After nearly two months of a bitter, back-and-forth stalemate with resilient humanity, the Tyranid Swarm's offensive finally reached a turning point.
This was simply because the victor of this war would not be determined by tactical brilliance, nor even by the morale of the troops.
Rather, it ca down to the superiority of armants and sheer numbers.
"Three artillery battalions have suffered catastrophic losses, and their commanders were assassinated beforehand. We must pull back the defensive line further and rally the routed troops. The enemy's ability to process information has clearly ascended to a whole new level."
Listening to the analyst's report, Romulus stared at the steadily expanding red zones on the tactical display and rubbed his temples in mounting frustration.
Faced with the nearly endless onslaught of the Tyranid Swarm, the human population was inevitably dwindling. As the Swarm constantly deployed entirely new combat Organisms and sacrifices beca unavoidable, the crushing weight of death pressed down on every soul. Not even the radiant light of The Emperor could dispel the gloom festering in their hearts.
Compared to the ease they had enjoyed at the onset of the conflict, the defensive periter had now shrunk by half.
Moreover...
After a brief mont of irritation, Romulus forced himself to calm down. He gazed intently at the battlefield Model, which recorded the Swarm's evolutionary shifts over the past two months.
The enemy now possessed superior leadership. The mobilization capability of the entire Swarm had stepped up a tier, allowing them to capture battlefield intelligence with deadly precision and issue commands with blistering speed.
The Swarm was adapting. A powerful synaptic node had entered the vicinity of the reliquary and was rapidly adjusting to the rhythm of humanity's warfare.
This command node had to be destroyed. Otherwise, the pressure bearing down on the defensive forces would only continue to multiply.
But they could not find it.
While directing the contraction of the front lines, Romulus remotely commanded legions of chanicus automata on unseen battlefields, engaging the Swarm in brutal wars of attrition to relieve pressure on the main front. anwhile, he dedicated a portion of his mind to analyzing the overarching situation.
The enemy was simultaneously building a model to counter him. His previous tactic of deploying Adeptus Astartes to hunt down synaptic organisms had fed the Hive Mind a massive amount of data. Consequently, the Swarm's current strategies, including their assassination protocols, heavily overlapped with his own.
One might ask: why couldn't Romulus counter his own tactics?
Staring at the front lines where he was forced to endlessly funnel in troops just to plug the gaps—causing a perilous delay in his control over units in other sectors—Romulus could only sigh.
Indeed, he could not counter them. When executed with an overwhelming nurical advantage, his tactics were simply unbeatable.
High-tier Combat Power could not be mass-produced through sheer attrition, and the numbers of humanity paled drastically in comparison to the boundless Swarm.
If only Arthur or Rases were here, the battle lines would not be stretched so disastrously thin.
"Sigh..."
Reading the ssage sent half a month ago by Rases—which simply read, "The situation is stable and improving, do not worry"—Romulus let out another long sigh.
Who were the enemies? What was the progress of the campaign? How long until it concluded? What were their casualty rates? He had ntioned absolutely none of that.
Just a single line about things being "stable and improving."
Exactly how were things stable and improving? He should have made that clear!
The exhausted battlefield commander cast another weary glance at the chaotic frontlines. Grabbing the comms, he issued ticulous orders to every unit, simultaneously directing soulless automaton squads to put out fires across the battlefield.
The only sliver of good news was that the chanicus Titans were proving their imnse worth. At the very least, the chanicus Sanctum showed no signs of being breached. In Romulus's estimations, holding out until Cawl finished his computations would not be an issue.
—
The battlefield was sheer bedlam.
Corpses, blood, and shards of Steel carpeted the earth. Mingled with the mangled remains of Xenos, they wove a thick, grotesque tapestry of gore across the ground.
Corpses were piled several ters high at the breach in the frontline. Fortunately, Karna arrived just in ti. He swiftly carved through the blockage, giving the fleeing masses a clear path of escape.
As the fighting dragged on, the Swarm, having harvested vast amounts of Biomass, gradually gained the upper hand. The once-fanatical Faith of the Imperium was now teetering on the verge of total collapse after more than two months of this grueling tug-of-war.
