Semicircular shockwaves detonated in succession as surrounding lives fell, were blown skyward, or instantly vaporized like scythed grass.
Before there was even time to react to the horror, the wreckage was rammed aside by incoming vehicles. More troops filled the void, surging forward without a moment's pause.
Countless strike assets poured forth from the human defensive line into the charging host, contesting the Rangdan's advance inch by inch in an attempt to halt this charging leviathan. But the xenos host was utterly fearless. Though its body was scorched and mass cellular death took hold, its martyrdom remained unshakable.
It was a squirming, endless ocean. Dense nuclear carpet-bombings and relentless heavy artillery volleys rained down, yet these bombardments were mere stones skipped across the water—how could they vaporize an entire sea?
The earth groaned and the planet trembled, sounding a death knell for countless falling lives.
The ten-kilometer charging zone had transformed into an endless sea of fire, making it impossible for the naked eye to discern what was transpiring within. There were only endless streams of shells and missiles, pouring without respite into that narrow, stretching corridor of death. It was as if hell itself had opened up, as cheap, unceasing firepower wantonly brutalized the terrain, leaving nothing with a chance of survival!
Behind the human defenses, countless mortal soldiers swallowed hard, staring at the bombardment zone ahead. The sheer brutality of the conflict once again shattered their understanding; even seasoned veterans felt as awestruck as green recruits.
How could anyone breach that bombardment zone?
The officers and men asked themselves, yet no viable answer came. This was not a death zone that tactics or bravery could overcome—it devoured life indiscriminately, grinding everything in its path to ash.
Yet ultimately, after paying an unimaginable price, a shield-bearing vehicle managed to weather the bombardment, delivering troops directly to the edge of the human line. Though it lasted only an instant before the tank was destroyed by defensive auto-cannons, its passage proved that a viable path existed through the death zone.
It was a signal—a declaration that the Rangdan host had pierced the barrage.
Sure enough, accompanied by crushing footsteps, a biological Titan stepped out from the inferno, sounding the clarion call for the counter-attack! Its shields flickered incessantly, struggling on the verge of overload as its gait faltered slightly.
Beside the bio-Titan's omnidirectional legs, teleportation beacons flared with blinding intensity. Rangdan warriors arrived along arcs of lightning, landing directly within the human lines.
The Titan was eventually run through by a plasma shore battery and fell with a mournful roar, but its mission was complete. Rangdan elite warriors screeched and bayed, as their psychic amplifiers broadcast corruption, infecting the mental fortitude of the mortal soldiers.
Chirp~ Chirp~ Chirp~
Mortal infantry pulled their triggers, the crisp hum of electromagnetic nailguns echoing pleasantly—it was the weapon they trusted most, and through it, the soldiers vented their murderous rage upon the enemy. The hypersonic nails possessed terrifying power; the shields on the Rangdan bio-armor overloaded and were instantly shredded by the overwhelming firepower.
On a theater of this scale, elite Rangdan warriors and Astartes alike were incapable of breaking hundreds of millions of Army Auxiliaries in a direct head-on clash. Their mobility was sealed off by dense fields of fire—how could armor hold out against such relentless saturation?
On an Apocalypse-class battlefield, elite warriors like the Astartes were not invincible demigods; their lives were equally light as feathers.
Yet before the Rangdan elites fell, their bionic appendages exerted every ounce of strength to hurl teleportation beacons further forward. Arriving continuously within beams of teleportation light, they repeated this motion, planting the beacons deeper inside the human lines.
Human casualties began to mount. The elite xenos warriors spared no cost, paying a horrific price in blood to push into the defensive perimeter incrementally.
As bio-Titans burst from the bombardment zone one after another, the slave armies reached the lines as well.
"Night Wardens, engage!"
Human elites likewise materialized within flashes of teleportation light, wielding power lances in the trenches as they unleashed their fury upon the xenos.
Yet the Rangdan warriors did not linger in static combat. They sprinted down the trenches, slaughtering mortals wherever possible to create chaos within the defense network.
The Night Wardens decisively called in drone swarms to pursue them. Spherical anti-gravity machines responded rapidly, tracking tactical guides to pour down a dense rain of laser fire. Under the combined crossfire of drone swarms, automata, and auto-turrets, an elite Rangdan's life expectancy was measured in seconds.
Nevertheless, the tactical situation remained precarious.
The Titan host had cleared the bombardment zone, followed by countless tanks and armored vehicles, plunging the entire front line into a state of total engagement.
"Atlantean mechs, enter the fight!"
Deep steam horns blared. The footsteps of these towering behemoths made the earth quake as they swung dimensional weaponry, charging forward to intercept the Rangdan Titans.
Giant machines locked in mortal combat, with tides of infantry weaving between their feet. Every swing of a weapon, every shot fired, or even an inadvertent footstep dealt collateral destruction that mortal soldiers could scarcely endure.
