The holo-display projected the battlefield in perfect clarity.
The heretic forces were trapped, compressed from multiple angles, their formations squeezed between the unyielding First Legion defenses and the relentless teleport assaults striking their rear.
At first glance, the pincer maneuver looked devastating.
But from the perspective of individual soldiers, the reality was different.
The enemy wasn't crushed yet.
They still had room to maneuver.
Their frontline regiments pushed forward under constant fire, while their flanks scrambled to contain the First Legion troops teleporting directly into their midst.
One regiment, however, bore the worst of the chaos.
....
The 20th Regiment.
Its commander, having recently received a brutal warning from Venomfang, was now ruthlessly enforcing discipline.
"If I see a single coward, I will execute you myself!" he roared, his voice crackling through the vox.
He screamed and threatened his men relentlessly, telling them that if they so much as flinched, they wouldn't need to worry about the enemy—he would execute them personally.
To reinforce his point, he grabbed a ripper gun and opened fire on retreating soldiers.
But fear alone was not enough to hold back an Imperial onslaught.
The sky burned with plasma detonations, and the ground trembled beneath the advancing Imperials.
The heretic troops were crumbling, their lines disintegrating under the weight of the assault.
Explosions tore through the battlefield, bodies launched like ragdolls, vaporized by the sheer volume of firepower.
The Imperial Leman Russ tanks rumbled forward, their guns pounding their positions without pause.
Despite their slow movement, their constant fire left no openings.
The heretics' conventional weaponry could only hope to damage them in the brief moments when the tanks discharged their own shots.
The 20th Regiment commander clenched his jaw.
Even he was on the verge of losing his nerve.
To make matters worse, the Imperial army was still advancing forward—but the 20th Regiment was forced to fight in retreat.
Engaging while moving backward, struggling to maintain both discipline and momentum without showing fear.
A Talon II PDF regiment wasn't built for this kind of warfare.
It was an impossible standard to meet.
....
Desperate, the commander turned to a nearby soldier.
"You, come here."
The soldier snapped to attention.
"Strap a melta bomb to your chest. Charge their tanks."
The soldier's face turned ghostly pale.
"M-me…?"
"Are you refusing?"
The commander pressed his laspistol against the man's temple.
"You don't go? I execute you right now."
The soldier hesitated. His eyes darted between the merciless enemy ahead and his own ruthless commander behind him.
Desperately, he tried to plead for mercy.
"But, sir… I've served under you for so lo—"
"BANG∼!"
A single lasbolt burned through his skull.
The commander turned to another soldier.
"You. Come here."
He shoved another melta charge into the man's hands.
"For the Lord of Wisdom, I order you to destroy their tanks."
This time, the second soldier obeyed without hesitation. He had seen what disobedience meant.
"For the Lord of Wisdom!" he roared, strapping the bomb to his back and sprinting toward the Imperial Leman Russ tanks.
"Cover him! Cover him!"
The remaining heretics, desperate to avoid being next, provided suppressing fire, blasting wildly at the Imperial line to ensure his suicide run succeeded.
The soldier felt emboldened, convinced his god had chosen him.
He ran without fear.
"For the Lord of Wisdom!" The soldier sprinted across the battlefield, growing more and more distant from his squad.
....
As he charged, something felt off.
There weren't many shots being fired at him.
One of the Imperial officers even peeked out from a Leman Russ hatch, looking directly at him—
Yet gave no order to fire.
The Imperial troops continued their advance, seemingly ignoring the charging suicide bomber.
"The Lord of Wisdom watches over me!"
The bomber's faith intensified, believing he had been blessed, allowed to sprint directly into enemy lines undetected.
Then—
He saw it.
A floating drone, hovering ominously above the Imperial front line.
Its holo-projector flashed a warning:
[DO NOT APPROACH.]
But the bomber was undeterred.
He believed in his divine mission, convinced that his god would ensure his glorious sacrifice.
And then—
His foot crossed an invisible boundary.
In an instant—his legs were pulverized.
An invisible force struck him like an industrial hammer.
His bones shattered, his flesh crushed into pulp.
Now he understood.
Now he realized why the warning had been there.
And why the Imperials hadn't bothered to shoot him.
His survival instincts took over.
He desperately tried to crawl backward, away from the drone's crushing field.
But the drone advanced faster.
It glided over his broken body.
And in an instant—he was reduced to a red smear.
....
Inside a Leman Russ command tank, the Imperial regimental commander sneered.
"What an idiot."
He leaned forward, issuing a command to the gravity-shielded drone, directing it to push further into enemy lines.
The gravity-shielded drones surged forward.
Panic erupted among the heretic ranks.
They knew exactly what would happen if those machines reached them.
They fired desperately at the small, fast-moving machine, but their shots were wild and ineffective.
And without covering fire, they became easy targets for Imperial counterfire.
....
New Kato—Command Center
Inside the war room, Creed immediately spotted the weakness in the enemy's formation.
One regimentthe, 20th was breaking.
Their troops were hiding, falling back, their discipline fracturing.
Creed pointed at the holo-display.
"This is it. This is where we concentrate our breakthrough force."
Qin Mo nodded.
"Agreed."
He activated his vox-transceiver.
"Grey, Anruida, Yoan prepare for teleportation. Once you arrive, begin your assault immediately."
....
Inside New Kato, Grey received the order.
He turned to Anruida and Yoan, both seated, their Thunderborn power armor gleaming.
They exchanged nods, then stood together, preparing for deployment.
Qin Mo turned to the Master Control AI, issuing a command to calculate their teleport coordinates.
Until now, Qin Mo had held the Thunderborns back due to the presence of the enemy Knight.
Creed, however, was puzzled.
"You're only sending three?"
Qin Mo smirked.
"That's all we need."
Thunderborn-Pattern power armor wasn't standard Imperial wargear.
It had been designed to allow a single warrior to match an entire regiment.
This was the perfect moment to deploy them.
He gave one last order:
"Avoid direct engagement with the Knight. Play it safe until I arrive."
Grey's response was immediate.
"Understood."
Qin Mo set down the vox-transceiver, then turned to Creed.
"I'm leaving things here to you."
Klein frowned.
"Wait, doesn't the teleport system need to recharge?"
Qin Mo chuckled.
"We've only teleported twice this battle. It's not like before, when we were deploying entire armies in seconds. We're good for now."
He stepped toward the exit.
"As for the pursuit phase… I'll be back to recharge it when we need it."