“A brilliant decapitation strike, my Wolf God.
Now that the rebel chain of command is severed, these scum aren’t far from total annihilation.” Kaelen stepped up quickly to Horus and Cullen, rifle held at the ready.
Looking around at the corpses cluttering the ground and the mangled, unidentifiable limbs of enemy officers, he couldn’t help but marvel at the terrifying efficiency of the pair in close-quarters combat.
“Back during the Great Crusade…” The Wolf God flicked the blood off his power dagger and chuckled softly, “a firefight of this intensity wouldn’t even count as an outing in the park for me.” “Are you saying you weren’t even taking this seriously?” “Hmm…” Horus drew out the sound playfully, tilting his head as he looked at Kaelen with an intentional tease.
“To tell you the truth, my friend, I barely put in any effort.
It wasn’t even enough to warm me up.” Kaelen’s cheek twitched.
He had felt a modest sense of accomplishment after winning such a tough fight, but those words threw a bucket of ice water over his pride.
Everyone had been fighting for their lives to coordinate, yet to the Primarch, it was nothing more than morning exercises.
Viewed from another perspective, though, it made sense.
Back then, the xenos this Wolf God ripped apart with his bare hands were terrifying foes that ground entire Astra Militarum armies into the dirt.
Dealing with these mortal traitors was a complete dimensional collapse.
At best, Kaelen was just leeching experience, carried entirely by the Primarch’s sheer damage output.
There was no denying it—he was riding coattails to a free win.
The MVPs were Horus, and, well, Cullen too.
“Your suppressive cover from the rear was crucial, my friend,” Horus said, shifting the topic with a note of genuine warmth.
“You took out no fewer than twenty threats for us, and your sniper timing was spot on.
We make quite a team, don’t we?” The Wolf God gave him a wink, his face beaming with good humor.
Kaelen knew the Primarch was just smoothing his feathers, but he couldn’t deny that this gentle charm worked ridiculously well on him.
“Lord Lupercal, the main Imperial force has punched through the rebel front line,” Cullen said.
“Should we lend them a hand?” “As it should be.
It is only fitting for the strong to shoulder greater responsibilities, and we might as well reduce casualties for the loyalists.” Having said this, Horus looked straight at Kaelen.
“For the rest of the way, the two of us will follow your command, Master Kaelen.” *** On the other side, the Cadian 8th’s counteroffensive was in full swing.
Nearby units in other sectors, having recovered from the initial chaos, received orders one after another to join the pacification effort.
Deprived of their supreme command, the Volscani Cataphracts shifted from attack to defense.
These elite troops still retained their core discipline, possessing exceptional individual combat skills.
But they were facing the 8th—a force of battle-hardened veterans led directly by Commander Creed, handpicked by the Lord Castellan himself.
are battle-hardened veterans commanded directly by Creed.
The enemy line was ruthlessly severed.
Creed’s tactics were brutal and effective.
Leman Russ Tank columns forcibly gouged open enemy positions, and infantry poured through the breaches, cutting the long defensive line into several small, isolated pockets.
Relying on overwhelming numbers, the Imperial force devoured the rebels piece by piece.
Kaelen led his two canvas-draped “Ogryns,” specifically targeting fire support positions in the rebel rear.
On a high ridge slope, an enemy heavy weapons company had deployed six heavy bolters.
Their interlocking fields of fire pinned down the Cadian infantry at the foot of the hill, preventing them from raising their heads.
Severed limbs tumbled in the mud, and charging casualties mounted rapidly.
Kaelen lay prone behind a shattered wall a hundred meters away, settling his crosshairs over the throat of a gunner.
The las-beam pierced through, and the loader fell backward.
In that half-second window, Horus and Cullen moved.
They charged up the high ground with lightning speed.
Cullen’s master-crafted power sword sheared through gun barrels, splitting heavy gunners and sandbags in half simultaneously.
Horus was even more brutal.
Gripping the tripod mounting of a heavy bolter with one hand, he swung it in a wide arc into an adjacent firing position.
The heavy metal mount smashed through the chests of three rebels with blunt kinetic force, shattering their bones.
The fire position did not even last three minutes before being wiped off the map.
Seizing the opening, Cadian soldiers below vaulted out of their trenches, roaring as they charged up the slope, using bayonets to bleed the surviving traitors dry.
Kaelen picked up his rifle and relocated.
He specifically sought out tough nuts to crack.
Wherever enemy heavy weaponry was most concentrated, the three-man assault team struck.
Creed stood atop the cupola of a command armored vehicle, his cigar half-burned.
Raising his tactical macro-binoculars, he surveyed the entire situation across the Tyrok Fields.
The battle was progressing smoother than he had anticipated.
The enemy’s command layer was utterly paralyzed, and their armored reserves had failed to reinforce.
His line of sight swept over a depression on the left flank.
Just a short while ago, it had been the rebels’ most heavily fortified anti-air battery, but now it lay in ruins.
Through high-magnification lenses, he caught sight of the three unattached combat units.
