Chapter 2
Jorvik trembled, clutching his lasgun tight. "Emperor save us…" he muttered under his breath.
Dannel's hands shook on the bolter's grips, barely steady. His breath hitched just as the first shadow loomed outside the shattered doorway.
"We can't wait!" Severus growled, adrenaline spiking. "Kick the damn door open!"
Jorvik moved instantly, slamming his boot into the half-collapsed door. Rusty hinges shrieked as it crashed to the ground, a gust of fetid air rushing in, thick with the stench of alien flesh and decay. In the dust-choked streets, it loomed—the Hive Tyrant.
Closer than any of them had expected.
Severus froze, breath caught in his throat. The Tyrant towered above the ruins, a grotesque fusion of muscle and armour, its chitin plates overlapping in jagged patterns. Thick veins pulsed beneath its hide like dark rivers, carrying some foul ichor beneath its glistening, sickly surface.
Its head was a horrific blend of insect and reptile, crowned with serrated horns that scraped against the walls. Where eyes should have been, there were only twin pits of pale, glowing light. Its maw hung open, dripping thick black ichor that sizzled on the ground, eating into the stone like acid.
It moved with terrifying grace, each colossal limb ending in scythe-like talons that carved into the earth with every step. Its barbed tail lashed behind it, smashing rubble aside, sending debris flying. Swarms of lesser Tyranids clung to its sides like parasites, scuttling over its form, waiting to strike, as if driven by the creature's very presence.
"Throne of Terra…" Dannel whispered, his voice barely audible.
Severus didn't falter. His breath quickened, mind snapping into focus. "Open fire!" he shouted.
The heavy bolter's rounds slammed into the creature's carapace with dull thuds, barely denting its armour. The beast let out a low, rumbling growl that vibrated through the air, more than sound—an oppressive force pressing down on their minds, stoking a primal fear that gnawed at the squad's bones.
Severus' hands trembled, but he kept firing, his lasgun's steady rhythm lost in the chaos. The creature's talons scraped the earth, each slow, deliberate step drawing it closer. It moved with terrifying patience, fully aware there was no need to rush. Behind it, the swarm pressed in, obedient and silent, driven by the Tyrant's will.
"Hit it harder!" Severus roared, panic creeping into his voice. "Aim for the joints!"
The next round found its mark.
The shell struck the joint of its hind leg, right where the armoured plating gave way to tendon and muscle. A sickening crack split the air as the round tore into flesh, sending a spray of dark ichor across the battlefield. The creature faltered, its colossal body jerking back as if, for the first time, it felt the sting of their firepower.
"It's working!" Jorvik yelled, a flicker of desperate hope in his voice. "Keep hitting the joints!"
Dannel fired again, hands shaking as he zeroed in on the weak spots. The bolter's next rounds slammed into the beast's other leg, right at the knee joint where the armour was thin. Another burst of ichor sprayed from the wound, and the creature let out a deeper, more guttural growl. It wasn't just sound—it was pain.
Severus felt a surge of adrenaline. They could hurt it.
"Don't stop!" he bellowed, lasgun blazing as he aimed for the damaged joints. "Bring it down!"
"It's slowing!" Dannel shouted, sweat pouring down his face as he kept the bolter firing. "But it's still coming!"
Severus' breath came in ragged gasps. The beast's armour still shielded its core, but they were wearing it down. The joints—where the carapace weakened—were bleeding, ichor pooling beneath it as it struggled to maintain its footing.
Dannel's hands trembled as he kept the heavy bolter firing, each round slamming into the Tyrant's joints. The roar of the bolter was the only thing holding the squad's panic at bay, a steady rhythm that gave them hope they could bring the beast down.
Then, without warning, the bolter fell silent.
A metallic clunk rang out as the belt feed jammed, grinding to a halt.
"No! No, no, no!" Dannel cried, yanking at the weapon, his fingers slick with sweat and grime. "Come on, don't fail now!"
Severus whipped around, eyes wide with terror. "Get it firing again!" he barked, his voice hoarse. But deep down, he knew—they were out of time.
