The fall of Mawborn Base sent shockwaves throughout the entire Central Ring.
News of the defeat spread faster than light across the wreckage-strewn void. Within mere galactic hours, dozens of star systems had declared high alert. The long-standing political balance began to crumble. Every faction braced for the one nightmare scenario they all dreaded: a full-scale invasion by the Imperium Caelestis.
The Imperium's fleet had already breached Central Ring territory. Their objective was clear—eradicate every non-human state bordering the Human Empire. This was no ordinary expansion. This was retribution. A cosmic reckoning for past humiliations.
At the forefront was the First Fleet, led by Primarch Angron himself, with his legendary escort ship, Warhound's Oath, acting as the tip of the spear. Alongside it, the Kenthelion—a Gloriana-class battleship—towered like a colossal basilica among the stars, a symbol of the Imperium's absolute supremacy and unwavering will.
But resistance was beginning to form.
The Nophanex and Gorvanuul, two alien powers previously driven from the Outer Ring, had begun to rally what remained of their fleets. They were not alone. Other civilizations across the Central Ring had started forging a united military alliance, gathering under a single banner with one desperate goal: to halt the Imperium's advance before total annihilation consumed every sector.
The war spread like wildfire. Every maneuver was executed with terrifying precision. Angron's fleet hammered the main defense lines, forcing enemies to retreat through sheer brutality. Meanwhile, the Second, Third, and Fourth Fleets—commanded by icons like Castellan, Kylo Ren, and General Speyer—fanned out across neighboring sectors, launching simultaneous strikes on alien worlds caught unprepared.
Amidst the firestorm of galactic conflict, within the throne chamber of the Kenthelion, the Emperor stood alone.
A three-dimensional holographic projection displayed fleet movements in real time, casting a pale blue glow across his expressionless face.
His eyes burned crimson, reflecting the Imperium's sigil suspended high above the ceiling. In that heavy silence, he spoke:
> "The last fool who dared such insolence… didn't even realize his mistake before history erased him."
His gaze pierced the darkness of the command display, brimming with disgust and loathing as he watched thousands of enemy ships form defensive lines in the distance. Yet not a shred of fear touched him—only a deep, hollow boredom, as though all of this was a tired rerun of a war he had already won long ago.
Slowly, he turned away and stepped toward the tactical table. The echo of his boots rang through the silent chamber, signaling the beginning of the next phase in the galactic purification war.
---
On a frontline planet of the Imperium Caelestis
"James! Our superiors just sent something… interesting!"
Panting, an aide ran toward James, his voice barely rising above the roar of heavy vehicles grinding across the rocky plains.
"Why the panic, Major Brian? It's unseemly for an officer to lose his composure."
James turned slowly. He wore the jet-black uniform of a political commissar, complete with a ceremonial adamantium-plated sword hanging at his hip. His eyes were cold—void of emotion.
Brian swallowed hard and pointed toward an incoming convoy in the distance—more than a hundred heavy trucks moving in tight formation, their treads churning the earth into a slurry of red and brown.
"Reinforcements from Central Command. Alien conscripts, as requested," he explained. "They've been outfitted with neural-stim implants directly into their brains. Simple function—drastically amplifies aggression and killing instincts."
He continued, nervously but with a trace of excitement, "Our only job is to make sure the air units drop them over enemy territory. The rest… we leave to instinct and the tech."
"That's all?" James muttered.
Without another word, he walked toward one of the massive metal containers secured to the back of a truck. With a swipe of his access card, the door hissed open—releasing a wave of foul stench into the air.
Inside, emaciated alien creatures huddled in fear. Their ragged clothes clung to bodies scarred by wounds and experimentation. Some wept quietly, while others just stared blankly with glazed, lifeless eyes.
"P-Please… we won't resist anymore… we swear, we won't touch humans again…" one of them whimpered, voice barely audible.
One by one, they were dragged out by armed soldiers. The bodies were dropped like cargo, without mercy.
