The Imperial Frontier: Brothers Working Together

The blue power armor was so conspicuous amidst the sea of insects, the flickering red light of bolters flashing incessantly within the grey-purple swarm. It was a deadly spearhead composed of blue, green, and grey.

That spear pierced deep into the body of the Tyranid Swarm, like a lethal blade striking straight for the heart, the entire battle line steadily thrusting deep into the enemy formation.

Centenarian veterans clad in Terminator armor pushed forward at full speed through the sea of insects, their blue armor flashing with countless sparks and ionic lightning. Battle-brothers followed closely behind, hacking and slashing with bolters and Chainswords. An entire company, over a hundred Astartes, charged across the land at high speed.

They transformed into a lethal spear. The blue giants trampled the earth, grinding the enemies of The Imperium into dust. Thunderhawk gunships and the Imperial Navy's atmospheric fighter squadrons converged, tangling with the Tyranid flying monsters in the clouds, where dazzling flashes of gunfire erupted from time to time.

Shattered aircraft and behemoths streaked across the firmament like meteors, burning to ash in the inferno, but none of this could halt the footsteps of the sons of Guilliman.

Behind them, thousands of mortal warriors followed. The Astra Militarum charged in the wake of a torrential wave of armor, tank cannons, plasma beams, melta cannons, and bolter machine guns roaring in unison, pouring countless volleys of destructive fire into the Tyranid ranks.

The enemy did not yield; Biovore units sprayed plasma from their tails, and blue and green lightning flickered incessantly behind the Ultramarines. Both sides threw everything they had into the assault.

The Emperor's Champion, clad in red robes, led his own lethal spearhead. The power sword in his hand danced continuously through the sea of enemies. On his flanks, dozens of Terminator veterans strode proudly, these towering giants advancing with destructive steps.

The Storm Bolters in their hands roared without pause, while heavy Chainswords and power swords reaped countless alien foes. The banner of the Ultramarines 3rd Company fluttered amidst the blue formation. Over a hundred Astartes guarded that glorious battle standard, using bolters and Chainswords to ensure no abominable alien could touch it.

Everyone executed orders under the command of Captain Mikael. The Captain's voice was solemn and unquestionable; even the warriors from other Space Marine successor chapters who had arrived from other directions obeyed his commands without hesitation. No one would question a glorious Emperor's Champion.

Four Deathwatch warriors followed closely among their brothers, fighting gloriously side-by-side with countless Astartes brethren. Lancelot and Ragnar charged at the very front, joining the bravest and most glorious of their brothers.

Bell and Olaf followed among the other brothers. Bell's bolter aimed and fired methodically, while Olaf used his psychic powers to blast Tyranid enemies one by one.

The mortal warriors of the Astra Militarum did not fall behind. They followed in the wake of the Imperial war machines. The avatars of the Machine God roared with a sound that shook the earth, heavy tracks crushing the ground. The corpses of Tyranid beasts were broken and pulverized beneath the treads, the crunching sound of snapping bones echoing incessantly beneath them.

Artillery from the hive cities provided all the support they could muster. Heavy cannons fired continuously over the city walls, bombarding the wilderness and ruined districts of the outer hive. All the high-rises and buildings had long since been reduced to rubble; the once-bustling urban area had turned into a crimson wasteland.

The sea-like Tyranid Swarm assaulted the Ultramarines' lines, their flanks and rear suffering constant heavy blows. Captain Mikael knew well that for every inch they pushed inward, the enemy's counterattack grew fiercer.

As they drew closer to the target location, their losses mounted. It was not just the mortal warriors of the Astra Militarum; even the Astartes suffered heavy casualties.

The Tyranid counterattack became increasingly organized and methodical. Large behemoths and shock units launched continuous assaults to break the Ultramarines' formation. Every counterattack and interception meant the loss of battle-brothers.

The blue spearhead began to dull and narrow, but amidst the sea of insects and fire, Mikael had already spotted the target not far ahead—the mastermind of all this destruction and death.

On an exposed rock terrace within the Tyranid swarm, the towering Tyranid Tyrant stood. It loomed high above the myriad of troops as if issuing a challenge and provocation. Countless swarms flowed past its sides like a rushing torrent washing over rocks in a river.

Mikael watched it, then looked up at the massive shadows behind it. Within the frenzy of the swarm, several behemoths as large as high-rises appeared. They opened their blood-filled maws and strode forward from the distance. It was not just from that direction; Mikael discovered these massive figures in the surrounding areas as well.

This was the Tyrant's trap. It had let the Ultramarines charge here, intentionally leaving a gap to lure them to its front, all the while inflicting losses on the Astartes until they were finally surrounded.

