Seventh Squad's victory was like a shot of adrenaline injected into the entire Death Seekers company.
News of the victory quickly spread among the Players. Along with Big Eagle Cop's exaggerated battle record, everyone's morale received a tremendous boost. The dense echoes of steel boot soles striking the metal floor became faster and more forceful.
The Players picked up the pace of their advance, intending to wipe out the Xenos cult entrenched here in one decisive push.
Meanwhile, on the defensive line constructed by the Genestealers, Cult Sorcerer Kyle learned that the vanguard force had been wiped out.
He stood to one side like an ordinary Genestealer, watching the other Genestealers work. Faint psychic whispers lingered in the air, reflected in his pale, composed face. A third-generation hybrid knelt on one knee with its head deeply lowered, reporting every detail of the front-line battle to him.
Kyle listened quietly. When he heard that an Ogryn had torn through their lines with combat skill and efficiency beyond all reason, enormous confusion appeared in his psychic-glowing eyes for the first time.
An Ogryn with a tactical mind? In his understanding, that was an absurdity bordering on impossibility.
Kyle felt a trace of regret over the destruction of the vanguard commander and his soldiers. He had originally thought that force could at least badly damage the enemy and create better conditions for the subsequent encirclement. But he quickly freed himself from that useless emotion and regarded it as a necessary investment.
Beside him, a purestrain Genestealer lurking in the shadows let out a hissing whisper, conveying its question through telepathy. "Lord Kyle, what should we do next? Withdraw for now?"
"No," Kyle said calmly. "Fischer and the others did not die for nothing. At the very least, they confirmed that the enemy is