The cargo barges racked up above Sintila's orbit. Thousands of dropships swarmed like angry bees, ferrying troops to the surface in waves.
The glowing plumes of their engines lit up the night sky over Sintila, appearing from the ground like a dazzling cluster of stars.
The massive transports could easily ferry a fully armed company. Of course, the real spectacle was the Adeptus Mechanicus air transport vehicles used to haul Titans and heavy industrial gear. Each was as massive as a city block, resembling a short, thick cylinder.
The surface was layered with heat-resistant systems and cleverly concealed deceleration thrusters. The inertial nullification fields hummed a low tune, protecting the vital cargo inside and ensuring a safe touchdown.
In addition to military units, the dropships were hauling logistical supplies—weapons, ammo, rations, water, and fuel—to meet the needs of a full-scale invasion and subsequent cleanup.
At the landing zone, the Imperial Aquila flag was flying high. Soldiers poured out of the transport hatches in neat, orderly square formations.
The Corps was enormous, yet running like clockwork. The results of Imperial industrialization and educational reforms were clear as day in these troops.
Every soldier was kitted out in exoskeleton armor and armed to the teeth. A sharp glance revealed their hope for the future and their undying loyalty to the Emperor.
A speaker-equipped Servo-Skull screamed at the top of its mechanical lungs: "Fight in the Emperor's name, die in the Emperor's name, the Golden Throne awaits!"
Priests offered blessings to the soldiers, preparing to accompany the army to offer final prayers for the dead, wishing them a swift return to the Golden Throne.
At that moment, a deafening air horn blasted. A colossal Zaku Titan lumbered out of the dropship's maw. The reactor's hum and the grind of gears drowned out the noisy landing zone.
"It's about time we got on our home turf," Rigby shouted over the noise. "Fellas, the other groups have left us in the dust on the scoreboards. We can't let them embarrass us like this. We need to lock down third place, and maybe make a run for second."
"Heads up, guys: we're aiming for the heavy artillery and enemy strongholds. Don't sweat the small stuff—the auxiliaries will take care of the mop-up."
Rigby settled into his command seat, trying to find the sweet spot for the coming war. His ride had been upgraded to the Zaku 02, the latest hot rod from the Doraemon Workshop.
He had a detailed plan: once the initial frontal battle was over and the war Titans were no longer needed, he and his companions would ditch the exoskeletons and join the street fight for more war points.
The Hammer Chapter was bringing up the rear in the war rankings. If they didn't step up their game, they'd never catch a break.
"Those jokers are not just unlucky in real life, they're cursed in the game, too! Why do they have to be so extra?" Rigby grumbled.
"For MVP, for honor and victory!"
"In the name of Omnissiah, give those traitors a rude awakening!"
"My cannons are thirsty! Charge! Charge! Kill! Kill!"
The Hammer and Sickle players roared in unison at their Chapter Master's command.
Sintila, once a booming hive world and the Imperial hub of the Calixis Sector, was now its capital. Before the war, Sintila had become a powder keg of corruption, bureaucracy, privilege, and heresy.
The upper class was perversely obsessed with privilege, believing they were above the law. They were cruel and ruthless to those on the bottom rung, even hunting the poor for sport. They were the absolute worst.
That's why the Loyalists folded like a cheap suit when the war broke out. The populace hated the so-called loyalists and knew that even if the rebellion was crushed, they'd just go back to the same miserable existence.
The Colin family, who controlled public opinion and were always putting on a clean face, leveraged this hatred.
They spread propaganda in the Emperor's name, promising to wipe out loan debts, equally divide the assets of the elites, elevate the lower-hive citizens, and deliver a life of equality, freedom, and happiness for all.
Hook, line, and sinker—a huge number of naive citizens believed the hype and turned their guns on the Loyalists, paving the way for the rebels' victory.
Shocker: none of those promises ever materialized. Once the rebels seized Sintila, they immediately flipped the script, empowering gang leaders and launching massive conscription and tax drives.
The remaining populace were shipped off to factories as slaves to churn out military gear. A single slip-up earned these poor souls brutal punishment. Many were also conscripted and subjected to brainwashing and mental implants, becoming meat shields for the rebels.
The first target for the Imperial landing forces was the satellite settlement: the Mobile City of Ambron. Ambron was one for the history books on Sintila—it was literally built on a colossal, ancient, self-propelled machine, a relic from the Golden Age of Humanity.
Database logs showed the Ambron machine was over 20,000 years old, predating the Imperium itself.
Fierce clashes for control of the city had already left many sectors in tatters, but many magnificent structures and factories remained intact.
The rebels took the reins and enslaved the local populace to crank out military supplies and forced many into becoming slave-soldiers—pure cannon fodder for the Colin family's forces.
During the orbital bombardment, the rebels took refuge in the magnificent skyscrapers and underground tunnels.
Once the shelling stopped and the Imperial Army landed, the rebels crawled out of the woodwork—from skyscrapers and underground tunnels—to build defenses and dig in against the Imperium.
With the army assembled, Daniel gave the go-ahead. The roar of countless war machines split the sky.
