The Turn of the Tide

Years of combat experience and martial training allowed Ventanus to gradually master the rhythm of battle. The Word Bearer, possessing immense strength, couldn't fully control his power. After several rounds of engagement, he exposed a weakness and was run through the abdomen of his power armor with a sword.

The disintegration field vaporized the enemy's flesh and internal organs. Ventanus could feel the opponent's muscles twitching wildly, resisting the foreign object invading his body.

The power sword's disintegration field flickered erratically. The recent clashes with the chainsword had left it unstable, and at a critical moment, it became stuck in the opponent's bones.

Ventanus's hair stood on end. He decisively released his grip on the sword. The Word Bearer struggled to his feet, roaring and hacking with his berserk chainsword, attempting to take down the formidable Ultramarines Captain.

His adjutant tried to intervene but was directly flung aside, falling into the ruins.

A large amount of blood gushed from the Word Bearer's wound. The Adeptus Astartes' extraordinary coagulation abilities had failed. Ventanus seized the opportunity, lunging forward to pin his opponent with his weight. He simultaneously jammed the enemy's chainsword firmly into the ground, causing it extreme wear.

Iron fists hammered the helmet repeatedly. After the third blow, the Word Bearer's helmet had already caved in. The fourth and fifth punches crushed the enemy's gorget, shattering the visor and revealing eyes that were already a bloody mess within.

Even so, he did not fall. This Word Bearer possessed uncommon valor. Ventanus might have heard of his reputation in the past, but at this moment, they were merely blood-soaked mortal enemies.

However, the forces of the Adepta Sororitas and the Iron Hands had now surrounded them. Bolter rounds and plasma fire roared, pulverizing this incredibly tenacious Word Bearer veteran. Ventanus himself couldn't completely defeat him in close combat.

But this was war, not a gladiatorial match.

The Ultramarines' stamina plummeted rapidly. Their bodies were sustaining damage, with bruised muscles and shattered bones occurring constantly, and they didn't have much time to recover.

Ventanus had to call for his battle-brothers to retreat, as the Word Bearers continued to surge forward relentlessly. They moved silently, their malevolent eyes fixed upon them.

Even the Ultramarines, caught in a continuous war of attrition, were being pushed to their limits.

The increasingly heavy firepower caused immense casualties. Several Ultramarines, too exhausted to dodge incoming bolter rounds, had their armor shattered and bled profusely, their survival uncertain.

"I'm receiving a new signal, from other Ultramarines, sir!" shouted Aruk, the leader of the Adepta Sororitas.

Ventanus dared not be careless. He had to confirm that these reinforcements were Ultramarines and not a vile deception by the Word Bearers.

"Question them about the number of flashy Eldar and report back to me immediately!"

"Twelve! The answer is twelve!" Aruk yelled.

"The correct number is thirteen, but they are indeed reinforcements." Ventanus panted heavily, his internal organs having sustained considerable impact. "Send them the coordinates, quickly!"

The Word Bearers' assault forced the Ultramarines to continuously fall back. After repelling two waves of attacks, the impending third wave would be the key to the battle. Ventanus knew in his heart that his soldiers were nearing their limit; even with their strong will, they would inevitably be defeated once their bodies broke down.

"Hurry, battle-brothers, there isn't much time left. I've had enough!"

The Ultramarines, usually superior in numbers, now found themselves in a desperate encirclement. They couldn't hold on much longer.

The Word Bearers' offensive struck again. Their panting and footsteps spread through the dense fog, exerting increasing psychological pressure on the loyalists: their numbers seemed endless.

The enemy's artillery had intensified!

Ventanus detected increasingly fierce mortar fire, rockets, and micro-missiles. They impacted the ancient high walls, leaving more and more craters, and even began to fall into the rear camps, threatening the sheltered mortals.

His superhuman hearing was now troubled by the battlefield's roar. The noise of artillery fire drowned out the details that truly needed attention. More and more whooshes of jetpacks came from the flanks. The Word Bearers' Space Marines used jetpacks for battlefield jumps, tearing apart the Ultramarines' defensive positions.

The Ultramarines cursed, but without hesitation, they charged forward, blocking the Word Bearers from slaughtering the mortal auxiliaries.

This was a brutal meat-grinder war, devoid of clever tactics or miracles of fighting a hundred against one. There was only the bloody melee of chainsword against chainsword, bolter against bolter.

The war machines created by the Emperor were doing their utmost to kill each other, bringing death to one another.

The Word Bearers' heavy vehicles finally arrived from the rear. A super-heavy tank, the Dreadblade, like a crouching behemoth, revealed a corner of itself from the dense fog. Large numbers of mortal soldiers swarmed around it. Only when the Dreadblade's fire control system aimed at the Ultramarines' positions did they suddenly scatter like startled birds, creating distance.

