At this very moment, Imperial soldiers were busy clearing out Zerglings.
They rode in armored personnel carriers. With covering fire from the carriers, they executed effective infantry-tank coordination. Zerglings couldn't penetrate their fire net.
Zerglings alone weren't a major threat. Overlords just silently sprayed Creep. Imperial soldiers couldn't help but think this battle was really simple—much easier than dealing with Orks or Chaos cultists.
Watching the Imperial soldiers smiling as they fought Zerglings, the Overmind ordered:
†Begin.†
Time to make these Imperial soldiers cry like Grots who'd stubbed their toe.
Another wave of Zerglings surged. Imperial soldiers clustered near the armored vehicles, firing continuously.
But soon, the soldiers noticed a problem.
"Are they moving faster?"
Zergling speed had increased by at least 50% compared to before. This was a massive boost. The already swift Zerglings, with this upgrade, charged Imperial positions at nearly vehicle speed.
"They are faster! Don't let them close! Prepare artillery!!!"
The towed artillery pieces behind the lines adjusted. Massive shells loaded into barrels. A thunderous volley echoed.
Then, the forward Imperial units completely failed to notice the shells falling on their own positions.
BOOM!
A single shell sent at least a dozen Imperial souls to the Golden Throne. The supervising Commissar stared dumbfounded. He immediately drew his pistol, aiming at the nearby artilleryman: "Are you insane?! That's our position!!!"
But the artilleryman looked up, his pupils inhuman yellow. He drew his sidearm knife, pouncing at the Commissar like a beast.
The next second, his head was blown off.
Similar scenes occurred across the Imperial force. Suddenly, soldiers attacking their own comrades were everywhere. Some successfully countered the Infested's attacks, only to be shot dead by nearby comrades mistaking them for Infested.
Others couldn't withstand the Infested and were torn to pieces.
For a time, the Imperial force descended into chaos. No one could trust anyone.
Zerglings seized the opportunity, breaching positions. Their eyes distinguished Infested soldiers carrying the Zerg virus from uninfected ones. They attacked only the uninfected.
This single wave of chaos threw the Imperial ground forces into disarray.
Zerglings even began attacking armored vehicles. Though the vehicles had strong firepower, their poor firing arcs made them vulnerable. Soon, Zergling claws ripped through armor, dragging out crew members and tearing them apart.
"Don't panic!!!"
An Imperial Commissar stood atop a Centaur armored personnel carrier.
"Find cover! No one fires at comrades! Prioritize these bugs!!!"
Several Zerglings bypassed other enemies, charging the Commissar. He spotted them, raised his pistol, and dropped two. Another leaped high, but he severed it with his chainsword.
"For the Emperor! For the Imperium! Prioritize the bugs!!!"
This Commissar was highly experienced. But the chaos caused by the Infested was too severe. In a corner he missed, an Infested soldier raised his lasgun. A single shot pierced the Commissar's chest.
†Infestation is absolutely a good thing. Hehehe.†
Infestation has an incubation period and retains part of the host's intelligence. Another terror of the Zerg.
Roaches and Hydralisks hadn't even appeared, yet this force was already in disarray.
They feared no enemy, but they didn't know who the enemy was. Comrades chatting with you moments ago might pounce the next second.
"Contract the line! Contract the line!!!"
"First kill those not attacked by the bugs!"
The commanders and Commissars judged correctly. Even risking being shot by comrades, the priority was contracting and stabilizing the line. Those clearly Infested, untouched by Zerglings, were obviously enemies.
This decision minimized casualties.
Fortunately, Infested numbers weren't high. Though everyone feared comrades attacking them, most weren't attacked.
Armored vehicles pulled back, forming a makeshift trench line, leaving gaps only wide enough for three or four people. Soldiers behind the vehicles were temporarily safe from Zergling swarms.
Commissars focused entirely on the soldiers. Anyone daring to raise a weapon at a comrade would be executed immediately.
The line stabilized temporarily, but vigilance couldn't be dropped.
Rear command posts soon received frontline reports. News of an unknown enemy—or a mysterious enemy capable of controlling comrades—spread rapidly.
"What? What did you say? The enemy has infiltrated our ranks?!"
The commander was stunned.
Impossible. If so, trust among soldiers would collapse.
He stepped out of the command post. Soldiers eyed each other warily, all on guard. Whoever raised a weapon or blade first would be deemed an enemy and killed.
The commander shared this concern. He felt someone might attack him at any moment—a decapitation strike.
But he was an Imperial officer. He couldn't show fear. If he was afraid, soldiers might desert.
"Everyone, I'm sure you've heard: the enemy is among us."
The commander stood with hands clasped behind his back, imposing posture. His mechanical eye swept across the troops, as if reading their thoughts.
"I can tell you now: that's a rumor! Propaganda from deserters trying to break our morale! No enemy is among us! Those who attacked comrades are all deserters—pathetic wretches who abandoned the Emperor's trust!!!"
This speech clearly disregarded soldier safety. Even a dozen enemies among them could cause significant casualties when they turned.
But in this hopeless, dark Warhammer 40K universe, such a snap decision—trading soldier safety for morale—was undeniably effective.
"We carry the Emperor's trust! We carry the Imperium's revival! We must not fear battle! All enemies of the Imperium shall tremble before us! Now, take your weapons! I want no one leaving their posts!"
†If I have the Infested turn now, they'd kill a few, but this commander would definitely execute them as 'deserters cowardly shirking battle.' And anyone who brings it up again, infected or not, he'll execute them too.†
Sure enough, a soldier, still hesitant, muttered quietly: "But sir, frontline reports say the enemy is among us."
Without a word, the commander raised his bolt pistol and blew the soldier's head off.
"There are no enemies here! Only deserters! Return to your posts!!!"
This brutal 'killing the chicken to scare the monkeys' instantly stabilized morale. Regardless of whether enemies lurked among them, soldiers swiftly returned to positions.
Anyone slow to move died. Even Infested yet to turn returned to their posts, waiting for opportunities.
So brutal. So autocratic. Treating lives like grass.
The Overmind, however, found it perfectly reasonable.
†That's the Imperial style.†