[The turret of the lone surviving Leman Russ battle tank swiveled frantically, its targeting systems struggling to track the enemy.]
[The engine roared and rattled, the entire chassis vibrating as the gunner attempted to lock onto the Hive Tyrant. The las-targeter painted the massive creature again and again, but couldn't hold steady long enough for a clean shot.]
[The Hive Tyrant's enormous biological form moved with impossible agility, its chitinous bulk defying every law of physics as it twisted and weaved across the battlefield. The monstrous synapse creature was simply too fast.]
[The Leman Russ crew settled for suppression instead, the heavy bolter sponsons thundering out a continuous stream of mass-reactive rounds to keep the beast at bay.]
[The tank's treads crushed through wave after wave of Hormagaunts and Termagants that threw themselves beneath its wheels, their carapaces cracking like dry wood under the vehicle's sixty-ton weight.]
[The Leman Russ pivoted sharply, rear end swinging wide as it danced a deadly waltz with the Hive Tyrant across the blood-soaked killing ground.]
[The 358th Regiment Commander, Drakos was using every trick in his decades of experience, keeping the tank's thick frontal armor angled toward the predator at all times.]
[Even with such skilled maneuvering, the Hive Tyrant's bone swords carved deep gouges into the Leman Russ's ceramite plating with each passing strike.]
[You watched the unfolding battle with mounting dread, your jaw clenched so tight your teeth ached.]
[You barked orders to the handful of surviving heavy weapons teams, directing them to concentrate their fire on the Hive Tyrant. Create an opening. Give the Commander a chance to disengage.]
[Then disaster struck. One of the Leman Russ's metal tracks, already stressed by countless impacts, finally gave way under the relentless assault. The links shattered and the track spooled loose, dragging in the dirt. The tank's speed dropped to a crawl.]
[The situation spiraled toward catastrophe in seconds. You drew your chainsword and laspistol in one smooth motion, already shouting commands to prepare the last functioning vehicle for a rescue attempt. You'd drive straight into that seething tide of chitin and teeth yourself if necessary.]
[Strong hands grabbed your arms. Adjutant Lawrence and several troopers formed a human wall, physically restraining you from advancing.]
[You wrenched your arm free and raised the laspistol, pressing its hot barrel against Lawrence's forehead. Your hand trembled with fury and desperation.]
[Lawrence didn't flinch. He gritted his teeth and roared over the cacophony of battle, "The 358th Regiment's mission isn't complete! The Commissar cannot take unnecessary risks!" His eyes blazed with conviction. "Not even for the Commander!"]
[Your vision blurred. Hot tears of rage and helplessness streaked down your dirt-caked face. But you couldn't pull the trigger. You couldn't.]
[Only by making proper use of Imperial soldiers' sacrifices can we secure victory for the Imperium of Man. The words from your commissariat training echoed hollowly in your mind.]
[Surrounded by an ocean of Tyranid organisms, the massive Leman Russ shuddered and tilted. The Hive Tyrant's bone swords found purchase beneath the chassis. With a screech of tortured metal, the tank flipped onto its side, crushing dozens of smaller creatures beneath its bulk.]
[The towering Hive Tyrant advanced toward the crippled vehicle, its alien intelligence radiating cold hunger through the Hive Mind.]
[A battered figure crawled from the driver's maintenance hatch on the underside of the tank.]
[Commander Drakos emerged, soaked in blood. His left mechanical arm hung uselessly, shattered armor barely containing shredded flesh.]
[He hauled himself up the side of the overturned Leman Russ with his functioning arm, bolter clutched in his hand, and positioned himself atop the vehicle. He faced the approaching Hive Tyrant without hesitation.]
[Drakos's expression was carved from stone. He raised the bolter and squeezed the trigger.]
[The mass-reactive bolt exploded against the Hive Tyrant's carapace, but only left a shallow crater in the armored plate. The creature didn't even slow.]
[Then you saw Drakos turn his head toward the exploration base. Toward you. Even across the distance, past the screeching horde, his voice carried with absolute clarity.]
["Fire on my position! Commissar! Fire on my position!"]
[Your heart stopped. Your breath caught in your throat.]
[You could only watch as the man you'd served beside for months walked calmly toward his death.]
["FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!" The words tore from your throat, veins bulging in your neck, eyes bloodshot with grief and rage.]
[The four lascannons blazed to life at maximum charge.]
[Scorching beams of coherent light engulfed Commander Drakos and the Hive Tyrant in a hellish conflagration, the superheated air creating a miniature sun on the battlefield.]
[Drakos, Commander of the 358th Regiment, Astra Militarum, offered his loyalty to the Emperor.]
[Week Seven. The void shield protecting the lascannon batteries flickered and pulsed, its energy field struggling under sustained bombardment.]
[Countless bio-plasma projectiles rained from the sky, each impact sending ripples across the failing shield. The Hive Mind had learned. It was answering fire with fire.]
[This was the Hive Tyrant's response to Drakos's sacrifice.]
[A larger, more terrifying Pyrovore emerged from the Tyranid lines, its grotesque bio-weapon pulsing with barely contained chemical fire.]