The Hive Tyrant didn't hesitate. It lumbered forward, slower but still deadly, its glowing eyes locked onto them with cold precision. Cracks in its armour oozed acidic ichor, sizzling as it dripped onto the ground, but the beast was far from finished. Behind it, the swarm surged, waiting for their master's command.
"I can't!" Dannel shouted, his voice trembling as he fumbled with the jammed bolter. "It's stuck!"
Severus' heart sank. The bolter had been their only hope. Now, all they had were lasguns—useless against the Tyrant's armoured bulk. His mind raced, scrambling for a solution, any chance of survival.
"Krak grenades," Jorvik said, his voice grim.
Severus spun around. "What?"
Jorvik already had one in hand, holding it up. His face was pale but resolute. "This is all we've got."
Severus hesitated for just a second before nodding sharply. "Do it. Aim for the joints. It's our last shot."
Jorvik gripped the grenade tightly. "I'll get close. You keep them off me."
Dannel glanced over, fear flashing in his eyes. "You better not miss."
Jorvik gave a tight, grim smile. "I won't."
Severus' heart raced as Jorvik darted through the rubble, weaving between chunks of debris. The others opened fire, lasgun bolts cutting through the air to keep the swarm at bay.
Jorvik slid into position behind a shattered wall, just metres from the creature's towering legs. He pulled the pin, eyes fixed on the damaged joint oozing ichor. With a surge of adrenaline, he hurled the grenade with all his strength, aiming for the exposed spot.
Everyone watched in agonising silence as the grenade flew through the air.
It hit the ground, rolling just short of the creature's leg. The explosion ripped through the earth, but the Tyrant barely flinched. It let out a low, rumbling growl and kept advancing.
"Damn it!" Jorvik cursed, scrambling back, voice breaking with despair.
Severus felt his stomach drop. That had been their last chance. The Tyrant's massive claws dug into the earth, pulling its hulking form closer. The air grew darker, the beast's shadow blotting out the sky as it loomed above them.
"We're dead," Dannel whispered, his voice cracking with fear. "We're so dead."
The world slowed as the Hive Tyrant's claws rose for the kill. Severus felt the weight of death press down on him, his lasgun hanging limp in his hands.
Then the sky erupted.
A streak of light tore through the clouds, followed by a deafening boom. The Tyrant jerked violently as chunks of its armoured carapace exploded, black ichor spraying into the air. Another round slammed into its chest, sending tremors through its massive frame.
A colossal shape crashed into the earth like a meteor, the ground buckling beneath it. Rising from the impact, framed by smoke and fire, stood an Ultramarine, his dark blue power armour gleaming, splattered with ichor. He was like an avenging god. His bolter barked, each shot a thunderous roar, tearing into the synapse beast's flesh. The Tyrant reared back, a tortured scream escaping its gaping jaw.
Without hesitation, the Ultramarine leapt forward, closing the distance in a single bound. His ceramite-clad fist slammed into the creature's leg joint with bone-crushing force, shattering armour and tendon in a spray of viscous fluid. The Tyrant staggered, its leg buckling as the Space Marine planted his bolter beneath its exposed skull.
The creature's head exploded in a burst of ichor and bone, fragments spraying across the battlefield. Its massive body convulsed, limbs flailing as it let out a final, gurgling screech before collapsing. The earth shook as its bulk hit the ground—dead.
More Ultramarines slammed into the earth around them, drop pods crashing down like divine hammers. The Space Marines moved with terrifying speed, their bolters roaring in controlled bursts. Tyranid bioforms were ripped apart—heads blasted from bodies, limbs torn asunder in sprays of gore.
The swarm, now broken and without command, descended into chaos. Tyranids lashed out blindly, smashing into rubble and crumbling walls. A Carnifex, no longer guided by synapse, charged into a cluster of smaller creatures, crushing them underfoot, before an Ultramarine missile launcher reduced it to pulp.
Severus and his squad could only watch, breathless and stunned, as the battle turned into a massacre. The Tyranids, once an unstoppable force, were now a mindless maelstrom of confusion. The Space Marines didn't hesitate—they moved with cold precision, bolters firing in rhythmic bursts, cutting down the broken swarm.
