"Forward! For the Lion! Purge the traitors!"
At their Company Master's command, the Angels of Wrath's 7th Company launched another assault.
Bolter fire echoed through the ruins once more.
Flamers roared, accompanied by the stench of burning flesh and the inhuman howls of Nurgle's servants.
"Master!" a Sergeant shouted as his power axe cleaved a mutant in half. With his free hand, he pointed toward the enemy line.
"We'll need armored support if we're going to break through that!"
The Company Master followed the Sergeant's gesture.
Five Blightlord Terminators stood at the center of the traitor line.
Like an immovable bulwark, they absorbed everything the Angels of Wrath threw at them. Bolt rounds detonated harmlessly against their bloated Terminator armor.
With the 7th Company didn't bring any plasma or melta weaponry, resulting them unable to kill them effectively.
Although the Angels of Wrath had managed to overpower the Death Guard at an acceptable cost, the Dark Skitarii fighting alongside them proved to be an entirely different challenge.
Positioned behind the Blightlords, they unleashed disciplined volleys of galvanic fire and plague-infused weaponry. Any Angel of Wrath who attempted to engage the Terminators was immediately met with a hail of corrupted rounds, forcing the loyalists back before they could exploit their advantage.
"Bring in the Land Raiders!" The Master immediately shout into his vox as he see a full squad being destroyed by the combined attack from the Blightlords and the Dark Skitarii.
The order had barely left his lips when brilliant beams of crimson light lanced across the battlefield.
A volley of lascannon fire slammed into the Blightlords.
The first three were vaporized instantly, their bloated Terminator armor unable to withstand the concentrated anti-tank fire.
The remaining two were hurled from their feet. Great sections of their corrupted armor and diseased flesh were blasted away, exposing rotting organs and shattered ceramite beneath. Yet, true to their unnatural resilience, they still struggled to rise, their plague-ridden bodies refusing to die.
Behind them, several Dark Skitarii vanished in the blasts as the lascannon beams punched through the Terminators and continued into the traitor ranks.
Moments later, the source of the devastating fire emerged from the smoke.
A pair of Land Raider Terminus Ultra rumbled into view, their twin-linked lascannons traversing toward new targets while their hull-mounted lascannons unleashed another volley into the ranks of the corrupted Skitarii.
With the Terminus Ultras joining the battle, the Angels of Wrath resumed their advance, pushing deeper and deeper into the settlement.
Under the relentless bombardment of the Land Raiders, the traitor line finally began to falter.
Yet, despite the progress, the Company Master felt no satisfaction.
Only unease.
As he marched forward at the head of his command squad, his gaze lingered on the shattered remains of the Blightlords.
'So many of them,' he thought.
'Just how many Blightlord squads have the Death Guard committed to this battle?'
The 7th Company was not advancing alone. The 3rd Company was pressing forward along their left flank, close enough that both companies could maintain constant vox communication and support one another when needed.
He knew that, unlike his own company, the 3rd had already encountered multiple squads of Blightlord Terminators during its advance.
Every report painted the same picture.
Five Terminators.
Then another five.
Then another.
It was as though the Death Guard possessed an endless reserve of the plague-ridden veterans.
That was what troubled him most.
Blightlord Terminators were not expendable troops.
Each one should be a veteran of the Long War, clad in the ancient Cataphractii armour.
They shouldn't even appear in this no so important warzone in such number.
'Unless,' his lips tightened beneath his helmet. 'they already fully recover and even actively recruiting new traitors into their rank.'
The thought was unsettling.
For all they know, among the Traitor Legions, the Death Guard and the Thousand Sons were infamous for the difficulty they faced in recruiting new members.
The Death Guard's gene-seed had been heavily corrupted by the blessings of Nurgle, making them unusable to make new Space Marine. Meaning Death Guard need to actively hunt for new Geneseeds, either from traitor Legions or the loyalist Chapters.
The Thousand Sons faced an even greater obstacle. Since the Rubric of Ahriman, only exceptionally powerful psykers could be elevated into the Legion. Any aspirant lacking sufficient psychic potential would simply be reduced to dust by the Legion's arcane rites.
Other than this, sheer number of Cataphractii-pattern Terminator suits on the battlefield could indicate that the Dark Mechanicum had regained the knowledge and industrial capability to manufacture or fully restore suits of Tactical Dreadnought Armour.
That prospect was no less disturbing.
The alternative was that the Death Guard still possessed a sizeable stockpile of Cataphractii armour dating back to the Great Crusade and the Horus Heresy.
However, Tristan considered that possibility less likely.
