The vast space beneath the Giant Gate had become a seething mill of flesh and blood.
The thunder of Bolts, the roar of Chainswords, the shriek of Force Weapons, and the howls of the dying mingled together, striking the towering vault and echoing without end.
The air was thick with the overwhelming stench of blood, ozone, and ruptured entrails.
At the center of this chaotic battlefield, the two tallest figures stood like rocks braced against each other in a storm, becoming the pillars that held back the Aeldari's frenzied counterattack.
Khârn of the War Hounds Legion and Hercules of the Word Bearers fought back to back with an almost instinctive understanding, forming a moving bulwark of death.
Khârn's blue-and-white Power Armour was already covered in scorch marks from psychic blades and gashes torn by Shuriken, but he seemed utterly oblivious.
The Chainaxe in his hands roared hungrily, every attack shattering an enemy's body.
He neither blocked nor dodged. His offense was his defense!
Faced with the exquisitely coordinated, dance-like thrusts of several Aeldari Howling Banshees, he ignored the blades coming at him and swept his Chainaxe around in a vicious, waist-high arc!
Rrrrip!!!
The Chainaxe's teeth tore through the air, shredding those Aeldari warriors along with their magnificent armour!
Crimson blood mist bloomed like a flower of death, staining more than half of Khârn's body red.
The psychic blades thrust at his ribs and shoulder plates merely struck sparks and left a few deeper gouges in his armour.
"For Angron! For the War Hounds!"
Khârn roared like a wounded beast, his eyes bloodshot beneath his helmet. Driven by some anger or shame buried deep within his soul, he attacked with ever greater frenzy, forcing back the Aeldari warriors who tried to approach.
At his back, Hercules displayed a different kind