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I hope you're enjoying the novel so far! The current arc to conquer the Tyrone Hive is going to span a few more chapters. I want to keep the momentum going for you, so here's a deal: for every review I get before the end of April 2025, I'll release an extra chapter. Your feedback means the world to me, and this is a great way to keep the story moving faster for you. Let's make it happen! (10 max.)
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Lower Hive, District 12
Over thirty thousand soldiers—the last remnants of Venomsting's forces, had gathered in District 12. These were not elite warriors or chosen champions; they were the lucky ones, those who had miraculously survived the dimensional teleportation assault.
Venomsting's warp disruption ritual had severed all communications. No vox transmissions, no psychic relays. The eerie silence was suffocating.
No orders.
No leadership.
No hope.
Yet, despite the uncertainty, relief flickered through the survivors.
For the first time in hours, no more Imperial forces were materializing from thin air. No more squads of Thunderborns appearing in the heart of their formations, carving through ranks of screaming men like a butcher at his work.
The slaughter had—at least for now—stopped.
"Move now! Retreat!"
"Kill the wounded! We leave no one behind for interrogation!"
The remaining officers scrambled to impose orders to reorganize their troops. Some units were directed to withdraw, while others were given dirtier work—ensuring that no dying comrade was left for the enemy to capture.
Loyalty had no place here.
The wounded, too slow or too broken to move, begged for mercy. Their pleas were answered with the bark of lasguns or the deep, guttural roar of bolt pistols.
Some officers ordered their men to speed up the process.
Incendiary grenades.
Flames roared to life, consuming the fallen in a hellish inferno. Charred flesh. Melting armor. The stench of burning bodies.
Only once the dead were silenced did those left behind break ranks and flee.
....
The retreat was anything but orderly.
Some squads were deliberately misled, sent marching in the wrong direction—straight into abandoned hab-zones, where they would die lost and alone.
Others betrayed their commanding officers, abandoning them to the rearguard while they pushed ahead. Cowards lived longer.
Despite the chaos, every survivor clung to a single desperate hope—
Escape to the Upper Hive.
And as the distance between them and the war zone of the Lower Hive widened, some dared to believe they might make it.
Some even began to smile.
Then—
A recon drone appeared overhead.
"Aircraft! Aircraft!"
"We're fucked!"
Panic erupted through the ranks. Men stumbled, some dropping their weapons as if discarding them would make them less of a target.
Some began wailing in despair, certain that their fate was sealed.
But before full-blown hysteria could take hold—
A booming voice echoed from a loudspeaker.
"Their teleportation has been disrupted! They can't get here immediately!"
The words hit like a drug, dulling the sharp edge of fear, calming the terrified mob.
Hope surged again.
The soldiers pressed on, clinging to their last chance at survival.
Until—
They stepped into a clearing.
At first, only the front ranks hesitated, coming to an abrupt stop.
Then, the flanks slowed as well.
Those further back, still unaware, grew impatient.
Why weren't the fools in front moving?
Then—someone in the rear turned around.
And saw the truth.
...
A Fissures tore open behind them.
Soldiers. Tanks. War machines.
Appearing from nowhere.
The First Legion was here.
They had never stopped hunting them.
The teleportation wasn't disabled.
It was delayed.
They had let the heretics run, panic, hope—
And now, they were surrounded.
....
Eiken's regiment completed their teleportation drop, their formation perfect, their ranks unshaken.
He surveyed the battlefield with clinical detachment.
The thirty thousand survivors—disorganized, leaderless, little more than a panicked mob—stood paralyzed in sheer terror.
"They look like a herd of refugees, not soldiers," Duncan murmured over the vox.
Eiken didn't disagree.
"Everything we've fought so far has been their vanguard. If their main force shows up next, we're in for a real fight."
Duncan scoffed. "That's a problem for later. For now, let's deal with the vermin in front of us."
Inside his Leman Russ, Duncan tapped his gunner's shoulder.
The signal was given.
The gunner nodded, adjusted the cannon—
And fired.
A massive shell hurtled through the air, straight for the grav-shielded drones hovering above the enemy ranks.
The moment the shell neared its target, the grav-shield flickered off—
And the shell passed through.
Right into the middle of the terrified horde.
Detonation.
The chain reaction began.
The other tanks fired.
Then, the infantry regiments opened up.
Lasgun beams lanced through the air, ripping through flesh.
Explosions gutted entire squads.
Eiken observed the battlefield with detached indifference.
This wasn't a battle.
This was a purge.
The heretics had no cover.
No coherent formation.
No chance to resist.
They were slaughtered.
....
Underhive Fortress
With the teleportation cycles complete, Qin Mo took a moment to rest, before sitting down with Klein to discuss their next steps.
Before they could formulate a plan—
The door swung open.
Gray entered, dragging a prisoner behind him.
The man collapsed onto his knees, his breath ragged.
"Got myself a deserter," Gray grunted. "Might be useful."
Qin Mo stood, observing the man with cold disinterest.
The prisoner wore a tattered Talon II Planetary Defense Force uniform—his identification tags confirmed it. His face was a roadmap of old scars, but his eyes held nothing but fear.
"P-please… d-don't kill me…" the man whimpered, cowering at Qin Mo's feet. "I—I'll tell you anything you want!"
Qin Mo exhaled.
"You're willing to talk," he murmured. "But I have no reason to believe you."
He had no intention of listening to anything a Tzeentch-worshipping heretic had to say. Even if the prisoner spoke the truth, Qin Mo wouldn't trust it.
Gray smirked. "So? What do we do with him?"
Qin Mo didn't hesitate. "I just need him alive."
....
Qin Mo retrieved a modified teleportation stabilizer from a nearby storage crate, fastening it around the prisoner's neck.
Then, he activated the dimensional transporter.
The prisoner vanished into a dimensional tunnel—
Only to reappear moments later on the other side of the room.
His body remained intact.
His mind did not.
The stabilizer had only protected his flesh—not his soul.
He was now a breathing corpse.
Exactly what Qin Mo wanted.
Without hesitation, Qin Mo connected a device to the prisoner's brain.
Gray frowned. "Can we extract his memories?"
Qin Mo smirked. "Smart man."
He donned his helmet, issuing a command to the fortress's AI.
"Read his mind."
The AI responded instantly.
["Analysis complete."]
["What information are you seeking?"]
Qin Mo chuckled. "What do you think?"
["Talon II is an industrial world. One hundred and twenty years ago, a cult began spreading—The Order of the Omniscient Mind.
The prisoner lacks classified military data—as he was only a low-ranking soldier.
However, his knowledge is almost entirely related to the cult's operations."]
Qin Mo processed the report. Then, another thought struck him.
"What about Talon III? Any signs of heresy there?"
["The prisoner possesses no information on Talon III."]
"Give me military intelligence."
["Affirmative. Based on his memories, their forces acted as a vanguard—their objective was to eliminate both our army and Tyrone Hive's Planetary Defense Force. However, this objective was only inferred by the prisoner himself, and not explicitly stated in his orders."]
Qin Mo removed his helmet, leaning back in his chair.
"Talon II is already infested with heresy," he muttered. "This entire system is cursed. One rebellion after another."
"Emperor preserve us," Klein sighed. "How long is this war going to drag on?"
Qin Mo said nothing.
He just hoped that Talon III wouldn't turn out to be another heretical nest.
Because if it was…
A sector-wide extermination campaign would be inevitable.
And Qin Mo wasn't interested in prayers or luck.
If necessary, he would develop a weapon capable of issuing an Exterminatus-level purge—one that would end this war permanently.