The Death Guard had served as one of the main Legions that participate in many of the main battles during the Horus Heresy. Although their casualties had not been as catastrophic as the Sons of Horus and World Eaters, they have undoubtedly lost countless Terminators over the course of that galaxy-spanning war.
To see so many Blightlord Terminators committed to a single battlefield suggested that something had changed.
And the Angels of Wrath Master did not like any of the possible answers.
But the battle afforded him no more time for speculation.
One of the Land Raider Terminus Ultras was suddenly struck by a succession of rockets.
The massive vehicle weathered the barrage without suffering any serious damage, but one of its tracks was blown loose, grinding the ancient war machine to a halt.
Seeing what had happened, the Techmarine immediately rushed to the immobilized Land Raider and began repairing the damaged track. The rest of the company continued its advance, leaving a tactical squad behind to secure the vehicle and protect the Techmarine as he worked.
"How long until it can move again?" the Company Master asked.
The Techmarine had already ignited his plasma cutter, using it to weld the damaged mounting back into place while one of his servo-arms held the massive track section steady.
"Approximately twenty-five minutes, Master," the Techmarine replied. "I must first repair the running gear and inspect the vehicle for any hidden damage. After that, I will need to calm the Machine Spirit before it can continue its duty."
The Company Master frowned.
Twenty-five minutes.
Far too long for his liking.
Nonetheless, he can't really force the Machine Spirit to move if it didn't want to.
"Fine, continue your duty then rendezvous with us at the next point." he said as he already walking away from them.
The Techmarine didn't reply anything as the tactical squad fan out to cover more ground and the side sponson-mounted lascannons are arm and ready to fire if there's enemies arrived.
The 7th Company continue their rough advance through the horde of mutants that numbers become larger and larger as they moving deeper and deeper.
The numbers of Death Guard and Dark Skitarii they encounter also increase exponentially, resulting them to begin having losses.
But, just as they going to arrived at the point, a succession of massive explosion erupted from the north side, far from them as they are order to advance from the south west.
Looking towards where the explosions come from, the Company Master grimace.
"It seems Silver Lightning are engaging the Legio Mortis", the Veteran Sergeant said as he stand beside the Company Master.
The Master didn't comment anything, instead order his company to continue their advance,
The settlement, plan to become another hive city have a major highway that connected to the world capital hive located at the north. And so the traitor have heavily fortified the highway leading into the settlement with large numbers of the Plague Marines, Dark Skitarii and the mutants.
The attack force that will advance into the settlement through the highway are the largest of them.
The attack force is from the 8th and four squads from 9th Company from Fire Hawks, 4th and 6th Company from the Angels of Wrath. Because the highway didn't become the swamp from the Warp corruption, they also assign with twenty Predators and fifteen Dreadnought, six from Fire Hawks and nine from Angels of Wrath.
One Warlord and two Reavers from the Silver Lightning also assign to the attack force as all of them think that if the traitor Titans are indeed in the settlement, then they will be send to protect the highway.
So, other than the one Warlord and two Reavers, there are also one Warbringer Nemesis, two Warlords and five Reavers with the Warmaster already within the Drop-Capsules, ready the deployment the moment the request for reinforcement arrive.
The rest of the Titans from Sliver Lightning, the another Warbringer Nemesis, seven Warlords and seven Reavers are all also already within their respective Drop-vaults, ready to deploy the moment they needed.
===
"Did we kill it?" the Princeps said as she scanned the command display. "Get me a visual on that engine!"
"Auspex is unable to track anything, my Princeps," the Moderati replied as he desperately attempted to restore the sensor arrays. "The Warp interference is overwhelming the auspex. I can't get a clear reading."
"Then redirect the pict-feed from the targeting servitors," the Princeps ordered as she plunged deeper into her communion with the Titan's Machine Spirit, searching for any trace of the enemy through its own senses.
As the Moderati carried out the order, a panicked voice burst across the command vox.
"We're under attack!" a male voice shouted. Even through the vox distortion, alarms blared and the thunder of impacts against adamantium armor could be heard.
"The traitor engines didn't die! Void shields can't ho—"
The transmission ended abruptly.
A heartbeat later, the pict-feed flickered back to life.
The battlefield came into view.
One of their Reavers had already been destroyed, its reactor erupting in a pillar of fire as the God-Machine collapsed into the swamp below.
The second Reaver was still standing.
Barely.
Two Warhounds darted around its flanks, their turbo-lasers and inferno guns battering its already-failing void shields, while two Reavers hammered it relentlessly with gatling blaster fire and Apocalypse missiles.
Its shields flickered.
Collapsed.
"No..." the Princeps whispered.
"Aim at the traitor engines!" she ordered. "Bring the macro-gatling blaster to bear! Prepare the Apocalypse missile launchers! Fire the moment you have a target lock!"