The crimson eye-lenses of the Captain's helmet stared at the Tyrant. The latter's wrists, holding bone blades, lifted slightly. Its fang-filled maw opened and closed slowly, as if speaking of a silent victory.

"Captain! We can't hold much longer!" A shout rang out over the comms. The Astra Militarum commander cried for help, his end echoing with countless screams and the sound of gunfire. Clearly, the Tyranids were no longer luring them in but were launching an all-out assault.

"We are isolated and without support! We must cease the attack!" the commander yelled, but the Captain stood tall, looking up at the Tyrant. He gripped his sword and stared silently at the monster.

The Tyrant also watched the Captain, but suddenly, it was distracted by something. The Tyranid Tyrant looked up toward the distant enemy, obscured by the dust of both sides' artillery fire.

A deep, resonant bell toll echoed through the fog, ringing out across the land. Three consecutive tolls sounded, and then, a massive iron foot stepped out from the mist.

Branded upon that iron foot was the immortal symbol of the Machine God. The giant emerged from the fog, and it was not alone! Titans! A Titan Legion!

Six Warhound Titans stepped out from the mist. The turbo-laser destructors and plasma blastguns on their shoulders unleashed the wrath of the Machine God, flashing beams shooting over the heads of the Astartes to strike the behemoths directly.

Several behemoths collapsed with a roar, kicking up a massive cloud of dust. Amidst the rolling smoke at the feet of the Titans, the swift riders of the Adeptus Mechanicus charged out. Sydonian Dragoon units sprinted from the smoke, the iron feet of their mechanical mounts crushing the Tyranids blocking their path, the riders atop them charging into the formation with plasma lances.

Behind them were the Skitarii legions. The red-robed followers of the Machine God charged from the flanks, red lightning piercing the side of the Tyranid Swarm and shattering their offensive. The followers of the Machine God were venting the wrath of the Machine God itself.

The Tyranid Tyrant growled at the Adeptus Mechanicus followers charging into the battlefield, but it had no time for anger. The sound of heavy iron feet crushing bone reached the Tyrant's keen auditory senses. It looked down to see the blue giant striding toward it.

Captain Mikael swung his blade like lightning, slaying one Tyranid alien after another that attempted to block him. His battle-brothers provided immediate support, the Terminator veterans shifting their fire to clear enemies around the Captain. A rain of bolter fire instantly swept away swaths of Tyranid foes.

Tyranid war veterans charged to the front, blocking anyone attempting to approach the Captain. Captain Mikael surged through his battle-brothers. A Harridan wielding a bio-cannon burst from the swarm, aiming its weapon at Captain Mikael, but before it could fire a single shot, it was blasted into fragments by a passing Thunderhawk.

All forces belonging to the Astartes Chapter reacted rapidly, with speed that was almost unbelievable.

Mikael reached the rock terrace. The Tyrant leaped down, swinging its bone blades in a storm-like assault. But the blinding speed of the strikes did not fell the champion warrior. Captain Mikael precisely parried the lethal blow and immediately launched a counterattack.

The power sword in the Emperor's Champion's hand clashed repeatedly with the Tyrant's bone swords, sparks flying everywhere between them. Even though the champion had two bone swords, neither could inflict a single scratch on the Captain.

The red battle-cloak danced outside the flashes of steel, its gold-threaded embroidery reflecting the surrounding firelight. The gold threads almost turned into a ribbon of light, swirling and shining around them.

Their speed was so great that no mortal could see them. It was a stalemate, difficult to call a winner; even the Astartes could barely track them, let alone intervene. But there was one exception.

The Knight of Caliban, clad in black armor, rushed forward. The knightly sword in his hand swung out from the side. The Tyrant was forced to divert a bone blade to block Lancelot's strike, and this was enough to provide an opening for Captain Mikael.

Mikael backhanded his sword, carving a wound into the Tyranid's abdomen. The Tyrant roared, swinging its tail to knock the Captain back a few steps. It did not injure the Captain, but just as he prepared to rise, a Harridan from the sky—disregarding the fact that its legs were completely atrophied and it would never fly again if it fell—crashed down from the air, slamming into the Captain and knocking him flying.

Lancelot watched this in shock but immediately regained his focus to block a lethal side-swipe from the Tyrant. The berserk beast vented all its rage upon the Sons of Lion.

Just as Lancelot blocked its swing, the Tyrant used the hilt of its other bone sword to strike Lancelot's head with a heavy blow. The Knight of Caliban was knocked to the ground, fragments flying from his helmet as the display glass shattered instantly. But the Tyrant did not stop there; it kicked him away, sending him crashing heavily onto the rock terrace.

