm's behavior is changing… This isn't a rout. They're reorganizing."
Mike pulled up the holo-scan—and paled. "Creep energy spike! Massive bio-signatures underground!"
The battlefield fell into eerie silence. Even the wind seemed to stop.
The Astartes instinctively contracted their formation. Helljumpers and support troops set up turrets. The Marines looked to the power-armored giants—using their reactions as the battlefield's barometer.
"All units, ready positions," Sigismund's voice boomed across the comms. "The real test begins now."
The artifact's light continued to grow, but every eye now turned beyond the horizon—
There, the creep writhed and rose like something massive burrowed below.
The swarm no longer charged blindly. Now it moved with purpose, as if guided by a singular, superior will.
The Queen of Blades had finally lost her patience.
Suddenly, the creep bubbled violently like boiling pitch. The air reeked—not just of sulfur, but a burning sensation as if raw psionic energy were scorching reality itself.
Then, the very light of the battlefield warped, and every comm channel screamed with static.
"Raynor…"
The voice boomed in everyone's minds—like a thousand Zerg shrieks layered atop an ancient titan's whisper.
The psionic syllables were so potent, many Terran CMC visors cracked with spiderweb fractures.
"You really think you have a chance? Hmm?"
The ground cracked. Fissures glowed with deep blue psionic light.
Suddenly, the Raiders' AI adjutant broadcast a blood-red warning across all visors:
"Alert: Level 12 Psionic Surge Detected. Equivalent Yield: Planetary. Recommend immediate anti-psionic protocol activation."
"Hahahaha!"
The Queen of Blades' laughter echoed through the storm of psionic energy.
(End of Chapter)
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