With frontline commanders being systematically assassinated one after another, not even the most draconian military discipline could force the troops to fight like cornered beasts anymore.
The Ard Zealots had completely broken, descending into a panicked stampede.
At this point, there was no one left to corral these deserters into penal legions.
Karna remained silent. Resting his hand against a heavily scarred retaining wall, he nimbly dodged the lethal strike of a Hormagaunt before turning his gaze toward the makeshift encampnt.
With a single glance, he saw the young boy who had just mustered the courage to rally the crowd lying dead atop a command vehicle. His blood had long since drained away, and his vacant, lifeless eyes stared up at a sky stained grayish-green by searing plasma clouds and phosphex weaponry.
"Squelch!"
With a flick of his wrist, Karna thrust his spear tip cleanly through the Hormagaunt's skull.
Karna rembered this boy. He had once knelt before his mother, eagerly declaring his dreams and swearing to defend humanity's last flicker of hope.
Now, he was dead. A phantom-like Hormagaunt had bled him dry, striking him down just as he gathered his courage to reorganize the chaotic throng.
As for the crowd—these hastily ard Mortals—they instinctively chose to flee the mont they lost their leadership.
The Transmigrators did not possess the power of mind control. They had already done everything possible to impart their unwavering resolve to the masses, but they could never guarantee that every single person would face death without flinching.
When the flesh and blood of their comrades exploded right beside them, and horrifying Xenos the likes of which they had never seen closed in, sheer terror simply froze the blood in their veins.
"I overestimated the situation."
Romulus sighed heavily.
The flawless defensive periter he had ticulously constructed was showing glaring vulnerabilities because the enemy had exploited the frailties of human nature.
Vast swathes of Ard Zealots broke after repeatedly losing their commanders, choosing to desert the mont the Swarm launched its latest charge.
Humanity's defensive network in the upper hive sectors inevitably contracted. What followed was a dire reduction in fire support, a shrinking of their tactical maneuverability, and a sharp decline in orbital drop capabilities.
This was a success the Swarm had bought with countless deaths and failures. But humanity—at least the humans fighting on this war-torn planet—
They did not have the luxury of failing.
If only the people could have acted in perfect accordance with his will, the battle would never have deteriorated to this state.
Romulus stared at the disintegrating frontlines and shook his head.
This would only lead to even more deaths.
"You demand too much of yourself. To obsessively pursue perfection is a form of arrogance."
Reversing the blade of his spear, The Angel pivoted his body, allowing a lunging Hormagaunt to impale itself directly onto the deadly tip.
Karna replied,
"You always try to control everything perfectly. By trying to guard against everything, you expose vulnerabilities everywhere. Just look at those corpses; at our core, we are simply a little stronger than they are."
"Don't be so harshly critical of yourself. To be human is to make mistakes. Do not asure humanity purely by good and evil; instead, reflect on the cruel universe that forged their morality."
Flicking the Hormagaunt's corpse off his weapon, Karna locked his unyielding gaze on the surging Swarm.
The Hive Mind's relentless assassinations were already a devastating blow to morale. It was entirely natural that ordinary humans could not withstand such repeated, traumatic shocks.
The Adeptus Astartes had the reflexes to anticipate and parry a Hormagaunt's ambush, but Mortals did not.
Furthermore, the Hive Mind's synaptic node stationed at the frontlines was suspiciously powerful.
Cobalt-blue flas roared to life from his Backpack, launching Karna high into the smoke-choked sky.
Romulus was constantly adapting to the situation, always managing to execute tactical maneuvers suited to the shifting battlefield environnt. However, while he could easily adapt, the ordinary people currently drowning in hellfire and slaughter could not.
They were invariably more fragile, yet infinitely more complex.
But sotis, things were much simpler.
The Angel looked down upon the entire battlefield, a burning desire to change this grim reality welling up within him.
The panicked flow of the crowds, the surgical strikes of the Swarm—his brother obsessed over the exhaustive data, yet one could easily be blinded by that very data, led astray into a fatal trap by false trends.
