Orbital Drop

Nikanna began to miss the teleportation aboard Loci's ship.

It was like opening a door that spanned space, and with a single step across the threshold, spatial coordinates were effortlessly shifted.

The teleportation on the Glory of Macragge, however, was incredibly crude. He could feel every single one of his cells being ravaged by berserk energy, as if an electric net had enveloped them, requiring immense effort to tear a hole through it to complete the teleportation.

He tightly gripped the bolter in his hand, the dizziness in his head gradually receding.

Before any engagement could even begin, the teleportation had already killed several of his battle-brothers. Nikanna saw two Ultramarines fused with the wall, their arm armor exposed outside the wall, while the rest of their bodies were buried deep within the structure.

The molecules of their bodies had merged with the molecules of the building in an instant. If they were to be cut apart, it would be discovered that the flesh and blood beneath the armor had already become a mixture of plasti-steel and organic matter.

The fusion at the molecular level brought instant death; no matter how powerful their superhuman organs were, they were useless in this situation.

Compared to this battle-brother who had embraced death in an instant, another Ultramarine was even more tragic. Half of his body was stuck in the deck, with only his chest and abdomen exposed. The intense pain was something even the superhuman will of an Adeptus Astartes could barely withstand.

The Primarch delivered a merciful end in an instant, without uttering a word.

Death was a merciful release.

The kill squad, teleported to the orbital platform, assembled according to the original plan. The Astartes imprinted the orbital map into their minds, executing Guilliman's plan with superhuman speed.

There was no complex tactic for this operation. Everyone was to assault the main control room of the dock on the orbital platform, and it was certain that the enemy had already detected their actions.

A teleportation wave of several hundred individuals, even a blind man posted as a lookout by the Word Bearers, would have noticed.

The Astartes moved swiftly across the deck, passing through airlocks, through passages formed by various pipes and cables. They had to seize every second, as the enemy could arrive at any moment.

Nikanna's heart trembled. He dodged a wildly fired bolter round with phantom-like steps. The Word Bearers had opened fire!

The stray bolter rounds impacted the metal structure of the platform, exploding with fierce bursts and creating small craters. The booming roar echoed through the corridor-like passages of the platform.

The Raven Guard immediately retaliated. His two precise shots from his bolter pierced the helmets of the Word Bearers above. The headless enemies immediately tilted and plummeted from the upper platform.

The Word Bearers were numerous, continuously replacing the fallen and resisting the boarding parties of the Ultramarines with their bolters.

The precision of the Astartes made bolters exceptionally terrifying weapons of lethality. Regardless of friend or foe, the battlefield was littered with numerous headless corpses. Only by detonating their heads could these dangerous weapons of the Emperor be rendered completely combat-ineffective.

Nikanna melted into the shadows. He infiltrated the enemy's rear, unleashing bolter fire behind the Word Bearers before vanishing once more.

The Iron Father, leading the remaining Iron Hands, provided the fiercest firepower to support his comrades. Half of the Iron Hands who had survived Istvaan V had already fallen in the fierce battles of Kaos.

"You Word Bearer scum, bring Loka out!"

The Iron Hands were extremely agitated. The casings of the bolter rounds poured out of their bolters like molten iron, and the dazzling light of plasma continuously erupted. Without prayer or blessing, the machine spirits of the weapons were outputting at a self-destructive rate.

The plasma weapons were scorching hot, with the constant risk of a fatal self-detonation, but the Iron Hands merely laughed, letting these weapons overcharge.

Ever since they left that battlefield, their greatest desire had been to drag more Word Bearers to hell with them. Now, on this orbital platform, that dream had been realized.

Nikanna did not stop these battle-brothers' almost suicidal charge. The death of the Gene-Father was an immensely heavy wound. He knew that many of the Iron Hands had already resolved to die, and that death was the best way for them to reunite with their Primarch.

However, the fastest charger among them all was still a cobalt blue figure. Guilliman roared, pronouncing the death of the Word Bearers.

His speed was faster than lightning. Amidst the cluster of Astartes, the Primarch was like a normal person in twenty times slow motion. His lightning claws mercilessly tore apart one Word Bearer after another. The ceramite power armor was like nothing in his eyes, reducing them to flying fragments, man and armor alike.

This was a Primarch, the Emperor's most proud creation. Warriors as great as him were such that even the entire Imperium of Man could only compare to the other seventeen Primarchs.

The terrifying slaughter wrought by the Primarch quickly drew the vast majority of the Word Bearers' firepower. They immediately realized this was an excellent opportunity, an opportunity to completely exterminate the Thirteenth Legion.

They abandoned their exchanges of fire with their cousins and instead redirected all their firepower towards Guilliman.

Bolter rounds rained down. Nothing should have been able to exist here.

But Guilliman still stubbornly advanced under the hail of bolter rounds. His modified, meticulously crafted power armor demonstrated its value. Even the immensely powerful heavy bolter rounds could only scrape off a layer of primer from the armor, and then grind away a thin layer of metallic debris.

Furthermore, his Iron Halo had deflected the trajectory of many bolter rounds, greatly reducing their power.

The Primarch shielded his helmet with one hand. The targeting system before him highlighted several key targets in red. Then, Guilliman pulled the trigger. The Primarch's Hand of Dominion destroyed the enemies along with their cover.

No matter how hard they focused their fire on this Gene-Father of the Thirteenth Legion, he was approaching with unstoppable momentum.

Guilliman was getting closer, he was getting closer!

Facing the overwhelming fury of the Ultramarines Primarch, at this moment, the true words and faith in the minds of the Word Bearers wavered.

They felt their courage and faith draining away, like an ice mountain melting in spring. An instinctive fear descended upon them.

They were facing a Gene-Father, a Gene-Father in a state of rage and revenge.

A Word Bearer at the very front broke down. He abandoned his bolter, brandishing his chainsword and charging towards the Primarch. The lightning claws, moving too fast for the naked eye to see, swung, and Guilliman had already sliced him and his weapon into pieces.

The Ultramarines watched their Gene-Father's might with fanaticism. They followed closely, Hill and Ventanus shouting, "Follow him, follow the Primarch!"

Guilliman was like a tiger that had broken into a flock of sheep. Wherever he went, there were shattered power armors and corpses. The blood of the Astartes gushed out in massive quantities, pooling at his feet. The Primarch trampled through the river formed by blood and bone, his lightning claws raised high above his head.

His eyes were blood red. Guilliman had killed dozens of Word Bearers. He had used his lightning claws, his bolter, his power fist to crush the enemy. At this moment, he was like an invincible god of slaughter, bringing down the punishment of betrayal upon the Word Bearers.

"Kill! Kill!"

A hallucination swept through his ears, as if something was watching him, cheering on the slaughter he had personally wrought.

His heart pounded wildly. Guilliman felt his sanity slowly receding, leaving only a bloody thought of tearing all enemies to shreds.

The Primarch raised his head and gazed deeply at the war-torn landscape of the galaxy, as if sensing something.

Hill organized the battle-brothers to engage in close combat with the Word Bearers. His exquisite swordsmanship, combined with the electromagnetic longsword he had obtained from Guilliman's armory, severed several Word Bearers. Their blood was different from that of the Ultramarines.

It was black, putrid, and viscous, evoking disgust.

Hill and Gage flanked the Primarch, preventing the somewhat overzealous Gene-Father from leaving their protective perimeter.

Finally, after paying the lives of over a dozen Ultramarines, the assault force finally entered the main control room of the dock. The enemy commander was within sight.