Upper Hive Battle

The assault on the Upper Hive had fully begun.

One by one, the cultists fervently accepted the weapons passed to them and advanced toward the Upper Hive under the cover of heavy vehicles. What they held could barely be called weapons—most were just shoddy, hand-cranked Autoguns with rifling worn smooth.

Valentin didn't need these cultists to kill many. He wanted them to expend the defenders' ammunition with their lives. The real assault force consisted of his family's PDF troops, along with the humans modified by the Dark Priests and the blasphemous Daemon Engines they had created.

Meanwhile, Governor Rebecca listened to her officers' reports in the Tactical Center.

The loyalists had discovered the Wraiths' attack on the turrets. Rebecca realized that Gao Yi, the new Rogue Trader, had already begun his move. She didn't know how he'd done it, but it was a heartening piece of news for everyone in the Upper Hive—reinforcements were coming soon!

But the joy didn't last. Countless distress signals flooded into the Tactical Center.

"Governor! The Cargo Area! The elevators, Pilgrim Square, even the sewage sector—all sending distress signals! The rebels are launching a large-scale assault!"

Rebecca immediately moved to the Holographic Display.

Blue dots representing their defensive positions were winking out one by one. Each extinguished dot meant the garrison there had been annihilated. Communications sent to check on them received no response—only the roar of dying men and explosions. Soon, the voices of the defenders vanished entirely, replaced by the frenzied howls of the cultists.

The few remaining Astropaths in the Dynasty seemed to be enduring endless agony.

The sacrificial rituals had stirred the Warp. Unable to rise from their visions of the Warp, the Astropaths suffered unspeakable pain. They sent Rebecca one final message.

"They are coming."

"How? How could they break through so fast?"

At that moment, inside a large defensive position on Pilgrim Avenue, soldiers stared nervously at the wide, gleaming white marble road before them.

This avenue had once been a path for devout pilgrims of the God-Emperor to travel to the God-Emperor Statue in the square for prayer. But now, the once-sacred road was scarred and battered. Some defenders were retreating from the avenue toward the position, bringing news of the enemy.

The forward positions had almost all lost contact. Despite the officers' constant attempts to boost morale, fear spread among the soldiers.

Because this position was close to the God-Emperor Statue, all remaining Priests of the Ecclesiarchy were also stationed here. They swore to protect the statue from desecration by the Chaos Cultists.

A soldier couldn't help but ask a nearby Priest.

"Priest... can we win?"

The Priest was resolute.

"Look behind us—the Holy Icon of the God-Emperor. He watches over us. We will surely win."

No sooner had the Priest spoken than countless cultists surged from the end of the avenue toward the position. Chaos had completely consumed their sanity, and among them were many severely mutated Mutants.

"For the God-Emperor! Kill them all!!"

Every soldier on the position opened fire.

The distinctive hum of Laspistols filled the air.

Fixed Turrets hammered Heavy Bolter rounds into the densest clusters of the crowd.

The cultists' blind charge made it easy for the PDF troops to hit their targets without even aiming.

Wave after wave of cultists fell under the barrage. The Priest even picked up a Heavy Bolter, stood up, and madly pulled the trigger.

The recoil lifted his robes, revealing a ridiculously muscular body underneath.

The nearby PDF soldiers stared in shock.

Normally, such weapons required a mount—the recoil alone could leave even a seasoned veteran gasping for breath. Yet this Priest just stood there, firing burst after burst.

Now they understood why, during the early riots, these Ecclesiarchy members had held off wave after wave of attacks for the Dynasty.

"With every ounce of my strength, with every shred of my will, with every fragment of my soul, I swear—my soul and my faith belong to the immortal God-Emperor. Face His wrath, you scum!!"

Under the terrifying firepower, the cultists fell like wheat before a scythe.

Just as everyone thought the crisis was passing, a single bolt round struck the Priest with pinpoint accuracy.

The explosive round tore his body to shreds.

The traitors' true assault had begun.

Former comrades stepped over the corpses of the cannon fodder and launched their attack on the position.

The rebel ranks were no longer just human. Blasphemously modified Servitors charged toward the position at incredible speed, feeling no pain, their altered bodies able to absorb far more damage.

Ten Daemon Engines advanced as well. Among them were not only Forge Fiends but also Desecrators—multi-legged war machines that served as mobile heavy self-propelled artillery.

But what truly made the PDF soldiers tremble were the blood-red figures among the enemy ranks.

"An... an Astartes! The Emperor's Angel! No... not an Angel—the legendary traitors!!"

The might of the Astartes was deeply ingrained in every Imperial soldier's heart.

These soldiers had fought Chaos-worshipping traitors and brutal xenos, but the sight of the Emperor's own Angels of Death standing before them brought a shock even greater than the Daemon Engines.

The Word Bearer contemptuously lowered his Bolter. A voice echoed in the mind of the Enchanted Warrior—the Khorne Daemon possessing him.

"You shouldn't have killed him with a Bolter. You should have grabbed him, cut off his head. Kill these Corpse Emperor worshippers in melee—those skulls are worth more."

"I don't need you to teach me! Every time I hear these hypocrites pray to the False Emperor, I can't contain my rage. I didn't want him to speak even one more second!"

"Heh. You Word Bearers are always like this. Why not let me take over your body? I'll wipe these people out easily. Then you can enjoy your victory."

The daemon could barely contain its eagerness to slaughter, its words seducing the Word Bearer.

"Get back! I don't need your help to destroy these followers of the False Emperor!"

With that, the Word Bearer ignored and resisted the daemon's whispers, launching an assault on the loyalists' position in his favorite way—close combat. Once the Astartes and mortals became locked in melee, the disparity in strength grew even more apparent.

A single punch could send a soldier flying dozens of meters, and their speed was so great that the mortal soldiers' naked eyes could barely track them.

Any plan to drag these traitors down in mutual destruction was easily shattered.

The Imperial line began to crumble.

As one key heavy-weapon position after another was cleared, the loyalists could no longer hold back the enemy's charge. Some Priests even grabbed Chainswords and rushed out of the trenches, trying to use their own flesh and blood to block the enemy from reaching the Emperor's shrine.

But in the end, they were targeted by the Word Bearer and torn to shreds. The Word Bearer bore a natural hatred for the Ecclesiarchy, even prioritizing the killing of its members above other tactical objectives.

Though these Priests possessed physiques beyond ordinary soldiers and unwavering faith, they were still mortals—utterly helpless before the Astartes.

Once the traitors fully breached this position's defenses, they had truly entered the Upper Hive.