Boom! Boom! CRASH—!
The drop pods descended like flaming warhammers hurled by gods. With a scream that tore through the air and the roar of rear thrusters, they slammed down with precise, furious violence onto pre-designated target points within City 17.
Every single impact point was a National Guard barracks, checkpoint, or command post, or a patrol node, defensive fortification, or bio-signal tower established by the Combine.
!!
Massive impacts rang out in succession, shaking the ground.
Deep craters were smashed into the solid concrete. Shockwaves shattered surrounding windows and overturned vehicles parked nearby.
Some drop pods even punched straight through low buildings, turning them into instant bunkers and breach points.
Civilians, who had barely recovered from the intense orbital bombardment, were terrified out of their wits by this new round of closer-range "justice from the heavens."
Survival instincts drove them to scatter and flee immediately, screaming as they rushed toward basements, subway tunnels, or anywhere they deemed safe.
They didn't know what was happening—whether it was another alien faction or something else entirely. But they knew that very soon, the core area of this city would erupt into a fierce chaotic battle beyond their imagination.
The terrifying orbital bombardment earlier was the clearest warning.
However, among the fleeing, panicked crowds, a few civilians—amidst their frantic dodging—couldn't suppress looks of joy and anticipation on their faces.
They keenly noticed that both the earlier orbital bombardment and the landing points of these "meteors" had avoided large-scale civilian residential areas, targeting only Combine and traitor facilities.
This vaguely suggested that the attackers seemed...
To be on the side of humanity?
At the very least, they had scruples about civilians.
"Who cares what it is, as long as it kills those damned traitors and alien bastards!"
An old man hiding behind ruins muttered to himself, his cloudy eyes flashing with the pleasure of revenge.
"Right! As long as it hits the Combine, even if I die today, it's worth it! At least I saw them blown sky-high!"
Another middle-aged man lowered his voice, waving his fist excitedly.
Regardless, for these human survivors who had struggled in despair for twenty years, the appearance of any force capable of effectively killing and striking National Guard traitors and Combine aliens was a scene they were happy to see.
Even if death was inescapable in the end, witnessing a large-scale attack on the foundation of Combine rule with their own eyes was enough to bring a shred of comfort in their final moments.
And the scene that followed completely confirmed their expectations and far exceeded their wildest imaginations.
Bang—Hiss—!
The moment the drop pods impacted, their hatches blew open accompanied by the hiss of high-pressure gas.
Immediately after, like a bursting dam of steel, giants clad in heavy dark green titanium power armor, tall as moving fortresses, surged out.
The weapons in their hands were terrifying killing machines civilians had never seen before—bolters roaring as they fired explosive rounds;
Meltaguns spraying jets of heat hot enough to melt tank armor;
And plasma cannons shining with dangerous energy halos, among others.
As soon as these steel giants landed, they let out deafening battle cries. Their voices were like thunder from ancient times, instantly drowning out the city's noise and the echoes of explosions: "For the Emperor!"
"For Humanity!"
This roar was not just a slogan, but a declaration, a faith, a manifestation of unstoppable will.
Immediately, these harbingers of death from the Human Empire began a ruthless extermination of all Combine soldiers and National Guard traitors within sight, with pure, indisputable crushing force.
The battle became one-sided almost the instant contact was made.
A National Guard squad leader, having just crawled up from beside an armored vehicle overturned by a drop pod's shockwave, tried to organize his few shaken subordinates to establish a defense line.
Just as he raised his standard-issue rifle, he saw a Salamander warrior ignore the distance, rushing in front of him in a few large strides.
The shadow cast by that massive, armored figure completely enveloped him.
!!!
The squad leader pulled the trigger in terror. Bullets hit the opponent's chest plate, sparking only a few insignificant flecks of fire, unable to leave even a white scratch.
Thump! Thump!
The next second, the signature dull roar of a bolter rang out. The squad leader's upper body, along with the armored vehicle behind him, instantly turned into a scattering mixture of flesh and metal.
On another side, a Combine heavy weapon team operating a device similar to an infantry cannon had just locked onto a steadily advancing Salamander.
Whoosh—!
However, before they could fire, a scorching plasma orb skimmed through the air in a strange arc, accurately hitting their position.
Boom...
There was no violent explosion, only a low muffled sound and an instantly expanding blue light sphere of extremely high temperature.
