A huge cloud of dust rose on the horizon of the Crimson Bright Wasteland.
The thunderous rumble of engines, the clanking of treads crushing rock, and the slowly rising silhouettes of steel in the distance announced the arrival of the Alru Group's counterattack force.
The first things to come into view were fifteen Leman Russ Tanks.
These steel behemoths, weighing sixty tons each, were painted in the Alru Group's signature dark blue and silver-gray. Their side armour bore the Gene Helix emblem, a coiling venomous serpent.
Their main guns were standard battle cannons, the barrels glinting coldly in the morning light. The Heavy Bolter arrays on both sides of their turrets had been unlocked, their barrels swaying slightly as the tanks rolled forward.
Following close behind the tanks were five Hellhound Flame Tanks.
Behind them came twenty Sentinel Mechs.
These two-legged war machines stood about four metres tall. Some carried Heavy Bolters, while others bore Lascannons. Their joints hissed rhythmically as their hydraulic systems worked.
Between and behind all the armoured units marched eight thousand fully armed soldiers.
They no longer wore the crude leather armour of the overseers. Instead, they were outfitted in standard Imperial Guard Flak Armour, with ceramic plates embedded in their chest pieces and shoulder guards, and dark shatter-resistant glass covering their helmet visors.
Every soldier had at least three Frag Grenades at their belt, a field pack on their back, and a standard-issue Lasgun in hand. This was a genuine local regular army.
Most eye-catching were the thirty figures in dark purple robes on the formation's flank.
The space around them seemed to warp slightly, and the air carried a smell like ozone. It was the energy field unconsciously radiated by Psykers.
"A Psyker squad..."
Wang Zhong stood behind a platform, watching through a simple pair of binoculars he'd just bought with newly redeemed shop points. He muttered, "The Alru Group's really willing to spend."
"Of course," Tax Brother said, crouching beside him with a modified shotgun in hand. "The Chamber of Commerce controls most of the medical industry on Aurelian IV. Money's just a number to them."
"The problem is," Xue Brother said, narrowing his eyes, "those Psykers look... off."
They certainly did.
Ordinary Imperial Psykers were either closely monitored or strictly controlled by the Imperium. They were usually fitted with restraint collars or suppression devices when brought out.
But the thirty Psykers had complicated mechanical structures faintly visible beneath their robes, like some sort of external implants. Their eyes were covered with strips of cloth, yet an eerie glow shone through from beneath them.
"They might be creations of the local Mechanicus splinter group, the Cult of the Machine Thought," the Mechanicus Oil-Lover on the Run analyzed in the regional chat. "According to Jeremy's intel, the Cult specializes in combining psychic powers with machinery to create what they call computational psychic thralls."
"Put simply, they turn human brains into biological computers and wring out every last drop of psychic potential."
"That's fucking dark."
Soul of Cadia spat. "Darker than us stealing ore."
The Alru troops formed up a kilometre from the Refinery's perimeter wall.
The tanks advanced in a wedge formation, the Sentinel Mechs spread out along the flanks, and the infantry formed up behind them in a skirmish line. The Psyker squad gathered around the command vehicle in the center.
A particularly ornate Chimera Command Vehicle, fitted with a large communications antenna on its roof, slowly rolled to the front of the formation.
Its side hatch slid open, and a man stepped out.
He was about forty, dressed in a well-tailored dark purple officer's uniform. Three silver stars adorned his shoulder boards, and his chest was covered in medals, most of them awards for outstanding service or contributions to production efficiency issued by the Chamber of Commerce.
Most striking was his face:
The left half was that of a normal, slightly puffy middle-aged man, but the right half was a precision-engineered mechanical prosthetic. A red mechanical eye, constantly shifting its focus, was embedded in its golden socket.
His right hand was mechanical too. Its five fingers were long metal probes, currently tapping lightly against the hilt of the command sabre at his waist.
"Caspar Alru."
"Little brother of Kliman Alru, the current head of the Alru Group, and director of the Group's Security Department."
"That's my conclusion based on the appearance of some of the Alru executives described by the overseer we killed earlier," Wang Zhong said.
"Damn, he's important," White Scar said with a grin. "How much gear would we get for taking him out?"
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Wang Zhong said quietly. "Let's see what he has to say."
Caspar Alru strode to the front of the formation. His mechanical eye turned, sweeping over the still-smouldering ruins inside the industrial complex, the coolant flowing everywhere, and the rebels faintly visible among the wreckage—and the even more twisted figures.
His voice boomed through the speakers mounted on the armoured vehicle, processed by a synthesizer into something cold and metallic.
"All personnel within the facility, attention."
"I, Caspar Alru, by the authority granted to me by the Simans Chamber of Commerce, in the name of the lawful ruler of Aurelian IV, and under the sacred will of the Emperor of Mankind, hereby command you."
He paused. The red light of his mechanical eye flashed.
"Lay down your weapons. Cease all resistance and acts of blasphemy. Exit the facility within three minutes and assemble in the designated area to surrender."
"Submit to purification, interrogation, and re-education."
"Those who comply may receive leniency depending on the circumstances and be assigned to a labour rehabilitation unit."
"Those who resist!"
His voice suddenly rose, and the synthesizer emitted a piercing shriek.
"Will be deemed heretics, traitors, and enemies of the Imperium, and exterminated on the spot. Your souls will be banished for eternity, and your bodies thrown into the reactor to be incinerated!"
"Repeating: the three-minute countdown begins now."
A huge holographic clock rose from the command vehicle's roof, its crimson digits beginning to tick down: 02:59, 02:58...
Inside the facility, the three factions, which had been tearing into one another in a frenzy, underwent a bizarre change.
The Siclaman Rebels stopped hunting down the remaining overseers and began withdrawing towards the center of the facility.
The Khorne Berserkers, half of whom had already mutated, their skin reddened, muscles bulging, and horns sprouting from their heads, let out bloodthirsty roars.
They stopped attacking and hunting the overseer guards, instead gathering around the Bloodletters.
In the warehouse district where Ren was, the Lord of Change and Mystery raised all six of his arms at once, while all three heads burst into shrill laughter.
Then, as if receiving a command, all the Tzeentch Horrors abandoned their harassment and flew back within the ritual's bounds.
"They stopped?"
Tax Brother's eyes widened. "They're not fighting anymore?"
"What's there to fight over?" Xue Brother sneered. "The real players have arrived. The battle's about to begin."
Sure enough, an old man in faded noble's attire stepped out from among the rebels. His hair was white, but his gaze was sharp.
He held an ornate Power Sword that had clearly seen frequent use. Walking to the damaged wall around the facility, he faced the Alru troops and responded through a loudspeaker:
"Caspar! You mad dog, lapdog of the Chamber of Commerce!"
"Eighty years ago, you swarmed over the corpses of the Black Royal Family like hyenas, gnawing at them and clawing your way to power through betrayal and treachery!"
"Now it's time to pay your blood debt!"
The old man raised his Power Sword. A blue energy field shimmered along its blade.
"Descendants of Siclaman! Loyalists of the Black Royal Family! Today, we will hide no longer!"
"In the name of the fallen dynasty! For every drop of blood shed over the past eighty years! Fight! Until our last breath!"
"For the true Aurelian!"
Before you continue