The Imperium's Frontier: Tyranid Behemoth

The Bishop lay on the ground, wisps of steam rising from his head. To be honest, as a psyker, his death was rather pathetic; he didn't fall in a psychic duel or a flashy exchange of sorcery, but had his head blown apart by a traitor behind him with a plasma pistol.

However, Vito no longer had the energy or the mind to waste on the joy of a perfect one-shot kill on an enemy leader, because the opponent's hulking boss was already bearing down on him.

The Patriarch stood up, its massive frame looming over Vito like a mountain. It roared and smashed a claw toward him, but the agile Inquisitor dodged the ground-shattering blow with a side roll. As soon as he rose, Vito fired continuously at the Patriarch with the plasma weapon manifested from his right arm.

But the nightmarish monster was far more agile than it looked. It leaped into the air, soaring across the sky as if flying, and slammed down behind Vito. Just as the Inquisitor turned his muzzle with lightning speed to fire, the Patriarch's reaction time proved faster than his own.

A razor-sharp claw neatly severed the plasma muzzle on Vito's wrist. The Inquisitor cursed and leaped backward, watching as several Purestrain Genestealer guards whistled past the Patriarch, roaring as they charged toward him.

Vito did not hesitate. He stowed the plasma muzzle and turned to sprint toward a Devout Society guard who was firing at the invading gang legions from a platform.

The latter naturally spotted Vito and hurriedly turned his muzzle to fire continuously, but not a single bolt hit the Inquisitor. Vito rushed before him, struck him in the face with a fist, snatched the lasgun the moment the guard lost his balance, and blew his head apart from the chin up with a single shot.

Vito shoved the corpse off the platform and immediately turned to aim and fire at the Purestrain Genestealer. Those monsters charged at him, but the Inquisitor felt not a shred of panic. He aimed and fired calmly, every shot accurately piercing the unarmored, vulnerable section where the Genestealer's head met its back carapace.

As beams of laser light flared, Genestealers collapsed one by one. Yet, amidst their corpses, the Patriarch strode forward with the gait of a behemoth, its claws raised high as it lunged at Vito.

The intense fire of the lasgun could not stop the monster at all; the laser beams served only to polish its carapace. The monster reached Vito, its giant claws striking out, slicing through the lasgun as easily as a hot knife through butter, while simultaneously leaving a wound on Vito's arm.

Vito dove to the side to dodge, narrowly avoiding a follow-up heavy strike. He rolled to his feet, looked at his bleeding right arm, and gave a wry smile. "Whoa, looks like the difficulty just spiked a bit."

The Patriarch turned, viscous saliva spraying from its gaping maw as it roared. With the Patriarch's angry bellow, the Genestealers and their followers—who had been in disarray following the Bishop's death and the resulting node-control failure—regained their order. They no longer fled in panic, nor did they charge blindly at the invaders without regard for their lives.

They began to launch a counterattack in an orderly fashion. The Purestrain Genestealers used the fanatical followers as meat shields, rushing at high speed toward the gang members who had occupied a large area.

These Underhive gang warriors were terrified at the sight of these nightmarish monsters. They fired in a panic, but the agile creatures dodged, weaved, and sprinted until they were upon them.

In an instant, dozens of gang members were torn to shreds by the Genestealers. The followers swarmed in, drowning the rest. This fearless, fanatical horde surged toward the large hole like a turbulent ocean.

"Hold the line! You idiots! What are you panicking for?!" Mal cursed, using a large-caliber shotgun to blast apart a Genestealer that had pounced on one of his men and was about to disembowel him. He cursed while firing continuously, mowing down the waves of crazed followers.

But while he was busy clearing out the fanatics, he failed to notice a cunning Genestealer rushing in from the side. Its claws tore through several men who tried to block it, and it charged at Mal with blinding speed.

"Holy shit!" Mal cursed, eyes widening as he watched the monster pounce. But when he instinctively raised his arm to defend himself, he felt no pain of flesh being torn.

Mal lowered his arm in astonishment, and his shock turned to surprise. He saw a massive hand gripping the monster's throat, with a hulking, armored giant standing right behind him.

