BANG!
The deafening explosion tore through the silence of the shelter.
A young rebel soldier, in sheer terror, pulled the trigger. The pistol round erupted in the enclosed space with a piercing shriek.
The orange-yellow bullet spun as it struck the back of a hand clad in dark green armor. Yet the moment it collided, the bullet twisted and deformed. Sparks briefly danced across the precision-forged ceramite surface—like phosphorescent flowers blooming in the night.
The armored "iron fist" did not budge an inch.
The massive hand continued forward, its five Titan-plated fingers easily crushing the makeshift wall of debris.
Amid the groaning of bending metal, the entire wall of junk collapsed like brittle cookies. Dust clouded the air, followed by the crash of toppled scaffolding.
BOOM—!
As the smoke cleared, two towering "war machines"—each nearly 2.7 meters tall—emerged from the haze.
Their dark green Titan armor was marred with yellow-green acid burns. The Imperial dragon emblem on their chest plates glinted a dull bronze under the cold glow of the emergency lights.
The teeth of their chainswords had stopped spinning, but still bore shards of Zerg carapace. Thick, viscous blood dripped from the serrated edges, sizzling as it corroded holes into the floor.
From the corners of the shelter came the clattering of falling objects and shattered items.
The civilians huddled together like startled beasts. Women pulled their children behind them with trembling arms, while the men futilely brandished pipes, rods, and kitchen knives.
The Terran Empire's propaganda holovids flashed through their minds—
These "giants" were demons wearing human skin, butchers who adorned their armor with skulls, monsters that devoured the living whole.
"The xeno filth outside has been purged."
One of the giants suddenly spoke. His deep voice, processed through the helmet's speaker, carried the unique metallic resonance of an Astartes.
He then swung his chainsword back onto the magnetic holster at his waist. Even this simple motion caused the crowd to flinch again.
The servo systems of the power armor hissed softly. The giant dropped to one knee, lowering his height. Corroded and pitted by acid, flakes of oxidized shoulder armor fell off as he moved. He continued:
"For your safety, please follow us. We will lead you to a more secure location."
With that, the giant removed his helmet, revealing a human face—short-haired, sun-kissed skin, and rugged features.
Seeing his face, the civilians and rebels were no longer as terrified. Hearing his words, those huddled in the corners stopped trembling.
The young rebel who had fired the accidental shot gulped hard. Sweat soaked his clothes, clinging to his spine. He gathered his courage and looked up to see the giant's eyes filled with calm—and a hint of "relief."
Was he... happy we survived?
The young rebel was confused.
"They're... protecting us?"
A fellow rebel whispered, his shotgun unknowingly lowered.
In the flickering emergency lights, people noticed a tiny insignia on the giants' power packs. It bore a line of strange characters they couldn't read:
"Life is the Emperor's currency—spend it wisely."
Just then—
CRACK—!
A chunk of concrete gave way above, falling directly toward the dazed young rebel who had fired.
!!
Everyone froze in shock. But the kneeling, helmetless giant extended his armored hand and caught the falling slab with perfect precision.
BOOM—!
Under the stunned gazes of the crowd, the chunk of building material that could've smashed a skull was effortlessly caught, its momentum dissipated, then tossed aside.
"Watch for falling debris, kid."
The giant spoke as he stood, helmet now back in place. He looked down at the young rebel—his fear shifting into awe—and added:
"Stay alert. Life comes only once. Don't waste it."
Then, his voice returned to its metallic tone as he addressed all the civilians and rebels:
"This structure's integrity is now at a critical level. Please follow us."
Everyone nodded numbly, as if compelled by some unseen force, and followed the giants out of the crumbling apartment building.
But as they stepped outside the ruins, what lay before them made them freeze—
The street was gone, replaced by "hills" of Zerg corpses.
Yellow-green ichor pooled like molten asphalt in craters and cracks, bubbling with a sickening stench.
Several enormous Zerg bodies sprawled across the intersection. Their exoskeletons had been torn open by some brutal force, the jagged edges exposing pulverized viscera.
The air reeked of ozone from plasma weapons, sulfur from evaporating Zerg blood, and a more primal, charred flesh stench.
The young rebel's Adam's apple bobbed. His hands trembled uncontrollably:
"Did… did just the six of you do all this?"
The giant said nothing. He merely turned slightly, his crimson visor scanning the street's ruined flanks, as if evaluating unseen threats.
No words were needed. Everyone understood—
These armored warriors were not the demons of Imperial propaganda, but giants fulfilling their oath of protection through overwhelming force.
As the group advanced, more chilling battle scars emerged—
A government building, hit directly by plasma fire, had melted like wax. Twisted steel beams formed grotesque sculptures. Hundreds of Zergling carcasses were crushed beneath the wreckage, their scythe-like limbs still twitching from nerve spasms.
At a street corner, three halved Hydralisks were embedded in a reinforced concrete wall, blast craters radiating two meters wide from the bolt rounds' impact.
Most disturbing was a shallow crater piled with nearly a hundred mangled Zerg corpses. Purple-black shell fragments carpeted the road.
"Daddy, look at the sky!"
A child's voice broke the silence.
Everyone looked up to see burning meteors streaking across the sky.
Some were Zerg spore pods, bursting like rotten fruit and spilling sticky hatching fluids.
Others were drop pods carrying Salamanders Helljumpers, biotech weaponry, and mechanized infantry. Plasma contrails trailed as they plunged earthward.
Farther off, entire districts were awash in orange-red fire. Smoke pillars connected earth and sky. Occasionally, a lightning-like orbital strike lit up the churning swarm.
The young rebel suddenly rushed forward.
