The Swarm quickly reached the second checkpoint. Because of its proximity to the Great Volkanon, this area lacked the massive, wall-mounted gun emplacements seen earlier.
The shockwaves from the Mountain Cannon's discharge were so violent—reaching radii of dozens of kilometers—that local residents had to live deep underground to survive the sonic pressure. In such an environment, conventional city-wall turrets would be shaken to pieces by their own world's defense weapon.
However, this was Volkus. While ordinary units couldn't be stationed here, the Imperium had deployed a Warhound-class Scout Titan to intercept Zehaka at the gate. It was the most powerful asset they could mobilize on such short notice.
"Are we still in contact with the assault team?" the garrison commander asked.
"Yes, sir. The Sister Superior reports they have reached the forward cars. She sounds... weak, likely injured, but she claims they are pushing forward."
The weakness in her voice wasn't from blood loss, but from the advanced stages of the Zerg infection. The Imperium remained tragically unaware that their strike team had been completely subverted; the alien virus was a horror humanity was not yet prepared to face.
Ironically, the PDF was issued protective masks, but lax discipline meant they rarely wore them. Only the Death Korps of Krieg possessed the fanatical habit of never removing their rebreathers, even in death—a trait that would have made them far more resilient against the Swarm's spores.
Zehaka spotted the Warhound Titan, and through his eyes, so did the Overmind.
"You think one 'hound' can stop my Zehaka? You should have sent a Warlord."
The Warhound stood between fifteen and twenty meters tall, roughly comparable to Zehaka's current bulk. However, Zehaka was a melee specialist; the Warhound, by contrast, was a ranged harasser. If the xenos closed the distance, the Titan's crew would face a horrific end.
The moment the Titan's Princeps locked onto Zehaka, the God-Machine unleashed its fury. Both arm-mounted cannons swiveled, ignoring the smaller Primal Zerg to focus entirely on the behemoth.
"Engage!"
The shells screamed toward Zehaka, but just five meters before impact, the projectiles slammed into a shimmering, invisible wall.
"What?!"
"He has a kine-shield!"
Zehaka was, after all, a psionic entity. While his raw power didn't rival a Hive Tyrant's, he could manifest a focused psionic barrier when concentrated. It wasn't enough to protect his entire pack, but it was more than enough to deflect the Warhound's opening salvo.
As the Titan's fire paused to recycle, Zehaka lunged forward, launching a volley of bone-spikes from his shoulders. These slammed into the Warhound's frontal Void Shields, the impacts blooming like lightning across the Titan's frame.
"Is this the limit of your defense?" the Overmind mocked.
Volkus simply hadn't had time to mobilize. Even a slow-moving railcar is a relentless target, and the Imperium's bureaucracy moved slower than the train. This Warhound had only been available because it was undergoing maintenance nearby.
"If this is all you have, I won't hold back. Once the Volkanon is silenced, the Leviathans will descend."
The munitions train thundered toward the Warhound. Instead of retreating, the Titan's crew accelerated, intending to use the God-Machine's mass to ram the beast.
"You go no further, monster!"
The Warhound collided with Zehaka on the flatbed of the railcar. Zehaka was forced back two steps by the incredible momentum, but he quickly dug his claws into the deck, stabilized his weight, and lunged back.
The other Primal Zerg moved to assist, but Zehaka let out a commanding roar, ordering them to stay back.
"Bold of you, Zehaka—challenging a Titan to a duel," the Overmind thought. He usually discouraged such individualistic displays, but he knew this specialized Cerebrate would eventually need to operate with total independence.
Zehaka lashed out with his claws. These monomolecular blades, designed to shred tank hulls, tore deep gouges into the Warhound's "head" (the cockpit), nearly exposing the crew inside. The Titan retaliated at point-blank range, firing its plasma blastgun into Zehaka's midsection.
Fortunately, Zehaka possessed the dense abdominal plating of a Roach. The shot melted through the outer chitin, but it failed to reach his vital organs. Aroused to a state of primal fury, Zehaka grabbed the Titan's weapon arms with his claws and shoved.
The Warhound was forced backward, its reverse-jointed legs sparking against the metal floor, until its rear foot stepped into empty air at the edge of the car.
"It's over!" the Princeps realized with a flash of horror.
The Warhound tumbled off the train and onto the tracks. The massive railcar didn't stop; it plowed into the fallen Titan, pushing it along the rails. Sparks flew as the God-Machine's back was ground against the tracks by the weight of the moving train.
Zehaka had no mercy. With a whip-like motion of his tail, he stabbed the Titan's cockpit, skewering the Princeps and the Moderati. With a final twitch of the barb, the Warhound went silent.
"I told you. You needed a Warlord. Size is nothing if you can't match Zehaka's agility."
The Overmind was genuinely disappointed by the planetary leadership's tactical blunders. "I hope the inner sanctum provides more of a challenge."
However, just as the Overmind thought the second checkpoint had fallen... a brilliant, pulsating red light began to glow from the Warhound's ruptured engine.
"Ah. Of course."
The Titan's plasma reactor went critical. The resulting explosion was colossal, the sheer force lifting the front of the munitions train off the tracks. The rails were vaporized, and the massive car groaned as it derailed, plowing into the surrounding foundations.
The Imperium had triggered their scorched-earth contingency: if they couldn't stop the beast, they would destroy the path.
Zehaka and his pack crawled from the wreckage of the overturned train. The maglev route was gone. They would have to finish the journey on foot, exposed and without the speed of the railcar.
"Speed is now everything, Zehaka! Get inside the Volkanon before their heavy reinforcements arrive!"
"Yes, Master! Ravasaurs, with me!"
To maximize his speed, Zehaka took only the swiftest predators. He began to display a terrifying, feline agility, leaping from hab-block to hab-block, using the massive industrial spires as leverage to navigate the Hive's verticality. The Ravasaurs followed, a pack of prehistoric nightmares sprinting across the rooftops toward the Great Cannon.