This is the bonus chapter for reaching 150 Powerstones.
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The players threw politeness out the window. If they saw someone paralyzed with fear, they dragged them. If someone was blocking the path, they kicked them aside. If someone tried to run backward, they smashed them unconscious with a rifle butt and shoved them into the pipe.
Order was barely maintained through brutal methods.
However, casualties were already beginning to mount.
Another stray shell struck the metal scaffolding above the corridor entrance. The shrapnel from the blast sheared off the arms of two workers.
Blood sprayed, accompanied by agonized screams.
Further away, a tank shell whose trajectory had been warped by the Tzeentchian force field—originally aimed at rebel fortifications—drew a bizarre arc through the sky and slammed directly into the players' makeshift barricade zone.
BOOM!
Three players who were hauling iron crates to reinforce the defensive line were blown sky-high, along with the crates.
[Player "Clumsy Hands Spare Me" has died. Cause of Death: Explosive Shockwave. Resurrection Fee: 5 Imperial Coins] (TL/N: Poor guy)
[Player "Wage Slave Just Wants to Sleep In" has died. Cause of Death: Shrapnel Damage. Resurrection Fee: 5 Imperial Coins]
[Player "Nurgle Compliments My Good Health" has died. Cause of Death: Extreme Heat Burns. Resurrection Fee: 5 Imperial Coins]
The cold System prompts scrolled across the regional channel.
"Fuck!"
[Soul of Cadia] peeked out from behind cover, his eyes bloodshot, and fired blindly in the direction the shell had come from, even though his gun couldn't possibly shoot that far.
"This is so frustrating! Unbearably frustrating!"
"Are we just going to sit here and be target practice?!"
"What else are we supposed to do?" Schrödinger Bro yanked him back down just as another stray bullet grazed his scalp. "Do you want to charge out and have a shootout with a tank?"
"Well, we can't just..."
"We can!"
Zeke's voice rang out in the channel, terrifyingly calm:
"What we are doing right now is what needs to be done."
"We save as many as we can. Those we can't... that's just fate."
He paused, then added:
"But the prerequisite is that we stay alive to bring our gear and our money back."
"Cogboy, progress report!"
[Fugitive Cogboy of the Mechanicus]: "Number of workers evacuated: 2,742."
"Estimated time required for remainder: 12 minutes."
"Distance of Aru vanguard to our sector: 800 meters. Estimated time to contact: 8 minutes."
"Stability of the Tzeentchian force field is steadily degrading. Interference efficiency currently down to 43%."
"Khornate units and Aru infantry have engaged. The battle is deadlocked."
"Friendly casualties: 87 personnel."
Eight minutes.
Zeke looked at the nearly one thousand workers still in line, then looked out at the workers from other factory sectors trembling amidst the artillery fire, who had absolutely no time to organize an evacuation.
He knew there wasn't enough time.
"Accelerate." He gritted his teeth. "Use any means necessary. Accelerate."
"Kick, push, throw, drag!"
"I don't care what methods you use. Shove everyone left into that pipe within six minutes!"
"After six minutes, regardless of how many people are left outside, we fall back!"
"Understood?!"
"Understood!"
The players completely abandoned any remaining gentleness and resorted to the most brutal methods to push them forward.
Working in pairs—one dragging, one kicking—they stuffed the workers into the pipe like sausage casing.
When terrified workers clung desperately to the edges of the pipe, the players simply smashed their hands with rifle butts until they let go, then kicked them inside.
Efficiency skyrocketed instantly.
The price, however, was that panic spiraled completely out of control.
Some workers began to resist. Some tried to flee. The scene devolved into chaos once more.
And the artillery fire of the Aru forces was drawing closer.
–
In the center of the battlefield, the true meat grinder had begun to turn.
After the Tzeentchian force field was weakened by the Psyker Detachment's interference, the Bloodletter finally found an opening to charge.
Its four-meter-tall frame exploded forward with terrifying speed, every step shattering the ground. Dragging its flesh-and-bone axe behind it, the blade plowed a deep trench into the earth.
Its target: the nearest Leman Russ tank.
The tank's turret was rotating, attempting to intercept with its coaxial bolter.
But it was too slow.
In the final thirty meters, the Bloodletter leapt into the air, hoisting its massive axe overhead. The blade coalesced with physical, blood-red psychic energy!
