"Chapter Master, the search has concluded. The Genestealer infiltrators within the various mortal auxiliary regiments have been largely purged," Captain Agathas of the Second Company reported to Thorcyra.
The Chapter Master nodded. "When will the damaged communications be repaired?"
While most eyes had been fixed on the gene-seed vault earlier, these damned Genestealers had taken the opportunity to sabotage every communication device within the monastery.
"We likely have to wait for Sergeant Byron's return," the Librarian standing nearby remarked.
Thorcyra said nothing more. He looked into the distance, his brow furrowing slightly. Despite withdrawing most of the mortal auxiliaries from the battlefield, the pressure on the defensive lines hadn't changed; if anything, it felt suspiciously lighter.
The keen-eyed Chapter Master instantly smelled a conspiracy. Just as he was pondering this, a sudden disturbance echoed from the sky.
Thorcyra snapped his head upward. Through the sky choked with crimson spore clouds, countless Bio-Spore Mines were raining down upon their positions.
"Take cover!" Thorcyra bellowed. Every Astartes dove behind fortifications instantly. As countless explosions roared, those mortals who failed to hide in time were instantly shredded like tattered rags.
At the foot of the mountain, accompanied by a shriek that tore across the battlefield, an endless swarm of Tyranids surged toward the Fortress-Monastery's lines. Every Earthshaker cannon and heavy vehicle on the ridge opened fire in a synchronized volley. All surviving mortal auxiliaries and Space Marines immediately began their counterattack.
However, the sheer number and the concentration of elite units in this Tyranid wave were suffocating. Everywhere the eye could see, the world was packed tight with the swarm.
They filled the sky, blotting out almost all sunlight. In the gathering darkness, only the muzzle flashes of the artillery offered a feeble resistance; shells slammed into the mass of chitin and flesh without eliciting so much as a flinch from the collective.
Even with the veterans of the First Company in their Terminator armor joining the fray, they could not stem the Tyranid tide.
Suddenly, a war cry erupted across the battlefield: "For the Emperor!" Amidst heavy, thundering footsteps, a five-meter-tall Dreadnought entered the fray.
With ferocious firepower, he strode past the defenders to take point at the very front of the line. His assault cannon shredded the incoming swarm without mercy, while his power fist crushed any bug that dared to close in.
Yet, the firepower a single Dreadnought could provide had its limits. The Tyranid swarm continued its unstoppable advance toward the trenches.
"Prepare for close engagement!!" Thorcyra roared. Every Space Marine discarded their Gauss rifles, drew their melee weapons, and launched a counter-charge into the teeth of the swarm.
The Astartes whirled into the swarm like a hurricane. In an instant, flesh and ichor flew everywhere as countless Tyranids were torn apart by the breathtaking melee prowess of the Astartes. Unfortunately, even the strength of superhumans had its end.
The inexhaustible swarm began to drown the brave warriors. At this critical juncture, the Hel's Angel wing returned to the skies above the battlefield with a deafening roar.
The aerial swarm was far denser than before, yet the Hel's Angels dove recklessly toward the carnage below.
One plane, two planes... at the cost of over a dozen Hel's Angels, heavy aerial bombs once again detonated amidst the dense clusters of the swarm.
They had hoped the resulting wall of fire would halt the charge, but this time, it was useless. The Tyranids ignored all obstacles, using their own bodies to literally smother the flames.
Seeing this, all remaining Hel's Angels, under their captain's command, began a vertical descent. To the shock of everyone on the line, dozens of fighters slammed heavily onto the ground, transforming into stationary turrets as their large-caliber rotary cannons opened fire on the surging tide.
Countless rounds hammered into the swarm, but the Tyranid retaliation was instantaneous. Volleys of bio-plasma slammed into the Hel's Angels. Machines groaned in their death throes, and nearby, the Emperor's Angels were falling one after another. Despair began to spread.
Thorcyra was buried deep within the swarm. His bolt pistol was long empty; he could only hack away with his chainsword. Wounds multiplied across his body. Tyranids lunged at him like madmen—as soon as he tore one apart, another appeared behind him.
Even as the Chapter's finest melee combatant, he had already lost one of his three lungs. His internal organs were severely damaged, his right shoulder was fractured, and a slash that nearly split his cranium had cost him an eye. He was inevitably slipping toward death. "Is this where it ends...?"
Just as the swarm prepared to deliver the final blow to this gallant warrior, a sudden flurry of bullets and psionic attacks cleared the area around him. In a daze, Thorcyra turned to see a familiar figure.
Blood began to leak uncontrollably from Kaidel's eyes, nose, and ears; the over-exertion of his psionic powers was damaging his brain. Looking at the dying Chapter Master and the remnants of the Marines, he screamed at the top of his lungs: "RETRRAT!! THE BOMBARDMENT IS COMING! GET INTO THE MONASTERY, NOW!!!"
Hearing this, Thorcyra used his last shred of strength to lead the surviving Space Marines, carving a path through the endless Tyranids back into the monastery. The forward positions were completely lost; the warriors could only rely on the complex internal corridors to continue the fight against the tide.
"When is your support bombardment arriving?" Thorcyra asked, his mouth bubbling with blood that clotted almost instantly.
"Soon. Just hold on a little longer," Kaidel replied, his face contorted in pain, blood streaming from his features.
Back at the command center on the flank of the Pharos mountains, Alexei looked at the coordinate data transmitted by Kaidel and slammed his fist onto the red button before him. "Eat this, you bastards!"
The Ghost Academy within the base began to transform. The ground at its center slid open, followed by a violent roar that shook the entire defensive perimeter. Accompanied by a massive pillar of fire, a gargantuan missile slowly ascended into the sky before streaking toward the distant Pharos mountains at a terrifying velocity.
As it reached the airspace directly above the concentrated Tyranid swarm, a soft "click" echoed. Suddenly, a second sun rose in the sky over the entire battlefield.
This explosion far surpassed the Yamato Cannon of a Battlecruiser. The massive fireball incinerated all matter it touched; the violent shockwave even warped the surrounding space. Every Tyranid within range died in an instant. Even a Swarmlord was no more than an ant before a nuclear warhead of this yield.
The explosion triggered a massive earthquake, making the entire Pharos mountain range tremble. All living things wailed as mountain peaks crumbled one after another, burying the remains of the swarm. Fortunately, the Fortress-Monastery was sturdy enough that those sheltered within escaped the worst of the disaster.
Even back at the command center, Alexei could feel the violent tremors from the blast. This wasn't the "Tactical Nuke" summoned by Ghosts in a game; this was an Apocalypse-class nuclear missile capable of scouring a planet's surface. He looked at the screen, flickering with interference, and whispered, "I hope that didn't wake up the Necrons."
On the defensive line, Sergeant Byron stared at the distant fireball and the collapsing mountains, murmuring to himself, "It's been a long time since I've seen an attack of this magnitude..."