The armored columns led the vanguard. Tens of thousands of tanks rumbled forward. Bulldozing their way through the ruins with sheer weight and engine power, they used giant dozers to clear the rough ground, paving the way for the rest of the troops.
Next came the Zaku Titans, followed by the infantry phalanxes. The Zaku Titans looked like war lords amongst an army of ants, the infantry scurrying below them. Their heavy footsteps landed with a dull thud. Every step was like a drumbeat of doom, pounding the ground like distant thunder.
"It's time to kill, move out!" Rigby shouted. Sensors activated, relentlessly scanning the ruins for targets. Charged cannons flashed with light, raring to go.
"Kill!" The other Guys in the regiment shouted, and the Zaku Titans they controlled issued loud horn calls. Then, they marched in unison toward the Mobile City of Ambron.
"Here they come. Battle stations! Throw all the cannon fodder forward. We have to buy time until reinforcements arrive. Then the victory is ours."
Aquinas, hiding in an anti-artillery bunker, stared at the battle map projection and issued orders. He was once an outstanding Imperial Captain, but when the war broke out, he took out his boss and led his men to join the Colin family.
This savvy move paid off handsomely: in a matter of days, he shot up the ranks from Captain to Colonel. If he could just defend Ambron and check the Imperial advance, the Colin family would definitely give him the Brigadier General position—no sweat.
The sheer size and complexity of Ambron, coupled with the massive number of slave-soldiers, led him to believe: "If we can tough it out for a few days, we'll be in the clear."
The fight was on. A deluge of heavy fire poured out from the city's fortresses and street barricades. Even after the orbital bombardment, the enemy still had a ton of heavy hardware left.
The Zaku Titans advanced with slow, heavy steps, shrugging off the enemy fire with their shields. Las-beams and shells rained onto the Zaku shields, causing ripples but never breaking through.
—Boom! A massive cannon, tucked away in the ruins, fired a blinding beam of heat. The Zaku's shield rapidly went from blue to light red—it was on the verge of overload. The two nearest Zaku Titans immediately leveled their guns and fired at the stronghold.
With a deafening blast, the building housing the cannon crumbled. Engulfed in a fireball, it was silence. The damaged Zaku paused to let its shield recharge, then continued its terrifying advance.
The Zaku Titan battle group kept pushing. Their sheer size allowed them to make short work of buildings, forging a clear path through the wreckage.
The cannons roared continuously, unleashing beams of destruction and missiles. Firing positions and strongholds along their route were takedown after takedown.
The rebel troops, who had just been terrified by the Titans, now had to face a vicious, up-close-and-personal fight. Their gear was dime store compared to the Imperial troops, who wore Tomorrow-series exoskeletons, carried Gauss Rifles, and had shoulder-mounted, auto-targeting machine guns. Their firepower and defense were off the charts.
To ice the cake, there were three thousand Astartes—grown from player gene-seed. Led by veterans, these Astartes were deployed like a scalpel, slicing through the enemy defenses.
If you give them an inch, they'll take a mile—once the players or Astartes breached a gap, the Imperial forces would swarm in and rapidly expand their advantage. The rebel soldiers were totally outclassed, pinned down and relentlessly ground into the dust by the Imperial Army.
From start to finish, the Battle for the Ambron Mobile City was over in barely an hour.
"Sir, we have to pull out!" a comms officer burst into headquarters, panic-stricken. "Commercial Avenue's defenses are breached. Our boys have been routed and are running scared!"
"What?!" Aquinas was shocked and furious. He calculated they could hold the line for at least three days! How did they blow through in just one hour?
"Their firepower is nuts," the comms officer whispered, face pale, recalling the sheer wall of fire. "First, they carpet-bombed us, then the Titans came, laser-focused on our strongholds.
The second the shelling stops, the Emperor's Angels drop in and cut through the vital defense points. Then, the Imperial Army charges, slaughtering the defenders before they can get a leg up."
"The real kicker is the Imperial soldiers—they are loaded for bear. Their regular troopers have better gear than our best of the best! Taking it back would be a pipe dream."
"Damn it, we lost the whole shebang before two hours were up," Aquinas muttered, resentment flooding him.
"Sir, if we don't retreat now, we'll be trapped," the messenger warned. "The other units have gone south, and the slave workers are rioting."
"Bail! We're retreating."
The second he stepped out of the command center, screams and gunfire erupted nearby, scaring him so badly he scrambled for cover. Dozens of Emperor's Angels, their Power Armor painted with bizarre insignia, touched down and opened fire on the ground troops. They were top-notch fighters with unbelievable combat capability. In a matter of moments, over 200 men from the two companies near headquarters were wiped out.
Aquinas went pale, nearly wetting his pants. "What the heck kind of monsters are these?!" Now he knew why they lost so fast!
Seeing the armored killers walking straight toward his hiding spot, he threw his hands up. "I give up!"
Warmaster glanced at Aquinas' rank. "A Colonel, huh? Not a big fish, but I'll take it." He accepted the surrender, knowing that taking prisoners racks up more warscore than just killing them.
—Boom!!
A terrifying explosion rocked the air, making their ears ring. In the distance, a massive mushroom cloud slowly climbed into the sky.