Ogryn Lord Crushes the Genestealer Cult

Once the order was given, the Death Seekers Company's line advanced once more through the dim underground passageways like a steel serpent. Naturally, Seventh Squad, with its love for close combat and charges, took point.

Cold metal, dripping pipes, the roar of unknown machinery in the distance—everything was much the same as before. Yet when they rounded a massive Load-bearing Pillar supporting the upper structure, the vanguards of both sides collided without warning.

On one side were Astra Militarum Players in standard-issue uniforms, weapons in hand, practically radiating the aura of "I'm a loyal lapdog of the Imperium."

On the other was a swarm of monsters pouring from the shadows, their grotesque mutations so obvious and distinctive that there was no possibility of mistaking them for anything else.

There were no challenges, no warnings, not even a moment of hesitation. Neither side could possibly have mistaken the other, so they immediately began fighting.

"For the Emperor!"

With an angry roar, the leading Player scouts did not open fire. Instead, they drew gleaming combat knives and buzzing Chainswords. The roar of the Chainsword engines instantly drowned out every other sound, replacing the gunfire that should have followed. Without the slightest hesitation, they charged straight at the deformed monsters.

The Genestealer cult's vanguard was a living nightmare, a Xenos tableau that seemed to have crawled out of a nightmare. Its main forces consisted of First Generation and Second Generation hybrids, along with aberrants.

Charging at the very front were the First Generation hybrids, those closest to their Xenos ancestors. These creatures were malformed and terrifying, hunched over as they charged at high speed in a posture somewhere between crawling and running. Beneath their pale or light-purple skin, the twisted outlines of muscle could vaguely be seen, while scattered chitinous scales like insect shells covered their backs and shoulders. Most horrifying of all were their arms. Nearly every First Generation hybrid possessed three or even four arms. Their two main arms might clutch rusty autopistols or Bolt Pistols, while one or two additional limbs protruding from beneath their ribs or shoulder blades had evolved into sharp, scythe-like bony claws. Their oversized, smooth heads were completely hairless, replaced by cold, vacant, obsidian-like compound eyes that reflected nothing but the desire to kill.

Following close behind were Second Generation hybrids, whose forms were more human than those of the First Generation. They could barely walk upright now, though they still retained obvious Xenos traits. Most were larger than normal humans, their skin covered in unnatural patterns and blotches, their foreheads high and marked by hardened carapace. Most had only two arms, but their fingers were long and sharp, their nails like blades. Unlike the First Generation hybrids' pure animal savagery, the eyes of these Second Generation hybrids gleamed with inhuman cunning and intelligence. They used cover and laid down suppressive fire with the weapons in their hands, shielding their brethren at the front.

The most eye-catching and terrifying beings in this vanguard, however, were undoubtedly the ones known as aberrants. They were the "failures" of genetic mutation, yet also the purest tools of destruction on the battlefield. These creatures resembled bloated masses of flesh, their entire bodies piled with asymmetrical, wildly proliferating muscles. One arm might be twice as thick as the other. They waved heavy industrial tools—massive power hammers, whining rock drills, or metal pipes torn directly from the walls. Dim-witted, they let out meaningless roars, their eyes holding nothing but brute strength and violence. Every step made the metal floor boom heavily beneath them as they charged directly at the Players' line, intending to smash everything into pulp with their "weapons."

The Genestealers let out piercing shrieks. Most of the intelligent hybrids believed the battle would end quickly.

After all, whether in numbers or individual combat capability—especially with the immensely powerful aberrants and the savage, swift First Generation hybrids—they held an absolute advantage. In their eyes, the flesh-and-blood bodies of these mortal Astra Militarum soldiers were no different from lambs awaiting slaughter.

In truth, the encounter battle did end very quickly—but they were the ones who were ended.

At the center of the storm stood an Ogryn wielding a massive iron bar.

Big Eagle Cop, the Player leading Seventh Squad, plunged headlong into the Genestealers' densest formation like an out-of-control Siege Hammer, moving with an agility and precision utterly at odds with his enormous frame.

He displayed a chilling combat intelligence that no Ogryn should have possessed.

An aberrant roared and swung its heavy power hammer in a deadly arc, the pressure of its passage making the air whine. Any normal Ogryn would likely have chosen to take the blow head-on. But Big Eagle Cop did not. Just as the power hammer was about to strike his waist, the core muscles of his massive body tensed violently. Pivoting on his heels, he stepped back and turned slightly to the side. That exquisite dodge allowed him to narrowly evade the heavy blow that would have smashed him in two. At the same time, the huge iron bar in his hand had already swung upward with the motion. Borrowing the centrifugal force of his spinning body, he smashed it upward with ruthless precision into the aberrant's protruding head. A teeth-grating crack of shattering bone and carapace rang out, and the aberrant's head was driven straight down into its own chest cavity.

His command over his own strength had reached a masterful level. When facing thick-skinned, muscle-bound aberrants, he used all his strength, every blow heavy enough to stir up a vicious gust. But when facing the relatively "fragile" First Generation and Second Generation hybrids, the force behind his iron bar abruptly became restrained, without the slightest excess. A swift horizontal sweep carried just enough force to shatter a Second Generation hybrid's skull, while allowing him to pull the weapon back in an instant without exposing an opening through overexertion. His attacks seemed to have been calculated with utmost precision. Any more strength was wasteful; any less would fail to kill.

He processed the battlefield's chaotic information at equally high speed. In the midst of the fierce fight, one of his ears suddenly twitched, catching the nearly inaudible shriek of a grenade cutting through the air after its metal pin ring snapped free. A cunning Second Generation hybrid had thrown a frag grenade from behind the line. Big Eagle Cop did not even turn to look. With a backhanded swing, his massive iron bar traced a perfect arc through the air like a baseball bat. With a crisp clang, it precisely sent the grenade flying back while it was still in midair.

The grenade landed amid the Genestealers' own packed formation. With a thunderous boom and several screams, the blast wave hurled several hybrids into the air.

Big Eagle Cop alone tore through the Genestealer vanguard's formation like a red-hot blade through butter. When the dust of battle settled, his huge figure stood amid wreckage strewn across the ground, purple blood still dripping from the iron bar. Nearly two-thirds of this Xenos vanguard, one capable of inflicting devastating losses on any conventional Astra Militarum regiment, had fallen beneath his iron bar alone.