"Children? The elderly? What exactly is our superiors planning?" James muttered. He didn't feel pity—just confusion. "Are they really useful on the battlefield?"
Major Brian gave a small smile, either cynical or nervous.
"The Commissioner will find out soon enough... very soon."
James glanced at him briefly, then nodded shortly.
"Alright."
James shrugged, indifferent. As the political commissar, his primary duty was to maintain troop morale—and to execute any traitors without hesitation. His authority was limited: he could only take full command if an officer fell in combat.
"What's our next order?" he asked flatly.
"Begin the assault. Our job is to test how effective this... cannon fodder group is."
Brian emphasized the last words bitterly.
The planet beneath James's feet had once been the territory of the Meowvantis Empire—a strange race of anthropomorphic cat-like beings. They were originally infamous as the rulers of the interstellar slave markets, until one day the Imperium Caelestis's exploration fleet discovered this world. And they didn't come to negotiate.
What greeted Meowvantis was the full might of the limitless Astra Militarum.
At the frontline, explosions thundered, followed by the echo of shouted orders cutting through the air.
"ALL UNITS, PREPARE FOR ASSAULT! DEPLOY ADDITIONAL ALIEN TROOPS! ARTILLERY, READY TO FIRE!!"
The main stage of this battle was dominated by:
1st Concordia Terra Infantry Regiment
9th Artillery Regiment
3rd Armored Regiment
Hundreds of thousands of human soldiers poured in endless waves. Fierce fighting engulfed the outer rings, and this point became the heart of the war's fury.
Dozens of land-destroying cannons were calibrated. Their barrels aimed steadily at enemy positions, ready to unleash death from the sky.
According to the Imperium Caelestis battle doctrine, the first phase was a cleansing artillery barrage. After the targeted area was devastated, infantry and armored units would storm in to crush what remained.
However, with the arrival of "reinforcements"—aliens modified and conditioned as killing machines—the entire strategy shifted. What remained now was a living experiment on the battlefield.
---
Chimiri, a First-Class Soldier of the Meowvantis Empire, ran through a narrow defensive trench.
"ARTILLERY FIRE INCOMING! DUCK! TAKE COVER!!" she shouted at the top of her lungs.
The entire Meowvantis unit dropped to the ground. Without further orders, they chanted prayers in their ancient tongue, begging protection from their ancestors—asking for blessings from their elders so they wouldn't become flying shards of flesh.
Doom. Doom. Doom.
The first wave of cannon fire slammed into their defenses, shaking earth and sky. Some were instantly wiped out—bodies torn apart, trenches split open, corpses evaporating with rivers of blood.
But before the survivors could catch their breath, a second, more devastating wave hit.
One of the hardest-hit spots was Chimiri's post—once an earthen fortress, now a field of death. Bodies scattered, flesh shredded, bones strewn up to the darkened sky. The rain that fell from that place wasn't water... but fragments of bodies drifting like hellish snow.
"ALL PERSONNEL! HOLD YOUR GROUND! DO NOT RETREAT AN INCH!!"
The officer's shout echoed. And though they were scared... though their knees trembled...
Chimiri and her comrades stood firm.
---
An Astra Militarum officer raised his binoculars, peering sharply at enemy positions barely hidden by smoke and rubble. After a moment, he shouted orders to the troops.
"Send in reinforcements! Crush their defensive lines!"
Under the threat of raised weapons, thousands of alien creatures equipped with brutal devices called Butcher's Nails—implanted tools designed to stimulate aggression and rage—were pushed forward into the battlefield. They were cannon fodder, prisoners of war from various species, now used as tools to break enemy lines.
An Astra Militarum commander screamed from behind the lines:
"Aliens! You should have been executed by the Emperor's forces! But the great and merciful Emperor grants you a second chance at life!"
