Tightening the Net

In the sky, Aquila Shuttles, Avior Barges, and Valkyrie transports circled low around the town without cease.

On any other battlefield, these low-hovering aircraft would have been shot down, but here the enemy had no anti-air firepower at all.

The aircraft opened their hatches mid-air, circling continuously, and as they did, black liquid spilled from the hatches to the ground. They seemed intent on encircling the entire city with this fluid.

But just after the aircraft finished spraying the black liquid, several incendiary shells landed in the east, south, west, and north. With a series of violent explosions, fierce flames shot up.

And those flames, as if alive, raced along the paths where the black liquid had been poured. This was the solution Peter had mentioned for clearing the forest—using incendiary shells and Promethium to set the whole woods ablaze.

After all, they had no need for the plants or animals of this land. Let it burn, preferably blazing fiercely for dozens of days. Rain? A joke.

They would burn down this entire forest that hindered the advance of the Auxiliary infantry, marching and killing atop the ashes.

The flames stretched endlessly, scorching the earth. Dozens of days later, the land lay barren for a hundred miles. The former forest was nothing but charcoal, and in places where the fire had raged most intensely, only white ash remained.

At that moment, a steel behemoth rumbled over the charred wood, followed by tens of thousands of Auxiliary soldiers clad in Flak Armour, wielding light weapons like Laser Guns, Autoguns, and Logging Guns, marching in neat steps. Behind them came the Defender Army soldiers led by Tech-Priests.

Peter stood fixed atop the War Band's sole Land Raider tank with magnetic boots, one hand gripping a Boarding Shield, the other holding an Ion Pistol, with a Power Axe named "Blood of Crassus" strapped to his thigh.

Beside him, Anthony manned the Land Raider's anti-aircraft gunner position, half his body exposed, hands on the Heavy Bolter mounted on the pintle, ready to sweep fire. Inside the tank, Filon served as commander, while two Neophytes acted as gunner and driver.

Wonaby drove another Rhino APC, commanding a separate force to flank the Chaos Cultists from another direction.

Peter was confident. Aside from the four brothers guarding the flagship, nineteen battle brothers including himself and thirty-four Neophytes had entered the battlefield.

There were also nearly one hundred thousand mortal Auxiliaries of the "Spear of Hector," trained for seven years. Though this army had only light firepower and training barely reaching the level of an average Planetary Defense Force—making them instant cannon fodder on a galactic battlefield—as the saying goes, results depend on the opponent. Against these Chaos Cultists, their weapons and training were sufficient.

Over five thousand Dark Mechanicus Defender Army soldiers and Tech-Priests, though not under the War Band's direct command, could still provide support through negotiation with Tech-Priest Yamila. Moreover, the Dark Mechanicus numbered more than five thousand, since armed Servitors weren't counted among the "personnel."

Such overwhelming military force against three hundred thousand Chaos Cultists wielding primitive weapons was a complete stomp. This battle wasn't so much a war as it was training, yet at this moment, standing atop the tank, Peter felt a faint unease.

Logically, with drought, food scarcity, no precise map guidance, and the many they'd already eliminated along the way, there shouldn't have been that many left.

According to Tech-Priest Yamila's calculations, only about one hundred thousand should have remained around the central pyramid. But now, a full three hundred thousand had gathered—an unexpected variable he hadn't foreseen. How had so many of them converged here?

Still, it didn't matter. Their forces still held an absolute advantage. As long as no accidents happened, this would be a hunt and a slaughter.

Peter thought to himself, as long as nothing goes wrong, it'll be fine.

Inside the stone pyramid, nearly a hundred Quetzalcoatl Prophets gathered together, discussing how to destroy the invading Iron Demons. These Quetzalcoatl Prophets each had their own traits—some had beaks growing on their faces, others were covered in feathers, and some had two heads.

Of course, the most honored among them was the Great Prophet. The Great Prophet bore not a single hair on his body, said to be the part of the serpent gifted by Quetzalcoatl.

He had skin of a deep blue all over, reportedly not tattoo or paint, but natural. He wore a robe open at the chest, bearing a deep blue mark—a crescent moon broken by a circle—also said to be present from birth.

Tami, not a prophet, couldn't attend the meeting. She only stood guard outside as a protector for the tribal prophet, watching so many prophets bearing the signs of Quetzalcoatl gathered together. It steadied her heart. With so many prophets pooling their wisdom, they would surely defeat the Iron Demons and restore life to the land.

The Great Prophet spoke:

"There's no time. The Servants of the Blood God nearby are also eyeing us hungrily. Fellow prophets, we must begin the ritual to summon Quetzalcoatl's descent as soon as possible. Only then can we defeat the Iron Demons and the Servants of the Blood God."

One of the prophets, with eight eyes on his face, said:

"Do we really need so many prophets to gather our strength? If we use fewer, summoning Quetzalcoatl's servants..."

The Great Prophet's black sclera and blue pupils locked onto the speaking prophet:

"And then wait for us to be wiped out by what the Servants of the Blood God call the 'Blood Hand Butcher.'"

The prophet rose from his seat, casually picking up his staff, and addressed all the prophets from a higher stance:

"Lately, the Servants of the Blood God next door have been restless too. They might be conducting some ritual of their own. If we don't bring Quetzalcoatl down first, it'll be too late for regrets."

"Surely all prophets have received Quetzalcoatl's revelations in dreams, leading you and your tribes to this pyramid temple."

The Feathered Prophet nodded in response:

"We did receive guidance from Quetzalcoatl in our dreams, and he indeed directs us to perform the ritual. But the plan the Great Prophet proposes is too risky."

The Two-Headed Prophet added:

"The power Quetzalcoatl grants is mighty and surging. Many prophets already struggle just to control it. If we gather too much energy together, the consequences would be unthinkable."

The Great Prophet replied calmly, deciding to reveal his trump card evidence:

"I have received Quetzalcoatl's revelation. He commands me to lead you all and bring him down to the earth. In my dream, the Serpent God's servant left a mark on my hand as proof."

The Great Prophet raised his left hand, and a mark identical to the one on his chest glowed into visibility. The prophets felt the power emanating from it—it was indeed left by Quetzalcoatl's servant.

After presenting this most compelling evidence, the prophets held a brief discussion and decided to proceed with the ritual, summoning Quetzalcoatl to the mortal world.

The Great Prophet spoke one last time to them all:

"Rest assured. I will not let any prophet regret this."