The massive beast pulled its body back.
A half-meter-wide sphere of glowing green acid shot forward with explosive force, hurtling straight toward the gap between the two bunkers.
Big Guy cursed over the comms.
The SCV’s mechanical arm swept sideways, ripping the chassis off a wrecked riot-control vehicle and slamming it down in front of the bunkers.
The acid orb exploded on impact.
Corrosive fluid sprayed in every direction.
The several-ton chassis blackened almost instantly, softened under the chemical assault, and released thick yellow smoke.
Splashes struck the bunkers’ outer armor as well.
The plating bubbled and began to melt.
The SCV’s other arm moved immediately.
Its high-frequency welding torch pressed against the damaged section.
Brilliant blue sparks erupted.
Fresh armor plating rapidly took shape, sealing the corroded breach before it could spread.
Leon Drake glanced at the resource panel.
That single attack had cost him thirty Minerals.
If that monster fired a few more times, the defense might still stand.
His economy wouldn’t.
“Focus fire on the big one.” Leon lowered his voice.
“Target the sacs on its back.” The four Marines inside the bunkers immediately raised their rifles.
All four C-14 Gauss Rifles switched to full-auto.
Streams of 8mm spikes tore through the darkness, ripping open the monster’s heavily armored back.
The swollen acid sacs burst one after another.
Pressurized corrosive fluid erupted inside its own body.
The beast let out a muffled roar before exploding on the spot.
Chunks of flesh and green ichor covered the tunnel floor.
Silence settled over the passage for two brief seconds.
The StarCraft System immediately began harvesting the biomass.
[Vespene Gas +80.] [Vespene Gas reserves continue increasing.] Leon watched his gas reserves climb past 280.
He had barely relaxed when Helena suddenly tightened her grip on her Bolt Pistol.
New footsteps echoed from the depths of the tunnel.
This time…
They weren’t the chaotic skittering of insects.
They were orderly.
Disciplined.
Accompanied by the dull clanging of rusted metal.
A group of figures emerged into the dim light.
At the front marched over a dozen hulking mutants nearly three meters tall.
They still retained rough human shapes.
Three or four thick arms protruded from their bodies.
Some carried heavy mining drills.
Others dragged massive steel support beams.
Several wielded gigantic hydraulic clamps ripped from abandoned factories.
Behind them marched thousands of human followers.
They wore the tattered protective suits of Underhive workers.
Fine scales covered their faces.
Their foreheads bulged unnaturally.
They carried automatic rifles, homemade shotguns, and even dozens of standard Imperial Guard laser rifles.
Standing at the rear was a man wrapped in a tattered robe.
A third arm was hidden beneath the cloth.
He held a staff crowned with an alien skull as he silently studied the bunker line.
Helena’s breathing faltered.
She recognized their insignia immediately.
“The Star Redeemers…” According to the Arbites’ most-wanted files, they had always been considered nothing more than a pathetic cult that tricked starving Underhive workers out of their food rations.
They preached among garbage heaps, promising that gods from the stars would one day descend and deliver the poor from suffering.
The Arbites had always dismissed them as harmless lunatics.
But now…
Those “lunatics” stood in disciplined battle formations beside the mutants.
They had never been victims.
They were the outer shell of the Genestealer Cult.
The robed preacher lowered his staff.
No warning.
No negotiation.
Hundreds of weapons opened fire simultaneously.
Bullets and crimson laser beams rained against the bunkers.
The thunderous barrage shook the maintenance station so violently that the overhead lights flickered.
The storm of fire pinned every firing slit shut.
The Marines were forced to reduce their rate of return fire.
Several three-meter mutant brutes charged through the scattered Gauss fire.
Swinging enormous mining hammers, they slammed them into the left bunker’s supporting wall.
BOOM!
The entire underground station trembled.
The SCV immediately rolled behind the wall.
Its welding torch showered the cracked armor with sparks.
Leon watched the battlefield carefully.
Precise Gauss fire wasn’t enough anymore.
The cultists advanced behind thick steel riot shields.
Every time the front rank fell, another stepped into its place.
The mutant brutes possessed absurd muscle density.
Even riddled with bullet holes, they continued charging another dozen meters.
The tunnel was narrow.
The enemy formation was packed tight.
What he needed now wasn’t precision.
He needed to burn everything.
Leon checked the resource pool.
There was enough gas.
Minerals were still healthy.
“Barracks.” “Maximum production.” “Deploy two Firebats.” The Barracks behind them immediately roared to life.
