Harkus took one last look at that "vintage car" rampaging through the horde of corpses.
It was merely a tide of dead bodies that had slipped through the primary front-line firepower network, containing none of the bloated and horrific Death Guard Plague Marines—only the lowest tier of poxwalkers.
After confirming that the Helldivers infantry on the high ground and that Leman Russ, acting as if pumped with stimulants, were more than capable of handling it, Sicarius decisively ordered the squad to push forward.
The Ultramarines wasted not a single precious bolt shell nor a second of time here. They traversed the position and advanced toward the edge of a higher cliff, the optimal observation point overlooking the entire battlefield.
When they finally stood on that protruding rock formation and looked down, even these Astartes, accustomed to the countless brutal battlefields of the galaxy, could not help but cast a second glance at the scene unfolding below.
Beneath them lay a narrow gap no more than ten kilometers wide—the mandatory choke point leading to the core hive city of Perditia, as well as a meat grinder fought over by both sides.
To plug this gap, the Helldivers displayed an astonishing density of firepower.
Artillery shells fell quite literally like raindrops, their detonations turning the ground into a churning sea of fire. Through the gaps in the thick smoke, over a thousand armored combat vehicles of every variation could be seen speeding across the earth. Gathering like a tide of iron, their muzzles continuously spat tongues of lethal fire.
In the sky, the flashes of fighter dogfights lit the dim firmament nearly like star-shell flares. Countless missiles dragging fiery trails crisscrossed through the clouds, with burning wreckage plummeting like meteors from time to time.
As for the infantry, it went without saying. Densely packed heads stirred within the trenches and fortifications, where the grid of laser fire was tighter than a torrential downpour.
The Ultramarines' auspexes operated at rapid speed, calculating the staggering rate of ammunition consumption with ease by integrating data from the battle before them.
"With this method of fighting," an Ultramarine said in a heavy voice, looking at the returned data, "by the end of the thirty-day defense period, the Helldivers will have expended tens of millions of artillery shells. This rate of consumption is utterly reckless."
"Perditia is covered in desert sands, and its industrial foundation is hardly top-tier. To field over a thousand armored vehicles all at once likely accounts for the vast majority of their assets," another warrior added, his tone tinged with gravity.
"The situation in the skies is too chaotic, heavily jammed and hard to see clearly, but the number of aircraft must be equally vast. They have thrown all of their air power into this."
Listening to his battle-brothers' reports, Harkus stared down at the nearly hysterical blockade through his eyepieces, his brow furrowing tightly.
"If we factor in the other secondary battlefields... the Helldivers are throwing all to the hazard."
The Techmarine's voice was low, carrying deep concern for the situation: "They have wagered all their heavy equipment and ammunition reserves on these first thirty days. If they fail to hold the Death Guard here for those thirty days, or if the enemy breaks through the line, the vast wilderness[1] beyond offers no advantageous terrain for them to contain the Nurgle legion's unstoppable advance using laser guns, autoguns, and heavy firepower—if heavy stubbers even count as heavy firepower against the Death Guard."
It was an extremely dangerous gamble that left no retreat. Should it fail, the entire defensive network of Perditia would collapse in an instant, leaving them as lambs to the slaughter.
Just as the squad felt apprehension over this sink-or-swim tactic, Second Captain Sicarius, who had remained silent all this while, suddenly spoke up.
He walked to the very edge of the cliff, the wild wind whipping the cloak behind him. His towering blue silhouette resembled an unshakeable statue.
"Prepare," Sicarius's voice resonated over the vox-channel, calm yet imbued with undeniable authority and confidence. "I have already calculated the distance. This height falls precisely within our maximum jump range."
He drew his plasma pistol and power sword from his waist, the blade shimmering with a lethal disruptor field.
"We will jump directly from here. Our jump packs have enough output to carry us over the kill zone, landing us squarely atop the Death Guard's line. Such an ambush is bound to inflict heavy casualties upon those unprepared traitors."
Sicarius looked back at his battle-brothers, the corners of his mouth beneath his faceplate turning up slightly. "If mortals dare to risk everything on a single throw, how can we, as Ultramarines, lag behind? Courage and honor! For Macragge! Jump!"
Accompanied by the shrieking roar of jump packs firing at maximum output, more than a dozen cobalt-blue meteors streaked through the smoke-and-gas-filled sky.
Just as Sicarius had envisioned, this strike perfectly embodied the concept of divine warriors descending from the heavens. Like thunderbolts hurled by the Emperor Himself, the Ultramarines slammed with precise, violent force into the center of the Death Guard lines.
The massive shockwave blew away the poxwalkers within a radius of several meters. The instant Sicarius touched down, his armored boots crushed the helmet of a Plague Marine beneath him. Capitalizing on the momentum, he rolled forward and fired three consecutive shots with his plasma pistol, reducing three Nurgle daemons attempting to swarm him to ashes.
This single blow ripped a gaping wound right into the heart of the plague legion. The forces of Nurgle—which had been advancing methodically to spread despair and disease—were caught completely off guard by this sudden strike to their core, leaving a vacuum of chaotic confusion in their formation.
In the distant trenches, the Helldivers commanders monitoring the battle immediately seized upon this fleeting tactical opportunity.
"Holy shit, where did the Smurfs come from?!"
"Tanks! All tanks, break out of cover! Infantry, fix bayonets!"
Without a moment's hesitation or fear, the Helldivers line—which had been holding out in desperate defense—boiled over the instant they caught sight of that splash of blue. Hundreds of Leman Russ tanks and Chimera troop transports hidden behind cover revved their engines simultaneously, tracks churning up sand and dust as they roared out of the trenches.
Surrounding the war machines were infantry surging forth like a rising tide. Shouting various battle cries, they launched a countercharge straight at the disarrayed Death Guard.
In the center of the battlefield, at the heart of the chaotic vortex:
A nauseating mist of rot exploded violently. Countless buzzing plague-flies coalesced into a black storm, blocking the swing of Sicarius's power sword.
Deep within the swarm, a massive, bloated silhouette slowly emerged. Clad in Terminator power armor, the chimneys on his back spewed toxic spores, while the oversized scythe in his hands radiated a suffocating, unholy aura.
"You again!"
Typhus's voice, echoing with decay, cut through the din of the battlefield. His murky eyes locked onto the most conspicuous blue figure at once. He recognized this aura; this was the fellow who had infiltrated with the Ultramarines earlier, and now he was back!
As the Destroyer Hive swarmed wildly around him, Typhus raised his scythe, pointing it straight at Sicarius as he roared, "Tell me your name! Lackey of the False Emperor!"
Facing the terrifying aura of Nurgle's Herald, Sicarius did not back down in the slightest. Kicking aside a severed limb near his feet, he twirled his sword with deadly elegance before gripping the hilt with both hands, leveling the tip directly at Typhus's head.
"I am Cato Sicarius! Captain of the Ultramarines Second Company, Knight of Macragge, Grand Duke of Talassar!" Sicarius's voice was lofty and proud, radiating absolute confidence. "Remember it, heretic! For it shall be the name of the man who slays you!"
"Arrogant fool!" Typhus let out a mocking roar as his massive frame exploded with surprising speed, swinging his great scythe downward toward Sicarius's head. "I will tear you apart!"
[1] the vast waagh beyond xdd