Saladin's charge traced a straight dividing line of death.
Anything that dared stand in its path—swarming Rangdan Soldiers, hastily erected energy barriers, or Elites attempting ambushes from the flanks or above—was annihilated before that dark-gold blade and his unstoppable strength.
He no longer sought precise kills, instead pushing his speed and destructive power to their limits.
Wherever his scimitar passed, severed limbs and mangled remains mingled with shattered weapons and structural debris, flung to either side like fields plowed by an invisible storm.
His rage became destruction in its purest form, carving a road paved with blood and metal through the construct's tangled passages.
Close behind him came Captain Saolis and his Word Bearers.
These warriors of the Seventeenth Legion had seamlessly joined the assault storm unleashed by the Lord of the Yellow Sands.
Their tactical style might have placed greater emphasis on coordinated combat, but in this bloody, close-quarters frontal assault, their resilience, discipline, and lethal efficiency were every bit the equal of their Second Legion brothers, famed for their prowess in melee.
Saolis himself led from the front.
His Power Sword traced ghostly blue arcs through the dim passage as he met a Rangdan Overlord attempting to intercept them from the side.
The xenos was enormous and immensely strong, wielding a heavy power maul.
But Saolis held his footing, parrying and redirecting its force. The instant his opponent committed to a swing, his Power Sword thrust into a gap in its breastplate at a vicious angle. The psychic energy field overloaded in an instant, tearing the monster apart from within.
He stepped onto the fallen Overlord's corpse and pulled his bloodied sword free, his gaze sweeping ahead to fix on that golden figure charging relentlessly onward.
Saladin's condition left him vaguely uneasy.
It was more than the frenzy