Chapter 48: Possessed Marines
Under the Raiders' support, the loyalists began their counter-offensive. Wounded warriors, rapidly treated by the Medics, threw themselves back into the fight.
Lucan, in his shuttle, continuously monitored the battle's development from above the battlefield. This battle was no longer on the scale of tens of thousands like before.
Hundreds of thousands of loyalists and traitors were engaged in an offensive and defensive struggle around the entire uphive.
However, the Dynasty's rout had been halted! The enemy was now pinned down, unable to advance.
Only one direction made Lucan frown.
The communicator crackled with the panicked roars of officers of various ranks.
And this direction was precisely Pilgrim's Square, where the Word Bearers and daemon engines were attacking.
"It's Chaos Space Marines! Concentrate fire! Quickly, concentrate fire on them!! Marauder squads, saturate them with fire! Don't let them get close! Marines, switch to armor-piercing rounds!"
"Huh? Are those really 'cans'?!"
Loyalists and traitors were locked in a seesaw battle in Pilgrim's Square.
This news was both unexpected and yet not entirely surprising. The only thing that made Lucan frown was that this time, unlike in the game initially, there wasn't just one, but a full ten of them.
The heavy firepower of the loyalists and the daemon engines traded volleys across both sides of the square. As more and more fixed emplacements were repaired by SCVs, one daemon engine after another was blown apart.
Chaos cultists, having lost their sanity, leaped from cover to charge, only to be annihilated within a second.
The dense curtain of fire made it nearly impossible for either side to launch a charge.
But even so, Lucan discovered his Raiders were still continuously suffering casualties.
Lucan could see a hint of fear appearing in his Raiders' hearts when they saw the Word Bearers.
The might of the Astartes was deeply ingrained in the psyche of Warhammer's humanity; otherwise, ordinary humans wouldn't be called "mortals" and Astartes "angels."
And these traitor Astartes indeed displayed strength worthy of their reputation.
Their power never solely resided in their power armor and weapons, but also in their augmented Astartes bodies and their vast combat experience.
And in terms of conviction, the Word Bearers were paragons among traitors.
Faced with the loyalists' counter-attack, they remained composed, responding and striking back calmly.
The engagement distance between the two sides was very close, only one kilometer. At such a range, Astartes could achieve perfect accuracy. The boltguns in their hands could precisely target the Raiders' bodies, and their daemonic possession also granted them a degree of resistance to conventional weapons.
When they discovered their bolters couldn't shatter the ceramite combat suits of the Raiders in a single shot, they immediately changed tactics.
Subsequently, one Raider after another fell, the impact points all concentrated on the weakest areas – the tactical visors on their helmets and their joints.
Headshots were beyond the Medics' ability to save, and severed limbs could not be regenerated by the healing guns either.
And even under such withering fire, this group of Word Bearers continued to advance, using the rubble in the square as cover.
"But no matter how strong you are, my good old boys are endless."
As the battle lines in other areas stabilized, more and more Raiders began to converge on Pilgrim's Square.
Exchanging 100 or even more Raiders for one of your lives – Lucan wouldn't be at a loss. Human lives were cheap here, and in Lucan's eyes, a combat suit was worth less than a veteran soldier.
"Verre, have the pilots land. Ian, I need you to join the battle. Your psychic powers can surely limit the advantages of these traitors! My soldiers are suffering heavy casualties."
"Facing Chaos, as an Inquisitor, I will certainly fight with all my might!"
The shuttle landed behind the loyalist lines.
Lucan, Verre, Damon, and Ian disembarked in order. As Verre and Ian headed towards the front lines, Lucan spoke to the empty air beside him.
"Norris, circle around to their rear. Find an opportunity and try to take out a few Astartes."
"Understood!"
And when the soldiers saw the Rogue Trader personally arrive on the battlefield, their morale surged once more.
"Servants of the God-Emperor, warriors of the Dynasty, those Chaos Astartes are not so terrifying! The God-Emperor protects us! For the Dynasty, destroy these traitors!"
