In this moment of life and death, the human warriors displayed admirable combat prowess!
Gutierrez stood at the front lines like a thunderous War God, his roar echoing through the communication channel: "First squad, form a circular defensive line! Second squad, establish a crossfire net!"
The Astartes Warriors immediately sprang into action. Although Gutierrez's squad had suffered considerable casualties in the battle, with only seven remaining from their ten-man Kill Team, another Deathwatch Astartes squad had now appeared beside them.
Under Gutierrez's command, both squads quickly set up a simple but extremely sturdy defensive formation.
The Deathwatch Warriors swiftly occupied key positions, their heavy Bolters immediately forming a crossfire net.
Gutierrez personally directed the formation adjustments, his tactical visor constantly flashing with calculated data for fire coverage.
The remaining Adeptus Arbites Enforcers and Storm Troopers surrounded them. Though these mortal warriors were exhausted, their morale surged upon seeing the arrival of the Astartes.
The Enforcers piled up any available materials into makeshift barricades, while the Storm Troopers quickly transported ammunition boxes and medical supplies, helping the Astartes consolidate their defensive line.
An elder Enforcer even personally operated a heavy lumbering gun, establishing an additional fire support point at a critical location.
The Mechanical Sage's body erupted with dazzling blue light, and countless nano-scale repair units emerged on the surface of her damaged mechanical tentacles.
"System reorganizing… combat efficiency restored to 87%…" The cold electronic voice was filled with mechanical fanaticism as the Mechanical Sage activated her ultimate trump card, beginning self-repair.
Broken cables automatically reconnected like living things, and new servo-limbs extended from beneath damaged armor plates. This Mechanical Sage was regaining combat power at a visible rate!
Her Kasrkin troopers also surrounded her, awaiting repairs before returning to the battlefield.
The Sisters of Battle bloomed on the battlefield like burning holy flames!
Their pristine Power Armor was now mottled with smoke and blood, yet it only added to their sacred, Stern aura!
A Hospitaller knelt beside a wounded soldier, her faceplate shattered, revealing a face shining with the light of devotion.
She held a gilded Imperial Proclamations in both hands, scriptures erupting from her mouth like swords, and golden holy light poured from the pages. The wounded soldier's injuries healed at a visible rate!
This miracle caused the surrounding warriors to instinctively kneel and pray.
"For the Emperor!" The Sisters wielding Bolters shouted in unison.
Their shooting was terrifyingly precise, each bolt accurately piercing the Orks' foreheads.
The flames from their muzzles traced holy paths through the smoke, and the sound of spent casings hitting the ground was as solemn as church bells.
Their figures appeared and disappeared in the battlefield mist, their pristine forms shining in the firelight.
These were not angels bringing salvation, but harbingers of death unleashing divine wrath!
Wherever they passed, the roar of Bolters was the most devout holy song!
"Purge!" The Sister Superior raised her flamer high, and the promehthium flames became a holy baptismal fire.
The Orks wailed as they turned to ash in the holy flames, while the Sisters' chanting grew even more fervent.
This was not war; this was a grand mass with blood as sacrifice!
Meanwhile, on the other side of the battlefield, the psychic ritual constructed by Alex, Ahriman, and another Supreme Psyker emanated a suffocating pressure.
The three figures' robes flapped wildly in the Warp Storm, and psychic runes swirled around them like living things.
This was by no means an ordinary spell, but the critical juncture in Vallis's prophecy, capable of rewriting the fate of the Rostov Sub-Sector.
Teleporting the Ork Battle Moon to the Necrons' throne world was already a dangerous gamble.
The clash of two arch-enemies had indeed bought the Imperium a moment of respite, but this fragile balance could collapse at any time.
Alex knew better than anyone that when the barbaric greenskins and the cold technology of the Necrons decided a victor, the winning side would crush the entire Sub-Sector with lightning speed.
While the Imperial Fleet was powerful, in a frontier region like Rostov, the garrison forces were simply incapable of resisting a complete Necron Dynasty or an Ork Battle Moon.
Neither the Necrons nor the Orks were something the Rostov Sub-Sector or the Mariupol Sector could withstand.
The Imperium might defeat them after paying a huge price, but in that case, there wouldn't be much left of the entire Rostov Sub-Sector.
Alex had been racking his brain on how to thoroughly eliminate these two threats, having to rush the Imperial Army into battle.
However, Vallis's prophecy not only gave him a sense of urgency but also revealed a permanent solution—an opportunity to eliminate both threats simultaneously.
According to the confidential information Alex possessed, when Muswag and Tzanazte decided a victor, the winner would return to Khorne's demonic realm, restoring the full power of a Daemon Prince.
This process would inevitably open a passage to the Blood God's domain.
Normally, such a spatial rift would be fleeting—demons require a huge price to manifest in the material world, but returning to the Warp is almost effortless, possibly even an automatic repatriation.
But this time was different.
If the victor directly met Khorne himself, for a psychic master like Ahriman, it would be an excellent opportunity to lock onto the Blood God's domain coordinates.
More crucially, they could use this to tear space in reverse, opening a gigantic rift large enough to swallow planetary-sized objects.
Alex's plan was nothing short of madness: first, help Muswag kill Tzanazte, then use the spatial fluctuations during his return journey to hurl the Battle Moon and the Necron throne world as "sacrifices" into Khorne's demonic realm.
This plan required almost miraculous precision.
Even with Ahriman and the Supreme Psyker's assistance, the chances of success remained slim.
Locking onto Khorne's demonic realm was already incredibly difficult, let alone maintaining a gigantic rift large enough to transport two planets.
But now, fate had given Alex a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—not one, but two ready-made "keys" were right before him.
"Time is running out," Alex gazed at the gradually forming psychic vortex at the center of the ritual. He could feel that the battle between the two Daemon Princes had entered a white-hot phase.
Ahriman's staff suddenly burst with dazzling light: "The Warp tide is intensifying!"
His warning carried a rare urgency.
Alex knew that this gamble had reached its most critical moment—they had to complete this ultimate ritual, capable of banishing both sides together, before the two Daemon Princes decided a victor.
Otherwise, what awaited the Rostov Sub-Sector would be a one-sided slaughter.
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