Hydraulic systems cycled at full power.
Its warning lights flashed rapidly.
Two massive humanoid outlines formed inside the warp matrix.
Less than twenty seconds later…
The warp field dispersed.
Two soldiers in crimson heavy-powered armor stepped forward.
They were even larger than the Marines.
Their armor resembled walking furnaces.
Each arm carried a massive Hellfire Flamethrower.
Huge fuel tanks mounted on their backs pulsed with highly pressurized plasma gel.
“Commander.” One Firebat’s rough voice echoed across the comm channel.
“Someone order barbecue?” Leon pointed toward the tunnel.
“Everything ahead.” “Full-scale physical sterilization.” “Roger that, Commander.” “We’ll make sure they’re extra crispy.” The two Firebats marched forward with heavy footsteps.
They squeezed through the narrow gap left between the bunkers and took position on the front line.
Their crimson armor stood fully exposed to the cult’s gunfire.
Bullets and laser blasts hammered against their chest plates.
Nothing more than showers of sparks.
The robed preacher watched the two crimson armored giants approach.
He remained calm.
No one in the Underhive could withstand a mutant brute’s charge.
No one could survive his psychic assault.
He raised the alien-skull staff.
An invisible wave swept down the tunnel toward the Firebats.
Inside their helmets…
Static flooded their sensory displays.
[Warning.] [External neural interference detected.] [Source identified as Warp-based psychic phenomenon.] [Tactical neural filter activated.] [Pilot sensory network isolated.] [Hostile signal suppressed.] [Note: Current interference level is low.
Against higher-order psychic entities, physical elimination of the caster is recommended.] The Firebats paused for barely half a heartbeat.
Then they continued advancing.
The preacher froze.
His staff remained suspended in midair.
He felt no fear.
No screaming souls.
His psychic power had struck something like an invisible wall.
He could see the men inside the armor…
But he couldn’t touch their minds.
No psychic feedback returned.
The warriors inside those crimson suits possessed no fear.
No distracting thoughts.
Not even the chaotic emotional echoes every ordinary human soul should radiate.
Inside the bunker, Helena’s eyes narrowed.
“The psychic attack failed.” Leon bit down on his unlit cigar.
“Ada.” “Care to explain?” [The target is attempting to infiltrate a sealed tactical combat system using primitive biological sorcery.] [Assessment: Incorrect approach.] The corner of Leon’s mouth twitched.
“In plain English.” [He is attempting to cast magic at a firewall.] The Firebats stopped.
They planted themselves firmly.
Both raised their flamethrowers.
Four blazing streams of fire erupted at once.
The plasma gel converged inside the confined tunnel, forming twin rivers of flame nearly thirty meters long.
Sticky incendiary fuel coated the cultists and mutant brutes alike.
The inferno burned through chitinous armor.
It melted worn flak jackets.
Even thick steel riot shields glowed red before beginning to soften.
The tunnel instantly became a gigantic crematorium.
The mutant brutes at the front dropped their mining hammers and rolled across the floor in agony.
It didn’t help.
The more they rolled…
The hotter the burning gel became.
The cultists behind them, their minds twisted by psychic indoctrination, finally remembered the oldest instinct shared by every living creature.
Fear.
They threw down their rifles.
Screaming, they fled backward.
Their formation collapsed.
Through the bunker’s firing slit, Helena watched the tunnel transform into a sea of fire.
There were no Ecclesiarchy prayers.
No Mechanicus hymns.
Yet the flames purified everything.
More thoroughly than any Inquisitorial pyre.
“So this…” She quietly replaced the magazine in her Bolt Pistol.
“…is how heretics should truly be cleansed.” The tunnel filled with the stench of burning flesh.
The robed preacher stumbled backward, covering his face with his robe.
His hidden third hand gripped the staff desperately.
Then…
The alloy wall beside the inferno suddenly groaned.
Metal panels bulged outward with a deafening screech.
A heartbeat later…
A Purestrain Genestealer over three meters long burst straight through the wall.
It landed on all six limbs.
Its body was covered in deep violet chitin far thicker than any creature before it.
The flames licked across its shell…
But failed to slow it in the slightest.
It became nothing more than a purple blur.
Its gigantic bone claws tore through the air, aiming directly for the helmet of the lead Firebat.
Leon’s pupils contracted.
“Firebat!” “Left side!” His warning hadn’t even finished echoing across the comms…
Before the Purestrain monster was already upon the Firebat.