Lucan also picked up his bolter and began firing.
The Word Bearers also realized the severity of the situation.
The human counter-attack opposite them was growing increasingly fierce. Their ten-man combat squad was actually unable to break through the defensive lines of these humans. What were those things that looked so similar to power armor? They had never seen such a model.
Was the durability of those combat suits almost on par with their own power armor?
They had clearly seen their targets' armor get shattered, yet moments later, they were perfectly fine and continued firing at them.
They had initially thought this was merely the capital world of a Rogue Trader Dynasty already like a candle in the wind – no loyalist Astartes garrisoned, no elite Astra Militarum regiments, nor was it a major Adeptus Mechanicus stronghold.
Yet, they were now pinned down here in a conventional firefight. Breaking through with conventional offensive methods was clearly no longer possible.
One Word Bearer had even been immobilized by the concentrated fire of an entire squad of Marauders.
The amount of ammunition they carried was also insufficient to sustain a prolonged firefight.
Arriving at the front lines, Ian enveloped himself in a psychic shield. As an Inquisitor, he also possessed a personal force field. He raised the psyker staff in his hand, and lightning crackled into existence from his fingertips. Psychic lightning, imbued with destructive power, lanced towards a Word Bearer.
From its immense power, it was clear that Ian's psychic level was by no means low.
The rubble serving as cover was blasted apart.
Instantly, the psychic energy breached the Word Bearer's power armor defenses, striking his blasphemous flesh directly. Although psychic energy originated from the Warp, this same energy had a particularly potent effect on those tainted by Chaos.
The first true casualty among the Word Bearers had appeared.
And Ian's presence also drew the attention of the other Word Bearers. Even Astartes could not afford to underestimate a powerful psyker.
They unleashed a volley at Ian, but the bolter shells were blocked by his psychic shield and refractor field, unable to advance an inch.
"My brothers, unleash the fury in your hearts! Let the power of the Dark Gods fully descend upon our bodies and utterly destroy the enemy before us!" one of the Word Bearers roared.
The three Possessed Marines within the Word Bearer squad looked at each other.
And the voices of the daemons inhabiting their bodies also began to echo.
"Quick! Cede control of your body to me! I sense the aura of psychic sorcery! I will take his head for the great Blood God! Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"
And in the minds of the other two Possessed Marines, demonic whispers also began to resonate.
At this moment of life and death, the daemons began to usurp the Word Bearers' own consciousness; control of these powerful bodies was completely handed over to the daemons.
The daemons began to further encroach upon their physical forms in the material world.
More and more daemonic features began to replace their already scarce human traits.
"ROOOAAAR!"
Accompanied by a bellow filled with overwhelming rage, all the Word Bearers charged out from cover, providing covering fire for the Possessed Marines. The Possessed, now completely controlled by Khornate daemons, charged out like madmen, their minds consumed only by kill, kill, kill!
And all the Chaos mortal traitors also ceased hiding behind cover. Taking advantage of the Possessed Marines drawing most of the fire, they all charged out.
After being completely possessed by Khornate daemons, the Word Bearers' resistance to all ranged weapons also increased significantly.
They actually tanked the concentrated fire, crashing into the loyalist defensive lines like a Leman Russ tank at full charge.
Their right-hand chelae-claws could tear through even ceramite combat suits, and the chainaxes in their left hands could easily cleave a man in two. One of the Possessed Marines targeted Ian, the psyker.
"Use melee! Use fire! Ranged weapons are less effective against Khornate daemons!" Ian roared to the soldiers.
Hearing Ian's warning, the Raiders and PDF troopers drew their chainswords and charged towards the Possessed Marines.
And Ian's voice also drew the attention of that Word Bearer currently engaged in his slaughter.
Bloodshot, frenzied eyes locked onto Ian.
"Psyker… I will offer your head to Him!"
(End of Chapter)