"Target lock... achieved!"
"Fire!"
The Warlord shuddered as its weapons roared.
Thousands of heavy-caliber shells erupted from the macro-gatling blaster, while a storm of Apocalypse missiles streaked across the battlefield toward the traitor engines.
The barrage struck with devastating force.
The void shields of both Warhounds collapsed almost instantly, unable to withstand the concentrated bombardment. In the same moment, both traitor engines were engulfed in explosions as shells and missiles tore into their hulls.
One Warhound was ripped apart entirely, its frame disintegrating under the sustained fire.
The second staggered, its legs buckling as internal systems detonated in sequence. A moment later, it collapsed into the swamp in a burning ruin, its reactor venting in a violent chain reaction that lit the battlefield in fire and smoke.
The Warlord's Princeps did not hesitate.
"Switch targets!" she barked. "target the Reavers—bring them down!"
As the Warlord began recalibrating for its next barrage, the traitors completed their own targeting solution.
A heartbeat later, return fire slammed into the loyalist Titan.
The Warlord's void shields flared violently as they absorbed the incoming punishment, flickering under the concentrated assault from the two traitor engines.
Warning runes flooded the Princeps' display.
Shield integrity dropping.
Rapidly.
Still, she did not flinch.
"Hold steady!" she ordered through clenched teeth. "Maintain fire solution!"
The Machine Spirit of the Warlord howled through the command throne, eager and wrathful as it strained against the enemy Titans.
Outside, across the shattered battlefield, the war between God-Machines raged on, while the Astartes of the Fire Hawks and Angels of Wrath continued their assault.
With the traitor engines now focused on the loyalist Titans, the Astartes pressed their advantage. The Fire Hawks and Angels of Wrath hastened their advance, driving deeper into the enemy lines.
Bolter fire roared.
Flamers turned the ruins into seas of burning promethium.
Chainswords and power weapons carved through corrupted flesh and rusted ceramite alike.
Anything that stood in their path was annihilated without hesitation.
The traitor line buckled under the renewed pressure, unable to withstand the aggressive attack.
Suddenly, multiple massive explosions erupted across the battlefield.
Shockwaves tore through the ruined settlement as secondary detonations followed in rapid succession. Entire sections of cover vanished in clouds of fire and debris, hurling corrupted Skitarii and Plague Marines alike into the air.
Following this, a metallic wail echoed through the air.
As both the loyalists and traitors turned toward the source of the sound, they saw the truth unfold.
Both Legio Mortis Reaver Titans had been destroyed.
One Reaver had its left carapace section completely torn open, its corrupted frame slowly collapsing into the ruins as its reactor bled fire and smoke.
The other stood motionless for a heartbeat longer—its head obliterated entirely, its command systems dead. Then, like a lifeless colossus of iron, it began to topple forward in silence.
A moment later, it struck the ground with a world-shaking impact.
From the smoke and fire, the Warlord emerged.
Victory had been achieved—but not without cost.
Both Apocalypse missile launchers were empty, their ammunition expended in the brutal exchange. Its right arm, mounted with an Arioch power claw, had been torn away entirely, severed at the carapace joint by concentrated fire from the traitor engines.
Warning runes still flickered across the command throne. Internal systems strained to compensate for damage sustained during the duel.
The Princeps remained seated, breathing hard within the confines of the cockpit, her connection to the Machine Spirit still burning like a living thing in her mind.
She turned her attention back to the battlefield.
The duel between God-Machines had shifted the balance.
Now, the loyalist forces held a significant advantage—at least until more traitor Titans arrived.
As the Princeps fired the macro-gatling blaster into the traitor lines, carving a path for the advancing Astartes, she activated her strategic vox link to the Princeps Maximus to report the situation.
With a brief flicker across the hololithic display, the image of the Princeps Maximus appeared. He was seated upon the command throne of his Warmaster Titan.
"Princeps Maximus," she said with a nod, receiving a measured acknowledgment in return. "We have destroyed the traitor engines forming the first defensive line, but not without cost."
"My Reavers have been destroyed," she continued in a solemn tone. "My Warlord has lost its right arm, and both Apocalypse missile launchers are expended."
"I do not believe I am capable of engaging any further traitor Titans in my current condition."
Even as she spoke, she could feel the Machine Spirit within her Titan resist the statement—hungering for further war despite its damaged state.
"Understood," Princeps Maximus replied in a cold, mechanical tone—whether by nature or by the augmentation on his throat, she could not tell. "We will initiate the second phase. Maintain your current operations and continue supporting the advance on your front."
"Your will," she replied.