On the horizon of the Redblaze Wasteland, a massive cloud of dust plumed into the sky.
The thunderous roar of engines. The clanking of tank treads crushing rocks. The slowly rising silhouette of steel in the distance...
The Aru Group's counter-attack force had arrived.
The first to come into view were fifteen Leman Russ battle tanks.
These sixty-ton steel behemoths were painted in the Aru Group's signature deep blue and silver-gray livery. Their side armor bore the emblem of a genetic helix intertwined with a viper.
Their main armament consisted of standard battle cannons, the barrels gleaming coldly in the morning light. The arrays of heavy bolters on either side of their turrets had their safeties disengaged, the gun barrels swaying slightly as the chassis rolled forward.
Trailing closely behind the battle tanks were five Hellhound flame tanks.
Behind them marched twenty Sentinel walkers.
These bipedal engines of war stood roughly four meters tall. Some were equipped with heavy bolters, others shouldered lascannons. Their hydraulic joints hissed rhythmically with every step.
Surrounding and trailing behind the armored units were eight thousand fully armed soldiers.
These men weren't wearing the crude leather flak worn by the factory overseers. They wore standard Imperial Guard-issue flak armor, reinforced with ceramite trauma plates on the chest and shoulders. Their helmet visors were forged from dark, anti-shrapnel glass.
Every soldier carried at least three frag grenades at their waist, a field pack on their back, and a standard-issue lasgun in their hands. This was a genuine, professional local army.
The most eye-catching element was the thirty figures draped in dark purple robes on the flank of the formation.
The space around them warped slightly, and the air was thick with a scent reminiscent of ozone—the energy field subconsciously emitted by Psykers.
"A Psyker Detachment..."
Zeke stood behind a high vantage point, observing through a crude telescope he had just bought from the store. He muttered to himself, "The Aru Group really spared no expense."
"Of course they didn't," Tax Bro crouched beside him, holding his modified shotgun. "The Consortium controls more than half of the medical industry on Aurelian IV. Money is just a number to them."
"The problem is," Schrödinger Bro narrowed his eyes. "Those Psykers... don't look right."
They absolutely did not look right.
Normal Imperial Psykers were either closely monitored or strictly controlled by the Imperium. When deployed, they usually wore restriction collars or suppression devices.
But these thirty Psykers? Under their robes, complex mechanical structures were faintly visible, like some kind of external cybernetic implant. Their eyes were blindfolded with cloth, yet an eerie glow seeped from beneath the fabric.
"They might be creations of the local Mechanicus branch, the Order of the Omnissian Mind."
[Fugitive Cogboy of the Mechanicus] analyzed in the regional channel: "According to Jeramie's intel, this Order specializes in merging psychic powers with machinery, creating so-called 'Computational Psy-Servitors.'"
"To put it bluntly, they turn human brains into biological computers to squeeze out every drop of psychic potential."
"That's fucking dark," [Soul of Cadia] spat. "Darker than us stealing ore."
–
The Aru forces deployed their formation one kilometer from the refinery's perimeter wall.
The tanks pushed forward in a wedge formation. The Sentinel walkers spread out to guard the flanks. The infantry deployed into a skirmish line in the rear, while the Psyker Detachment clustered around the central command vehicle.
A Chimera armored command vehicle, sporting an exceptionally ornate paint job and a massive communications array on its roof, slowly rolled to the front of the formation.
The side hatch slid open, and a man stepped out.
He appeared to be around forty years old, dressed in a tailored, deep purple officer's uniform. His epaulets bore three silver stars, and his chest was adorned with various medals—mostly Outstanding Service Medals or Production Efficiency Contribution Awards issued internally by the Consortium.
The most striking feature was his face.
The left half was the slightly puffy face of a normal middle-aged man. The right half, however, was a precision mechanical augmetic, with a red cybernetic eye that constantly zoomed and refocused within a golden socket.
His right hand was also mechanical, its five fingers tapering into long, thin metal probes. Currently, those fingers were lightly tapping the hilt of the command saber at his waist.
"Kaspar Aru."
"The biological younger brother of Clement Aru, the current head of the Aru Group, and the Director of the Group's Defense Division."
"That's based on descriptions of Aru higher-ups from an overseer we killed earlier," Zeke stated.
"Whoa, big shot." White Scar grinned. "How much loot drops if we kill him?"
"Don't think about that right now." Zeke lowered his voice. "Let's see what he has to say."
Kaspar Aru walked to the front of the formation. His cybernetic eye whirred as it scanned the still-smoking ruins of the industrial zone, the cooling fluid pooling everywhere, and the rebels—along with the more twisted silhouettes—faintly visible among the rubble.
His voice boomed through the loudspeakers on the armored vehicle. Processed through a synthesizer, it carried an icy, metallic edge:
"To all personnel within the factory zone. Hear my command."
"I, Kaspar Aru, by the authority granted by the Ximans Trade Consortium, in the name of the lawful rulers of Aurelian IV, and by the divine will of the Emperor of Mankind, command you."
He paused, the red light of his cybernetic eye flashing.
"Lay down your weapons. Cease all resistance and blasphemous actions. Step outside the factory zone within three minutes and line up in the designated area to surrender."
"Submit yourselves to the purification, interrogation, and re-education protocols."
"Those who comply may be granted leniency depending on the circumstances, and will be incorporated into the penal labor battalions."
"Those who resist!"
His voice suddenly spiked, the synthesizer emitting a piercing shriek:
"Will be deemed heretics, traitors, and enemies of the Imperium! You will be annihilated on the spot! Your souls eternally exiled, and your flesh thrown into the incinerator reactors!"
"Repeat: Three-minute countdown begins now."
A massive holographic projection clock rose from the roof of the command vehicle, the crimson numbers ticking down: 02:59, 02:58…
–
Inside the factory zone, the three previously frenzied factions underwent a bizarre shift.
The Siclaeman Insurgency stopped hunting down the remaining overseers and began contracting toward the core of the factory zone.
The Khornate Berzerkers—many of whom had already half-mutated, their skin turning red, muscles bulging, and horns sprouting—let out waves of bloodthirsty roars.
They stopped attacking the guards and gathered around the Bloodletter.
Meanwhile, over at the warehouse where Rayne was located, the Herald of Tzeentch raised all six of its arms simultaneously. Its three heads shrieked with laughter.
Immediately following, as if receiving an order, all the Blue Horrors ceased their harassment and flew back into the perimeter of the ritual.
"They stopped fighting?"
Tax Bro's single eye widened. "They're not fighting each other?"
"Why would they?"
Schrödinger Bro sneered. "The main course has arrived. The real battle is about to begin."
Sure enough, an elderly man with faded noble attire, gray hair, and piercing eyes stepped out from the rebel ranks.
Wielding an ornate but clearly well-used power sword, he walked to the breached perimeter wall of the factory. Facing the Aru forces, he responded, his voice amplified through a megaphone:
"Kaspar! You rabid dog of the Consortium!"
"Eighty years ago, you pounced on the corpse of House Blaec like hyenas! You traded betrayal and treachery for the position you hold today!"
"Now, it is your turn to repay the blood debt!"
The old man raised his power sword high, the blade igniting with a blue energy field:
"Sons and daughters of Siclaeman! Loyalists of House Blaec! Today, we hide no longer!"
"In the name of the fallen! For every drop of blood spilled over the past eighty years! We fight! Until our final breath!"
"For the true Aurelian!"
--
Every 150 Powerstone = 1 Bonus chapter.