Lancelot smashed through a large rock and fell to the ground. He propped himself up with his sword, but as soon as he looked up, he was grabbed by the throat by the Tyrant. The towering beast lifted Lancelot up, corrosive acid flowing from its fang-filled maw. It stared with fury at the Space Marine before it, looking directly into his eyes through the shattered helmet lenses.

Lancelot's azure eyes looked back at the beast, but there was not a trace of fear in them. In the eyes of the Sons of Lion, there was not even a hint of terror.

"Ragnar! Do it!" Lancelot shouted. The Tyrant turned its head in surprise, watching as the Space Wolves warrior charged forward at full stride. At close range, he threw his Chainaxe, which flew straight toward the Tyrant's head.

The Tyrant instinctively swung a bone blade to block the Chainaxe. The axe embedded itself into the rock terrace, roaring incessantly. Ragnar roared as he charged up, pulling a combat knife to stab at the Tyrant's abdomen, but his arms were immediately seized by the Tyrant's powerful claws. It held the Space Wolves warrior's arms in a death grip.

The Tyrant used brute force to pin Ragnar to the ground. It looked down at the Space Marine, who was kneeling on one knee and had lost all ability to resist, and raised its bone blade. Its mouth roared with the sound of victory, but suddenly, its keen hearing caught another sound—the roar of a Chainaxe.

The Tyranid turned its head to look at the pinned, defeated Lancelot, and for the first time, a look of shock appeared in the beast's eyes.

Lancelot pulled the Chainaxe out of the rock terrace and struck it directly into the Tyrant's face. The roaring Chainaxe embedded itself into the Tyranid beast's face at point-blank range, flesh and armor fragments spraying from both sides of the axe.

The Tyranid Tyrant shrieked and released its claws. Lancelot collapsed weakly to the ground, watching as the beast kicked Ragnar away in a rage. It retreated a few steps, pulled the Chainaxe from its face, and after a heart-wrenching roar, threw it to the ground and crushed it underfoot.

The Tyrant raised its head, roaring at Lancelot with a hideous face that had been shredded on one side.

It raised its Bone Sword, looming over the Knight who sat powerlessly on the ground, but the latter's eyes remained devoid of fear, which once again puzzled the Tyrant. It seemed to realize something, snapping its head around to scan the area, searching for an attacker like Ragnar.

"Above," a voice said. The Tyrant started and looked up toward the top of the rock ledge; a blue figure leaped down from where it had just been standing. A Power Blade pierced into the center of the Tyrant's face, and the giant slammed into the ground, taking the Tyrant down with him.

The blue giant clad in a red robe stood up. He gave a sharp tug to the side, and the roaring beast fell silent. He stepped onto the Tyrant's corpse and pulled his sword from the creature's face, which had shattered like a watermelon.

He turned and walked over to Lancelot. "Can you still stand, my brother of honor?" He extended a hand, and the Sons of Lion smiled slightly, grabbing that hand to pull himself up.

"I had long heard that the Sons of Lion were brave and fearless, and seeing it now, it is truly so," Mikael affirmed. Lancelot picked up his sword and brushed the dust from it, nodding in salute to the Captain. "This honor belongs to you, Captain." "No, my brother, it belongs to all of us."

"Ah, by the Allfather, my axe is broken again," Ragnar said, walking over from nearby and looking at his Chainaxe, which lay on the ground in a mangled heap. Mikael laughed and patted Ragnar on the shoulder.

"We will find you a new one, but for now..." As he spoke, Mikael and the two warriors looked toward the chaotic swarm. With the Tyrant dead, the entire swarm had fallen into complete disarray. The various Tyranid creatures had lost all control; they almost immediately forgot friend from foe, beginning to slaughter one another or breaking in morale and fleeing in every direction. As a collective intelligence—or rather, they never really had such a thing—their sanity was the Tyrant, and now, the Tyrant was dead.

The massive herd collapsed, and the Astartes Space Marine, Astra Militarum, and Adeptus Mechanicus immediately began to press the advantage, killing as many bugs as possible.

"We must do our best to destroy more of the swarm. Come, brothers, today shall be a day of glory." Mikael said, brandishing his longsword as he charged out. "Courage and honor! Advance for Macragge!"

Ragnar laughed heartily, drew his combat knife, and shouted to the sky, "For Russ and the Allfather!" He then charged out with a howl, killing a Hormagaunt almost instantly.

Lancelot also smiled, loosened his arm, and raised his knightly sword.

"Repent! Your death has arrived! For the Lion! For The Emperor!"

The Knight of Caliban's longsword swung into motion.

Brothers, work together to crush the xenos! Now gathering monthly votes, let's go crush the xenos together, charge, charge, charge!