The battlefield fell into a brief, strange silence. With one exception -- the Death Korps of Krieg stood absolutely motionless.
The rest of the field was affected to varying degrees. Though that is not to say the Krieg soldiers themselves were unaffected.
They were, in fact, desperate to charge. They were simply being held back. And that was the entire situation....
Inside the regimental command post, a massive figure now loomed -- a Contemptor Dreadnought.
Zhou Ye had been concerned that the regiment's Commissar alone wouldn't be able to restrain this mob of lunatics who could barely contain their eagerness to die gloriously for the Golden Fiend. So he had specifically stationed the Ultramarines Contemptor Dreadnought here.
Which had, naturally, also relieved him of command over the entire Krieg regiment in the most perfectly legitimate fashion possible. The Angels of the Emperor had actually sent the most revered of Dreadnought Brethren to personally command them.
The morale of the entire Death Korps regiment had promptly shot into the stratosphere. Every single soldier was now burning with impatience to launch one final glorious charge and consecrate themselves to the Golden Throne.
"Hah....."
The Krieg regiment's Commissar found himself looking over at those men with something approaching envy. He had originally only wanted to be an artillery Commissar -- sitting safely behind the lines, slacking off peacefully. Then someone had thrown him into this.
His daily existence had become an exercise in restraining these lunatics. And now, the moment a Contemptor Dreadnought had appeared, his will had simply collapsed entirely. He quietly produced his most treasured bottle of Amasec and began to drink. He couldn't help envying the Commissar on the other side of things -- sure, that man had to deal with an utterly absurd regiment of Holy Space Undead. But at least they were technically normal people. And with that combined human-Necron regiment, they had combat power that rivaled the Astartes. At least that Commissar's commanding officer was human.
Thinking of this, the young Commissar glanced back up at the towering god-machine rising above them all, his face filling with quiet anticipation. He found himself wondering what kind of commendation might be waiting for him after this fight. Whether there was any chance he could use it to finally get reassigned somewhere sensible.
---o---
On the other side of the regiment, the Commissar attached to the Aestia Mixed Regiment was sitting in a corner, watching that colossal divine machine overhead.
The regiment's Colonel was in a state of barely contained ecstasy.
When the man had first spotted the distant Plague Titans, he had come close to despair. He knew exactly what those things were capable of. His own Planetary Governor and Planetary General had once participated in a battle where Titans had walked. The result had been glorious and catastrophic in equal measure -- an entire fully-staffed Astra Militarum regiment reduced to fewer than a hundred survivors by the end. The desecrated Titan had been destroyed. The survivors, particularly their Commissar, had received the Astra Militarum's highest honor, the Star of Terra, and been granted an entire planet as reward.
Now he saw those same things again and felt his heart seize in his chest -- but then he saw his own side's Titan, and the blood came rushing back. He felt as though the Star of Terra itself were reaching out, beckoning toward them all.
His Commissar, however....
Had produced his most cherished bottle of Amasec and was currently wedged into a corner, drinking it in slow, measured pulls.
He was born into a military family. He had entered the Schola Progenium while still very young. His Schola had been relatively normal, as such institutions go -- a conventional military academy, none of the more peculiar variations. At this moment, the faces of his former classmates began to pass before his eyes, one after another.
Half of them had already given their souls to the Golden Throne. Then came the face of the Drill Abbot who had both terrified and secretly inspired him to kill. Then the faces of his parents, who had wept openly with pride the day he had shipped out for his first posting.
After that day, he had managed to see them perhaps two or three times total. Then his thoughts drifted to the woman who had haunted his dreams -- only to be found, when they met again, strung up on a Slaanesh cult altar.
He thought of many things now. His life. The path that had led him here.....
"I suppose this life was not entirely unworthy of the God-Emperor."
The Commissar watched the lantern-wheel of memories revolving before him, entirely indifferent to the Colonel and the other officers buzzing with excitement nearby.
Youth. Such enthusiasm was, he supposed, not without its own charm.
...
---o---
At that moment, standing at the highest point of the fortress, Divine Key in hand -- one he had crafted himself -- Zhou Ye stared out with an expressionless face at the two desecrated Warlord Titans in the distance, and at the battle groups assembled around them.
It was clear that Nurgle had committed everything to this one. No Greater Daemon had manifested, but what had arrived was considerably more terrifying than any ordinary Greater Daemon. Put simply, they had dropped the maximum force that Nurgle could deploy into realspace.
"Wait. Didn't I originally only come to this planet to recruit soldiers? Is this planet even worth recruiting from anymore?"
Zhou Ye was also questioning his original objective at this point. He had come here simply to recruit. So why. Why had this, once again, become a Grand Free-for-All.
The feeling deepened when he received a message through one of the special private channels he had established -- this one from the Aeldari.
He had exchanged contact information with them during their last interaction.
You simply cannot understand how the bean sprouts' thought processes work. They will do anything for the sake of prophecy. The classic example being that they foresaw the Ultramarines would destroy their Craftworld -- so they preemptively struck first. Then the Ultramarines, now justifiably furious, destroyed their Craftworld. The prophecy was fulfilled. By their own hand.
So never question the lengths to which the Aeldari will go in service of their visions, such as....
"When do you plan to attack? Our Phantom Titans are in position. We will coordinate with your advance."
Coordinate my ass....
Zhou Ye was momentarily at a loss for words. Honestly, he had to admit Aeldari Titans were genuinely impressive machines. But they also had one critical fatal flaw -- they were fragile. And the Imperial Titan on his side happened to be a famously heavily armored class. The Emperor Titan was legendary precisely for the weight of its armor.
Could they really coordinate effectively? He had his doubts.
But more importantly, he kept coming back to it -- his original objective, right from the very start of all this... had been to come to this world and recruit soldiers. With his abilities, that kind of recruitment should have produced zero casualties. But at this point, could he still recruit anyone from this planet? Or rather -- was there still a planet worth recruiting from?
"Forget it. As I recall, there's still an uninhabited habitable planet out along the transit route. The Imperium may be short on many things, but it is never short on people."
Zhou Ye very quickly stopped thinking about it. What was the point of dwelling on it.
TTK
---o---
Just as Zhou Ye was managing the situation in front of him, over on the Chaos side, things had devolved into complete and utter chaos.
Do not be misled by the sight of the Four Powers united against the Imperium in realspace. That unity only exists because in realspace, the Imperium is the single uncontested dominant force -- every other faction, the Four and all the other fringe powers included, cannot individually match the Imperium's hammer. So they are forced to cooperate.
But that did not mean they had any functional unity among themselves. And here, unlike other theaters of war, there was no Abaddon the Despoiler to hold them together under a shared banner.
And so....
"Our rear has been hit. A group of warriors are charging our lines screaming something about the Greater Good. What in the warp is that?"
Typhus, who had been in the middle of planning his next assault, received the report from his rear guard. A flicker of genuine confusion crossed his face.
The Greater Good. What was that supposed to mean?
---o---