Gell wiped the blood from his eyepieces and looked toward the distant gate.
Fewer than a hundred battle-brothers remained at his side. Every surviving Iron Warrior was here.
As Legion Commander, he had led from the front, slaying two Tyranid Tyrants single-handedly.
Gell had long since lost his left arm, and both his legs had now been replaced with hastily welded prosthetics.
Now, these fewer than a hundred Astartes and the trembling mortal soldiers formed the last line of defense.
Beyond the gate behind them lay one of Asdenak's vital charging zones. If it fell, all their sacrifices would have been for nothing.
The blast doors that had just closed in front of them had grown much quieter. The roar of gunfire was gone, leaving only the sound of the Tyranid Swarm's claws scraping and tearing.
Clad in steel, with hearts of iron. Iron Within, Iron Without.
The remaining Iron Warriors shakily helped one another to their feet, raised a shield wall, and rested their Bolters on top.
Suddenly, a claw broke through the gap between the doors, followed by another.
Steel groaned as the heavy blast doors, built from multiple layers of metal plate, slowly buckled.
Behind them, a hideous, blood-smeared face emerged.
A Hive Lord.
The highest-ranking frontline command unit the Tyranids could deploy.
Unlike the mass-produced creatures that often lacked even digestive tracts, almost every Hive Lord was unique. Whenever one died, the Hive Mind copied its memories and fashioned another body for it.
It was their presence that allowed the Tyranid Hive to identify its opponents promptly and make targeted adjustments.
Normally, a Hive Lord would not appear on the front line. It would remain aboard the mothership, surrounded by Hive Guard.
But the Great Devourer had been driven to desperation.
Twisting metal shrieked as the