Some battles were easy, while others were hard-fought. Many of Big Canteen's designs had been built around the goal of defending against the threat of Chaos, so such results were hardly surprising.
But Big Canteen was the only planet armed to the teeth. The remaining planets had fallen into bitter struggles. The regular troops and militia stationed on those worlds barely held back the daemonic assault by relying on their defensive lines, while also guarding against the many xenos and filth crawling out of the bloated structures of the hive cities.
"For The Emperor! Hold the line!" The roars of the Lamenters warriors hammered against the militia's hearts, allowing them to gather their courage again and again to face the endless horror before them.
The situation was even worse on planets where the veil had already been fragile. The ruptured rifts were vast enough to swallow entire planets with ease. Before the defenders could even react, they discovered that they were no longer surrounded by cold void, but by the Warp itself, brimming with malice.
They looked up at the greedy gazes cast upon them and raised their weapons at the flickering forms of daemons. Within the administrative centers, officials trained at Big Canteen heatedly discussed countermeasures, while the psykers assigned there sent distress signals outward.
Someone would always be crushed by despair. A recently recruited local official went pale as he looked at the daemons covering the entire planet. Slumped in his chair, he muttered, "We're finished. The daemons will devour us alive... We should find a chance to flee, not be buried with this planet."
Slap!
A younger official knocked him to the floor with a slap, then pointed at his nose and berated him. "Coward! Today, we give up five planets; tomorrow, ten, and then we get