Even Space Marines found it difficult to contend with these hundreds of tons of steel behemoths. They should have been countered by vehicles of similar caliber, but at this moment, the Ultramarines had no vehicles capable of opposing them.

In the face of the super-heavy tank's firepower, even fortified positions appeared exceptionally fragile. Ventanus had to repel two advancing Word Bearers who were attempting to close the distance.

The enemy's power axe possessed immense strength. Although such heavy melee weapons were restricted in confined spaces, their destructive capability was also the strongest.

His close comrade, Serraton, arrived to provide support. He blocked the power axe with a severely worn combat shield, its glorious markings of the Ultramarines completely erased. The two fought with absolute synergy; without communication, they still managed to withstand the Word Bearers' encirclement and sought opportunities to counter-kill.

After several rounds of engagement, Serraton was caught in a weakness by the enemy. The power axe struck his pauldron. The constantly flickering disintegration field tore through the power armor's protection, causing immense damage to his shoulder and arm.

Serraton attempted to remedy the situation by creating distance, but under the suppression of the enemy's power axe, he was forced to fall to the side. This was precisely what the enemy desired. The power axe was charged again, and its ferocious power drove the axe blade into his chest plate, stopping just short of the black carapace.

A large amount of blood was gushing. Ventanus, with all his might, killed his opponent. Rage and reason coexisted in the Captain's mind. He pierced the Word Bearer wielding the power axe with his longsword, and after twisting it, completely pulverized his brain, causing him to die violently.

Serraton knelt on the ground, his bleeding stopped, but that was all. Once he exerted himself again, the wound would reopen. Such an injury required a Tech-Priest's treatment and several days of rest to heal.

But now, they didn't even have a few hours.

"I'll hold them off. You take the remaining men and retreat. Guilliman's sons will never surrender like this! For the Emperor and the Gene-Father!"

This Ultramarine had already accepted his death. Ventanus said nothing. His own condition had also plummeted. The muscles in his right thigh had been penetrated by a laser, causing extensive necrosis. One arm was broken, and the numerous hairline fractures in his fingers were countless.

The Space Marines' metabolism was outrageously high. The intense energy expenditure caused him to have a high fever. His fat was burning, and all his energy was being channeled into healing his broken body and continuing this endless war.

Ventanus felt thirst interfering with his thoughts. Images of Macragge's shining waterfalls, its beautiful lakes, and damn it, its water sources, involuntarily surfaced in his mind.

He stared at the Dreadblade's movements. Why wasn't it firing anymore?

The Word Bearers' Dreadblade tank roared, spewing black smoke. Its tracks carelessly tore through several cultists who were too close, lubricating the tracks with their flesh and blood amidst their screams. The main turret rotated and elevated rapidly, aiming at a direction within the fog.

Who was it targeting? Was it turning?

The Dreadblade tank fired. The violent air shockwave from the muzzle tore through the fog. The trajectory of the shell was visible to the naked eye, but there seemed to be no sound of impact.

The hum unique to electromagnetic weapons began to roar. A beam of dazzling energy tore through the fog and, with an unstoppable posture, struck the Dreadblade tank's turret. This behemoth, weighing three hundred tons, instantly recoiled, displaced several steps by the counter-force.

"They're here!" Ventanus hid himself behind cover. Listening to the sudden weapon noise, he immediately identified the other party's allegiance.

Although they hadn't met, and there had been no signal communication, he was utterly convinced: other Ultramarines reinforcements had arrived.

The Dreadblade tank's armor plating shattered and flew off where it was hit, half its turret completely annihilated. Its massive cannon barrel was torn into fragments, shredding its servitors. Even now, the Dreadblade, like a beast with its teeth pulled, tried to resist by revving its engine.

But the second energy beam arrived. It didn't hit the Dreadblade directly, but it still carved a massive, molten trench several meters away, instantly melting soil and rock, emitting scorching red heat.

Over twenty Word Bearers cultists died in the flames and heat. Even four Word Bearers Space Marines perished under this devastating blow. They screamed, trying to escape, but with the third shot, the Dreadblade detonated completely.

Along with its stored ammunition, the Dreadblade tank exploded from within. The rapid concussive blast not only tore apart its wreckage but also buried all the surrounding Word Bearers.

The hunter that killed this Dreadblade tank emerged from the dense fog. Two Shadowsword tanks, their cobalt blue armor emblazoned with the glorious insignia unique to the Ultramarines, halted.

Besides them, the low hum of Land Raiders could be heard. Behind them were three Whirlwind missile carriers, and the Ultramarines arriving to reinforce them.

They continuously opened fire. Bikes and assault craft carried these warriors, allowing them to efficiently clear the enemy forces in the area.

The machine spirits of the vehicles roared, and together with the Ultramarines, they unleashed their fury upon the filthy Word Bearers Legion.

At this very moment, the tide of battle turned!

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