In the sky, Aquila Shuttles, Avior Barges, and Valkyrie transports circled low over the town without pause.
On any other battlefield, these slow-flying aircraft would have been shot down. But on this battlefield, the enemy had no anti-aircraft weapons at all.
The aircraft opened their cargo bays as they circled, pouring a black liquid down through the doors. They seemed to be trying to encircle the entire city with it.
But as soon as they finished spreading the black liquid, several incendiary bombs landed to the southeast, southwest, northeast, and northwest. A series of violent explosions followed, and fierce flames leapt into the air.
The flames seemed almost alive as they quickly crawled along the paths where the black liquid had been poured. This was Peter's solution for dealing with the forest: set the whole thing ablaze with incendiary bombs and Promethium.
They didn't need the plants or animals on this land anyway, so they could let it all burn—preferably for dozens of days, with the fire roaring the whole time. Rain? What a joke.
They would burn down the entire forest that stood in the Auxiliary Army infantry's way. Then they would march and kill atop the ashes.
The flames stretched on without end, scorching the land. Dozens of days later, the ground lay barren for hundreds of miles. The forest had been reduced to heaps of black charcoal, and in the places where the fire had burned hottest, only white ash remained.
A steel behemoth now rolled over the charred wood beneath it. Behind it marched tens of thousands of Auxiliary Army soldiers in Flak Armour, carrying Laser Guns, Autoguns, Logging Guns, and other light weapons in orderly formation. The Defender Army soldiers, led by the Magi, followed behind them.
Peter stood on top of the War Band's only Land Raider tank, his magnetic boots keeping him firmly in place. He held a Boarding Shield in one hand and a Plasma Pistol in the other, while a Power Axe called "Blood of Crassus" hung from his thigh.
Nearby, Anthony occupied the Land Raider tank's heavy bolter position, his upper body half-exposed as he gripped the Heavy Bolter mounted on its frame, ready to open fire at any moment. Filon was the commander inside the tank, while two Neophytes served as gunner and driver.
Wonaby was driving another Rhino APC, leading another force to attack the Chaos Cultists from the opposite direction.
Peter felt confident. Apart from the four brothers guarding the flagship, all nineteen of his battle-brothers, including himself, and thirty-four Neophytes had entered the battlefield.
There were also nearly a hundred thousand Mortal Auxiliary soldiers in the "Spear of Hector," all of whom had received seven years of training. The army had only light weapons, and its training was merely on par with that of an ordinary Planetary Defense Force. On a real galactic battlefield, they would have become cannon fodder at once. But it all depended on who they were up against. Their weapons and training would be enough against that rabble of Chaos Cultists.
More than five thousand Dark Mechanicus Defenders and Magi were also present. They didn't take orders directly from the War Band, but after negotiations with Magos Yamila, they could still provide support. Besides, the Dark Mechanicus had far more than five thousand troops; armed Servitors didn't count as "people," after all.
With such overwhelming military strength, they would completely crush the three hundred thousand Chaos Cultists armed with primitive weapons. This was less a battle than a training exercise. Even so, Peter, standing on top of the tank, felt a faint unease.
Given the drought and food shortages, the lack of accurate maps, and the many people they had already killed along the way, there shouldn't have been so many left.
According to Magos Yamila's calculations, only around a hundred thousand should have remained near the central Pyramid. But now a full three hundred thousand had gathered there. This unexpected turn of events had never occurred to him before. How had so many of them managed to get there?
Still, it didn't matter. They still had an absolute advantage in numbers. As long as nothing went wrong, this would be a hunt and a slaughter.
As long as nothing goes wrong, everything will be fine, Peter thought.
Inside the stone Pyramid, nearly a hundred Quetzalcoatl Prophets had gathered to discuss how to destroy the Iron Devils who had invaded their land. Each Quetzalcoatl Prophet was distinctive. Some had grown beaks on their faces, some were covered in feathers, and some had two heads.
But the most revered among them was the Great Prophet. He had not a single hair on his body; it was said that Quetzalcoatl had bestowed upon him the serpent's aspect.
His skin was a deep, vivid blue. They said it wasn't tattooed or painted on, but had been that way since birth. He wore a robe open at the chest, where a dark-blue mark was visible: a crescent moon interrupted by a circle. That, too, was said to have been present from birth.
Tami wasn't a prophet, so she couldn't attend the meeting. She stood guard on the outskirts as her tribe's prophet's protector, watching so many prophets bearing the signs of Quetzalcoatl gather in one place. She felt reassured. With so many prophets pooling their wisdom, they would surely defeat the Iron Devils and bring life back to the land.
The Great Prophet spoke:
"There's no time. The Servants of the Blood God nearby are also watching us like hawks. Fellow prophets, we must perform the ritual as soon as possible and summon Quetzalcoatl. It's the only way to defeat the Iron Devils and the Servants of the Blood God."
One prophet, who had eight eyes on his face, said:
"Do we really need so many prophets to join their powers? If fewer of us take part, we might be able to summon a servant of Quetzalcoatl..."
The Great Prophet fixed his black sclera and blue irises on the speaker.
"And then wait for the Servants of the Blood God to wipe us all out with the one they call the 'Blood Hand Butcher.'"
The Great Prophet rose from his seat and casually picked up his staff. Standing taller than the rest, he addressed all the prophets:
"The Servants of the Blood God next door have been restless lately. They may well be performing some kind of ritual themselves. If we don't summon Quetzalcoatl first, it will be too late for regrets."
"I'm sure all of you received Quetzalcoatl's revelation in your dreams. That is why you brought your people to this Pyramid temple."
The Feathered Prophet nodded in reply.
"We did receive Quetzalcoatl's guidance in our dreams, and Quetzalcoatl did lead us to perform the ritual. But the plan you've proposed, Great Prophet, is too risky."
The Two-Headed Prophet chimed in:
"The power Quetzalcoatl bestows is immense and surging. Many prophets already struggle just to control it. If we gather too much energy in one place, the consequences could be disastrous."
The Great Prophet replied calmly. He had decided to bring out his trump card.
"I have received a revelation from Quetzalcoatl. He commanded me to lead you all and bring him down to the land. The serpent god's servant appeared to me in a dream and left a mark on my hand as proof."
The Great Prophet raised his left hand, and a glowing mark identical to the one on his chest appeared. The prophets could feel the power radiating from it. It was indeed left by a servant of Quetzalcoatl.
After he presented the strongest evidence, the prophets held a brief discussion and decided to proceed with the ritual and summon Quetzalcoatl into the mortal world.
At last, the Great Prophet addressed them all.
"Do not worry. I will not let any of you regret this."
Before you continue