Annihilation Mode

The players stood on no ceremony; they dragged those who collapsed, kicked aside those blocking the path, and knocked out those trying to run back with rifle butts before stuffing them into the pipes.

Order was barely maintained through these brutal methods.

But casualties had already begun to appear.

Another stray round struck the metal support above the pipe entrance, and the flying shrapnel sheared the arms off two workers.

Blood sprayed, and shrill screams pierced the air.

Further away, a tank shell, its trajectory warped by a Tzeentch field, had originally been aimed at the rebel fortifications but traced a bizarre arc through the air, slamming into the bunker area the players had hastily constructed.

"BOOM!"

Three players who were moving iron crates to reinforce the defensive line were blown into the sky, along with their crates.

[Player "Handicapped Party Please Spare Me" has died. Cause of death: explosive impact. Respawn cost: 5 Imperial Coin]

[Player "Ox-Horse Just Wants to Sleep In" has died. Cause of death: shrapnel damage. Respawn cost: 5 Imperial Coin]

[Player "Nurgle Praised My Good Body" has died. Cause of death: high-temperature burns. Respawn cost: 5 Imperial Coin]

Cold system notifications scrolled across the area channel.

"Damn it!"

Soul of Cadia poked his head out from behind the bunker with bloodshot eyes and fired a wild burst in the direction the shell had come from, though he couldn't possibly hit anything at that distance.

"It's frustrating! So damn frustrating!"

"Are we just going to sit here like live targets?!"

"What else can we do?"

Xue Brother yanked him back just as another stray bullet grazed his scalp. "You want to charge out and trade fire with a tank?"

"But we can't just..."

"We can!"

Wang Zhong's voice rang out in the channel, terrifyingly calm:

"What we are doing right now is exactly what we should be doing."

"Save as many as we can; as for those we can't... that is fate."

He paused, then added:

"But the prerequisite is that we must survive ourselves to earn back the cost of our equipment."

"Oil-Lover, report progress!"

[Mechanicus Oil-Lover on the Run]: "Number of workers passed: 2,742."

"Estimated remaining time for passage: 12 minutes."

"Alru Infantry vanguard distance to this area: 800 meters. Estimated time of contact: 8 minutes."

"Tzeentch field stability continues to decline; current interference efficiency reduced to 43%."

"Khorne units have engaged the Alru Infantry; the situation is deadlocked."

"Our casualties: 87."

Eight minutes.

Wang Zhong glanced at the nearly one thousand workers still in line, then looked at the other factory workers in the distance, shivering in the artillery fire, with no time left to organize their evacuation.

He knew there wasn't enough time.

"Accelerate."

He gritted his teeth. "Use every method possible, accelerate."

"Kick, push, throw, drag!"

"I don't care what methods you use, get the rest of them inside within six minutes!"

"After six minutes, no matter how many are left outside, we retreat!"

"Understood!"

The players completely abandoned any pretense of gentleness and began to push forward in the most brutal manner possible.

Working in pairs, one would drag while the other kicked, stuffing the workers into the pipes like sausages.

Some workers were so terrified they clung tightly to the edges of the pipes, so the players simply smashed their hands with rifle butts, and once their grip loosened, kicked them inside.

Efficiency increased instantly.

But the cost was that the panic spiraled completely out of control.

Some workers began to resist, others tried to flee, and the scene descended into chaos once more.

And the artillery fire of the Alru forces drew ever closer.

In the center of the battlefield, the true meat grinder had begun to churn.

After the Tzeentch field was weakened by the interference of the psyker squad, that Bloodletter finally found its chance to charge.

Its four-meter-tall frame erupted with terrifying speed, shattering the ground with every step, dragging the massive flesh-cleaving axe behind it as the blade plowed a deep trench into the earth.

The target was the nearest Leman Russ Tank.

The tank's turret was rotating, attempting to intercept with its coaxial bolter.

But it was too slow.

The Bloodletter leaped at the final thirty meters, the giant axe raised high above its head, the blade coalescing with materialized crimson psychic energy!

"FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!!"

With a roar, the giant axe descended!

