The strike force split in two, moving in opposite directions.
It was clear that investigating the Ork war factory was the more precarious task. Faced with Primaris warriors who lacked extensive experience against the Greenskins, Calanthus decided to lead that detachment himself.
The reconnaissance of the battlefield was, by comparison, a more straightforward affair. To ensure the accuracy of the tactical data, Calanthus assigned Axion to accompany the second squad toward the source of the recent explosions and light flashes.
Having witnessed Axion's detection capabilities throughout their journey, Calanthus knew the machine's presence would make scouting the battlefield considerably more efficient. Penetrating deep into Ork territory to locate a war factory was a task requiring nuanced tactical judgment; Calanthus was not yet ready to stake the mission's success solely on the logic of an ancient construct.
Axion, for his part, had no objections.
He mused that it might be more efficient if these Ultramarines simply followed his direct command, but he quickly discarded the thought. His command protocols were not designed for biological soldiers. Were he to treat them like expendable, low-cost attrition drones, the psychological variables—fear, hesitation, and emotional instability—would inevitably compromise his calculations.
Unlike the Iron Men of old, these biological units were plagued by a spectrum of erratic internal states. Automated combat machines were devoid of fear; aside from a certain rigidity when disconnected from high-level tactical coordination, they were nearly flawless.
The group divided at the base of the spire. They agreed to rendezvous at this location in five hours. Should the rally point be compromised by the enemy, they would fall back to the previously designated hill zone.
With gear checks complete, the two teams parted ways.
Aside from Calanthus and Hadrian, the other Astartes had been cautioned to limit their interactions with the Iron Man. Consequently, Axion only knew the names of those two leaders.
Now, Calanthus had specifically delegated a squad sergeant to act as the liaison with Axion.
It was only then that Axion realized the warrior standing beside him, equipped with a hip-slung plasma pistol, was the squad leader. This warrior bore an additional personal heraldry on his Pauldron: a small skull superimposed over a longsword.
Axion scanned his memory banks. He recalled that Thien, the Black Templar, had also possessed subtle distinctions on his armor compared to his battle-brothers. While the motifs varied, it seemed that only squad leaders or those of higher rank bore such individualized honors. Engraved at the base of the sergeant's pauldron was a single word: Nalson. It was his name, and his glory.
In contrast, the pauldrons of the two Dark Angels they had encountered earlier had been identical.
As for the Apothecary... Axion noted the caduceus, the staff entwined with snakes. Both the Black Templars and the Ultramarines utilized it; it seemed certain icons were universal ciphers for specific combat roles.
While Axion utilized his multi-spectral sensors to maintain a constant 360-degree vigil without needing to turn his head, the Ultramarines moved with textbook precision, leapfrogging through the ruins.
As they drew closer to the site of the explosion, the sounds of guttural roars and the rhythmic clashing of weapons grew louder. Axion easily filtered through the heaps of corpses and charred Ork wreckage to identify the combatants ahead.
"Curious," Axion transmitted. "There are more gene-forged soldiers here. Their wargear appears to be of a significantly higher grade."
Nalson, hearing Axion's voice, was about to question him when his helmet's HUD flickered to life. Axion was syncing his live sensor feed directly into the squad's data-share.
Three figures encased in burnished, gunmetal-grey power armor were locked in a violent melee with a contingent of Aeldari. They wielded Nemesis force halberds that crackled with lethal blue lightning.
Axion did not recognize the specific designation of these grey-armored warriors, but his database identified the xenos immediately. Two towering Wraithblades swung their ghostswords in wide, shimmering arcs, trying to cleave the grey warriors. Nearby, several Rangers flitted through the ruins, using their camo-cloaks to vanish and reappear, firing their long rifles into the gaps of the Astartes' armor.
The grey-armored warriors stood their ground, their plate shimmering with brilliant blue protective fields that deflected the incoming violet energy beams. They fired back with wrist-mounted bolters, their aim unerring.
The precision was devastating. In short order, two Aeldari Rangers were reduced to red mist and tattered rags.
Seeing their screen of fire collapse, the Wraithblades pressed the advantage, one of them over-extending with a diagonal slash. In a blur of motion, one of the grey warriors parried the blow and countered with a rising strike of his force halberd, severing the construct's leg at the joint.
These warriors possessed a close-quarters ferocity that matched, if not exceeded, that of the xenos. Their reaction speeds, raw strength, and martial discipline made them a nightmare for the Wraith-constructs.
Sensing the shift in the tides, the remaining intact Wraithblade retreated a step. Its form began to glow with a shimmering, psychic radiance. This was the Aeldari's specialized teleportation, the spirits within the soulstones were attempting to activate a link to an Infinity Circuit or a Warp gate to recall the shells.
But displacement required a window of time.
The crippled Wraithblade threw itself forward, a sacrificial pawn intended to buy its twin the seconds needed to escape. It was prepared to let its spirit stone shatter and its soul fall into the void, provided the other survived.
Axion was entirely unaware of the profound shock rippling through the Primaris Ultramarines as they watched the feed.
Though they were relatively new to the traditions of the Chapter, the iconography was unmistakable. The characteristic unpainted grey ceramite; the Aegis-pattern Terminator armor; the white, eight-pointed star combined with the silver and gold stylized 'I'; and the Holy Aquila emblazoned upon one of their number.
Grey Knights.
Even among the Adeptus Astartes, the Grey Knights were a myth, a whispered secret known only to the highest echelons. These Primaris warriors had heard fragments of lore from Chapter veterans, but beyond a name and a heraldry, they knew nothing.
Just as the Ultramarines prepared to charge forward to assist in pinning down the xenos, the scene took a turn that left them even more awestruck.
One of the Grey Knights broke off into a flanking maneuver, his entire body erupting in a halo of psychic fire. He was forcibly disrupting the teleportation field of the retreating Wraithblade. The sheer pressure of his psychic will kicked up a localized vortex of dust and debris.
The crippled Wraithblade hurled its ghostsword at the psyker, attempting to break his concentration. But the spinning blade was intercepted mid-air by a secondary surge of telekinetic force, clattering uselessly to the ground as the other two Grey Knights lent their psychic weight to the defense.
With its weapon gone and its chassis mangled, the Wraithblade attempted to trigger a self-destructive soul-burst.
It was too late. A Grey Knight closed the distance in a sudden burst of speed, his force halberd plunging into the center of the construct's chest. The soulstone shattered instantly.
A psychic wail echoed through the Warp, a harrowing sound that vibrated in the marrow of the nearby Astartes. Denied the protection of the Infinity Circuit, the Aeldari soul was instantly snatched away by the waiting maws of the Warp.
The towering Wraithblade went dark, collapsing into a heap of lifeless spirit-bone.
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