The fierce tug-of-war lasted for three whole days.
The land of Midtown was already soaked in blood, and the alloy streets of the industrial zone were riddled with craters, with corpses buried under every inch of the ruins.
The Lower City Allied Forces in the southern route have been defeated countless times.
The casualties among scavengers, gang members, and civilian militants have exceeded seven figures, and mutilated bodies have piled up into low walls along the streets.
The dark brown bloodstains flowed down the slope, forming foul-smelling puddles in the low-lying areas.
The army of Chaos is like an endless tide, pushing back one wave only to be replaced by another.
Wherever those bewitching demons went, soldiers either went mad and slaughtered each other, or their bodies twisted and deformed, turning into mindless, fleshy monsters.
The Thousand Sons Sorcerer stood at the rear of the position, and with each swing of their staffs, a rain of Psychic Power fire would fall from the sky, turning the entire neighborhood into a hellish inferno.
The civilians in the Lower City had fought to the point of running out of ammunition and food.
The defensive line, stretching for tens of kilometers, shrank back again and again, from the initial entrance to the lower level of the Midtown all the way to the giant gate at the junction of the Lower City and the Midtown.
If it weren't for the heavy alloy armor of the gate barely holding it up, the southern route would probably have collapsed completely long ago.
The situation on the northern route is equally worrying.
The Vanguard's elite troops, in coordination with the Ecclesiarchy Sisters of Battle, launched seven large-scale assaults, each of which managed to tear through the outer lines of the Chaos and advance hundreds of meters.
However, every time the front line made even the slightest breakthrough, it would immediately be met with an even fiercer counterattack.
More and more demons emerged from the Warp Domain, and the Thousand Sons of the Supreme Thrallband worked together seamlessly.
The front-line and back-line wizards coordinated flawlessly, repelling the Vanguard's offensive time and time again.
The Warp Domain is still expanding slowly but steadily.
Beneath the Profane Barrier, the power of Chaos grew stronger, the demon's form became more solid, and the wizard's spells became increasingly violent.
Above orbit, in the bridge of the Gemstone, the atmosphere was equally oppressive.
On the enormous holographic screen, the energy curve of the Profane Barrier pulsed continuously, while red warning lights flickered silently in the corner.
Dominic stood in front of the command platform, his red hair concealing a weary face. He had barely slept for three days, having tried every possible method.
The Macro-cannon fired in unison, the light spears focused their fire, and the torpedoes unleashed a saturation attack, but all the attacks landed on the barrier, either being easily blocked or absorbed and then backfiring.
"Sir, the data for the third volley is in." Lieutenant Karen stepped forward, his voice slightly hoarse.
"Just like the previous two times, after the barrier absorbed the energy, the power of the counterattack Psychic Power beam increased by another seven percent."
"If we keep fighting, I'm afraid we won't be able to hold out."
Dominic remained silent, his gaze fixed on the peaks and troughs of the energy curve on the screen.
Over three days, he ordered the fleet to launch seventeen attacks of varying intensity, ranging from single-gun probing to full-ship salvo firing, and the data for each attack was meticulously recorded by the Tech-Priest.
Meanwhile, on the ground in Brevis, Rena was also continuously monitoring the barrier with Psychic Power through the Shadow in the Warp.
The two sets of data corroborated each other, ultimately pointing to the same startling conclusion.
"The energy peak occurs at the moment of the vortex's counterattack, after which it will drop rapidly."
A Tech-Priest tapped a trough on the screen with his metal finger, his voice dry and mechanical.
"The moment the vortex completely dissipates and re-integrates into the barrier, the energy reading will drop to its lowest value, only seventeen percent of the normal level."
"Seventeen percent?" Dominic's brow furrowed. "That's when the barrier is weakest?"
"Theoretically, yes." The priest paused, and the optical lens flickered.
"But it still maintains its barrier function."
"Even if conventional shells and energy beams could barely penetrate, their trajectories would be deflected by spatial distortion, or they might even be directly drawn into Warp, rendering them meaningless."
A brief silence fell over the bridge.
Finding a weakness but being unable to exploit it is more frustrating than not finding a weakness at all.
Just then, the navigator, who had been standing in the corner of the bridge with his eyes closed and silent, suddenly opened his eyes.
It was an old man dressed in a dark blue robe, his third eye slightly closed on his forehead, and a faint aura of Warp surrounding him.
He walked slowly to the command platform, his voice low and ethereal. "Sir, since solid cannonballs can't penetrate it, what about the ship?"
"A ship?" Lieutenant Karen frowned. "What do you mean?"
"At its lowest point, the vortex was essentially a dissipating turbulence of Warp energy, not much different from a small Warp Storm."
The navigator's gaze fell on the trough of the screen, and he spoke slowly but clearly:
"If a warship with its Gellar Field activated were to rush into the vortex at its lowest energy moment, it might not be unable to pass through."
These words, like a bolt of Lightning, cleaved the silence in the bridge.
The Tech-Priest immediately lowered his head to perform calculations, his fingers flying across the control panel.
After the ceremony and prayers to the Machine God, strings of data flashed by rapidly.
A few minutes later, he looked up and the optical lens was shining brightly:
"Theoretically feasible! Success rate... approximately 47%."
"The risk is only about 30% higher than that of conventional Warp travel."