A sergeant carrying a sniper rifle, and two giant, intimidating figures.
Draped in heavy dust cloaks, the two behemoths moved at speeds that defied reason, their execution so clean and lethal it would make seasoned assassins blush.
One of them had even flipped a Chimera transport with his bare hands, crushing the infantry squad taking cover behind it.
Creed lowered his binoculars, took a drag from his cigar, and nodded in grim approval.
“Three of the Emperor’s bravest, most loyal warriors.” “Cadian 8th, keep pushing!
Give the rebels no breathing room!” The mopping-up operation lasted an entire day.
Dusk over the Tyrok Fields bore a sickly purple-red hue.
Plumes of smoke billowed straight into the sky, blotting out the setting sun’s afterglow.
Soil soaked through with blood squelched stickily underfoot.
The rebels fought like cornered beasts, filling the air with las-beams and artillery shells, until the Volscani Cataphracts’ last organized company was turned into scrap metal in a sea of fire.
Before night fell, the last gunshot fell silent.
The rebel force was completely annihilated.
The Cadian defenders paid a heavy price, but they held the most critical defensive line, snapping with their own hands the poisoned blade thrust into their heartland.
Everywhere were Astra Militarum troops tending to the wounded and clearing the battlefield.
Flares shot high into the sky, their cold white glare illuminating the grim battlefield as bright as day.
Kaelen was thoroughly exhausted.
The high-intensity battlefield infiltrations had drained his physical reserves.
He leaned against a scorched piece of armor plating, panting heavily, his uniform caked in mud and heretic blood.
Beside him stood his two “Ogryn” bodyguards.
Horus breathed evenly behind his mask, though his canvas cloak was torn by enemy fire in several places, revealing unblemished skin beneath.
Cullen had deactivated the power field of his sword, its blood grooves clogged with congealed bits of flesh.
“It’s over,” Kaelen said, tossing his empty canteen back into his pack.
“This is only the beginning,” Cullen said, gazing at the eerie aurora across the sky, his tone heavy.
“Cadia’s trials are far from over.
Ezekyle’s host is still gathering in the void.” “At least for tonight, Cadia remains in the hands of the Imperium.” Kaelen wiped the bloody mud from his face with his sleeve and stood tall.
A pale blue stream of information popped up on his retina.
[Quest: Alter the treason tragedy and end the rebellion prematurely.
Completed.] [Reward Points: 10,000] [Total Available Points: 111,500] With ten thousand points credited, this windfall was enough to redeem high-end weaponry or skills from the system’s armory.
Kaelen closed the interface, knowing that even this capital was far from generous when facing the coming ocean of enemies.
A light breeze brushed over the scorched soil of the tarmac, carrying a sickly mixture of ozone, char, and gore.
The crowd ahead parted to form a wide passage.
Hundreds of Cadian 8th veterans spontaneously lined up on both sides.
Every gaze fell upon this obscure sergeant and the two god-of-war-like “Ogryns” standing behind him.
They knew nothing of the sergeant’s past, but every front-line soldier had witnessed how this three-man squad stirred up a tempest of blood and steel in the enemy rear.
Tales of wiping out fire positions and destroying armored vehicles with bare hands spread rapidly among the troops.
The military worshipped only the truly strong.
Without any command given, a veteran raised his hands in the imperial aquila salute, the highest honor.
Then a second followed, then a third.
The clatter of armor plates echoed like an ocean tide across the plain.
Kaelen froze momentarily, goosebumps rising on his arms at such reverent respect.
He glanced back at Horus.
The Wolf God claimed no credit, standing in quiet solidarity and ceding the honor entirely to the mortal before him.
The crunch of treads crushing gravel echoed nearby as a Command Chimera pulled to a halt.
Ursakar E.
Creed stepped down from the vehicle.
The commander, famed for his stern resolve, strode up to Kaelen.
Creed scrutinized the exhausted yet sharp-eyed mortal before looking up at the two imposing, masked giants.
He extended a hand.
Kaelen snapped back to his senses and reached out.
Their hands clasped in a firm grip.
“Fine work, Sergeant,” Creed grunted, a half-burned cigar pinched between his teeth, his gravelly voice echoing across the silent crowd.
“You and your retainers saved Cadia’s rear.
If you hadn’t decisively taken out the rebel command hub, the 8th would have had to sacrifice countless precious lives to crack this tough nut.” “Just doing our duty, sir.
We only did what needed to be done.” Kaelen answered succinctly.
He understood what Horus had meant earlier.
No matter how much damage the two Primarch-tier entities had dealt, Kaelen had to play the part of a “competent master commanding his Ogryns” in front of others.
Creed released his grip, stepped half a pace back, and drew himself up straight.
Raising his hand, he saluted Kaelen and his companions flawlessly.
“Thank you, Sergeant.
On behalf of Cadia, I salute you and your warriors.” Kaelen stood at attention and returned the salute.
Cheers erupted from the surrounding soldiers, echoing endlessly into the night.