The giant crushed the Genestealer's neck, its blood spraying everywhere. The giant tossed the corpse aside and turned, using the Bolter in his other hand to accurately shoot down Genestealers and the fanatics around them one by one.

Mal stared at the giant, dumbfounded. The black armor, the roaring Bolter, and the Power Sword—all of this belonged to only one group, the ultimate killing machines of the galaxy.

Astartes.

The black-armored giant fired heavily, every shot precise, sending mists of blood and debris flying. The heavy sound of iron boots thundered in Mal's ears. He was surprised to see three more Astartes warriors appear, having emerged silently and suddenly.

They had entered from behind the large hole. The Emperor protect us! Had they been following him? How had no one noticed these four three-to-four-meter-tall giants trailing them the entire time?!

But clearly, this was no time for surprise. The four giants strode past Mal, the roar of Bolters and chain-weapons raining destruction upon the enemy ranks. The giant wielding a Power Sword and chain-weapon charged into the sea of enemies, swinging his weapons at a speed that defied his massive frame. It was a vortex of death, grinding everything around it into a meat grinder.

"Cover us, Commander," one giant said as he walked past Mal. His armor shimmered with eerie lightning. Mal nodded in affirmation almost immediately, without hesitation or thought, just as those crazed alien traitors did when receiving signals from their hive mind.

But Mal's obedience came from the heart, not from some genetic or psychic signal. The Emperor protect us! The one giving him orders was an Astartes; that was enough.

"Cover the Angels of Death! Kill these traitors to The Imperium!" Mal roared, raising his shotgun and opening fire. The giant beside him stomped on the ground, and countless arcs of lightning shot along the floor into the enemy ranks, flashing through countless bodies in the blink of an eye and burning them to charcoal.

The remaining gang members regained their fighting spirit. Seeing the four Angels of Death of The Emperor charge into the battlefield ignited a sense of courage and passion within them. Truth be told, for a group of non-religious gang members, this was nothing short of a miracle.

The gang members fought like the Astra Militarum warriors who charged alongside the Astartes in the sea of stars. While sweeping away the heretics with explosive firepower, they shouted and followed closely behind the giants, advancing steadily like a wall of steel.

The Patriarch watched this scene with evident surprise, emitting a series of clicking sounds. But its hesitation did not last long, for a laser bolt struck its head. While it could not kill the monster, it was enough to enrage it.

The behemoth turned, looking at Vito, who had managed to procure a lasgun from somewhere. Vito looked at the Patriarch with a mocking expression. The monster was provoked; it charged at Vito in a rage, its feet crushing a Genestealer corpse on the way, splattering blood and gore, staining the entire floor a deep red as it charged.

The beast reached Vito and brought its giant scythe down like a falling meteor. At the same time, another giant claw whistled toward Vito's side. Vito had nowhere to hide; he would be beaten into a pulp in an instant.

But suddenly, a flash of light erupted. A dazzling force field appeared from nowhere, enveloping Vito and instantly deflecting both giant claws.

Without hesitation, Vito rolled to the side. He suddenly struck out with his palm toward the Patriarch. The beast seemed to be hit squarely by a shockwave, causing it to stagger and retreat. At the same time, Vito grabbed a Meltagun from the ground and, without a second thought, crouched and fired at one of the Patriarch's claws.

The melta charge hit the briefly off-balance Patriarch, striking the joint of the claw on its abdomen.

The monster shrieked, roaring as it slammed its claws into the ground, leaving countless sharp gouges and pits. The claw on its abdomen fell to the floor, and it roared toward the sky, its curled tongue lashing out like a whip.

The Patriarch roared in Vito's direction, its giant feet crushing the concrete tiles of the floor. But suddenly, the Patriarch stopped. It heard a sound—the rumbling of giant steel boots treading upon the ground.

The Patriarch jerked its head up to look at the Land Bridge. It saw a tall Astartes Space Marine wielding a Chainaxe, howling like a wild wolf as he slaughtered his way through the entire cultist defensive line toward them. Charging alongside him was another Space Marine holding a long sword.

The Patriarch understood everything. It roared at Vito in frustration, then quickly fled toward a corner of the Shrine with agile movements. Vito watched its back, feeling incredibly annoyed. "Why are you running?!"

