An eerie Warp Rift opened. Clearly, even the entire planet's population would not have been enough of a sacrifice to summon a Great Unclean One, a Greater Daemon of Nurgle. The Plague Zombies trembled before the rift, awaiting the gifts of their loving father.
A rumbling came from the other side of the rift. That echo from antiquity shook every "person" to the core.
A Spartan Assault Tank roared out. This ancient machine had existed since the Great Crusade.
Strange vines and revolting slime kept falling from the massive tank after it stopped. Its rear hatch opened, and seven ancient Death Guard, along with a pile of twisted, grotesque creations of Nurgle, descended upon Olaye.
There was no need to wonder why these strange creatures could share a vehicle with Death Guard Chaos Space Marines. Nurgle was the most "loving" Dark God in existence. He truly treated all his children equally. In his eyes, every one of them was equally "beautiful" and "adorable." This had influenced many of his followers, including the Death Guard, who had endured ten thousand years of Chaos corruption. They genuinely treated all Nurgle's creations as equals.
Of course, the main reason was that the creatures had already "commandeered" this assault tank. If the Death Guard wanted a ride, they had to bring them along.
These seven Death Guard, or Plague Marines, were all veterans of ten thousand years. They had fought the Imperium since the rebellion began, for more years than anyone could count. Apart from one, the other six had lost their minds completely, becoming pure instruments of Nurgle's will. They now belonged to the Plague Marines' First Company, led by Typhus and also known as the Pioneers.
Nurgle's corruption was immensely powerful. In their own words, even their Primarch, Mortarion, had not responded to anyone in a very, very long time. He merely sat there blankly, and nobody knew whether he retained any sanity.
The seven Plague Marines disembarked. They disliked riding in vehicles.
Even before the Death Guard turned traitor, their Primarch, Mortarion, had required every warrior to develop exceptional foot-slogging combat skills. They had no special vehicles, nor any distinction between assault troops and Fire Support Squads. Everyone carried the same equipment, and everyone was almost universally capable.
After they fell into Nurgle's embrace, this trait became even more pronounced. They never maintained their equipment. Every vehicle had either become a total wreck or been stolen by Nurglings, like the one just now.
Chaos corruption had fused their muscles with their corroded armour. The Nuclear Power Packs that once supplied their Power Armour with abundant energy had now sprouted bony "chimneys" resembling rotten, dead wood, constantly spewing poisonous gas and viruses.
Their bodies had become hideously bloated. Strange mouths and heads had grown even from their Power Armour. Nurgle's potent corruption had infected their weapons as well. Their Bolters could tear through enemy armour before releasing terrifying poison gas, and their Chainswords were drenched in venom. Though the Plague Marines fought on foot, their powerful physiques made them a match for any tank. Every one of them was as unbreakable as bedrock.
The sons of the White Scars needed no explanation for their hatred of them. Years ago, to trap the Death Guard Primarch Mortarion aboard it, the White Scars' Legion flagship, the Blade Storm, had overloaded its reactors and raised its Void Shields. The enemy had ultimately escaped, but the mighty Gloriana-class Legion flagship had been wrecked.
The Plague Marines would advance on foot to face their enemies. Nurgle's followers regarded them as totems and followed them "bravely" forward.
Evan and his Second Company warriors held the line. Their formation remained solid. Although a few of Jaghatai Khan's boys kept wanting to race off, Evan's harsh reprimands brought them obediently back into formation.
Evan's plan had begun to take shape. If one Astartes commander had negligible influence on the overall battle, then two hundred Astartes commanding a thousand heavy tanks would possess terrifying combat power.
Imagine a thousand enemy Astartes charging Evan's force, which appeared to number only three hundred, only for the heavy tanks they normally never feared to unleash an extraordinarily coordinated barrage and blast them sky-high in an instant. Under that covering fire, Evan's warriors would always enjoy local numerical superiority.
When an enemy finally reached a tank and prepared to tear it apart, an Astartes would suddenly appear and empty an entire Bolter magazine into him.
How terrifying.
