Tzeentch: Still Stacking? Fine, I'll Declare You the Winner

"Our interceptors?!" the deputy priest shouted down below.

"We can't stop them! There are too many! They've got lances too! Our point-defense guns can't even withstand one volley!" the guard answered in terror.

The Craftworld Aeldari's defensive fire was indeed returning fire, but the human aircraft concentrated their fire on them, silencing one gun emplacement after another.

The Craftworld was enormous, larger than the two human warships combined.

But what good was being large? The Craftworld's primary function was habitation. It was not a warship.

Its fire network simply couldn't stop this many bombers.

The human air raid was like a tightening net, drawing ever closer.

More than a dozen drop pods smashed through the Craftworld's outer armor. Their doors exploded outward, and several giants in Power Armor leaped out.

They towered over ordinary humans, their figures massive and imposing.

The one at the front wore a golden sash over his shoulder. The moment he charged out, he swung his sword, cleaving an Aeldari warrior who had tried to open fire—weapon, arm, and all—into two. "For our lord—!!!"

"Space Marines!"

The death angels of the human god.

The Aeldari panicked.

Only the most elite Aeldari warriors could barely suppress a Space Marine in Power Armor in close combat by relying on their agility.

Humans possessed greater physical strength than the Aeldari, and their reproductive capacity was also superior.

Humans could fight, reproduce, and multiply in vast numbers. They were like weeds that could never be burned away, their sheer numbers enough to drive anyone to despair.

Compared with humans, the Aeldari's reproductive capacity was pathetically low. The Craftworld Aeldari population was already small; every death meant one fewer.

They simply couldn't afford such losses.

If the Aeldari fought humans in close combat and exchanged casualties, they would lose.

******