[Inside the exploration base, only one understrength company of the 358th Regiment remained combat-effective.]
[Every single soldier bore wounds. Exhaustion carved deep lines into their faces, turned their movements sluggish. You could see it in their eyes—they were running on nothing but duty and spite.]
[The Tyranid swarm's attacks never truly ceased. Even during lulls, the creatures merely pulled back to regroup, preparing for the next assault with mechanical inevitability.]
[You found the Tech-Priest from the advance team hunched over a cogitator terminal, murmuring prayers to the Omnissiah.]
[You approached him with a final request: take the last functional atmospheric craft and break through to the Endeavour-class light cruiser in orbit. Request orbital bombardment of the entire planet 'Tyran.' Burn it all. Leave nothing for the Hive Fleet.]
[The Tech-Priest's mechadendrites froze mid-motion. After a moment's hesitation, he made a counter-proposal. His artificial voice buzzed with synthesized concern. You should evacuate with Adjutant Lawrence. Take the craft yourselves.]
[The soldiers of the 358th would gladly sacrifice themselves to ensure your survival. Your report on this unknown xenos threat would prevent difficult questions from the Departmento Munitorum regarding the regiment's destruction.]
[You rejected his offer without a second's consideration.]
[Commissars of the Imperium do not abandon their posts. The 358th Regiment of the Astra Militarum will not surrender a single centimeter of Imperial soil.]
[Your grim farewell was interrupted by a deafening roar from above.]
[The night sky transformed into day. Burning debris streaked across the heavens like a meteor shower—the shattered remains of dozens of Endeavour-class light cruisers tumbling from orbit in flames.]
[Swarms of Lightning fighters attempted to escape the catastrophe, but Hive Crones descended upon them by the hundreds. One by one, the Imperial craft spiraled into the ocean, trailing smoke and fire.]
[As dawn broke, a single savior pod screamed through the atmosphere, wrapped in thick smoke, and crashed into the exploration base's interior courtyard.]
[Magos Vanak of the Adeptus Mechanicus staggered from the wreckage. He was the only survivor of the entire Imperial fleet.]
[You stared at the Magos. Even through his augmetics, his devastation was palpable.]
[He collapsed to his knees. His mechanical transformation had removed his tear ducts, but his vocoder still carried his wail of anguish—a digitized sound of pure human grief.]
[You said nothing. What was there to say? Silence felt more appropriate than empty platitudes.]
[In the void above, where you couldn't see, the Imperium had already lost. The space battle was over.]
[It was only a matter of time before the frontier world of Tyran fell completely.]
[Week Eight. The atmosphere of Tyran was nearly depleted.]
[Even the oceans had evaporated, exposing the lifeless planetary surface beneath. The world's hydrogeological cycle had been consumed, processed, and incorporated into the Hive Fleet's biomass.]
[Countless purple-hued Tyranid organisms carpeted the entire planet like a living plague.]
[Writhing capillary towers stretched toward the sky, piercing through the thinning atmosphere into the cold vacuum beyond. They pulsed and contracted, channeling biomass directly to the Hive Ships waiting in orbit.]
[Nothing was spared. Seafloor vegetation. The corpses of fallen soldiers. Even the Tyranid organisms themselves, when they ceased to serve a purpose.]
[Everything dissolved into thick, nutrient-rich bio-slurry, flowing into reclamation pools that dotted the landscape. Fuel for the Hive Fleet's next planetary consumption.]
[The Imperial exploration base had long since been overrun by the swarm.]
[Only a pathetic, defiant resistance continued in one unremarkable cave.]
[You swung your chainsword with your remaining arm, the weapon's teeth chewing through the carapace of Hormagaunt after Hormagaunt as they surged up the narrow passage.]
[Your left arm was gone. You didn't remember losing it.]
[Just beyond the cave mouth, beside a bubbling reclamation pool, the Hive Tyrant observed.]
[The creature was cruel and cunning in equal measure. It seemed to be savoring this final "battle" like a connoisseur sampling a rare delicacy.]
[Your consciousness had long since blurred into a haze of pain and exhaustion. You wielded the chainsword on pure instinct now, muscle memory from decades of service.]
[Then the chainsword's roar died abruptly. The power cell was spent.]
[An ugly Hormagaunt seized the opportunity. It lunged forward, its scything talons punching through your flak armor and piercing deep into your chest cavity.]
[Blood erupted from your mouth and nose in a hot spray.]
[You were dying. The realization came with strange clarity.]
[You forced your blurring vision to focus on the Hive Tyrant beyond the cave entrance.]
["Lawrence said Pearl Moon was a good place," you muttered through blood-flecked lips. Your voice was barely a whisper. "Next time..."]
["Next time, I'll kill you. For the 358th." You strained to open your eyes wide, as if to burn this moment into your memory. As if you could carry it beyond death.]
[The dead chainsword in your hand suddenly jerked upward. With your last strength, you rammed the weapon deep into the Hormagaunt's maw.]
[The next second, more Hormagaunts swarmed into the cave. Countless scything talons pierced your body from every angle.]
[You were torn apart. Your body became nutrients for the Tyranid Hive Fleet.]