"Ah, damn it." Vito rubbed his head and cursed. It seemed it had seen through his stalling plan. Vito tossed the gun aside and took a deep breath; arcs of shimmering lightning appeared in his palms.

But just as Vito was about to strike, he stopped. He heard the sound of a weapon being cocked near his ear. Vito gave a wry smile, and the arcs of electricity in his hands gradually faded.

"Henry, buddy, you really shouldn't be here." Vito turned his head with a wry smile to look at the pitch-black muzzle. Henry's finger was on the trigger, aiming the deadly barrel at Vito's head.

"Vito!" Ragnar and Lancelot rushed up, the two giants instantly aiming their Bolters at Henry. But Vito waved his hand, pointing toward the Patriarch's direction. "Forget about this! Go after it! Don't let that son of a bitch get away!"

The two Deathwatch warriors nodded immediately and strode off without hesitation. Vito watched the two giants leave, then slowly stood up, looking with a wry smile at Henry, who was still holding the gun to his forehead.

"You are a traitor," Henry said. But Vito smiled. He looked down at the chaotic venue below. "You're doubting, aren't you? You hesitated when you said the word 'traitor', didn't you?"

Henry didn't speak, his finger still on the trigger. But Vito unexpectedly threw away the lasgun in his hand. He looked past the muzzle, straight into Henry's eyes. "The moment the Bishop died, you saw the truth, didn't you? The Patriarch and the way all these bastards look—their true form."

Henry still didn't speak, holding the pistol to Vito's head. The latter remained as calm as ever, pointing to his own head. "You are a psyker, Henry. Although you didn't realize it yourself, the Crimson Essence had a very limited effect on you, and the Tyranid node control didn't have the ideal effect on you either."

"I don't know why, and I don't know if it's The Emperor protecting your soul, but precisely because of that, you weren't completely infected by the Tyranid. The Tyranid influence never fully took hold of you. That is why you doubted the cult and questioned them, instead of blindly believing everything like the others."

Henry still didn't speak, nor did he lower the gun. He frowned, gripping the weapon tightly.

"The Tyranid dampening field failed when the bishop died, didn't it? You saw everything. In that split second, you saw the truth of it all, Henry. They are Tyranid."

"That Lord of Redemption came to devour everything in this entire system, to snack on us like appetizers. That wasn't redemption at all; it was just a lie fed to these poor wretches."

"I know you're disappointed in The Imperium, and that's normal, but brother, the political landscape of this planet is about to be reshuffled. Within days, those vermin will be purged. A new future awaits you and them—a chance, an opportunity to realize your own ideals is right before you. I promise The Imperium won't treat you as traitors; they are the true traitors."

Countless brilliant flashes of gunfire flickered around them, like the revelations of a dream in a story. They stood amidst the kaleidoscopic light, the sounds of explosions and battle cries fading into a blurred hallucination, as if time itself had come to a standstill.

Henry looked at Vito, and the latter looked back. The muzzle of the lasgun was pressed hard against Vito's head. Henry furrowed his brow, his finger tightening until the trigger clicked under the pressure.

Vito could hear the hissing of the lasgun charging up. The beam was gathering, ready to fire in a few milliseconds. Everything would be over in a heartbeat.

The gun fired. The laser beam shot from the muzzle and whistled past Vito's ear. A Tyranid-infected creature climbing onto the platform had its head blown through; it tumbled off the high ledge and plummeted to the distant ground below.

Vito watched as Henry lowered his weapon. Henry looked at Vito and gave a slight shake of his head. "I don't care what The Imperium thinks of me, nor do I care if I can ascend to the upper echelons of power, Vito."

"I don't care if I'm a traitor. I will no longer believe in The Emperor, nor will I believe in any god. I won't believe in any more promises. I will decide my own fate."

"But these monsters will destroy my home and slaughter my kin, so today I will help you—not for The Emperor or The Imperium."

Vito smiled and gave a slight nod, turning his own weapon to shoot down another Tyranid-infected creature. Though he didn't know how things looked through Henry's eyes now, it was clear that his mind was his own.

"Go after the Patriarch. Do what you must," Henry said, turning and walking away. Vito watched his retreating back with a smile, then broke into a run, charging forward.