The Drop Pod custom-built for Hercules's enormous frame plunged like a gigantic javelin hurled by a god, wreathed in flames from atmospheric friction. It punched straight through the smoke and fire above Saar City and crashed into the very heart of that meat grinder.
Its hatch burst open before it touched down, torn apart from within by sheer force.
Hercules stepped out.
Beneath his Helmet, his eyes burned with a cold fury fierce enough to melt adamantium.
He knew it was these traitors below, clad in sand-yellow armour, who had taken his father from him through their despicable schemes.
He had landed right at a fiercely contested junction in the district.
More than a hundred traitor warriors of the Second Legion were advancing step by step, scouring the loyalists' last cover with bolts and flames.
The falling Drop Pod was like a boulder hurled into an anthill, instantly drawing every weapon toward it.
"It's a Dreadnought! Open fire!"
The quickest traitor squad immediately swung their weapons around. Their Bolters roared in unison, spraying searing metal rounds like a rainstorm at the massive figure that had just come to a halt.
They had mistaken Hercules for a Dreadnought.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
The impacts merged into a continuous barrage. Sparks sprayed wildly from Hercules's dark grey armour, leaving pale dents and blackened scorch marks.
But he merely swayed a little. The bolts that could tear ordinary Power Armour apart struck him like hailstones against an ancient city wall.
He did not even raise an arm to block them.
"Heh."
A barely audible snort came from beneath his Helmet. The next instant, he moved.
His explosive speed was terrifying, utterly at odds with his enormous frame.
An immense armoured hand shot out like lightning, seizing the Helmet of the nearest traitor