Do not assume ordinary mortal soldiers were weak. Once they got behind the controls of the Imperium's precious mechanical behemoths, they could hold their own against Astartes. Take the previously mentioned Emperor's Blade Tank equipped with a Plasma Cannon: one direct hit would put an ordinary Space Marine out of action for good. The reason people usually saw Space Marines dodging, charging, and chopping tanks apart was simply that mortal aim, and the shells' flight speed from an Astartes' perspective, were too slow.
If these mechanically proficient Space Marines commanded multiple tanks, their fire would not necessarily be exceptionally accurate, but they could create dense barrages that left no room to dodge. Even anyone who survived the shells would be wounded by the overlapping blast waves.
The Imperium did not employ this strategy simply because Astartes were too rare and precious. It could not deploy enough of them to establish a strong frontline presence while also assigning them to lower-level command.
Even when the great Emperor himself still walked among them, Astartes had only been deployed as massed legions, rather than junior commanders.
Evan's situation was different. His Chapter's numbers could increase gradually, but Astartes equipment was extremely difficult to obtain. Mainly, the one loyal and two traitorous Forge Worlds nearby were all "slow" at producing Space Marine equipment.
Their territory here was also too small to support Legiones Astartes on such a scale.
If the Great Rift in the Warp did not close, they could only advance into the darker reaches of the universe.
For now, they had to deal with this plague.
Evan was still fairly relaxed. Judging by the battle so far, this was merely an exceptionally "small"-scale Nurgle contamination event.
The planet's population might not even have reached a hundred million. After all, it had no Hive Cities; it was only an Agri World.
As dusk approached, sunlight could no longer penetrate the thick clouds, and darkness inevitably settled over the sky. Endless flat farmland stretched across the swamp world. Occasionally, a large mechanical factory appeared, only to be pulverized by orbital bombardment moments later.
Suddenly, Evan's Tactical Visor detected something unusual.
Thick smoke gradually rose in the distance. Even his Tactical Visor could not adjust to see through it.
No, not just ahead. On the left, too, and the right!
Were they surrounded?
A vast tide of corpses surged toward the army's fortified positions. They were faster and tougher than before.
Whether they were stronger remained unknown. None had managed to get close yet.
Evan swiftly ordered every machine's lights turned up to maximum. Even from space, the planet's sole brilliant point of light could be seen.
"Orbital bombardment! Blast a ring around this light!"
Come on, what counted as bombardment ammunition? Mortal supplies, reimbursed by the Forge World Stolov!
Bomb them! Blast away like we're throwing money around! Today, I'm fighting like the Storm Will Chapter!
The smoke gradually dispersed. The strange refraction of the sunset bathed the battlefield's surroundings in eerie light.
Suddenly, something round and bloated charged out of the smoke, green fumes continuously spilling from the strange pipes on its back.
It charged fast. An Emperor's Blade Tank on the outer perimeter reacted immediately, firing its main and secondary guns together. The strange creature dodged the main gun's blast but completely ignored secondary fire powerful enough to grievously wound a Space Marine with a single hit. It charged straight at the tank and punched a skylight through it with one swing of the strange, slimy steel bar in its hand.
Wails followed over the Communications Channel.
Several identical creatures charged out of the smoke all around them.
One, two, three... six, seven.
Evan was furious. Utterly furious.
Seven Death Guard dared "surround" my eight Titans and nearly two hundred Emperor's Blade Tanks?
You've got some nerve. Blast them!
The earthshaker cannon on the back of a colossal Punisher-class Titan fired instantly, annihilating both the Emperor's Blade Tank full of screaming crewmen and one Plague Marine.
The fighting power of tank crews commanded by Astartes gradually began to show. Even if an Astartes could not oversee everything, he could still issue orders to three to five tanks.
Interlocking main-gun barrages instantly engulfed several Plague Marines. To their astonishment, the lethal shells actually formed "formations" in midair as they flew toward them. No matter how they dodged, a shell always exploded beside them.
On a battlefield without an ultimate Greater Daemon like a Great Unclean One, eight Titans acting together meant a massacre for Nurgle's forces.
