The Space Wolves' orbital bombardment lasted an entire hour, turning the lands surrounding Tizca into a sea of fire.
Where the phosphex bombs had fallen, not even a blade of grass remained.
When the bombardment ended, Tizca stood alone, like an island in a sea of ash, protected by its shimmering shield.
Its majestic marble walls were unscathed. Its magnificent pyramids floated in the air, surrounded by soaring spires.
Before the bombardment had fully ceased, iron-grey clouds descended upon Tizca.
As they drew closer, their true forms were revealed.
Waves of gunships, assault craft, and transports led the way, followed by heavy transports carrying armored vehicles and artillery.
Three hundred Sokar-pattern Stormbirds were the first to dive, skimming the burning sea towards Tizca's northeast.
The Stormbird formation struck the port facilities along the western boundary, separating the city from the Valper Sea.
The first iron-grey Sokar-pattern Stormbird swept over the port, its brutal prow emblazoned with the twin-wolf emblem.
Missiles screamed into the fishing boats that had set out before dawn.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The fishing boats, laden with their catch, exploded into fragments, scattering across the shore.
Autocannons swept across the docks. The fishermen were blasted into bloody mist.
Landing gear slammed down. The moment the Stormbird touched down, the assault ramp crashed to the ground.
A giant in wolf-pelt armor leaped out. Leman Russ was the first invader to set foot on Prospero.
He howled at the sky. Freki and Geri howled with him.
Dozens of Sokar-pattern Stormbirds dove towards the Wolf King's landing zone, missiles streaking into fuel tanks and storage silos.
Iron-grey Thunderhawks and transports descended rapidly, shattering the marble seawalls, disgorging thirty thousand Space Wolf assault troops.
The moment they stepped onto the deck, they dispersed into dozens of packs, following standard Space Wolf tactics, and attacked the old city of Tizca, nestled against the white mountains.
Firelight reflected off iron-grey armor. The Space Wolves advanced through the flames.
Tizca's well-trained militia concentrated their fire on the invaders.
Crackle.
Beams of light pierced several pairs of visors, felling the Wolf invaders.
Grey Hunters, wearing wolf-skull war-helms, activated their chainswords with a roar.
They crashed into the militia lines. Flesh and blood sprayed across the iron-grey armor.
Thud! thud! thud!
The Grey Hunters' boots crushed the bodies, charging into the maze of jade buildings.
From the high rooftop of the Nephrateia District Library, Katon Aphaea, a Palatine Guard, shouted over the comm channel: "Guardians, concentrate fire! Kill the savage invaders!"
The Palatine were the ancient royal guard of Tizca. Its warriors had defended the royal courts for generations.
The young commander was the heir of one of Prospero's oldest houses. Like his ancestors, he led his warriors to defend their home.
Aphaea's defensive line at Kaphira Hill, on the port's edge, was the old city's first line of defense.
The Palatines' cannons roared, shells screaming into the iron-grey tide.
Boom, boom, boom.
Shells tore through iron-grey armor, hurling dozens of Space Wolves skyward.
Four packs of the front line howled as one, crashing into the trenches at the hill's base.
Bolters roared, blasting Palatines into bloody mist.
Frost axes spun, severing mortal bodies and lives.
The Wolves howled, leaping from the corpse-strewn trenches.
A second volley, along with layered fire from the hills, rained down like hail on the charging Wolves.
Las-beams crackled against iron-grey armor, deflected, leaving only scorch marks.
Roaring shells slammed into war-helms, turning wolf-bone and helmets into fireballs.
Five Wolves fell before the second trench.
A dozen Grey Hunters leaped, crashing into the trench.
Thud, thud, thud.
Palatines were crushed under their boots. Viscous flesh clung to the Wolves' soles.
The Wolves leaped again, the flesh sloughing off their armor as they charged.
The stench of blood and gore, mingled with the terrible howls, crashed against the Palatines' lines like the iron-grey tide.
From the high rooftop of the Nephrateia District Library, Aphaea surveyed the battlefield.
Not a single Palatine had retreated against the Astartes. They held the line against the savage assault, executing their rolling defense.
But the unleashed Wolves were far more savage than he had anticipated.
Two minutes. Only two minutes.
The Wolves' vanguard had pierced the trenches and layered defenses of Kaphira Hill.
Aphaea watched the Wolves tear into his home. He bit his lip until blood dripped down his chin.
The pain cleared his thoughts. He looked at the winding jade streets and opened the comm channel again.
"Withdraw into the city. Use every park, every theater, every marketplace, every restaurant. Resist."
"We are the Palatine Guards. We will live and die with this city."
"Until the Wolves kill every last one of us, the Palatine will stand!."
The comm channel echoed with shouts: "The Palatines stand!"
Russ strode through blood-soaked jade streets. He opened the comm channel, giving orders.
His ice-blue eyes scanned the enemies slipping into corners, into the jade labyrinth.
He knew he could not give the Thousand Sons time to lay their bizarre psychic traps. The Wolves would be bogged down in a sorcerous mire.
He had to break the defenders' morale with a wild, Fenrisian frenzy.
"Release the Blood Claws! Pursue the fleeing enemy!"
"Grey Hunters, continue the advance!"
"Target: the Acropolis Magna!"
The savage neophytes were unleashed. The Blood Claws formed packs of hundreds, each led by a veteran Grey Hunter.
A Blood Claw, his face twisted in a hideous grin, howled, swinging his chainaxe as he charged into a grand, colonnaded plaza.
Las-beams crackled against his iron-grey armor. He charged straight into a pillar.
Boom!
The pillar collapsed, crushing a Palatine into pulp.
The Blood Claw, his eyes yellowing, charged the panicked civilians.
His chainaxe roared, its teeth spinning. Dozens of civilians were torn apart, their flesh and blood sprayed.
The spray of gore splattered his visor. The smell of blood filled his enhanced nostrils through his respirator.
He licked his lips, turning his yellowed eyes to the fleeing civilians. Low-threat runes scrolled across his tactical display.
He howled, lunging at the civilians.
Bang!
The Blood Claw was hurled aside.
A Grey Hunters slammed his fist into his shoulder. "Damn it!"
"Our targets are Tizca's defenders! Don't waste time on civilians!"
Inside the Pavoni Pyramid, Chief Librarian Hathor Maat checked the communications.
The Wolves had broken the Palatines' line in two minutes. Their massacre of survivors in the streets had lasted fifteen minutes.
In seventeen minutes, they had breached the old city and reached the banks of the Ressam River, separating it from the Acropolis Magna.
His gaze halted on a flickering crimson message: 'Leman Russ has personally taken the field!'
'He is charging the Acropolis Magna's gates!'
Hathor took a deep breath, looking at the thirty-one black-armored warriors arrayed before him.
"I need your help now. The targets have been sent to you."
"Lord Hathor, we will execute your commands." The Shadow of Order lieutenant struck his chest with his fist.
Hathor had his gene-father's secret orders. They had to obey.
....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
[email protected]/DaoistJinzu