Admonition

The foul air over the Foul Plains was pierced by a fresh tearing shriek—not the groans of Nurgle's followers, but the scream of steel and fire.

The heavy clouds were forcibly torn apart, revealing the brutal constructs behind them: angular Drop Pods painted in yellow-and-black hazard stripes, like the fangs of death, smashing viciously into the rear flank of the Imperium's allied forces!

"Iron Warriors!" An alarm erupted over the Ultramarines' comms, filled with bone-deep hatred and grim solemnity.

Guilliman was pulling the Emperor's Sword from the core of a bloated Nurgle Daemon Engine, golden flames searing away its foul pus-blood.

The shockwave from the Drop Pods striking the ground made him sway slightly. He snapped his head up, his gaze beneath the helmet turning utterly cold.

Iron Warriors, Perturabo's whelps! They had chosen the most vicious moment possible, launching a fatal stab at their weak point before Nurgle's corrupt tide had even receded!

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The Drop Pod hatches burst open amid the shriek of hydraulics. Through smoke and fire stepped the Chaos Space Marines of the Iron Warriors.

They were no longer siege masters pursuing perfect defenses, but killing machines wholly twisted by Chaos.

Their yellow-and-black power armor was covered in blasphemous spikes and warped skull ornaments. Chainaxes and Heavy Bolters roared with hunger.

The instant they landed, they struck like precise siege hammers, smashing into the Ultramarines clearing out the remaining Nurgle forces and the nearby Astra Militarum positions!

"Enemy attack! High threat level! Combat mode!" Carter's warning exploded through the Spartan Squad's internal channel, cold efficiency replacing all observation and analysis protocols.

The enhanced MJOLNIR Armor reactors activated at once with a low hum, and the dim blue energy lines abruptly blazed brighter.

"Defensive formation! Drone fire coverage over Sector A!" Carter ordered sharply as massive Bolter rounds howled from the smashed-open Drop Pods toward them!

Hummm—

Six hovering Swarm drones responded instantly!

They completed their combat-mode transformations in moments. Weapon bays popped out beneath their compact frames, and dense laser beams, like a lethal swarm of bees, precisely interwove into an interception net!

The incoming Bolter rounds detonated in midair under the barrage of energy beams. The scorching blast waves and fragments were easily deflected by the MJOLNIR shields.

"Suppressive fire! Suppressive fire!" Carter's Pulse Rifle gave off a high-frequency hum as he fired at the Drop Pod hatches pouring out Iron Warriors.

The rest of the squad opened fire at full force. Pulse Rifles and Lasguns wove a dense crossfire, and together with the drones' laser storm, they forcibly halted the Iron Warriors' advance!

An Iron Warriors champion threw back his head and roared, charging through the firestorm. His massive Power Fist glowed with foul energy as he lunged at the nearest Spartan.

"Jane! Flank!" Carter shouted.

The named Spartan didn't hesitate. The incredible mobility granted by his MJOLNIR Armor let him evade the heavy blow with an impossible sidestep. At the same time, two high-explosive micro-missiles shot from his shoulder launcher with a hiss, striking precisely where the champion's power pack connected!

Boom!

The force of the explosion made the champion stagger.

At that instant, Carter and another squad member concentrated their Pulse Rifle fire. Blue energy beams drilled through a weak point in the shield and slammed into the seams of the champion's chestplate!

"Aaargh—!" The champion let out an unwilling roar before crashing to the ground.

"Beautiful!" Nearby, the captain of an Ultramarines Honor Guard squad that had been driven back by the Iron Warriors' ambush and was now locked in a desperate fight witnessed it all. A heartfelt praise came through the comms.

"Hold the high ground! Jane, snipe the high-value targets!" Carter gave the order. A brief understanding formed between the Spartan Squad and the Honor Guard.

The Ultramarines' blue figures withstood the frontal assault, hacking and shooting their way through the Iron Warriors with Bolters and Chainswords. Meanwhile, relying on precise firepower, flexible mobility, and drone support, the Spartan Squad held firmly to the high ground. They constantly picked off Iron Warriors attempting to outflank them or deploy heavy weapons, while also providing fire support to the Astra Militarum squads below, which had fallen into chaos.

"Drone Group B, mark enemy heavy weapons! Eliminate them first!"

"Pulse Grenades, cover the Sector D passage!"

"Watch the three o'clock direction! Jane!"

Carter's orders were clear and calm, and the squad carried them out like precision machinery.

The enhanced MJOLNIR Armor displayed astonishing defensive power in the close-quarters melee. Iron Warriors Bolter rounds sent violent ripples across its shields, but they couldn't break through them instantly.

Meanwhile, the Spartans' pulse weapons penetrated Chaos power armor, and the drones' laser beams damaged crucial components, inflicting casualties far beyond what the Iron Warriors had anticipated.

"For Macragge! For the Primarch!" Supported by Spartan firepower, the Honor Guard steadied themselves and launched an even fiercer counterattack.

An Ultramarines squad surrounded by Iron Warriors and on the verge of collapse managed to break free and regroup under the Spartans' drones' precise suppressive fire.

When the last Chaos Dreadnought attempting to climb the high ground had its power core destroyed by concentrated fire from Carter Squad and turned into burning scrap on the spot, the Iron Warriors' raid in this sector was completely shattered.

Amid the smoke, the Honor Guard members all looked toward the silent black figures on the high ground. The blue markings on their power armor stood out starkly against the filthy battlefield.

They struck their fists against their chestplates, producing dull metallic clangs—an Astartes' silent, highest form of recognition.

Yet the scene at the other end of the battlefield was entirely different.

Guilliman's eyes burned with towering fury toward Perturabo's sons.

