The ancient teleporters aboard the Venerable Land Raiders were so technologically advanced that before any mind could register their displacement, the ten vehicles, each possessed of a unique and fiercely loyal Machine Spirit, had materialized within the lightless abyss of the Mariana Trench.
Though titled a trench, Holy Terra had long since been bled of its oceans. It was now the Mariana Chasm, a depth so profound that even without the obstruction of water, the sun's rays had not touched its floor for eons. Even ten millennia after the Unification, the secrets held within this deepest reach of the Throneworld remained unknown to most, but it had clearly become a paradise for the vermin-tide.
Thump-thump-thump-thump—!
The Storm Bolters mounted on the hulls of the auramite-gold Land Raiders and the pintle-mounted heavy weaponry roared in unison with the thunder of their tracks, unleashing a localized hurricane of fire. These ten golden engines moved like an invincible Imperial spearhead, surging through the gloom of the abyss.
"Aieee—Stop-halt them! Block them, useless whelps!!"
A Skaven Chieftain shrieked and chattered, driving his subordinates forward to intercept the loathsome, "shiny-gold" vehicles. But neither Slave Rats nor Clanrats could stem the tide of this armored wedge. Every rat-thing in their path was summarily flattened, transformed into gory smears upon the rock.
The Chieftain attempted to flee, but the Machine Spirit of a leading Land Raider locked onto the wretch. A volley of fire vaporized his crude power armor and his body along with it.
"Man-things, man-things are here! Yes-yes, good-perfect! Lead them away, lead-draw them to the outsider-rats!!" A Warlord of Clan Verminus watched the golden column from a high cliffside. His beady eyes darted with malicious intent as he issued his command.
"Oh... your treachery is-is truly inspiring!" a subordinate Chieftain squeaked, rubbing his paws together with a sycophantic grin.
Among the Skaven, a Chieftain might rule a single clan, but a Warlord commanded a conglomerate of several. Given the sheer density and volatile nature of the Skaven population, the hierarchy was a labyrinth of overlapping titles; often, even the subordinates were unsure how many "masters" they served. Not that it mattered. To the high-ranking vermin, every subordinate was merely a meat-shield or a sacrifice-in-waiting.
Under the Warlord's orders, the Clanrats began to swarm toward a cavern far from the Clan Verminus inner sanctum, a tunnel leading toward the Gnawhole hub of a rival clan. The chaotic, chattering mass of rats provided the Custodes with a clear vector for their assault.
"There, Selana!" Vanius commanded the Custodian driver. The golden squadron veered, plunging into a gargantuan fissure-tunnel.
The Skaven used as bait were crushed without ever realizing their purpose. A few "lucky" survivors managed to scramble into the rival clan's Gnawhole base, but their reprieve was short-lived. A terrifying, bestial roar shook the cavern, and the fragile rock walls shattered under a titanic force as a monstrosity the size of a Warlord-class Titan burst into view.
The beast was encased in Tyranid chitinous plating. Beneath a torso that seemed to be the fused mass of a thousand rats, four spindly, massive legs supported the horror like a centaur of nightmares. Dozens of rat-heads writhed across its surface, chattering in agony. Three primary heads loomed largest, but the true intellect guiding this blasphemy was the shriveled, small head of a Skaven Packmaster nestled between the three giants.
It was a Hell-Pit Abomination, but one so utterly and catastrophically modified that it had become a Titan-grade "Brood Titan."
The colossus possessed five massive arms grafted with Warp-claws, Warp-flaying gauntlets, Warp-flesh-hooks, and oversized Ratling Cannons. Dozens of smaller, vestigial limbs clutched Warp-pistols and poison-wind globes, acting as secondary weapon batteries.
"DIE! DIE! DIE!!"
The Brood Titan roared with a polyphonic fury, its massive bulk crushing the terrified Clanrats in its path as it charged the Venerable Land Raiders. The Storm Bolters and pintle-guns hammered the beast, but an invisible field flickered into existence around the monster, deflecting the projectiles.
Deep beneath the chitin and necrotic muscle, several Void Shield generators had been stitched into the beast's anatomy. It was a desecration of technology; somehow, these generators remained operational while buried within the creature's warped tissues.
"Disembark! Slay it!" Vanius bellowed.
The hatches of the Land Raiders hissed open, operated by their Magos-level Machine Spirits, and the Allarus Terminators of the Gilded Fists vaulted into the fray.
ROAR—!
The Brood-Titan unleashed a chorus of screams. Its secondary limbs opened fire with a hail of Warp-rounds, while a massive Warp-flamer, the size of a siege cannon, leveled toward the golden warriors.
Vanius knew intuitively that the emerald fuel was lethal. The Commander of the Gilded Fists lunged forward with impossible speed, his Guardian Spear barking a stream of master-crafted bolter rounds. The explosions hammered the beast's flamer-arm; while the creature felt no pain, the kinetic force jarred its aim.
WHOOSH—!
A tsunami of green warpfire erupted, drenching the chasm in a sea of death that stretched for kilometers. The Skaven caught in the wake were incinerated instantly, their souls scorched to ash.
The Packmaster cackled with glee.
"Argh, it is sorcerous fire!" one of the Custodians grunted. Though Auramite armor is molecularly inert and capable of resisting most physical and psychic assaults, the Custodes are marginally more vulnerable to the empyric than the physical, the very reason they frequently deploy alongside the Sisters of Silence.
"Hahahaha! Gold-can-things... DIE!!"
The Brood Titan moved with a terrifying, centaur-like agility for a creature of its scale. It lunged forward, swinging a Warp-claw and a flaying-gauntlet with enough force to breach a Hive City's curtain wall.
Every strike was cataclysmic. Three Custodians raised their Storm Shields in a unified phalanx, only to be kicked hundreds of meters away by a massive clawed foot.
Thinking quickly, the Machine Spirit of a Venerable Land Raider surged forward, intercepting the flaying-gauntlet intended for Vanius. The impact was sickening; the Land Raider's Auramite hull buckled and groaned under the pressure of the grinder-gauntlet. The sheer power of the blow demonstrated the monster's lethal potential.
"Target the heads!" Vanius roared. He led a dozen Custodians in a leap, sprinting up the beast's massive arm toward the three primary rat-heads.
The remaining Custodians worked in small squads, coordinating with the Land Raiders to suppress the beast with concentrated bolter fire.
Climbing the monster was like traversing a living fortress of filth. Vanius found himself hacking through dozens of half-fused Skaven bodies that sprouted from the monster's skin like malignant tumors. Once within range, he unleashed a point-blank barrage of bolter fire into the central head.
Even Tyranid chitin could not withstand the sustained fury of the Custodes. The purple-black plating shattered, venting foul, oil-thick blood. The golden warriors surrounded the neck of one head, their power blades singing as they carved into the gristle.
"No! No! Get-get off!" the Packmaster screamed, forcing the Brood Titan into a violent frenzy.
The giant Warp-claw swept through the air, and its Ratling Cannons sprayed the area in a desperate attempt to shake the golden parasites from its hide.
"Ngh!"
Several Custodians lost their footing and were hurled into the abyss or crushed by the beast's flailing limbs. Yet, through the carnage, Vanius and his brothers succeeded. One of the gargantuan rat-heads was shorn from the shoulders, falling into the dark like a boulder.
To their grim realization, the monster did not slow. It became more erratic, more violent. They had struck a major blow, but the shriveled half-body of the Packmaster hidden among the folds of necrotic flesh remained the creature's true heart, and it was still very much alive.
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