First Wave
The first wave of contact.
Titus ' right hand shot out suddenly and accurately seized the head of a Termagant.
The creature's mouthparts were still trying to bite, its forelimbs were still flailing wildly, and its entire body was struggling desperately.
But Titus's hand remained as still as an iron clamp.
He gripped it tightly.
The head exploded in his palm, chitinous fragments and biological fluids scattering in the vacuum like a blooming flower of death.
Titus did not linger.
His body traced a graceful arc in the vacuum, already hurtling towards his second target.
At the same time, the same scene was unfolding across the entire battlefield.
One hundred thousand Ultramarines, one hundred thousand extraordinary beings who inherited Guilliman's mutated genes, crashed into the Leviathan swarm like one hundred thousand blue meteors.
A Hive Tyrant —a terrifying creature that requires an entire Space Marines squad to deal with on any ground battlefield—is currently being besieged by three Ultramarines.
It was three times their size, powerful enough to tear apart a tank, and capable of shattering rocks with every swing.
But at this moment, it is fleeing.
It tried to retreat, tried to dodge, tried to use its swarm of insects to block those blue Ynnead.
It's useless.
An Ultramarines charged forward and caught its massive claws, which were powerful enough to crush a tank.
The giant claw stopped in his hand, unable to advance an inch, and then—it was torn off.
The agonizing screams of the Hive Tyrant spread silently in the vacuum.
Large amounts of biological fluid gushed from its severed limbs, which condensed into ice crystals in the vacuum, like blood-red stars.
Two other Ultramarines have already charged forward.
Their fists pounded on the Hive Tyrant's head like pile drivers, one punch, two punches, three punches—the incredibly hard chitinous carapace began to crack, the cracks spreading like a spider web, and then—it exploded.
The headless corpse of the Hive Tyrant floated in the vacuum, quickly being overwhelmed by the swarming insects.
But those swarms of insects weren't protecting it; they were devouring it.
The Hive Mind is recycling biomass, even from individuals that have just died in battle.
But that won't save them.
Because the Ultramarines are faster.
100,000 versus 1 million.
No, 100,000 versus 10 million.
The Hive Fleet Leviathan was astronomically large.
There are hundreds of giant creatures at the size of Hive Ship and Cruisers, thousands of medium-sized creatures at the size of Frigates, and hundreds of millions of small creatures such as Termagant, Hormagaunt, and Gargoyle.
Under normal warfare logic, 100,000 soldiers deployed to such a battlefield are but a drop in the ocean, an appetizer before the swarm of insects devours them.
But at this moment, this "vast ocean" is being boiled.
Each Ultramarines is equivalent to a thousand normal Space Marines in combat power.
The combined strength of one hundred million normal Space Marines was thrown into this void.
Titus moved through the swarm of insects, and wherever he went, the Tyranids creatures fell like harvested wheat.
His Power Fist were covered in chitinous fragments and biological fluids, but there wasn't a single scratch on his blue armor.
That was Guilliman's blessing.
"My physical blessing has been bestowed upon you, leaving an extra scratch on your armor. Your father is going to swear to Khorne right now!"
The Primarch's words still echoed in my ears.
At this moment, Titus truly understood the meaning of those words—this blessing was not merely a symbolic one, but a real, physical empowerment.
The insect swarm's attacks landed on him like a gentle spring breeze, leaving no mark whatsoever.
He continued forward.
His target was the core of the fleet—those massive Hive Ship, those terrifying entities that bred countless Tyranids creatures, the "heart" of this Leviathan squadron.
Through the communication channel, Cato Sicarius's voice came through. "Titus! Something big is coming from the left wing!"
Titus glanced sideways.
It was a gigantic creature—if one could describe it as a "head."
Its size is comparable to that of an Imperium cruiser. Its surface is covered with a thick biological carapace, and its front end is open with countless ferocious mouthparts, each of which is emitting a silent roar.
Frigate-class creatures of the Hive Ship, specifically responsible for protecting the core mothership.
Behind it followed at least a thousand Tyranids creatures of various kinds.
Titus's lips curled up slightly.
"It's up to you."
His voice was as calm as if he were discussing the weather.
Cato's maniacal laughter came through the communication channel. "Just you wait and see!"
The next second, Cato Sicarius was already charging towards the giant beast.
Behind him, at least three hundred Ultramarines followed closely, like a blue torrent crashing into the Zerg swarm's guard.
Cato drew the sword from his waist—a treasure given to him by Guilliman himself.
Even in the vacuum, the sword still shone with a golden light—the power of the Emperor, the blessing of the Primarch, and a warrior's most precious glory.
He charged ahead, his sword flashed, and three Hormagaunt were severed at the waist.
More swarms of insects arrived.
More Ultramarines are coming forward.
In the void, a massacre is unfolding.
The tentacles of the Great Devourer were now in complete disarray.
It watched its swarm of insects fall like harvested straw, watched those blue figures roam freely in the vacuum, and watched its carefully cultivated Hive Tyrant, Tyranid Warrior, and Zoanthrope be torn to pieces one by one.
In its Psionic Energy mind, the word extracted from human memory kept surfacing: Holy shit.
This is not a battle.
This is a massacre.
They were the ones who were slaughtered.
The tentacles frantically mobilized all available insect swarms, attempting to halt the blue Ynnead.
It allowed the Termagant swarm to surround from all sides, the Hormagaunt swarm to charge from the front, the Tyranid Warrior swarm to serve as the backbone, and the Zoanthrope to unleash Psionic Energy attacks from the rear.
It's useless.
The Termagant's piercing cannon struck the blue figures, but they were deflected.
The Hormagaunt ' sharp claws tore at the blue figures, shattering them.
The Tyranid Warrior's power collided with the blue figures, but it was counter-killed.
The Psionic Energy shockwave from the Zoanthrope swept over the blue figures—they didn't even pause.
The tentacles' thinking completely collapsed.
Unbeknownst to it, the Psionic Energy shockwaves from those Zoanthrope were blocked by an even more powerful force the moment they made contact with the Ultramarines.
That was the power from distant Terra, a blue figure sitting beside the Golden Throne, using his Psionic Energy to protect each of his offspring.
Guilliman sat on his throne, his eyes slightly closed, a faint smile playing on his lips.
He could sense the presence of every Ultramarines, their every move on the battlefield, and the Psionic Energy impacts of the Zoanthrope crashing against the rocks like waves, only to dissipate again and again.