Tzeentch Demon's Scheme!

The barrels of the five Basilisk heavy self-propelled artillery pieces finally lowered slowly after thirty minutes of frantic bombardment.

The tips of the barrels were glowing red-hot, heat waves shimmering off the metal surfaces, while the air was thick with the acrid stench of gunpowder.

It was the distinct odor of the 160mm high-explosive shells, a mixture of plastic explosives and the specialized psychic stabilizers developed by the Cult of the Machine Thought.

Every high-explosive shell was tipped with a warhead infused with psychic stabilizers and psychic-dampening dust.

"The warheads of these high-explosive shells are infused with psychic-dampening dust developed by the Cult of the Machine Thought based on certain ancient STC fragments; theoretically, they can disrupt Warp energy structures, though they remain experimental prototypes."

The intent was to use the fire of Imperial order to violently neutralize and suppress the filthy disturbances of the Warp.

"My lord, the artillery strike data has been summarized."

Inside the command vehicle, half of the adjutant's face was a metal panel, with data streams scrolling rapidly across his monocular display:

"Five Basilisk heavy self-propelled artillery pieces, a total of approximately two hundred and fifty standard high-explosive shells fired, thirty cluster munitions, and twenty incendiary shells."

"Ammunition consumption rate: 87%."

"Barrel degradation: average remaining lifespan per barrel is less than two hundred rounds."

"Coverage area: the entire Crimson Bright Wasteland Industrial Zone No. 3 and the two-kilometer buffer zone surrounding it."

"Theoretical lethality: for unarmored biological targets, the mortality rate exceeds 99%."

Capas Alru stood atop the vehicle, the red light of his mechanical eye scanning the smoke-shrouded area ahead at a frequency of fifty times per second.

On the mechanical right side of his face, the metal muscles simulated a standard smile befitting a high-ranking member of the Trade Guild.

"Very good."

His voice, processed through a synthesizer, carried the steady, precise tone of a machine in operation:

"To clear out pests, one must use the most efficient disinfectant."

"Orders: First and Second Armored Squadrons, advance. Sentinel Mech clusters, provide flank cover."

"Infantry battalions, follow up and clear the debris."

"I want to see the Trade Guild's flags planted across this land before noon, planted upon the corpses of those traitors and heretics."

The order was issued.

The torrent of steel began to move once more.

Thirteen Leman Russ Tanks formed a standard wedge formation, their tracks crushing the steaming ground already plowed by artillery as they slowly advanced toward the heart of the industrial zone.

Fourteen Sentinel Mechs strode forward on their mechanical legs, deploying on both sides of the tank cluster, their sensor arrays running at full power to scan every suspicious shadow.

Over six thousand Alru Infantry advanced in three-man fire teams, moving in skirmish lines with their lasguns pointed vigilantly at every corner where an enemy might hide.

In the tactical helmet communication channels, the soldiers whispered to one another:

"Third Squad, western ruins cleared, no signs of life."

"Seventh Squad, found the wreckage of a rebel heavy bolter in the east, gunner's corpse... uh, mostly in pieces."

"Psyker squad reporting: Warp readings in the area remain abnormal, we suggest..."

"Suggest nothing."

Capas coldly cut off the psyker's channel, "It is normal for Warp disturbances to persist after an artillery barrage; it is merely residual energy."

He had absolute confidence in his troops' equipment.

What was the concept of Basilisk artillery fire?

The kill radius of a single standard high-explosive shell was fifty meters.

Over three hundred rounds, a saturation strike.

Forget flesh and blood; even steel vehicles should be nothing more than piles of scrap metal by now.

Those rebels? Those Chaos cultists?

Those... strange freaks?

Hah.

Before the steel and fire of the Trade Guild, they were all nothing but dregs.

The smoke and dust gradually dissipated.

The first thing that came into view was the completely altered terrain.

The once-looming cooling towers of the Refinery and the nearby buildings were gone.

In their place was a massive crater over a hundred meters in diameter, the bottom piled with molten metal wreckage that still glowed with a dull red light.

The raw material warehouse area had been turned into a charred, blackened pit.

The pre-processing line in the east, the transport station in the west, the employee dormitories in the north...

All gone.

Literally gone.

The artillery fire had leveled, shattered, and melted everything.

This is the aesthetic of Imperial heavy firepower.

If there is any problem that a round of shelling cannot solve, then simply unleash another.

If it still persists, it only means the caliber of your cannons is not large enough.

"Clearance progress?" Capas asked.

"First Squadron has reached the core area of the former Refinery; no organized resistance encountered."

"Second Squadron is clearing the East District; a small number of rebel remnants discovered and neutralized."

"Sentinel Mech cluster reports: An anomalous energy concentration point detected in the West District, currently..."

A harsh burst of static noise suddenly erupted over the communication channel.

Followed by cries of alarm.