The Rangdan armored tide roared forward, crushing mortal troops beneath its tracks as it broke into the trench lines to execute rapid maneuvers. In response, humanity committed countless automated tanks and eradication platforms to engage them in a war of annihilation.
Both sides fought until their eyes turned red. Every weapon deployed met its direct counter; they locked in a relentless, bitter struggle to the death. When drone swarms and automata asserted dominance, EMP weaponry was brought to bear to neutralize them; when slave armies reached the trenches, micro-nuclear charges were detonated at point-blank range.
The entire battlefield was plunged into utter chaos. The Rangdan host had dragged itself through the bombardment zone to entangle the Nurian Legion in a bloody melee.
True hand-to-hand combat was visceral and merciless. The trenches turned into slaughterhouses beneath the duels of colossal Titans, while armored formations hunted one another at their feet. The grid-like network of trenches was captured and lost continually; not a single section of the vast front line remained silent as the flames of war consumed everything.
Humanity's mobile shield generators also advanced to the edge of the bombardment zone, extending the protected perimeter outward.
Blazkowicz sat inside one of the lead generators, feeling the violent vibrations. The unceasing roar of artillery battered his ears, yet his expression remained as still as a deep pool, as though the brutal carnage around him held no bearing on his mind. He was waiting for an opportunity—a decisive strike that would alter the course of the war.
"Rangdan Overlords have advanced to the outer edge of the enemy shield line," the artificial intelligence reported, rousing his focus.
A holographic projection formed within his helmet, displaying three Rangdan Overlords standing atop a biological Titan, directing the host under the protection of Shadow Reapers. Their position was slightly forward, yet still nested within the periphery of planetary-grade force fields.
A trap!
Blazkowicz saw through the display instantly. The Rangdan Overlords had pushed forward, and the area surrounding them appeared deceptively sparse with no protective units other than the Shadow Reapers. Yet the troops continuously streaming toward the front lines naturally formed a protective arc around them; fluid as the movement seemed, the moment they halted, they would solidify into an impenetrable guard.
"Project teleportation beacons."
Though he recognized the trap, Blazkowicz still chose to launch the strike. The opportunity would only present itself once; to resolve the battle for Planet V swiftly, bold risks were necessary.
This obvious trap was simultaneously a tacit invitation. The Rangdan Overlords likewise wished to end the battle swiftly, utilizing a relatively straightforward duel to allow the victor to preserve the core of their army.
No one questioned the command. Above the human defensive ramparts, dozens of massive super-heavy artillery barrels slowly elevated, locking onto the rear of the Rangdan line.
BOOM!
The thunder of the super-heavy guns shook the soul as heavy shells burst from the muzzles amidst plumes of smoke, tracing arcs toward the Rangdan lines. Emitting a soft blue luminescence, they pierced the shields as effortlessly as drops of water merging into an ocean, detonating the instant they breached the barrier before point-defense fire could intercept them.
Countless streams of light rained down like a meteor shower, landing not far from the Rangdan Overlords. The Shadow Reapers beat their four wings, preparing to uproot the beacons, but the Rangdan Overlords held them back with a wave of their hands. They had issued the invitation; now that someone had come to answer, there was no need to interfere.
The teleportation beacons crackled with blue-white lightning, weaving together into a large-scale strike zone. The lights on the mobile shield vehicle flared with blinding intensity, carrying eight hundred Doom Marines alongside the Slayer before vanishing in an instant.
With radiance entwined, heaven's warriors descended!
In absolute silence, the Legion warriors followed their genetic father across the battlefield, materializing directly inside the Rangdan line!
Blazkowicz raised the shield-saw on his left arm as the legionaries activated their dimensional shields.
"Clear the landing zone!" There was no time for spoken words; the mental link surged with urgent tactical telemetry.
Almost the very instant the teleportation succeeded, a dense salvo of Rangdan firepower slammed into them, causing the vehicle's shields to flicker violently. The light of teleportation flashed once more as every warrior materialized outside the craft—just as its shields reached the brink of collapse!
Swift as the wind, they moved like black phantoms to escape the danger zone, finding their sole point of relative cover beneath the towering body of a Rangdan Titan.
THUD—!
The shockwave arrived faster than the sound. The Legion warriors did not need to look back to know that the mobile shield generator had detonated in a secondary explosion. Had they hesitated for even a moment, they would have been reduced to ash. Under such concentrated bombardment, armor and shields were little stronger than paper.
The Rangdan tactic had been vicious: they had aimed to annihilate the core strength of the Doom Marines the moment they materialised.
"Is this your invitation?"
His deep voice dripped with disdain as Blazkowicz's shield gouged a bloody swath through the ranks, his roaring interrogation echoing across the sky.
"This is war," the answer came with absolute clarity as the Rangdan Overlords leapt down from the Titan, offering a chillingly logical justification: "The primary objective is the destruction of the enemy!"
The hilt of Blazkowicz's Crucible Sword clicked, its lethal blade extending as he leveled it directly at the twisted xenos before him: "Then you may die now!"