He paused, then continued with a voice booming with menace:
"Now you have a chance to redeem your sins! Your enemy is your former brothers! You have three minutes. Run, or die!"
Without time to question, thousands of alien prisoners scattered, running with all their might toward the enemy lines they knew as their own home. Bullets whistled in the distance, but they didn't care. The hope to survive—even if faint—was stronger than their fear.
An Astra Militarum officer turned to the technician behind him and yelled:
"Activate Butcher's Nails! Let the show begin!"
---
On the other side of the battlefield...
Amid thick smoke and rubble dust, Chimiri—a First-Class Soldier of the Meowvantis Empire—looked in confusion at the crowd running toward her. Her eyes widened as she recognized the figures.
"Don't shoot! That... those are our people! They're our own race!" she shouted in panic.
Some Meowvantis soldiers raised their rifles, hesitating. But when they saw small children, elderly women, and young men with bloodied faces and eyes full of terror rushing toward them, hesitation turned into shock.
"Old folks... children... women..."
Chimiri bit her lip. Her maternal instinct took over. She ran to the front line, raising her hand, ordering all soldiers in her sector:
"Hurry! Let them through! They need protection!"
Hysterical screams and cries filled the air. The Meowvantis soldiers witnessing this began lowering their weapons, welcoming their fellow race who seemed to have escaped torture. None of them realized that inside these refugees' minds, a brutal mechanism had already activated—and the real chaos was just beginning...
---
The Astra Militarum officer lowered his binoculars after seeing the cannon fodder reach the Meowvantis lines. A cruel smile slowly spread across his face.
"Good... Time to activate the Butcher's Nails."
With a brief gesture, an electromagnetic pulse triggered the brutal system implanted in the prisoners' brains. The Butcher's Nails—cruel bio-mechanical creations of the Imperium Caelestis—glowed with red sparks in their pupils.
Eyes that were once clear and hopeful now turned empty, filled with hatred and savagery.
---
"Children... you…"
Chimiri didn't finish her sentence.
One of the Meowvantis children who had looked at her with innocent eyes suddenly screamed wildly and leapt at her. In an instant, sharp teeth sank into Chimiri's neck, tearing veins and spraying red onto the already blood-soaked ground.
"A-AHHHH—!"
Her scream cut off, replaced by the roar of panic along the defensive line. In seconds, the Meowvantis position collapsed. What they had thought were fellow civilians transformed into merciless killing machines.
Soldier after soldier fell, with no time to shoot, no time to question. They were slaughtered by familiar faces, trembling yet strong hands, by screams once gentle, now bloodthirsty howls.
---
From afar, the Astra Militarum officer watched everything through his binoculars and chuckled softly.
"Excellent... Marvelous."
With one motion, he twisted a lever and increased the pulse intensity.
The remaining prisoners went even more berserk. Their teeth cracked from biting too hard. Their finger bones broke from hitting their own kind. Yet they kept attacking, as if possessed by demons. The battlefield turned into a pit of blood and unrecognizable chunks of flesh.
"Enough." His voice was flat, as if commenting on a finished performance.
"The cannon fodder is no longer useful. Move in the armored units. Artillery, keep firing."
He yawned lazily, as if he had just watched a cheap show.
"And don't forget—collect the Butcher's Nails. We can recycle them for the next batch. Thrift is a virtue."
---
In a distant galaxy, aboard a Meowvantis warship...
The fleet raced through warp space at maximum intensity.
Inside the main control room, the captain gazed at an old photo kept in a small album tucked in his pocket. In the photo was Chimiri—smiling brightly with Meowvantis children in her arms.
"Chimiri... I will return after this battle."
The captain's voice was barely audible, yet filled with burning resolve. His eyes gleamed sharply as he stood from his captain's chair.
"All hands, full alert! Priority: locate the Imperium Caelestis fleet! Destroy them without mercy!"
The battle sirens wailed throughout the ship as the Meowvantis reinforcements prepared to retaliate with blood and fire.