On the perpetually restless front line of Plantidium, Pyro was lying in the muddy slope outside the trench in a completely unbefitting manner.
His arms were tucked behind his head, and outwardly he appeared to be gazing up at the "sky," permanently shrouded in a thick green mist and devoid of sunlight. In reality, only he knew that a pale blue system interface was hovering before him—he was leisurely browsing the player forums.
After all, the Tyranid attacks weren't continuous. They often fell silent for several hours before launching another frantic tide of assault, and the timing of the attacks was utterly random.
No one could maintain one hundred percent vigilance during this long and oppressive wait, so during non-combat periods, the Helldivers were free to do whatever they pleased, provided they didn't stray too far from the defensive line.
When the Tyranids actually began their assault, the unique warning system built from the lives of the Helldivers would activate: the scouts deployed on the front-most line would swiftly die and be reborn at the rear, bringing back the first-hand alarm.
This short time window was more than enough for the Helldivers along the entire line to mobilize and take their positions.
Suddenly, a deep, powerful roar of engines pierced the background noise of the battlefield and drilled into Pyro's ears.
Pyro's body reacted instantly, faster than his brain. With a swipe of his finger, the system interface vanished. He then violently sat up, his eyes filled with alertness and confusion.
"Why is there a Leman Russ Tank engine sound here?" he muttered internally. "And that noise... it's definitely more than one tank. What's going on, did an entire armored regiment show up at our miserable position?"
He followed the source of the roar, which sounded like the bellowing of a steel behemoth, and was astonished to find that his guess was actually correct—and even understated.
Within his line of sight, rows of Leman Russ Battle Tanks, painted in standard camouflage, were slowly rolling past.
Their turrets were raised, and their treads ground across the soil, which was mixed with blood, flesh, and spent casings, creating a teeth-grinding squeal. He could see at least several dozen of them, and in the swirling toxic mist beyond his vision, who knew how many more of these steel monsters were present.
"Holy cow, big move..." Pyro mumbled. Just then, he saw Reinhard, the Astartes commander of his squad, engaging in a brief discussion with a Space Marine wearing Power Armor with a different Chapter livery.
Pyro immediately guessed that the new Astartes had accompanied this enormous armored force. As for why he could identify him as "new"—after all, there were only about a dozen Astartes in the company initially, and after long periods of fighting side-by-side, their respective Chapter colors were deeply ingrained in everyone's mind. Even without consciously memorizing it, the sudden appearance of an Astartes with a completely different paint scheme would feel foreign.
Reinhard finished his exchange with the Astartes, who offered a quick chest-pounding salute and then turned to leave. Reinhard turned around and spotted Pyro not far away, walking directly toward him.
"Perfect timing, saves me the trouble of finding you," Reinhard's voice came through his helmet's speaker, carrying a hint of barely concealed excitement.
"Did this armored regiment come here to try and break through?" Pyro preemptively asked, his gaze still fixed on the endless column of tanks.
"Hmm, indeed. Get your soldiers ready shortly; we will be coordinating with them for a forward advance." Reinhard then specifically corrected Pyro's terminology. "Also, it's not an armored regiment, it's an Armored Division."
He paused, seemingly organizing his thoughts: "And, following this Armored Division, significant additional forces are being moved toward this location. The Battle-Brother I just spoke to didn't tell me the exact numbers."
Reinhard continued, "He merely said vaguely—[enough to deal with any situation]."
"Whoa!" Pyro, of course, understood the terrifying weight behind those words, and he became incredibly excited, practically leaping to his feet. "Are they finally done holding back? Is this going to be an all-out general offensive?"
Reinhard agreed with Pyro's assessment and nodded: "Up until now in this war, the High Command's strategy has been dominated by caution, constantly probing and adjusting.
This time... they probably feel the adjustment period is over and have decided to use a large-scale military action to test the results. If the action is very successful, then they will capitalize on the momentum, with major forces immediately following up to expand the gains.
"If a genuine opportunity presents itself... I believe it's not impossible for this to evolve into a full offensive utilizing the majority of our forces against the Tyranid Swarm."
It was clear that fighting alongside the Helldivers for so long had significantly influenced Reinhard, the normally meticulous Astartes, to the point where he was even using player-centric slang like "zerg rush"..
Pyro excitedly punched his left palm with his right fist: "Nice! I've been feeling suffocated by constantly taking hits passively. Now I'm going to ride those damn bugs and show them who the boss is!"
After his excitement, Pyro seemed to suddenly remember something and scratched his helmet. "Hmm, wait a minute... didn't a nuclear bomb just go off in our sector? Why is the direction of the general offensive specifically chosen to be here?"
"The attack direction was chosen precisely because a nuclear bomb was detonated here," Reinhard said in a matter-of-fact tone. "This area has just suffered a nuclear explosion, and the high-intensity nuclear radiation has largely not dissipated. In this environment, the concentration of Tyranid biological forces will naturally be weaker here than elsewhere."
He tilted his head, his helmet's eyepiece looking at Pyro. "If it were other Astra Militarum regiments, they might have to worry about the baseline human tolerance for radiation. But... neither we Astartes nor you Helldivers ever pay any mind to mere nuclear radiation."
"Give the nuclear bomb and nuclear radiation some respect,"
Pyro complained in a tone that Reinhard could not possibly comprehend, as he looked at the area that was continuously emitting high-energy warnings on his radiation detector.
"It's a classic element of the post-apocalyptic wasteland genre, and it flourished in humanity's ancient literature for decades, if not a hundred years."
Reinhard's helmet tilted slightly; clearly, the cognitive filter prevented him from fully understanding the remark. But he understood the word "wasteland."
He let out a low chuckle, muffled by the speaker: "You all are at least half responsible for Plantidium turning into this kind of wasteland now. I don't see any sign of you being uncomfortable here, in fact, you seem to be enjoying it."
"Jeez, how can you pin that on us? We wouldn't resort to such extreme measures if the Tyranids hadn't shown up, right?" Pyro, now so familiar with Reinhard, even let some local dialect slip out unconsciously.
"This is called defeating fire with nuclear fire!"
Reinhard shook his head, apparently accustomed to the logically quirky remarks that often erupted from the Helldivers. He did not continue the topic, and his tone became serious again: "Enough idle talk. Now that you understand the task, go prepare."
He raised his gauntleted hand, pointing at the tank formation that flowed like a torrent: "The first wave of the armored assault will begin in thirty minutes. Our mission is to follow closely behind the Leman Russ cluster as clearance infantry, securing the gaps torn in the enemy lines and protecting their flanks, preventing small Tyranid organisms, such as Hormagaunts and Termagants, from getting near the tank treads."
"Understood," Pyro's expression also grew serious.
"This is a crucial battle," Reinhard's eyepieces flashed in the toxic mist. "Command wants to see the results of our joint operations over this period. Do not disappoint them, and certainly do not disappoint me."
"Don't worry," Pyro grinned, his eyes alight with the pure excitement and fanaticism of a player. "We Helldivers specialize in hard fights."
Without further delay, he turned and jogged back to the Helldivers' position. As he ran, he skillfully opened his loudspeaker.
"Attention everyone! Attention, everyone! Main quest updated!"
Pyro's voice was transmitted clearly over the comms channel to every player who was currently slacking off.
"Stop squatting around! Big event! All-out general offensive! Our company is leading the charge with the Armored Division! We move out in thirty minutes! Magazines, potions, grenades—bring absolutely everything you can carry! Die, respawn, and keep charging! If anyone dares to idle in place, I will personally stuff them into a cannon barrel and fire them out!"