After the light sphere dissipated, only a shallow vitrified pit and a few wisps of evaporated smoke remained in place, leaving not even wreckage behind.
On the streets, the National Guard traitors fell into hysterical panic.
The weapons they relied on to survive and intimidate civilians were like toys against Astartes armor. Their familiar urban combat skills appeared laughable and clumsy in front of absolute strength and speed.
Some tried to hide in buildings to resist stubbornly, only to be melted along with the wall by a meltagun;
Some dropped their weapons and raised their hands to surrender, only to be mercilessly torn apart by a bolter barrage sweeping past.
The Empire had no mercy for traitors who sided with aliens to oppress their own kind.
Cries, pleas for mercy, dying wails, the roar of bolters, and the hiss of plasma intertwined.
And those emotionless Combine soldiers continued to execute their cold logic.
They knew no fear, no retreat, only constantly pouring out from behind cover and street corners, firing at the Salamanders with their weapons.
However, this resistance was equally fragile and vulnerable before the Salamanders.
A Combine soldier, seemingly some kind of melee-specialized model, abandoned shooting. It burst through a second-floor window of a building, extending huge claws gleaming with cold light from its arms, pouncing down from mid-air like a preying mantis towards a Salamander warrior who was firing short bursts with a bolter below.
Its movement was swift and precise, with an inhuman coordination, its claws aiming straight for the connection between the Salamander's helmet and chest plate.
Theoretically, this was one of the most vulnerable parts.
However, facing this sudden melee assault capable of tearing armor, the Salamander warrior didn't even raise his gun muzzle.
He just turned sideways slightly, dodging the direct hit of the claws with dexterity completely inconsistent with his massive body.
At the moment the Combine soldier brushed past him, his right fist encased in a heavy power gauntlet, like a heavy cannon out of the barrel—simple, direct, yet containing mountain-crushing power—delivered a short, powerful uppercut from bottom to top, smashing ruthlessly into the Combine soldier's chest and abdomen. Bam—!!!
A not loud, yet abnormally dull impact sound rang out.
No stalemate, no confrontation.
The body of that Combine soldier, like a rag doll hit head-on by a high-speed vehicle, suddenly disintegrated and exploded in mid-air.
The hard bio-mechanical exoskeleton shattered inch by inch. Internal bionic structures and unknown liquids scattered, turning into a rapidly spreading foam of mixed metal and flesh.
Only a few larger pieces of wreckage and the powerless claws fell to the ground with a "clang."
The Salamander warrior shook off the filth on his gauntlet as if he had just done something insignificant, then raised his bolter again, advancing with steady, deadly steps to find the next target worthy of destruction.
This was the Salamanders' way of fighting—no fancy tricks, only the utmost efficiency and power.
They were like a red-hot knife cutting through butter. Wherever they passed, the resistance of the Combine and National Guard was swept away directly, disintegrating rapidly.
The path to City 17's rebirth was being paved quickly with the corpses of traitors and aliens as cornerstones.
And in the center of City 17.
That towering, strangely styled mega-structure symbolizing the Combine's absolute rule—the Citadel.
This place also failed to escape the Empire's hammer from the sky.
Several drop pods, with precise and violent posture, smashed directly through the plaza and auxiliary structures at the bottom of the tower, wedging into the core area of this cancer like nails.
Hatches opened wide. Three Salamander tactical squads surged out like tigers released from cages, and with jaw-dropping efficiency, began to clear all defenders on the periphery of the mega-structure.
Thump! Thump!
Short bursts from bolters echoed in the magnificent lobby, precisely eliminating every Combine soldier and National Guard traitor attempting to resist.
Melta weapons burned huge holes in heavy alloy doors. Plasma cannons vaporized reinforced fortifications along with the guards behind them.
Resistance was futile. The Astartes advanced rapidly into the interior of the tower with firm steps and seamless coordination, as if conducting a cleanup operation rehearsed countless times.
While the peripheral clearing battle was raging, in the open space in front of the tower's main entrance, a strange blue light rippled violently like water waves.
The light receded, and a squad emitting an even more terrifying aura appeared out of thin air.
The leader, clad in a streamlined, eye-catching pure white custom power armor, was none other than Primarch Jaghatai Khan.
His long black hair tied in a ponytail fluttered slightly under the magnetic field constraint at the neck of the power armor. His sharp eyes scanned this tower of sin before him, filled with icy killing intent.