"Sir!" he caught up to the helmetless giant, his voice hoarse from exertion. "Mar Sara… can't be held, can it?"
The giant—or rather, the Salamander—stopped.
He turned slowly, crimson lenses locking onto the young man.
Five seconds of silence passed—an eternity. Then, the warrior nodded and said in his metallic tone:
"Zerg numbers exceeded projections by 437%. Orbital scans show continued spore pod landings from the Gobi sector."
He raised a corroded arm and pointed toward the dark clouds swelling on the horizon. "Each wave hatches thousands. The evacuation protocol has been activated."
His words hit like an ice pick to the heart.
Only now did they notice—though the streets were piled with Zerg corpses, the shadows beyond the high-rises still rustled with carapace movement.
Worse still, each new spore pod from the Gobi shook the earth. The hatching pools glowed eerily under the moon.
"Keep formation."
The Salamander fell silent again, guiding civilians and rebels toward the starport, now secured by other brothers.
The group moved forward.
Rebels supported the wounded. Parents shielded their children. Everyone pressed close to the giants' armored frames—these scarred metal forms felt like the only wall between them and death.
The six towering warriors were a moving fortress. When they reached an intersection, the lead Salamander raised his left hand—the entire group stopped instantly.
WHOOSH—WHOOSH—!
BOOM—KRRRSH!!
Moments later, several missiles screamed in from the sky and slammed into a subway entrance a hundred meters ahead. A Zerg vanguard emerging there was shredded into gore.
It seemed the Salamander had used his comms to contact an atmospheric squadron and called in an artillery strike.
But no one cheered. Civilians and rebels simply clung tighter, stumbling forward under the rising thunder of explosions.
Mar Sara's outline collapsed behind them. The starport's lights were the only stars in this hell.
Finally, as they crossed a street flattened by artillery, the full starport came into view—
A steel-and-blood "island."
Outside its towering walls, Zerg corpses piled high. Acidic blood hissed against alloy armor.
Inside, dozens of landing pads were ablaze with activity. Luna transport craft launched and landed in a blur, their engines roaring louder than the guns.
Each time a transport opened, survivors were herded aboard by support troops. The hatch sealed, blue flames erupted from the thrusters, and under flak cover, the ship shot skyward.
Every corner teemed with people—ragged civilians, wounded rebels, and ammo-spent Terran soldiers.
Fully armed Helljumpers and Salamanders stood like statues at key defense points. Hardlight, Gauss, and bolt weapons remained aimed at the swarm's direction.
Heavy armor units—main battle tanks, combat mechs—guarded the perimeter. Their cannons roared, blasting clusters of Zerg into chunks.
From above, the starport looked like an island.
Nearby streets held desperate lines of support troops, Helljumpers, and Salamanders defending makeshift barricades. Muzzle flashes linked into a web of starlight in the darkness.
Beyond, the Zerg surged like a living tide. The hiss of carapace grinding echoed into a monstrous hum, as if the city itself trembled underfoot.
Suddenly, alarms blared—
"Flyer swarm approaching! Anti-air arrays ready!"
The sky darkened.
Thousands of flying Zerg descended like a storm cloud. Their wings shrieked at high frequency. Acid sacs swelled beneath them, ready to burst.
The starport's AA turrets opened fire, weaving a death net that shredded the flyers.
But there were too many. Groups broke through, diving—
RIIII—BUZZZZZZ—!!
Then, a Gauss barrage fell diagonally from above the clouds, slicing through the flyers' core.
Two Salamander escort frigates pierced the atmosphere, hovering above the starport. Their CIWS arrays unloaded tens of thousands of rounds per second. Zerg debris fell like rain.
"Fleet support has arrived!" a calm, metallic voice rang over comms. "All transport groups—launch now!"
Loaded transports soared skyward under frigate cover.
The Empire's last remaining air force—just a dozen battered Viking fighters—took off to join the Salamander fleet.
Their engines roared. Missiles and autocannons carved deadly arcs across the sky, turning intercepting flyers into burning wreckage.
On the desert outskirts, over 300 Salamanders formed a wall of flesh and steel.
Their Titan armor was scarred with acid burns. The plating peeled under fire. Their power packs vented searing gas, turning them into towering, wrathful machines.
They deployed in a perfect wedge. Bolt guns wove a dense fireweb.
Each explosive round pierced multiple Zerg, erupting blood-clouds in the swarm.
When enemies got too close, chainswords whirred to life. Screeching teeth sliced Zerg in half. Acid blood splattered, hissing as it burned unshielded armor.
Just as low-ammo warnings flashed in their HUDs, shrieks fell from the sky—
Dozens of drop pods pierced the clouds like divine hammers. Superheated by re-entry, they crashed vertically into the battlefield, blasting Zerg with shockwaves.
As hydraulic locks disengaged, fresh ammo crates ejected, propelled by compressed gas—
Chrome-plated bolt rounds gleamed in the firelight. Plasma cells glowed reassuring green. Melta grenades still bore sealed arsenal tags.
With mechanical precision, the Salamanders reloaded. Bolt slides clacked shut—cold, metallic, comforting.
They fought in silence.
Their breath cycled through helmet filters. Tactical data streamed across HUDs. Every volley tore open the swarm. Every chainsword swing sent shell fragments flying like hail.
There were no speeches—only the grind of gears, the hiss of boiling coolant, and the endless roar of death.
But now, more elite Zerg units were arriving—
And even the Salamanders began to feel the pressure...
(End of Chapter)
[Get +20 Extra Chapters On — P@tr3on "Mutter"]
[Every 100 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter Drop]
[Thanks for Reading!]