Let Them All Boil

Let the sea of stars burn and the stars boil.

These eight words echoed in the void, like some kind of silent oath, exploding in the genes of every Imperium warrior.

The burning stars in the distance cast their light on every inch of void on the battlefield, stretching the fighting figures into slender shadows like flags in the wind.

The dark green blood of the insect swarm floated in the void, mixing into the remains of the burning stars.

It's like countless funerals going on at the same time, heading towards the end.

One after another Tyranids Primarch died at the hands of Space Mariness in their own way.

Some were pierced through the chests by Chainsword in the violent charge, some were reduced to ashes in the torrent of Psionic Energy, and some were dismembered by precise attacks.

But some of those deaths earned the respect of the Space Mariness.

Those Xenos who still faced death calmly at the last moment.

Those who have no fear or pleading at the end of life, but just accept the ending calmly.

Even like the objects they imitate, they seem to have inherited some of the noble spirit of mankind.

They are even willing to admit that they are despicable in some ways.

Just like human beings can sometimes realize their own despicability, but they must be noble individuals among them.

But every life will fight for its own race.

In a corner of the battlefield, a Tyranids Primarch was confronting a Imperial Fists soldier.

The shape of Tyranids Primarch is rough and thick, its shoulder armor is covered with dark green lines like weld marks, and the bone warhammer in its hand is equivalent to its height.

Its movements were not fast, but every step carried an unstoppable sense of pressure, as if some kind of huge construction machinery was slowly rolling over a ruins.

The Imperial Fists warrior did not retreat. He stood there with the Terra's Glory Chainsword lying in front of him, and the serrations on the blade made a low roar while rotating at high speed.

The two faced each other in silence for a moment, and then moved at the same time.

The war hammer collided with Chainsword, and the sound was deafening, causing the surrounding insect swarms that were fighting to stagger back.

Imperial Fists's warrior's knees were slightly bent under the force, but he did not fall.

He raised his head and looked at Tyranids Primarch with his amber eyes, with a smile on his lips.

"You are strong. But your strength is not lasting enough."

Tyranids Primarch did not answer, but just raised the war hammer again.

The war hammer spun half a circle in its hand, and then hit it again.

Imperial Fists's warrior dodged sideways, and the warhammer hit the spot where he was just standing, creating a fine crack in the void.

While he was dodging, the Chainsword had already penetrated Tyranids Primarch's ribs.

The sword blade sank into the carapace, cutting the flesh and blood inside, and dark green blood gushed out along the sword groove.

Tyranids Primarch's body stiffened, and the war hammer slipped from his hand.

It looked down at the sword that had penetrated its body. There was no pain in those gray eyes, only a clear understanding of "that's how it is."

"My strength is not durable enough - you are right."

Imperial Fists's warrior did not speak, but just handed the sword forward another inch.

"But you used up your last bit of strength to block my sword."

Tyranids Primarch smiled - the smile was very shallow, so shallow that it seemed like a habitual reaction. Even it didn't know why it was smiling.

"Imperial Fists... You are indeed the most stubborn of all legions. I have seen your Gene-Father Roge·Dorn, and in my memory... he is just like you, even if he knows he will win, he is never in a hurry to prove it."

Its body began to disintegrate slowly, like weathering. Starting from the wound, the carapace peeled off piece by piece, and the flesh and blood dissipated layer by layer.

Those dark green particles were floating in the void, like an ending sandstorm.

Imperial Fists's warrior retracted his sword and was silent for a moment while looking at the scattered particles.

"He's my Gene-Father. You're right - that's who he is."

On the other side of the battlefield, a Dark Angels is having a final showdown with a Tyranids Primarch.

The body of Tyranids Primarch is as burly as a lion, and the shoulder armor is covered with thick dark green chitin, like a mane.

It held a double-edged giant sword in its hand. The blade was covered with fine barbs. Every time it swung, it could tear a long, thin, wound-like crack in the void.

Dark Angels's movements were not fast, but every step he took was as precise as if it had been calculated, and every dodge just missed the edge of the giant sword.

He was waiting - waiting for a gap to appear in Tyranids Primarch's offensive, waiting for an imperceptible hesitation in the swing of the giant sword.

The gap appeared.

The angle of Tyranids Primarch's giant sword was half an inch off. Dark Angels's body slid forward at that moment, and the Power Sword specially forged by Belisarius Cawl accurately penetrated Tyranids Primarch's chest.

The sword blade sank into the carapace, penetrated the flesh and blood underneath, and emerged from the back.

Tyranids Primarch's body froze, and the giant sword slipped from its hand and spun several times in the void.

It looked down at the sword piercing its chest, and a complex light flashed in its golden eyes - not pain, not fear, but an almost calm calm.

"The forest of Caliban..." its voice was hoarse, "I have seen it in my memory. That forest, your hometown of Gene-Father, is very beautiful."

Dark Angels didn't answer, just pulled the sword out of its body.

Tyranids Primarch's body began to disintegrate. Starting from the wound on the chest, the carapace shattered and the flesh and blood dissipated, turning into countless tiny golden particles.

Those particles still maintained a proud posture like a lion as they dispersed, like a hunt that was ending.

Dark Angels stood there, watching the scattered particles in silence for a moment.

"You remind me of my Gene-Father, Lion Al Jonson. He also fights like this, taking his time, waiting for his opponent to reveal his flaws, and then kills him with one strike. But you are more like a beast than him."

After saying this, he turned around and flew to the next battlefield.

Those golden particles scattered behind him, like a lion looking at its prey for the last time before dying, and then completely dissipated into the void.

Before those particles completely dissipated, Swarm Prince looked across the entire battlefield and saw the scattered wreckage belonging to its descendants.