The entrance to the chamber was a gaping maw of bio-mechanical horror. Fused ribs of steel and chitin formed a grotesque archway, slick with alien slime and pulsing with a sickly, purple bio-luminescence. The air was thick and oppressively humid, carrying a scent of soured ozone and a musky, cloying odor that spoke of a nest. This was the heart of the infestation, the sanctum of the Patriarch.
"It is a blasphemy against the holy form of the machine and the flesh," Brother Valerius muttered, his bolter held tight against his chest plate.
"Steady, brother," Corvus cautioned, his force sword humming to life. "Faith is our shield."
Rimuru, however, was focused on something else. His Universal Sense was flooded with a singular, overwhelming psychic signal. It wasn't the chaotic, multi-faceted screaming of the Warp, but a focused, piercing broadcast of pure, predatory desire. It was the psychic equivalent of a black hole, an all-consuming hunger that promised only oblivion.
"Its mind is… very loud," Rimuru noted, his calm expression tightening with a hint of distaste. "It's broadcasting on a single frequency: 'Consume'."
As they stepped into the vast, dome-like chamber, they saw the source. At the center of the cavern, a throne of fused metal, human and xenos bones, and pulsating organic growths dominated the space. And upon it sat the Tyrant of the Hulk.
It was a Genestealer, but one magnified to a terrifying scale. It stood easily twice the height of a man, its body bloated with psychic potential, its cranium grotesquely enlarged and ridged with cerebral tissue that pulsed with inner light. Four massive, scythe-like arms rested at its side, each claw as long as a mortal's sword. But its true weapon was its gaze. Two pairs of intelligent, malevolent eyes fixed upon them, and in their depths, the Ultramarines saw the cold, patient hunger of the stars themselves. At the foot of the throne stood a phalanx of its brood—a dozen Purestrain Genestealers, the deadliest of their kind.
The moment their boots touched the floor of the chamber, the assault began. It was not a physical charge. It was an attack on the soul.
A wave of pure, undiluted terror washed over them, a psychic tsunami designed to shatter the minds of lesser beings. To the battle-brothers, it was a waking nightmare. They saw visions of their own horrific deaths, of their Chapter's glorious fortresses falling to ruin, of the God-Emperor's light being extinguished from the galaxy. It was anathema, a psychic poison that targeted their faith itself.
"Hold fast!" Corvus roared, his own mind a fortress against the tide. He projected a shield of azure light, a psychic barrier that blunted the worst of the assault, but it was under immense strain. He could feel the Patriarch's will pressing in, a relentless, crushing weight. Sergeant Cassian grunted, taking a knee, his bolter shaking in his hands as he fought the phantoms invading his mind.
Rimuru stood unaffected. To him, the psychic scream was merely unpleasant noise. He watched with clinical curiosity as the Space Marines, these paragons of mental fortitude, struggled against the assault.
<
So it's literally trying to scare them to death, Rimuru thought. That's not very sporting.
He saw Corvus's barrier flicker and knew he had to intervene. He didn't lash out with his own power. Instead, he simply was. He focused his will, not as a weapon, but as a statement of being. He projected a sense of absolute, unshakable calm.
It was the feeling of a peaceful, sun-drenched meadow. The quiet hum of a prosperous city. The unshakable loyalty of friends and the warmth of a home. It was an aura of pure tranquility, of order and peace so profound that it was anathema to the Hive Mind's screeching hunger.
The zone of calm spread from Rimuru like a ripple in a pond, washing over the Ultramarines. The nightmarish visions faded, the psychic pressure vanished, replaced by a quiet sense of clarity. Sergeant Cassian staggered back to his feet, shaking his head as if waking from a dream. Corvus's psychic shield stabilized, the Librarian looking at Rimuru with renewed astonishment.
The Patriarch on its throne let out a piercing shriek of fury. Its mental assault had been neutralized by a concept it couldn't comprehend: peace. Its hypnotic gaze had failed. Now, only violence remained.
With a psychic command, it unleashed its brood. The Purestrain Genestealers launched themselves forward, a blur of claws and fangs.
But now, the Space Marines were ready. Their minds were their own again.
"For the glory of Macragge!" Cassian bellowed, his voice filled with renewed, righteous fury. He opened fire, his bolter spitting explosive rounds that tore one of the charging xenos apart. "The Emperor protects!"
What followed was the brutal, close-quarters ballet of the Adeptus Astartes. Chainswords roared, chewing through alien flesh. Power armor withstood rending claws. Corvus met the charge head-on, his force sword a blur of blue light, parrying and thrusting with superhuman speed and grace. It was a maelstrom of disciplined violence.
Yet the Patriarch itself was the true threat. Ignoring the lesser combat, it descended from its throne, its massive form moving with an unnatural speed. It swatted a battle-brother aside, the Marine's armor groaning under the impact, and charged directly at Corvus.
The Librarian met the Tyrant's charge, his force sword clashing against its massive claws in a shower of psychic sparks. He was a master swordsman, but the Patriarch's raw, monstrous strength was overwhelming. It drove him back, step by step, its other set of arms swiping, forcing Corvus into a desperate defense.
Rimuru watched, noting that while the Space Marines were holding their own, the battle was a chaotic, bloody affair. It was time to end it.
He raised a single hand, his palm facing the dueling Librarian and Patriarch. Dark, violet-black electricity began to crackle around his fingers.
"Corvus, get clear," he said, his voice cutting through the din of battle.
Trusting the being implicitly now, Corvus used the Patriarch's momentum against it, sidestepping a blow and rolling away. For a single instant, the Patriarch's flank was exposed to Rimuru.
"Die," Rimuru said, the word a simple, quiet command.
A single, perfectly controlled bolt of Black Lightning shot from his hand. It struck the Patriarch in its side, and the effect was instantaneous. There was no explosion, only a silent, hungry consumption. The violet-black energy spread across the creature's body in a spiderweb of cracks, turning its chitinous armor and profane flesh to black dust. The Patriarch's psychic scream was cut short as its very existence was consumed by the destructive energy. In a second, all that was left was a faint silhouette of ash that collapsed and scattered on the grimy floor.
The remaining Genestealers, their psychic master suddenly gone, seemed to falter in confusion. It was all the opening the Ultramarines needed. With renewed vigor, they cut down the last of the brood.
Silence. The mission was complete. The psychic blight of the Hulk had been purged.
Corvus stood, breathing heavily, his armor scarred but his body intact. He looked at the spot where the Patriarch had been, then at the calm, silver-haired being who had just unleashed yet another form of impossible power.
He approached Rimuru, deactivating his force sword. He removed his helmet, revealing a scarred, grim face with stern, weary eyes. In a gesture of profound respect, he placed a clenched fist over the Aquila on his breastplate.
"On behalf of the Imperium of Man and the Ultramarines Chapter," Corvus said, his voice raw and sincere, "you have my thanks, Rimuru Tempest. We would have failed without you."
Rimuru gave him a warm, easygoing smile. "Happy to help. You guys are pretty incredible fighters up close." He looked around the now-quiet, disgusting chamber. "Well, now that your pest problem is sorted, shall we discuss my ride home?"