The roar of the Heavy Bolter was not a simple gunshot, but a continuous, deep, earth-shshaking bellow, like an ancient Titan beast sharpening its destructive fangs in a abyssal forge.
A deadly metal storm—composed of countless high-velocity, rotating heavy Bolters imbued with destructive kinetic energy—precisely tore, gnawed, and penetrated the thick, elastic, and constantly writhing, blasphemous "armor" of the Plague Pustule Cannon!
This was not inanimate steel, but living tissue twisted, bred, and covered with slimy scabs by Nurgle's evil power.
The powerful warheads easily tore open the constantly regenerating, foul-smelling scabs on the surface, deeply embedding themselves into the pulsating, pus-filled living tissue beneath.
Each hit exploded into a wound the size of a communion plate, with edges of charred, smoking putrid flesh, emitting the pungent smell of burning protein.
Foul, viscous fluids, mixed with countless madly wriggling maggots and shattered bone splinters, erupted violently like a punctured abscess!
These blasphemous bodily fluids splashed onto the charred ground, making a "sizzling" corrosive sound, and rising into wisps of yellowish-green smoke with a sweet, putrid odor.
The Pustule Cannon's colossal trunk, composed of decaying flesh and twisted metal, convulsed violently in pain, like a giant, dying creature.
It let out a series of horrifying wails, like a rotting Leviathan beast struggling in a toxic swamp, its voice wet and thick with a suffocating stickiness.
However, under the twisted blessing of Father Nurgle / Nurgle's foul power, its core structure displayed a blasphemous resilience.
Brok's sharp tactical lenses clearly captured the abominable scene: several heavy Bolter rounds, powerful enough to penetrate light armored vehicles, were actually deflected by that thick layer of foul-smelling, slimy corrupted fascia and overgrown bone plates!
Only a few charred scorch marks and shallow, almost negligible, dents were left on it!
"Stubborn scum! The Emperor's wrath will purify you!" Brok gritted his steel teeth under his sealed faceplate, his cheek muscles tensed like rock.
He held his breath, channeling the extraordinary power of an Astartes Monk throughout his power armor-enhanced arms and the stabilizing servo systems in his shoulders, firmly suppressing the violently throbbing, heavy gun body with an iron will.
Each recoil of the Bolter was like a bound beast crashing forward.
He precisely controlled the firing rhythm, each burst as deadly as surgical strike.
Beside him, another heavy firepower veteran, equally steady as a mountain, his heavy Bolter's roar perfectly intertwined with his own, forming a destructive duet, like two holy blacksmiths forging a piece of blasphemous, stubborn iron.
After several rounds of precise, furious, and relentless concentrated fire, like thunderous hammer blows, this blasphemous creation finally let out a final shriek, piercing mortal eardrums, filled with pain and malevolence!
Its core structure completely collapsed under the accumulated destructive energy from within and external impacts, convulsing violently like a giant pus-filled sac punctured by holy flame, then slumping down.
The massive body disintegrated into a pile of pungent, smoking, sizzling rotten flesh and twisted, deformed blasphemous metal wreckage, with foul fluids flowing everywhere, becoming another blemish on this corrupted battlefield.
On the other side, the Terminator Squad leader, Kasim, the "Anvil," heard a low, powerful hum from his heavy Terminator armor's servo system, like an engine warming up.
His amplified command, distorted by his helmet's vox-caster, was concise and undeniable: "Melt! Purge that blasphemous node! Target the core, sustained illumination!"
His helmet's sensor array locked onto a Pustule Cannon that was clumsily turning, attempting to aim at the Fifth Company infantry, who were establishing a defensive node using the remains of a drop pod.
The Terminator warrior, codenamed "Furnace," immediately responded.
The heavy Meltagun was held as steady as a rock, supported by his power armor.
The muzzle gathered an unbearable, scorching light, and in the next instant, a dazzling, scorching, almost pure white spear of divine wrath—containing terrifying energy that condensed the temperature of a stellar core into a single beam—instantly tore through the air, precisely and continuously striking the swollen, glistening, giant sore-like core of that Pustule Cannon!
Sizzle—Splat!!
A teeth-grinding, horrifying sound of flesh and metal being instantly vaporized by extreme heat erupted!
The sustained scorching for several seconds triggered the most violent reaction from the blasphemous matter.
The core swelled and pulsed madly like a living abscess thrown into a furnace, its surface carbonizing and cracking at a visible rate, while the viscous yellowish-green pus inside churned and boiled wildly under unimaginable heat, emitting a hundred times more intense, poisonous sweetness and the mixed stench of burnt rotten flesh.
Finally, with a dull, squelching bang, like wet leather being torn by immense force, the core, along with the boiling plague pus inside, was completely vaporized!
A large, continuously swirling, rapidly expanding cloud of yellowish-green toxic vapor rose from the spot, its stench so intense that even through the Terminator armor's advanced triple-filtration system, the environmental sensors inside "Furnace's" helmet emitted a sharp warning.
A fine layer of highly corrosive acidic condensate instantly formed on his lenses.
"Target purified. Filth incinerated," he reported steadily, his voice carrying a cold satisfaction at the complete eradication of the blasphemous object, and the absolute confirmation of a Warrior of the Emperor completing his duty.
The battle at the landing zone instantly reached its white-hot climax.
The air was no longer a medium for sound, but was saturated and torn by various roars of destruction and wails: the sharp screech of Bolters firing at high speed, the continuous, rumbling roar of heavy Bolters, the hellish hiss of Meltaguns vaporizing flesh, the crackle of laser weapons burning the air, and the endless, wet, unsettling collective wails of the Nurgle Zombies, like a background chorus from a rotting hell.
The Ash Knights formed a tight circular defensive line, using the drop pod wreckage, which emitted pungent residual smoke and a burnt smell, as temporary cover.
The veterans of the Fifth Company displayed unparalleled experience and discipline, their Bolters delivering precise, deadly bursts.
Every Bolter round was carefully considered, specifically aimed at the swollen, deformed heads of Plague Warriors attempting to approach and spray deadly pus, or at the slightly larger, abnormally moving corrupted monsters within the zombie hordes, suspected of serving as low-level command nodes.
The heavy firepower squad, meanwhile, stood like an unyielding bedrock at the heart of the position; their continuous and fierce heavy Bolter fire created a destructive barrage, relentlessly suppressing distant major threats—such as lumbering Plague Beasts or blasphemous war machines—as well as the zombie hordes surging forward like a putrid tide.
Each heavy Bolter volley was like an invisible, sacred hammer smashing hard into the rotten mire, instantly tearing, igniting, and vaporizing large numbers of enemies into foul-smelling smoke and splashing, contaminated remains.
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