But The Angel would not be.
Karna raised his spear, his golden eyes locking onto a specific sector far removed from the main front. Specialized rocket thrusters began to spew brilliant sparks from the exhaust vents lined along the weapon's shaft.
He would never be deceived by illusions.
"Clang!"
A javelin strike plumted from the heavens.
Without warning, and with blinding speed.
Before the target could even react, the Power Lance viciously pierced through its massive fra.
"Rooaarrr!!!"
A deafening bellow, like a peal of rolling thunder, erupted from the far end of the battlefield. Simultaneously, a shockwave of dark green psychic energy rippled outward.
The ruins were blown away by the rampant psychic tempest. The twisted wreckage of several Leman Russ tanks lted instantly, leaving behind a massive, molten crater.
This was—
Directing the battle from afar, Romulus's pupils reflexively dilated as he stared at the colossal beast, which still bore a gaping, smoking wound on its body.
It was imnsely gargantuan, rippling with terrifying, raw power.
A Hive Tyrant!
The very avatar of the Hive Mind, the most formidable synaptic organism the Swarm deployed under standard warfare conditions.
Its reaction had been incredibly swift; otherwise, the Vortex Weapon integrated into the spearhead would have torn open a rift into The Warp, shredding the monstrosity into atomic dust.
"I found you,"
Karna whispered softly. His current deanor was a stark contrast to the gentle compassion he showed when dealing with humanity.
When facing the enemy, only the most extre emotions were undeniably real.
Unbridled fury. Lethal killing intent.
The violent urge to bleed his foes completely dry.
"Fall back for now, Karna,"
Romulus stated with utmost gravity. "We need a plan."
A plan. A comprehensive strategy. A tactical sche that would minimize the sacrifices required.
Under his command, the artillery emplacents swiftly locked onto the wounded Hive Tyrant. Yet, the dense barrage of high-explosive shells was entirely intercepted by a towering beast bearing an impossibly thick carapace.
"You always overthink things."
Karna shook his head, his refusal glaringly obvious, as he looked down at the fleeing Mortals below.
If one tried to protect everyone, they would end up protecting no one. Romulus had shielded them far too well. The flawless execution of his every maneuver had given them the false illusion that they still had a way out, allowing them to harbor desperate hopes of a lucky escape.
Through sheer tactical genius, Romulus had forcibly carved out the absolute maximum margin of survival for the Mortals on this hopeless battlefield.
But the Mortals didn't understand that.
What the Mortals lacked was a single, shining figure to show them exactly what they must do when a battlefield plunges into utter despair.
Charging deep into the enemy lines alone was, logically speaking, a highly disadvantageous and monuntally risky endeavor. But as for the outco? Who could truly say?
His gaze locked onto the retreating Hive Tyrant, Karna had already formulated his approach.
By utilizing his absolute Combat Power to drag the Hive Tyrant into brutal lee combat, the Hive Mind would be forced to divert a massive amount of its attention to control the beast and fight him. Consequently, the imnse pressure bearing down on the broader war front would naturally ease, allowing his brother to return to his elent of flawless command.
Charge. Charge straight toward the strongest foe.
It was that simple.
As for everything else...
Hovering in the sky, The Angel summoned another spear into his grasp.
He wouldn't think about it!
"In your calculations, if I take the field now, how many lives can be saved?"
Karna's voice rang out over the comms channel.
"???"
Romulus finally understood; when push ca to shove, all three of his brothers were cut from the exact sa cloth.
'You lunatics only ever think about the battle results before charging in, don't you? Do none of you ever stop to consider if you might actually die?'
"Countless,"
Romulus replied helplessly, staring at the staggering results of his rapid ntal calculations.
"Then—"
Against the tide of fleeing humanity, the crimson Angel took flight.
A blur of motion tore through the choking dust, cleaving open the fractured, broken battlefield. He commanded the absolute attention of every mortal soul present, and drew a roar of delighted frenzy from the Blood God residing within The Empyrean.
"I shall take the field!"
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