"CLANG!!!"

The piercing screech of twisting metal threatened to rupture eardrums.

The blade embedded itself deep into the tank's frontal armor, carving a gash nearly half a meter long!

Though it did not fully penetrate, the armor structure was compromised, and the turret's rotation mechanism emitted an ominous grinding sound.

The crew inside the tank clearly panicked, the vehicle beginning to reverse in an attempt to put distance between them.

But the Bloodletter would not grant it the chance.

It pulled the giant axe free and raised it once more.

"DA-DA-DA-DA-DA!!!"

Dense gunfire suddenly erupted from the flank.

Three Sentinel Mechs charged out from behind the ruins, six Heavy Bolters opening fire simultaneously, a rain of scorching shells instantly engulfing the Bloodletter!

"ROAR!"

The Bloodletter was forced to abandon its attack, holding the giant axe horizontally in front of itself to block the bullets with the flat of the blade.

But the power of Heavy Bolters was sufficient to tear through light vehicle armor; even a demonic body could not completely ignore it.

The hail of bullets bloomed into flowers of gore upon its body, dark red blood gushing out like a fountain.

It let out a roar of pain, abandoned the tank, and turned to pounce toward the Sentinel Mechs.

Behind it, those two hundred-plus Khorne Berserkers had already collided with the Alru Infantry phalanx.

This was the most primitive, most bloody slaughter.

Most of the Khorne Berserkers had already partially daemonized, their skin turning red, muscles bulging; some had grown horns, while others had seen their arms mutate into razor-sharp claws.

They swung giant axes, cleavers, and Chainswords, or even tore out enemies' throats with their bare hands.

The Alru Infantry relied on discipline and coordination.

Fighting in groups of three, back-to-back, they fired precise shots with their Lasguns, tossed grenades into dense crowds, and used Flamer Troopers to incinerate the charging Berserkers with torrents of flame.

People fell every second.

The Berserkers' axe blades cleaved through flak armor, splashing blood everywhere.

The infantry's laser beams burned through demonic skin, filling the air with the stench of charred flesh.

Further away, the Siclaman Rebels relied on the ruins of buildings, using Heavy Bolter Cannons and Lascannons to continuously bombard the flanks of the Alru forces.

They fought intelligently, avoiding the Khorne frontline that was engaged in head-on combat, focusing instead on the weak points of the advancing tank clusters and infantry phalanxes.

A Heavy Bolter shell struck the leg joint of a Sentinel Mech, causing it to stumble and fall; before the pilot could crawl out of the cockpit, a Berserker rushed up and cleaved through both the man and the hatch.

Another Lascannon shot struck the side armor of a Leman Russ Tank, the high heat burning through the relatively thin area; an explosion erupted inside the tank, the hatch was blown off, and flames spewed from every gap.

Caspar's mechanical eye flickered frantically.

Battle damage reports refreshed like a waterfall:

[Unit Loss: Leman Russ Tank x2]
[Unit Loss: Sentinel Mech x4]
[Infantry Casualties: Estimated 800+]
[Psyker Squad Losses: 7 (Psychic overload, brain burnout)]

"The price... is a bit high."

He muttered, the frequency of his mechanical fingers tapping accelerating.

But soon, he made his decision.

"Order: All units, tighten the defensive line and hold current positions."

"Initiate Extermination Mode."

"Notify the Sweeper Unit in the rear to enter the field."

"Target: The entire industrial plant area."

"Protocol: Carpet coverage."

"I want this place..."

He looked toward the chaotic battlefield, toward the rebels still putting up resistance, toward the rampaging heretics, and toward the strange figures in the distance who were organizing the evacuation of the workers.

The red light of his mechanical ocular implant was as cold as a blade.

"Leave nothing alive."

The adjutant beside him spoke up immediately:

"But... Lord Capas, Director Climan's orders were to retake all factory zones in the industrial sector. If we initiate annihilation mode..."

Capas whipped his head around, his crimson electronic eye locking onto him as he roared:

"To hell with retaking the industrial sector! Can't you see those Warp heretics?"

"Execute the order."