Forty-seven percent.
There's a 50% chance of success, and a 50% chance of being torn apart by spatial distortion in the vortex, or forever lost in the Warp.
"No! That's too risky!" Lieutenant Karen immediately objected, looking at Dominic with urgency.
"My lord! You are a tax collector from the Administratum, not the garrison general of Brevis!"
"You've done more than enough for them in the past two weeks, you've done everything you could! You don't need to risk your life for a remote planet!"
"Yes, sir!" Several officers nearby echoed.
"We've done our best. If all else fails, retreating to the edge of the star system and waiting for reinforcements is also an option."
"What if something happens to you? How will we explain it to the family?"
The voices of opposition are very real.
In their view, Dominic was only there to collect taxes, and the fact that he stopped his fleet to help fight Chaos was already a huge favor.
There's no need to gamble your life on a success rate of less than 50%.
Dominic did not answer immediately.
With his back to the crowd, he gazed out the porthole at the blue-gray planet shrouded in Profane Barrier.
The Aquila emblem on the cuff reflected the bridge lights, cold and conspicuous.
He's right, he's a tax collector, not Planetary Governor.
From a professional standpoint, he could have easily turned around and left with the fleet, leaving Brevis's mess to the sector command.
Even if this planet were to fall completely, it wouldn't have much to do with him.
But he couldn't do it.
For the past three days, he has watched as the poorly equipped civilians on the ground, armed with machetes and scrap metal weapons, charged at the demons.
The Vanguard soldiers fell in droves, but the defensive line behind them did not retreat an inch. The Sisters of Battle sang hymns, their bodies ablaze with fire, determined to drag the demons into hell.
He thought of Brevis, the young governor, Kerry von.
Despite being just the governor of a remote planet, he always manages to pull out unexpected trump cards in dire situations.
He still had many questions left unasked.
The truth about the Dragon of Frost, the secrets of the Iceborne Tyranids, and that strange aura that is both holy and cold...
He wanted to ask Kerry von himself who he really was.
"Pass on my orders."
Dominic finally spoke, his voice not loud, but filled with undeniable firmness.
"Prepare a Sword-class Frigate, select the most experienced crew and Psyker, and attempt a crossing."
"My lord!" Karen tried to dissuade him.
"No need to say more." Dominic waved his hand, his red hair dancing in the light.
"I am a Rear Admiral in the Imperial Navy. As long as I remain in this star system, fighting against Chaos is my duty."
"Besides, I'm not foolish enough to risk my life by sending just one escort ship to test the waters."
He looked at the navigator. "Accurately detect vortex energy readings; issue a warning three minutes before the lowest point."
"Yes, sir."
Try starting formally in half an hour.
The chosen "First Blood" Sword-class Frigate quickly broke away from the fleet formation.
Like a cautious lone wolf, it swiftly approached the Profane Barrier.
When the barrier is not attacked, it remains in a relatively peaceful state and will not launch a counterattack.
The First Blood arrived smoothly at a point less than 100 kilometers from the barrier, lying in wait for the perfect opportunity.
On the bridge, the captain gripped the handrail tightly, his palms sweating profusely.
The crew members each performed their duties, not daring to even breathe loudly.
The Psyker responsible for driving the Gellar Field sat in a specially designed chair, his eyes closed, fine beads of sweat appearing on his forehead, his entire Psychic Power connected to the core of the force field.
"Energy readings are decreasing, 30%, 22%..."
The navigator's voice came through an encrypted channel, steady yet tinged with tension.
"Ten seconds until the lowest point, five seconds, three, two, one."
"Now!"
"Full speed ahead!" the captain shouted.
With a roar, the First Blood accelerated sharply, like a silver arrow, heading straight for the center of the dissipating vortex.
What rushed towards them was an energy turbulence far more violent than expected.
Multicolored Warp energy twisted wildly around the ship's hull, and countless Psychic Power Lightning bolts struck the Gellar Field, exploding into dazzling patterns of light.
The ship trembled violently, like a small boat in a raging sea, on the verge of being torn apart at any moment.
The alarm blared, and the energy bar of the Gellar Field plummeted at a visible rate.
"Force field loss is 40%!"
" Psyker overload!"
"Space erosion has occurred on the left side of the armor!"
One bad news after another arrived. The captain gritted his teeth, staring intently at the distorted light mist ahead:
"Hold on! Keep pushing forward!"
At the center of the vortex, countless distorted phantoms roamed along the force field; these were Warp Daemon drawn in by the turbulent energy flow.
They roared and scratched at the Gellar Field, emitting a teeth-grinding shriek.
The Psyker responsible for maintaining the force field trembled all over, blood seeping from his nostrils and ears, and the blood vessels under his skin bulging like bluish earthworms.
His Psychic Power was being rapidly depleted, and his soul felt as if it were being roasted on a fire.
But he didn't let go.
The lives of thousands of soldiers on board, and the hopes of billions of civilians on the ground, all rested on the force field he maintained.
"It'll be soon, it'll be soon..." the captain muttered to himself, staring ahead.
Just as the Psyker was engulfed in smoke and his consciousness was about to dissipate, the distorted light and mist before him suddenly vanished.
The blinding light was finally gone, the violent tremors subsided instantly, and the piercing alarm stopped.
First Blood has successfully passed through the Profane Barrier.