Only one Plague Marine broke through the fire blockade. This ancient warrior, who still retained his sanity, charged toward a Punisher-class Titan.
He was already too close. The surrounding heavy war machines did not even dare fire.
Evan was thoroughly annoyed. These boys still aren't ruthless enough. What could a couple of shots at a Punisher-class Titan possibly do? It's a Titan! Honestly, is it just because I'm sitting on it? What are you panicking for?
Evan leapt down from the Titan and activated the faintly green Chainsword in his hand. The relic Chainsword from the Green Templars seemed rather reluctant to face a Plague Marine.
Hmph. The Machine Spirit is displeased. You're finished.
Evan raised the relic Ion Pistol he always carried and fired an overcharged shot.
The Plague Marine nimbly dodged the attack, but this was clearly no ordinary shot from an ordinary Ion Pistol. Even though it struck the ground beside him, the enormous Ion Storm it produced not only destroyed the ground but also engulfed his left arm.
The Plague Marine's left arm and the plague Bolter it held were instantly annihilated. He seemed equally surprised by the Ion Bolt's power, muttering strange, indistinct syllables.
His movements, however, were barely affected. He continued as before, with rotting organs and filthy fluid from ruptured pustules dripping from the wound.
What strange, vigorous vitality.
Soon, the two closed in. Blessed by Nurgle for countless years, this Astartes was nearly as tall as Evan.
The relic, gripped in both hands, clashed with the filthy ancient Chainsword. Evan was actually driven back several steps.
No ordinary opponent. Incredible strength, vitality, and defence. If every enemy was this terrifying, the Imperium's frontline battles really must be desperately difficult.
Virus-laden green smoke continued pouring from the Plague Marine's back. None of the mortal soldiers dared approach. Under the other Astartes' command, they merely bombarded the Plague Zombies following behind.
Several Astartes facing less defensive pressure quickly left their command positions and moved toward Evan.
Kazhaniv deserved a reprimand by name. He was running faster than a desert wolf.
Accurate Bolter fire repeatedly struck the Plague Marine, but he continued charging Evan as though nothing had happened.
Evan was now exceptionally cautious. The warrior himself was less threatening than that Chainsword covered in filthy slime. Even Horus had failed to withstand a single blow back then. Evan absolutely could not afford to be wounded.
*Taiji gives rise to the two principles, the two principles to the four manifestations, and the four manifestations to the eight trigrams. **Taiji Swordsmanship, unleash!***
The frenzied assault vanished without a trace beneath Evan's blade. Even the slime on the swords and the surrounding air were drawn along by his "swift and fierce" swordsmanship, forming a vortex.
At least, it looked swift and fierce to mortals.
Even the green smoke pouring from the Plague Marine's back gathered before Evan's blade. The pale-green Chainsword unleashed surging psychic power. Even Evan, who knew nothing of mechanical technology, could sense the Machine Spirit's delight.
How exactly did this Machine Spirit thing work?
Before Evan could ponder the matter, the intense battle pulled his thoughts back.
Although the Hymnody implanted in Primaris Space Marines allowed them to think along multiple tracks like a Primarch, against an excessively powerful enemy, they still had to focus everything on the fight.
Plague Marines had no battle cries. They believed death came peacefully and departed peacefully.
"Enjoy your peace, vile traitor."
Evan's battle cry shook heaven and earth. His whirring Chainsword clashed with the enemy's weapon once again. Thanks to the earlier Ion Bolt destroying his opponent's left arm, the enemy had no real means of counterattacking. Only the grotesque human faces on his armour spat corrosive venom, but that clearly was not enough to eat through Cataphractii Terminator armour.
The enormous vortex of green smoke dissipated, leaving the Plague Marine staggering back several steps.
Just as he regained his footing, Evan pressed in, shouting his battle cry.
"Slay the traitor, Oblivion... cut off his feet!"
Evan's Chainsword struck straight at his opponent's right arm. Before the Plague Marine understood what was happening, both his feet were suddenly sliced off.
The berserker Kazhaniv swept past with a beautiful slash. Losing both feet was no less crippling for a Plague Marine than lacking a main gun was for a tank.