"What is that?!"

"Target sighted! Central area of the former Refinery!"

"The Emperor preserve us... they are still alive?!"

Capas's mechanical prosthetic eye zoomed in sharply.

His vision tightened, piercing through the smoke and dust that had yet to fully dissipate.

He saw it.

At the edge of the massive crater, space was writhing, regenerating.

An image, like a reflection on distorted water, was gradually shifting from blurred to solid.

The Lord of Change and Mystery, a creation of Tzeentch.

One of its heads was missing a significant portion, but what flowed from the gap was the shimmering light of stardust.

Several eyes on another head were dim and ruptured, oozing fluorescent blue pus.

Only the third head remained intact.

It was covered in scars, yet the psychic pressure it exerted—warping reality and twisting logic—had expanded many times over compared to before the bombardment!

At the edges of its wounds, the structure of space was folding and repairing itself.

The manifestation of the second figure was far more violent.

A Bloodletter, the furious avatar of Khorne.

Its left arm was gone at the shoulder; there was no blood at the stump, only scarlet energy like boiling magma gushing forth.

A horrific, transparent hole gaped in its chest, the edges burning with blood-colored flames, revealing the scorching internal organs pulsing within.

Yet, it stood as steady as a mountain.

What burned in its single eye was no longer just the desire for slaughter, but a kind of satisfied frenzy.

It suddenly raised its mangled head, pointing its massive axe of flesh toward the smoke-shrouded sky, and a war cry composed purely of psychic shockwaves and tearing air crushed across the battlefield:

"Blood for the—Blood God—!!"

"Skulls for the—Skull Throne—!!!"

Following its roar, the corpses scattered and buried beneath the steel across the battlefield—rebels, Alru soldiers, overseers, workers—suddenly began to twitch.

Blood that had not yet been vaporized surged from their wounds, transforming into streams of crimson drawn by an invisible force, flying toward the body of the Bloodletter!

With every stream of blood that merged into it, its wounds healed a fraction, and its aura grew a degree stronger!

The smile on Capas's face froze completely.

The red light of his mechanical eye flickered frantically as his processor ran at full capacity, attempting to analyze a scene that defied all laws of physics.

"Impossible... bombardment data... psychic neutralization agents..."

"Bombardment data... theoretical lethality 99.97%..."

"Psychic shields could not possibly withstand that level of saturation strike..."

The adjutant's voice trembled: "Sir, their Warp readings... are growing exponentially!"

"Underground! Something underground is supplying them with energy!"

Capas looked down abruptly.

On the tactical panel, the curve of the subterranean psychic readings was skyrocketing as if drugged!

It was not a gradual increase; it was a vertical surge!

The values instantly broke through three, five, ten times the previously monitored peak, and were still climbing!

"Underground..."

In Capas's mechanical brain, archive data from eighty years ago was instantly retrieved.

District 7.

The Arar Family.

Psionic focus.

Chaos ritual.

"Damn."

The general of the merchant guild, known for his composure and absolute rationality, spat out a purely emotional word for the first time in his life with the half of his mouth that was still flesh and blood.

He understood.

He understood everything.

Ren's rebellion, the uprising of Siclaman, and even those freakish workers that had suddenly appeared...

They were all bait.

Everything was for today, for this moment, to create a sacrifice on this land buried with ancient Chaos ruins—a sacrifice large enough, tragic enough, and filled with enough despair and death.

Artillery fire had slaughtered tens of thousands.

The energy generated by those deaths, those fluctuations of fear, pain, and despair, had triggered a tsunami in the Warp.

And this tsunami had happened to breach the layer above the ruins of District 7, a seal maintained by Imperial Psykers for eighty years.

Now, the ancient Chaos energy from beneath the earth was surging out like a burst dam.

And those two demons stood at the very center of the flood, mouths agape, drinking their fill.

"All units!!!"

Capas's voice, broadcast across all channels, carried a sharpness that even the metal synthesizer could not mask for the first time:

"Highest threat target! Focus fire on those two Warp entities at the edge of the pit! Spare no cost! Immediately! Now!"

"Psykers squad!"

"Abandon all other missions!"

"Use everything to suppress and interfere with the underground energy leakage nodes! Attempt to establish an anti-psionic barrier!"

"We cannot let this continue!"

It was too late.

The three heads of the Lord of Change and Mystery turned simultaneously.

Nine arms rose in unison.

The scepter, the codex, the dagger, the hourglass, the quill, the mirror, and the other nine artifacts erupted with a blue light that pierced the heavens!

Its intact head opened, its voice layered in a triple tone, filled with infinite mockery and delight:

"Knowledge... grants foresight."

"Your artillery... your slaughter... your victory..."

"All were within the plan."

"The winds of change have risen."

"At this moment, the Wheel of Change locks into place, and the Book of Destiny turns a new page!"