Chapter 203: The Holy Words of the Codex |
One had to admit, Romulus—or rather, the four Transmigrators—held a somewhat pessimistic view regarding the war against the Tyranid Hive Fleet.
After all, the Transmigrators' understanding of the devastation wrought by the Tyranid Hive Fleet was largely based on written records of events that had not yet occurred in this timeline.
In those future records, the Ultramarines were pushed all the way back to their home planet of Macragge. The entire planet nearly fell, leaving only two polar fortresses stubbornly holding out in the ruins. The First Company was entirely wiped out, and the Honor Guard suffered catastrophic losses.
It was not until a century later, during the crusade against the Ork Empire rising in the galactic south of Macragge, that the Ultramarines' numbers finally recovered to over eight hundred men.
Yet, after the Tyranid campaign began, even though the Imperial Navy still suffered a massive initial defeat, Romulus genuinely did not feel much pressure after taking command of the war effort.
Having resolved the scattered issues involving the Mechanicus, the Dark Angels, and the meddling of Chaos...
The Expeditionary Fleet, composed of the Black Templars, the Nemesis Chapter, and other Imperial forces, easily compressed the Tyranid Hive Fleet's operational space. They steadily drove these Xenos, spurred only by their ravenous hunger, toward the fortress world of Bolmina.
In the ensuing battles, the Tyranid Hive Fleet tasted the sheer immensity of the Imperium for the first time. No matter where it tried to extend its tendrils, a fleet would be there to sever them, subsequently pushing forward along the exact route the Xenos had taken.
True, the Imperium was slow to react, but it boasted an overwhelming number of warships.
As long as someone could gather this power into a single fist and strike hard, no entity in the Galaxy could withstand such a devastating torrent—except the Imperium itself.
The Imperial military forces fully mobilized by the Wings of Dawn were the real deal.
The Tyranid Hive Fleet found itself backed into a corner. It either had to continuously burn through its biomass in the freezing void, waiting for the intensity of the war to wane and the Expeditionary Fleet to disband before scrounging for food...
Or, it had to risk everything, concentrating all its might to tear through Bolmina's defenses.
Watching the Xenos fleet being gradually cornered into a desperate siege against the fortress world under Romulus's coordinated command, the various scattered branches of the Expeditionary Fleet began to converge on Bolmina.
The decisive battle here would determine whether they could maximize casualties upon the Tyranid Hive Fleet and mitigate the threat it posed.
The unique command structure and rapid evolutionary capabilities of the Tyranids meant that the fleet had to focus on purging the Hive Ships; only then could the entire Ultramar Segmentum be truly secured.
Calgar was confident he could hold off these Xenos. The steel fortress of Bolmina would eventually shatter the fangs of the Tyranid Hive Fleet.
As for those Xenos, only by tearing through Bolmina's defenses and devouring this meat grinder of flesh and blood that anchored the entire Ultramar frontline could their starving tendrils ever hope to reach Macragge.
Thus, on this planet reshaped by the fires of war, a brutal five-year tug-of-war in flesh and blood raged on.
Scorched black ash had long since altered the face of the world.
Mountains of residual ash left from countless incinerated corpses were swept up by raging monsoons, transforming into massive black sandstorms that blotted out the sky. The sound of abrasive grit scraping against the fortress armor was like the endless sobbing of lost souls.
Magma flows seeping from the planet's core—a result of volcanic activity deliberately triggered by the Mechanicus—formed stationary defensive lines across the surface. These streams of superheated lava, rich in iron and nickel, were impossible for even the Tyranid Hive Fleet to cross.
Viewed from space, it looked like a planet forged of coal ash, continuously bleeding its own intense heat into the void.
——
Boom!
An eerie green light tore through the firmament, wrapped in a distorted iridescence that ripped apart the black haze.
A Librarian deployed a psychic shield in the nick of time. The sickly green beam collided violently with the pale blue force field, sending blinding sparks of energy rippling through the air.
A split second later, the force field shattered like glass.
The pillar of light slammed into a Storm Shield, reducing its steel to mere particles and rendering its protective energy field entirely useless.
An elite veteran of the Ultramarines First Company, clad in "Indomitus-pattern" Terminator Armor, did not even have time to scream. He was utterly dissolved within the blinding energy, melting away like snow beneath a scorching sun.
The devastating beam pierced through the entire frontline, carving a charred trench in its wake before slowly fading into the distance.
At the far end of the defensive line, Saul Invictus, who was locked in a brutal melee with a Tyranid Warrior Prime, whipped his head around.
He saw that a literal path to hell had been scoured straight through their defenses.
Every ounce of flesh and blood, every scrap of steel caught within the beam's trajectory had been completely liquefied.
The headless remains of the Librarian crashed heavily to the ground. His ceremite armor slammed into the scorched earth, kicking up a cloud of ash. The interior of his body had been entirely hollowed out by the psychic flames, leaving nothing but a blackened, empty husk that let out a hollow whistle as the howling wind rushed through it.
A Zoanthrope. It was a psychic battlefield unit that had evolved for unknown reasons only after the Tyranid Hive Fleet entered the Galaxy.
It lacked the terrifying carapace and razor-sharp claws typical of the Tyranid swarm. Instead, it possessed a deformed body built from countless stacked nerve ganglia; every inch of its flesh and blood existed solely to squeeze out even greater psychic power.
For the sake of this extreme evolution, it had even discarded the immense physical resilience the Xenos took so much pride in.
Saul's brain instantly identified the culprit behind the devastation. Fighting through the sharp, stinging ringing in his head, he roared into his vox-caster.
"All units, be advised! A Zoanthrope has appeared on the battlefield! Call for Chief Librarian support immediately! All combat squads—spread out! I repeat, spread out immediately!"
Saul's tactical intuition was crystal clear.
Faced with a psychic threat of this magnitude, senseless sacrifice meant nothing. No rational commander would let his soldiers bunch together only to become sitting ducks.
The very moment the mixed forces swiftly fell back, a distorted psychic ripple violently erupted with the Zoanthrope at its epicenter. Several mortal soldiers lagging behind were clipped by the shockwave and instantly dropped rigidly to the ground.
Their bodies curled and charred in grotesque contortions, filling the air with the nauseating stench of cooked meat.
Bzzzt!
A beam of dark green death light suddenly pierced across the battlefield, accurately striking that writhing mass of nerves. Before the Zoanthrope could even unleash a wail of agony, it spontaneously combusted under the high-frequency pulse of a Neuro-Disintegrator, instantly turning into a twitching pile of charred cinders.
Having instantly killed the Zoanthrope, Titus stood nonchalantly amidst the fading psychic force field, acting as if nothing had happened. He immediately swung his Neuro-Disintegrator toward his next target.
The main forces of the Expeditionary Fleet had already gathered at Bolmina. Since his small squad couldn't provide much help in the space battles, they had deployed to the planet's surface to assist with the defense.
Having fought the Tyranids for so long, their extensive combat experience significantly alleviated the pressure on the defensive lines.
"Titus."
Calgar's voice echoed over the vox-caster, carrying an unmistakable tone of warning.
The reminder from the supreme commander of the planetary surface defenses made Titus pause slightly, the muzzle of his Neuro-Disintegrator dropping a few inches.
"Your method of combat does not comply with the dictates of the Codex Astartes."