Plague Marine: You have no honour! We're having a battle between real men! How could you... (Keep the internet civil, for a more harmonious you and me.)
Kazhaniv was about to press his advantage when Evan grabbed him and dragged him away at a run.
"Second Company, plasma guns and Melta Cannons, fire together!" Evan's roar over the Communications Channel rang in everyone's ears alongside the discharge of assorted weapons.
He can't walk anymore, so why keep trading sword blows with him? Just blast him and be done with it!
That brat Kazhaniv needed a proper lesson once they got back.
Evan quickly ordered the warriors back to their original positions, though naturally they underwent extensive disinfection before going inside.
The Punisher-class Titan stopped. After extensive sterilization and flame treatment, Evan returned to his command post.
Nothing should be able to stop us now, right?
Evan had just found a comfortable place to sit when a shell laden with viruses slammed into an Emperor's Blade Tank ahead, tearing a massive hole in it.
The damaged tank slowly stopped moving. Green "pus" hissed out from inside.
The ancient Spartan Assault Tank attacked Evan's mechanized army from the flank.
Hah. Is that all?
Several Emperor's Blade Tanks quickly returned fire, but the Spartan Assault Tank seemed to have discarded all its burdens and raced along at incredible speed. Several blast waves nearly flipped it over, yet it continued driving steadily across the battlefield.
Instead, with several tanks turning to engage the Spartan Assault Tank, the Plague Zombies' front advanced considerably.
"Lakshen, William, can't you lot coordinate?"
These individual tank groups were certainly powerful, but nobody had yet grown accustomed to truly fighting together.
William reacted quickly. He trusted his teammates and remembered each man's strengths.
"Lakshen, you devise the elimination plan." William's voice was steady and forceful.
Lakshen quickly submitted his plan to William. Three nearby tank regiments—under the Imperium's organization, a single Emperor's Fist heavy tank constituted a tank company—swiftly moved into action. Other tank units nearby and a Reaver-class Titan immediately took over their defensive duties, holding back the Nurgle corpse tide on that side.
A simple cage of artillery fire was established. Leveraging their numerical advantage, they quickly confined the enemy Spartan Assault Tank to a small area.
The Nurgling-operated tank clearly had no way to fight so many enemies. After a futile struggle, it was swiftly blasted to ashes.
Watching the deployment around him, Evan felt deeply gratified. These Second Company warriors were gradually coming into their own.
The transmission from space arrived as expected. The Atris Astra Militarum emerged from the Mandeville Point.
Although they had only two cruisers, both borrowed from the provisional Segmentum Pacificus Second Council, that did nothing to dampen the young men's fighting spirit as they came to lend Evan a hand.
By then, practically no force remained on the planet capable of resisting Evan's army.
The Astra Militarum provided aerospace cover with fully sealed fighters. Because stocks of fully sealed personal equipment were insufficient, even after borrowing some equipment from the Righteous Vigil, only around three hundred thousand Astra Militarum soldiers reached the planet to fight alongside Evan.
The soldiers who were not selected beat their chests and stamped their feet, bitterly regretting their missed chance.
Under Atris's sustained publicity campaign, these children who had experienced the Ork war grew up hearing messages of gratitude for the rescue by Space Marines represented by Evan.
Their favourite stories were those told by veterans who had defended the walls alongside the Astartes back then.
They regarded fighting alongside Evan as the greatest honour of their lives.
Evan successfully captured the original altar. After inspections confirmed that every Warp Rift had closed, he ordered the site utterly destroyed.
Sigh. How had the barrier between the Warp and reality become so weak? Just how disastrous had the Imperium's frontline war become?
Their assorted forces totalled four hundred thousand. Over nearly a year, they burned all of Olaye from end to end.
The Adeptus Mechanicus personnel who arrived afterward to clean up and rebuild the Agri World all remarked, "You cleaned it out even more thoroughly than we would!"
"Yes, yes, exactly. Under that agreement, you're covering these supply expenditures, right? Hurry up and reimburse us."
The Adeptus Mechanicus representative from the Forge World Stolov: Glug, glug (motor oil bubbling).
Before you continue