The shattered armor plates and twisted turrets now served as a barrier for the Astartes and the Helldivers against the Tyranid swarm.
The players used the wreckage for cover, unleashing a dense curtain of fire that formed an impenetrable wall of death. Driven by the Hive Mind, the Tyranids assaulted the line, but every attempt was repelled by the fierce firepower.
Their corpses piled up in front of the barricades, forming a reeking wall of flesh.
Reinhardt stood at the very front of the line, next to the remains of a Chimera transport, his Chainsword in hand, unmoving as a bedrock.
Any xenos daring to slip past the wall of fire was ruthlessly shredded by the buzzing teeth of his blade. His cold eyes scanned the battlefield, assessing the swarm's tactics and the state of the defenses, searching for the next critical node requiring support.
Just then, a mass of dark, fiery red liquid, trailing a long, sharp wake, shot out of the purple spore haze ahead, heading straight for Reinhardt! The liquid projectile sliced through the air with a deafening whistle.
Reinhardt's reaction was incredibly fast. He darted sideways, his massive Power Armor body moving out of the way in a fraction of a second.
The fiery red projectile scraped past his shoulder plate and violently impacted the Chimera transport wreckage serving as cover behind him.
"Boom!"
A deafening explosion followed, accompanied by a wave of searing heat and the pungent smell of burnt metal.
The already-ruined Chimera instantly disintegrated in the blast. Metal fragments and burning debris scattered everywhere, even pulverizing several Hormagaunts nearby.
"What was that?" Reinhardt looked in the direction of the attack. However, the battlefield ahead was blanketed by the Tyranids' signature purple spore fog, making visibility extremely low; he could see nothing.
Pyro, however, having spent countless hours browsing the forums, recognized the enemy from the remnants of the explosive solution. His face darkened, and he shouted, "Pyrovore! Damn it, we need to take that thing out, or we'll all go flying with our cover soon!"
Reinhardt turned his head towards Pyro, silently prompting him to elaborate.
Pyro took a deep breath and explained concisely: "It looks like a big termagaunt carrying a biological cannon. Its stomach acid dissolves anything and converts it into explosive solution for firing.
This thing has two brains—one for eating, one for aiming. It can execute precise strikes from extreme range, and the blast is huge—it'll tear through our cover easily!"
Reinhardt's gaze darted between the dense fog and the shattered defense line. Pyro was right. If they allowed the Pyrovore to continue its long-range bombardment, their hard-won cover would soon be annihilated.
They would then be completely exposed to the swarm, and their hard-fought advance would be undone.
"We charge out!" Pyro made a sudden, bold decision. "We'll draw the Tyranids' fire and create an opening for you, Reinhardt. On open ground like this, if the Pyrovore can hit us, then you, as an Astartes, can definitely hit it!"
At that statement, the surrounding players collectively drew a sharp breath. Leaving cover to charge into the heart of the spore-shrouded swarm, deliberately drawing Tyranid fire—it was a suicidal push, giving up the advantage of high ground and virtually guaranteeing death.
But Pyro's words hit home. If they didn't, the Pyrovore would systematically blow up their cover, and they'd be dead without even having the chance to charge.
Reinhardt looked at Pyro, offering no unnecessary words, just a slight nod.
"All Helldivers, follow me!" Pyro roared, leaping out of cover first, his lasgun spitting fire as he shot aggressively into the depths of the mist.
"For Humanity!"
"For Super Earth!"
Fifty-one players surged out like arrows loosed from a bow, rushing into the fog-shrouded battlefield. They spread out, attacking every xenos they could see with every weapon they had—Las-beams, bolter rounds, and grenades—ensnaring wave after wave of aliens in death.
Their actions instantly drew the attention of the swarm. The Tyranids, which had been concentrating their attack on the defense line, now turned like an enraged beehive, roaring and surging toward these self-sacrificing 'prey' in a tidal wave.
Vast numbers of Hormagaunts, Tyranid Warriors, and even larger organisms locked onto the humans charging into their lines.
Reinhardt seized this precious opportunity. He swiftly holstered his Chainsword, gripping his bolter with both hands. He didn't fire immediately, focusing intently on the depths of the fog. He had to pinpoint the Pyrovore's exact location.
"Boom!"
Another explosive liquid projectile screamed out, hitting a player not far from Pyro. A dozen surrounding players didn't even have time to scream before they were reduced to a bloody, scorched mess in the blast. However, this fatal attack revealed the Pyrovore's position.
Reinhardt's eyes instantly caught the fleeting muzzle flash of the biological cannon and the location of the explosion. His mind analyzed the trajectory and distance with startling speed.
"Found you."
In the next moment, the muzzle of his bolter instantly spat out a stream of death!
"Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat!"
A dense deluge of bolter fire, carrying devastating power, tore through the purple spore haze, concentrating on the Pyrovore's location. Each round was enough to tear a man in half, and now they struck a single point like a focused storm.
A short, agonizing shriek came from deep within the fog. Immediately afterward, a massive black shape visibly swelled in the mist, followed by a violent explosion.
The blast shockwave briefly dispersed the haze, revealing the tattered, huge body of the Pyrovore. Its biological cannon section was completely obliterated, green blood and charred fragments splattering everywhere.
"Target neutralized! Retreat!" Reinhardt's voice, amplified by his vox-caster, resonated in the ears of every Helldiver.
However, the only response from the front was the intense sounds of the Helldivers' desperate fight with the swarm—gunfire, shouts, and the death throes of the aliens. There was no clear answer, nor was there any sign of immediate withdrawal. They were clearly entangled by the swarm.
This had been a suicidal push, and the Helldivers had charged out fully prepared to die. Trying to return safely after drawing the attention of countless Tyranids was a near-impossible task.
The players were tightly encircled by the waves of xenos. Each player was being torn at by at least two or three Hormagaunts, with more Tyranids converging from further afield. They were like cornered beasts mired in mud.
To even attempt a retreat, they would first have to carve a bloody path out of the swarm's embrace, and that would undoubtedly come at a grievous cost.
Reinhardt's eyes swept the battlefield. He saw the flashing lasgun fire in the mist, heard the despairing roar of the bolters, and the occasional agonizing screams of players over the comms.
He knew these brave Helldivers had bought him time with their lives, and now, it was time to repay that sacrifice.
Without hesitation, Reinhardt drew his enormous Chainsword once more. The engine gave a deafening bellow, and the teeth spun rapidly, reflecting a cold, sharp gleam.
He launched himself forward, his massive Power Armor launching like an artillery shell, directly out of the defense line and charging toward the location where the Helldivers were surrounded.