"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!!"
Amidst the roar, the giant axe came crashing down!
CLANG!!!
The ear-piercing shriek of twisting metal was almost enough to tear eardrums apart.
The axe blade bit deeply into the tank's frontal armor, cleaving a gash nearly half a meter long!
Though it didn't completely penetrate, the armor's structural integrity was compromised, and the turret's rotation mechanism groaned ominously.
The crew inside was clearly panicking. The chassis threw itself into reverse, attempting to open some distance.
But the Bloodletter wouldn't give them the chance.
It wrenched the axe free and raised it high once more.
DAKKA DAKKA DAKKA DAKKA DAKKA!!!
Dense gunfire suddenly erupted from the flank.
Three Sentinel walkers charged out from behind the ruins. Six heavy bolters opened fire simultaneously, instantly enveloping the Bloodletter in a searing storm of bullets!
"ROAR!"
The Bloodletter was forced to abandon its attack, bringing its giant axe across its body to use the broad side of the blade to block the incoming fire.
But heavy bolters had enough stopping power to tear through light vehicle armor; even a daemonic body couldn't completely ignore them.
The storm of bullets blasted bloody craters across its flesh, dark red blood erupting like fountains.
It let out a roar of agonizing fury, abandoned the tank, and turned to lunge at the Sentinel walkers.
Behind it, the two hundred Khornate Berzerkers had already smashed into the Aru infantry squares.
It was a primal, blood-soaked slaughter.
Most of the Khornate Berzerkers were already half-daemonic. Their skin was red, muscles bulging, horns sprouting, and some even had arms mutated into scythe-like claws.
They swung great axes, machetes, and chainswords, or simply ripped their enemies' throats out with their bare hands.
The Aru infantry relied on discipline and coordination.
Operating in three-man squads, they fought back-to-back. Lasguns fired precise bursts, grenades were thrown into dense clusters of enemies, and flamethrower troops incinerated charging Berzerkers with gouts of promethium fire.
Men fell every single second.
Berzerker axes cleaved through flak armor, spraying blood.
Infantry las-beams burned through daemonic skin, filling the air with the stench of charred flesh.
Further out, the Siclaeman Insurgency utilized the building ruins to continuously bombard the flanks of the Aru forces with heavy bolters and lascannons.
They fought intelligently. They didn't engage with the Khornate frontline head-on; instead, they exclusively targeted the weak points of the advancing tank squadrons and infantry squares.
A heavy bolter shell struck the leg joint of a Sentinel walker. The machine stumbled and fell. Before the driver could even climb out of the cockpit, charging Berzerkers hacked him and the hatch to pieces.
Another lascannon blast struck the side armor of a Leman Russ tank. The extreme heat burned through the relatively weaker plating. An explosion ripped through the interior, the hatch cover was blown sky-high, and flames jetted from every seam.
–
Kaspar Aru's mechanical eye flashed wildly.
Casualty reports refreshed like a waterfall:
[Unit Loss: Leman Russ Battle Tank x2]
[Unit Loss: Sentinel Walker x4]
[Infantry Casualties: Estimated 800+ personnel]
[Psyker Detachment Attrition: 7 personnel (Psychic overload, brain burnout)]
"The cost... is a bit high."
He murmured, the frequency of his mechanical fingers tapping increasing.
But he quickly came to a decision.
"Orders: All units, contract defensive lines. Hold current positions."
"Initiate Annihilation Mode."
"Notify the Sweeper Units in the rear to enter the theater."
"Target: The entire Industrial Factory Zone."
"Method: Carpet Bombing."
"I want this place..."
He looked out at the chaotic battlefield, at the still-resisting rebels, at the rampaging heretics, and finally at the weirdos in the distance who were organizing the evacuation of the workers.
The red light of his cybernetic eye was as cold as a blade.
"...reduced to barren ash."
The adjutant beside him immediately spoke up:
"But... Lord Kaspar, Director Clement's orders were to recapture all the factory sectors in the industrial zone. If we initiate Annihilation Mode..."
Kaspar whipped his head around, his crimson electronic eye glaring at him as he roared:
"Fuck your mother's 'recapture the industrial zone'! Do you not see those Warp heretics out there?!"
"Execute the order."
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Next Goal = 300 Powerstones
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