Whish—!!!
A sonic boom exploded within the cramped subterranean cavern.
The first Chainsaw Blast Orb thrown by Andy broke the sound barrier the instant it left his hand, forming a white ring of shockwaves at its leading edge. The Purestrain Genestealer displayed reaction speeds far beyond human limits; it didn't even have time to fully turn before instinctively crossing its upper arms in front of its face to parry the blow.
However, it severely underestimated the kinetic energy of the 5.5-kilogram steel sphere.
Crack—!!!
There was no "parrying." The moment the steel ball made contact with the hardened chitinous armguards, it shattered them instantly. Following through, the supersonic projectile slammed heavily into the monster's hideous face. With the ear-grating sound of splintering bone, the three-meter-tall purple monstrosity was blasted backward by an irresistible force, tracing a wide arc through the air before slamming into the excavated alloy valve dozens of meters away.
The massive impact caused the entire valve to dent inward. But it wasn't over.
The 0.5-second delay fuse activated.
Boom—!!!
A violent explosion erupted directly on the Purestrain Genestealer's face! The double-base explosive packed inside the orb detonated, sending rotating memory alloy blades and countless high-carbon steel fragments screaming through the narrow space, forming a lethal steel storm. The monster's face was shredded, purple ichor and splintered carapace spraying in every direction.
"Hiss—!!!"
Yet, incredibly, the creature was still not dead. It struggled to crawl up from the ground, its ruined face twitching as its one remaining eye burned with fury and confusion.
"Impressive. Such tenacity!"
As Andy watched, his logic core processed data at high speeds, reassessing the monster's identity and threat level. In the social structure of a Genestealer Cult, infection and reproduction are a long process spanning several generations.
The initial infected humans would give birth to first-generation hybrids with claws and extra limbs. These hybrids would continue to breed with humans, producing second and third generations that appeared increasingly human—some even capable of infiltrating the highest levels of Imperial society as perfect spies.
But when the fourth generation bred, an atavistic phenomenon occurred. Their offspring were no longer human-like; they reverted to the purest, most primitive Tyranid alien form.
The Purestrain Genestealer.
Because these atavistic purestrains integrated genes from four generations of humans, they were often larger, stronger, and more cunning than their feral kin birthed directly from Hive Ships.
The one before Andy had taken a supersonic projectile to the face followed by a point-blank explosion and could still move. Its combat prowess was undoubtedly that of a top-tier unit, second only to a Broodlord or a Magus. That such a monster was personally supervising a mining operation here confirmed that the malfunctioning Black Box held an irresistible attraction for them.
In the few seconds Andy spent analyzing the intel, the surrounding purple-skinned hybrids had reacted. These were the low-level combat units of the cult, typically composed of first or second-generation hybrids. Though their intelligence was low, their obedience to higher-level commands was absolute.
"Kill!" "Kill him!!"
Seeing their commander wounded, dozens of hybrids let out piercing shrieks. Wielding pickaxes and crowbars, they swarmed toward Andy like a rising tide.
Andy didn't even bother to retreat. His left hand drew the modified high-output chainsword from his waist, while his right continued to pluck blast orbs from his tactical belt.
Vroom—!!
The chainsword's teeth spun at high speed, creating a localized gale. The first hybrid to reach him raised a pickaxe to strike. Andy didn't even look; he swung his left hand in a backhand arc.
Splat!
The high-speed teeth sliced through the hybrid's body as smoothly as a hot knife through butter. There was no resistance. The hybrid was severed diagonally from the waist, its organs and purple blood spilling across the floor.
Andy's movements didn't falter for a second. The chainsword danced in his hand, each swing claiming a life. Simultaneously, his right arm exerted force again.
The second orb, the third, the fourth...
Andy hurled the Chainsaw Blast Orbs at a rate of one per second toward the struggling Purestrain attempting to reorganize. He didn't aim directly at the monster this time. This high-level unit had strong combat instincts and had begun to instinctively dodge direct fire after the first hit.
Instead, Andy aimed for the walls, the floor, and the ceiling surrounding the Purestrain.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The steel balls ricocheted off the hardened alloy pipe walls at high speeds, their spinning blades carving bright sparks against the metal. Then, they exploded from various unpredictable angles.
The STC fire control system demonstrated its terrifying calculating power in this moment. It precisely mapped the trajectory, ricochet angle, and blast radius of every single sphere. The entire subterranean cavern was instantly submerged in a relentless flood of blades, shrapnel, and shockwaves.
Countless fragments crisscrossed the space, forming a steel barrage with zero blind spots. The interval between explosions was less than two seconds; while blades from the previous blast were still flying, the next orb was already arriving.
The result was that the Purestrain Genestealer was completely overwhelmed. It could dodge a frontal assault, but it couldn't evade shockwaves detonating from behind, above, or beneath its feet. It tried to climb the walls, but the moment it did, a ball exploded on the ceiling, the shrapnel pinning it back to the ground. It tried to charge, but successive explosions on the floor knocked it flat.
The Chainsaw Blast Orb was exactly the weapon Andy had designed for such high-mobility enemies. He wasn't seeking a single point of destruction; he was seeking absolute area suppression. Under such overwhelming firepower, any fancy footwork or agile maneuvers became meaningless.
"Hiss-aaaaagh—!!!"
The Purestrain let out a roar of unwilling defeat. One of its arms was severed at the shoulder by a ricocheting blade, and another leg had its knee shattered by a blast. Its hardened chitinous carapace was riddled with thousands of holes and deep gashes, purple ichor gushing out.
Thwack!
On Andy's side, the final hybrid to charge had its skull crushed by a single punch. Andy flicked the blood from his chainsword and ceased the slaughter. Of the twenty blast orbs on his belt, fifteen had been thrown. Not a single enemy remained standing in the cavern.
The echoes of the explosions still vibrated, and the air was thick with the smell of cordite and scorched meat. Andy stood amidst a sea of severed limbs and purple blood, his earthy-yellow hazmat suit stained with filth.
He walked slowly toward the Purestrain Genestealer, now blasted beyond recognition. This once-arrogant apex predator was reduced to a bald torso, twitching feebly on the ground, its limbs scattered like discarded spare parts.
Andy stepped forward, raising his heavy metal boot and pinning the creature's chest down.
Crunch.
The sound of a splintering sternum.
"In a way, I should thank you," Andy said coldly, looking down at the monster clinging to its last breath. "If you hadn't already dug out most of this valve, I wouldn't have known how to get in."