When the Emperor's Sword severed the core of the final Nurgle Daemon Engine, brutal red dots representing Iron Warriors Drop Pods erupted across the flank of the tactical map inside his helmet like festering sores.

"Perturabo's filth..." His low growl carried the scrape of metal through the comms.

There was no hesitation, no waiting to regroup. That blue-and-gold figure shot forth like an arrow, carrying a golden storm of Destruction, charging alone toward the heart of the Iron Warriors' assault—those Chaos Hellbrutes unfolding their artillery mounts, their blasphemous runes flickering!

"Keep up!" Calgar cried over the comms, his voice filled with anxiety.

But Guilliman was too fast! Wherever the Emperor's Sword swept, whether remaining Nurgle zombies or Iron Warriors hastily rushing to meet him, all shattered beneath that pure power and burning holy flame.

But the cost followed immediately.

To keep pace with their gene-father, to plug the gaps torn open by his frenzied charge that he had no time to address, the loyal warriors paid in blood.

The Ultramarines company had no choice but to abandon its original formation, launching a rushed supporting charge in a scattered line and exposing itself to crossfire from the flanks.

An Astra Militarum Chimera troop carrier attempting to fill the gap in the battle line was torn apart by magnetic mines planted in advance by the Iron Warriors. Burning wreckage and severed limbs of soldiers were scattered across the ground.

A Predator Tank attempting to provide covering fire for the Primarch had its turret precisely pierced by a Chaos Predator's laser main cannon. The resulting fireball swallowed an entire nearby infantry squad.

"Captain! The left flank is collapsing! Do we provide support?" Jane's voice came through the Spartan Squad channel.

"Activate battlefield scan! Share visual feed! Drone fire coverage over Grid G7! Suppress enemy heavy weapons teams! Everyone else, follow me!" Carter gave the decisive order without a moment's hesitation.

The Spartan Squad dove down from the high ground like black lightning.

The Swarm drones rushed into the designated area first, their dense laser beams cutting into the Iron Warriors' flank like precise razors.

They linked up with the struggling Ultramarines and swiftly formed a temporary defensive line.

"Hold formation! Crossfire!" Carter's command was short and forceful.

The Spartans' formidable individual firepower, precise shooting, and the drones' real-time support quickly stabilized the crumbling flank, buying the divided Ultramarines a chance to catch their breath and regroup.

When the final Hellbrute became burning scrap beneath Guilliman's Emperor's Sword, the Iron Warriors' assault was finally contained.

The battlefield gradually quieted, leaving only burning wreckage, corpses strewn everywhere, and the groans of the wounded.

The air reeked of ozone, scorched flesh, and melted metal.

Guilliman stood atop the Hellbrute's wreckage as the light of the Emperor's Sword slowly faded.

At that moment, an icy, severe challenge pierced through every battlefield sound and background transmission like the thunder of judgment, exploding directly over Guilliman's general channel!

"Guilliman! What are you doing?!"

Carter's roar held no respect, only pure fury kindled by professional discipline.

"By the standards of any private in the Hilling Empire who has received basic military training, what you're doing is a complete tactical disaster! You ignored the stability of the overall battle line, disregarded unit coordination, and charged alone into the enemy's densest formation on nothing but personal valor, throwing your own lines into disarray! You're paving the way for your reckless charge with your soldiers' lives!"

His voice was like a steel whip tempered in fire, lashing the ears of everyone who could hear it over the comms. It carried unquestionable authority and condemnation born of a higher military standard.

"Look behind you! Look at the warriors forced into death traps just to keep up with your incomprehensible pace! Look at the units exposed to crossfire because you tore open the battle line! Every one of your so-called 'heroic' advances creates new gaps and new massacres!"

Carter's words didn't pause for an instant. Every syllable struck like a hammer blow:

"In the Hilling Empire military, any commander who acted as you did would immediately be stripped of command, regardless of whether he ultimately achieved his tactical objective! His actions would be classified as severe dereliction of duty: disregarding soldiers' lives and sabotaging campaign coordination! What awaits him isn't glory, but a military tribunal! There are no excuses!"

Silence.

Absolute silence fell over the warriors around Guilliman, who had just survived a bloody battle.

Guilliman himself seemed frozen, his grip on the Emperor's Sword tightening slightly.

Beneath his helmet, his lips pressed into a hard line. Complex emotions surged in those blue eyes that saw through all things—sharp pain at having his wound exposed, heavy guilt toward the fallen, and an indescribable helplessness deeply rooted in his genetic bloodline.

Yes, he knew Carter was right.

Every word was like a precise scalpel, cutting open the blood-soaked cost beneath his actions.

That impulse to charge into battle without regard for anything else clung to him like a parasite. It was part of him as a warrior Primarch, and it was also his eternal curse.

"Insolence!"

"Heretics! How dare you insult the Primarch!"

"Seize them!"

The surrounding Ultramarines snapped out of their shock and were instantly ignited by overwhelming fury!

Several warriors roared as they raised their Bolters and Chainswords, their rage at their father's humiliation blazing in their hearts. Cold muzzles and roaring teeth instantly locked onto the Spartan Squad nearby!

The Honor Guard members swiftly surrounded them, though in truth, they were protecting them.

The air carried a smell more dangerous than the smoke of the recent battle against the Iron Warriors—the fury of Fealty.

"Put down your weapons!" Guilliman's voice rang out abruptly. It wasn't loud, yet it boomed like a great bell, carrying unquestionable authority and a profound weariness.

He slowly turned to face the sons enraged on his behalf.

"Clear the battlefield!" Guilliman's gaze swept across the blue helmets burning with anger before finally settling on Calgar.