The corridor had become a bloody inferno.
A mixture of xenos blood and machine oil flowed freely across the deck. The air reeked of scorching, blood, and the distinctive scent of Force Weapons.
Relying on their heavy Power Armour and extensive boarding experience, the veterans of the Word Bearers' First Company fought a brutal, back-and-forth battle against the Aeldari Storm Guardians.
The thunder of Bolts, the roar of Power Weapons, and the shriek of Aeldari warblades mingled together.
Clad in Cataphractii-pattern Terminator Armour, Sergeant Orwell stood at the very front of the battle line like a mobile fortress.
One precise, crushing punch drove straight through the chest of a Storm Guardian attempting to flank him. He crushed its still-beating heart along with its shattered wraithbone breastplate!
He casually hurled the twitching corpse against the wall with a dull thud.
Yet a powerful unease rose within this veteran of countless battles against the Aeldari.
Though the Storm Guardians attacked fiercely, their tactics seemed strange, even reckless.
They did not seem intent on breaking through the defensive line. Rather, they appeared to be buying time at any cost.
And although there were plenty of them, their numbers did not seem sufficient to overwhelm this elite guard in an instant.
"No... something's wrong..." Orwell scanned the battlefield through his blood-spattered lenses, his mind racing.
Since when had the Aeldari become so careless with their lives? Where were the cunning and precision strikes they excelled at?
Suddenly, a terrible thought stabbed into his mind like a spike of ice!
He whipped his head around toward the heavy isolation hatch behind him, cast from high-density alloy. Anastasia was on the other side!
The enemies attacking head-on were bait! A feint meant to draw all their attention!
"No! We've been tricked!" Orwell's furious roar instantly drowned