Standing beside him was the Captain of the Salamanders 3rd Company, a veteran of hundreds of battles—Gao Zan.
Gao Zan's heavy Terminator armor was covered with marks of time, and he tightly gripped a massive power hammer humming with an energy field.
Behind them were five elite guard members of the 3rd Company, also clad in heavy Terminator armor. Like moving steel fortresses, they formed the sharp knife of this decapitation operation.
The 3rd Company Captain's voice, processed by a vox-caster, carried a metallic texture as he said to Jaghatai: "Primarch, peripheral clearing is nearly complete. According to the plan, we are responsible for opening the path for you. My company guard and I will clear every corner of this hive with you until that traitor leader Wallace Breen is captured or executed!"
"..."
Jaghatai nodded, the joints of his white power armor making faint hydraulic sounds.
He drew the sword gifted by Fulgrim.
It was a power sword gleaming with cold light, engraved with Imperial maxims. Jaghatai's tone was steady and confident: "Leave it to me, Captain. Let us end the evil here."
Without unnecessary nonsense, the assault began.
The 3rd Company Captain took the lead. His power hammer, carrying the force of ten thousand jun, smashed directly into the massive alloy gate that required special clearance to open.
BOOM!!!
Amidst the deafening noise, the heavy gate twisted and deformed as if hit by a cannon shell, then the whole thing flew inward, smashing a squad of Combine soldiers waiting in full battle array behind the door into meat paste.
The Terminator guard followed closely, rolling into the interior of the tower like a road roller.
Power gauntlets roared, heavy bolters swept. Any enemy appearing on their advance route, whether Combine soldiers hiding behind cover or National Guard elites attempting to snipe relying on complex terrain, was instantly crushed by absolute firepower and strength.
Jaghatai's figure weaved through the team, his speed far exceeding the heavily armored Terminators.
The white armor turned into a blurred shadow of light. Every swing of the power sword precisely cut through enemy vital points or severed key energy conduits, opening a path for the team.
His combat style combined the strength and speed of a Primarch, like dancing a deadly dance of death.
However, as they went deeper into this mega-structure, the scenes they saw made these battle-hardened Imperial warriors feel suppressed anger and pain.
They saw countless humans fixed on cold operating tables, undergoing cruel memory wiping and neural modification.
Those people had vacant eyes, like lambs waiting to be slaughtered, their self-awareness being systematically erased.
They discovered bio-modification factories, where twisted, half-human half-machine bodies were suspended in transparent culture tanks—Combine soldiers in the process of being "manufactured."
Seeing those compatriots who still vaguely retained human outlines but were forcibly implanted with alien machinery and twisted into weapons of war, a deep sorrow and rage grew in every Salamander's heart.
"How dare they... treat humans like this!"
A Terminator guard member looked at a human "specimen" half-dismantled to display the modification process, squeezing out words full of killing intent through clenched teeth.
The Salamanders Legion was known within the Empire for being gentle to civilians and dedicated to protection and construction.
Witnessing human compatriots in another universe suffering such inhuman torture and desecration, this extreme contrast made them empathize and burn with anger.
Jaghatai gripped the hilt of his sword tightly.
A Primarch's perception could better feel the pain and despair permeating this space.
His low voice rang in the comms channel, with unquestionable resolve: "Record all of this. These are evidence of the Combined Empire's unforgivable crimes. Every alien and traitor involved must pay with blood!"
Subsequently, they advanced with greater speed and a more furious posture, destroying all resistors encountered along the way—
Whether cold Combine "creations" or technical personnel aiding the tyrant—all were utterly destroyed.
After clearing a hub area guarded by better-equipped, faster-reacting Combine elite guards, they finally reached the core area on the top floor of the tower.
A gigantic door, ornately decorated and out of place with the surrounding cold technological feel, marked the location of the final target.
Gao Zan stepped forward. Without even using a weapon, he just raised his huge armored foot and kicked fiercely.
Bang!
The huge door shattered at the sound.
Behind the door was an extremely wide luxurious office overlooking the entire chaotic City 17.
A figure in a suit, hair combed meticulously, back facing them, was standing in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window, seemingly admiring the "scenery" outside.
It was a scroll of the end of his rule, composed of explosions, flames, and the trails of Imperial drop pods.
That was Wallace Breen, the traitor of humanity, the puppet ruler of the Combine on Earth...
______
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