More than ten days later.
Mua'dib lay prone on the edge of a deserted industrial zone, peering through a broken ventilation duct into the dim and deep middle levels of the hive city below. The air was thick with the smell of engine oil, decay, and an indescribable stench. In the distance, a low mechanical roar and the sound of dripping water in pipes could be heard.
Before him, a sight barely discernible through binoculars unfolded—a vast and eerie xenos position. It was a complex fortification made up of countless old factories and pipe hubs, corrupted and modified by the xenos. It spread out densely like a cancerous tumor, with some structures even penetrating the upper foundation.
"Such a large scale, at least ten thousand in number, and it looks quite orderly. There must be a genestealer in here." Mua'dib, the First Company Commander, lowered his binoculars and muttered to himself, his voice filled with an irrepressible excitement.
Why did Mua'dib become a Company Commander after only a little over ten days?
It turned out that within ten days of the Military Committee's establishment, the Helldivers Company officially reached a size of five hundred men. After careful consideration, Robert decided to establish battalion-level units.
Although the Astra Militarum had a tradition of "regiments and battalions not separating," players and regular Imperial Astra Militarum were ultimately different.
The cohesion and organizational structure of players required more flexible adjustments. With the establishment of battalion-level units, Robert's position on the system panel naturally changed from Company Commander to Battalion Commander.
During this period, some players wanted to be lone wolves, and the Military Committee did not force them, merely letting them try. However, they soon discovered that playing this game as a lone wolf was simply not for humans—as lone wolves, they would lose all their exp upon death, and in this perilous world, they could die dozens of times just by sleeping at night. Ultimately, these lone wolves, without exception, chose to return to the Helldivers.
"Speaking of which, I thought you, Mua'dib, as an expert at self-destruction, would choose to be a grunt," the First Company's Deputy Company Commander quipped beside him. "Why would you want to be a Company Commander?"
"What do you know? I'm just closely following the footsteps of the great Robert," Mua'dib glared at him, then grinned. "Alright, stop with the nonsense, give me the walkie-talkie."
"Here." The Deputy Company Commander suppressed his laughter and handed over the walkie-talkie.
Mua'dib took the walkie-talkie and pressed the talk button: "Three-Star calling Water Tank, Three-Star calling Water Tank... Damn it, I really shouldn't have bothered to let the Military Committee give me a codename."
The Deputy Company Commander stifled a laugh beside him: "This is the collective will, Company Commander, you'll just have to endure it."
A static sound came from the other end of the walkie-talkie, mixed with the background noise of heavy machinery: "This is Water Tank, what does the Company Commander need us for?"
"It's your turn," Mua'dib's tone instantly became serious. "Come to Gamma Sector - Freight Station 07, there's a genestealer. Over."
The voice on the other end clearly became excited: "Received!"
Soon, the heavy roar of engines and the crunching sound of metal tracks crushing ruins came from behind, as a steel behemoth slowly drove into this dilapidated industrial zone.
This was precisely the war machine they had exchanged for merit points in the system store—the leman russ punisher.
This classic Imperial-issue heavy tank possessed terrifying firepower. The menacing multi-barreled weapon on its turret was a large-caliber Punisher Gatling cannon; the front of the hull was equipped with a heavy flamer for close-range trench clearing; and each sponson on the sides had a heavy bolter, providing additional suppressive fire.
It could be said that this leman russ variant, while possessing extreme anti-infantry capabilities, also had heavy bolters that could pose a threat to light armored units. It was perfectly suited for clearing out these genestealers remnants.
Although the living forces of these genestealers had not suffered significant losses, without their Patriarch, they were like a beheaded giant snake, their massive bodies still writhing but without a unified will, no longer able to effectively expand or organize. Therefore, describing them as "remnants" was very appropriate.
And there was a reason why the Helldivers had been intensely clearing out the genestealers for the past ten days.
On one hand, it was to earn merit points. Since the nuclear explosion, genestealers had gone from being a tough nut to crack to being as weak as cultists, but they yielded at least three times more merit points than cultists, which was a windfall for players. The fact that they now had enough merit points to arm themselves with heavy equipment like tanks was clear proof.
On the other hand, it was to strike while the iron was hot, to finish them off while they were down. They had to prevent a new Patriarch from emerging within the genestealers during the chaos and reorganizing them.
After all, a groundbreaking tactic like a nuclear bomb drop could only be used once. Afterwards, the enemy would surely be vigilant and would never again gather all their high-ranking members conspicuously in a single building as they did last time.
Once the tank was in position, the First Company's infantry immediately fanned out behind the tank, constructing temporary firing positions.
Almost simultaneously, the genestealers nest discovered these uninvited guests. Piercing shrieks rose and fell, and countless twisted figures surged out of the shadows and broken holes like a tide. Wielding claws and crude industrial weapons, they charged fearlessly towards the Helldivers.
However, they faced a steel wall of death.
The leman russ punisher's turret rotated slightly, locking onto the densest group of enemies below. The Gatling cannon's barrels began to pre-spin, emitting a grating hum, as if Death itself was clearing its throat.
The next second, a scorching torrent of tracer rounds erupted!
"Da da da da da da—!"
It was a dense, furious storm of metal! A barrage of hundreds of large-caliber bullets per second formed an invisible, giant scythe, sweeping across the entire battlefield. The genestealers at the very front didn't even have time to let out a cry of agony before they were instantly torn into a flying mist of blood and shredded flesh.
Their proudly tough chitinous carapaces were as fragile as paper in the face of this steel storm.
Sturdy industrial cover and makeshift barricades were easily leveled like sandcastles under the onslaught of the barrage, turning into a sky full of dust. The entire battlefield was enveloped by a moving death zone; any living thing that entered its range vanished within a second.
After only a few dozen seconds of sweeping fire, the Gatling cannon stopped, its barrels glowing red from overheating.
The surging tide of xenos below had vanished, leaving behind only a mess of dismembered remains and ruins riddled with holes.
Once the high-threat dense targets were cleared, the Helldivers infantry immediately raised their weapons, moved past their cover, and began to advance.
The leman russ punisher's ammunition was precious, and if it fired at full power, its ammunition reserves would run out in a few minutes. Wasting this valuable firepower on scattered individuals was clearly a great luxury. The real cleanup work still had to be done by the infantry.