Severus flinched as one of the Marines, his armour drenched in black Tyranid blood, turned his gaze toward him. The cold, expressionless helmet betrayed nothing as he strode forward, bolter still hot from the killing. "The synapse is dead," the Ultramarine said, his voice a flat monotone through the helmet's vox. "Fall back and regroup. Extraction is imminent."
The Thunderhawk roared as it descended, kicking up clouds of dust around the wrecked outpost. Severus stood in silence, watching it land, his squad behind him—seven men, just seven left. Battered, exhausted, covered in grime, blood, and ash. They had survived, and now they would leave this forsaken planet.
The ramp lowered with a deep clang, and a figure emerged—towering, clad in the blue and gold of the Ultramarines, his armour scuffed and splattered with Tyranid blood. He had seen battle today. His steps were measured, deliberate, his presence undeniable.
The Space Marine captain removed his helmet as he approached, revealing a face etched with scars, time and war. His cold, grey eyes studied Severus and his men—grim acknowledgment. Not warmth, but not devoid of feeling.
Severus instinctively stood straighter, despite the ache in his limbs. The captain's gaze had that effect. There was a sincerity to him—almost. The kind that comes from a man who has seen too much death, too much sacrifice, and can no longer afford to care about approval.
The captain's voice was deep, gravelly, like distant thunder. "You fought well," he said, his tone heavy, making Severus feel judged. "Against overwhelming odds. Few could have held this long."
The captain's scarred face remained impassive as his gaze swept over the Guardsmen, taking in their battered forms. "The Emperor's light shines brightest in the darkest moments. You've proven yourselves worthy. You are heroes."
He stepped closer, eyes locked on Severus. "Your leadership has not gone unnoticed."
Severus knew what he was supposed to feel—honour, gratitude. But all he felt was the weight of blood. The endless waves of Tyranids, the men who had fallen, one by one. A hero. He swallowed, but inside there was only hollow, aching emptiness.
Still, he knew his role. He straightened, forcing himself to meet the captain's gaze. His voice was thin, raspy, when he spoke. "Thank you, my lord," he said, each word forced, mechanical. Deference was expected. But all he wanted was to stop, to close his eyes, to escape the weight pressing down on him. His hands, caked in blood and grime, shook as he clasped them together.
The captain's eyes stayed on him, searching, as if looking for something beneath the surface. But if he saw through Severus' hollow reply, he gave no sign. He simply nodded, slow and deliberate, as though confirming some unspoken truth between them.
"You've done your duty," the captain said, his voice almost softened by a hint of approval. "The Emperor's eyes are on you."
He stepped back, his expression unreadable, though the scars on his face spoke of someone long past any true emotion. "Your men are heroes, too. Their names will be remembered. As will yours."
A lieutenant, his armour gleaming with the pristine blue of the Ultramarines despite the dust-choked air, approached the captain. The red lenses of his helmet glowed ominously as he neared, his massive form casting a long shadow over the guardsmen. Pausing, he removed his helmet with a mechanical hiss. His face was pale and angular, stern yet untouched by battle. His cold, blue eyes flickered with something like disdain as they settled on Severus and his men.
"Extraction has begun, my lord," the lieutenant said, his voice sharp, free of vox distortion. "The perimeter is secure."
Relief surged through Severus. Without hesitation, he and his men began moving toward the ramp.
"We made it," Dannel muttered, already stepping forward. But as Severus' foot touched the ramp, the captain's gauntleted hand shot up, stopping them cold.
"No," the captain said, his voice low but commanding.
Severus froze, heart racing. "What?" he stammered, turning back to the towering figure. "We—we killed the synapse creature. We—"
"The Marines killed the synapse," the captain interrupted, his voice sharp. He stepped forward, eyes narrowing, presence menacing. "Your mission was to clear this outpost."
Severus felt the ground drop from beneath him. "We did! Without the synapse—"
"The outpost is not clear," the captain cut him off. "Abandoning your post now would make you deserters."
The word hung in the air, heavy with threat. Severus' breath caught, his body trembling from exhaustion and disbelief. The captain's stance had shifted—this wasn't just a refusal. It was a warning.
Severus took a step forward, voice hoarse. "There are hundreds of them. You saw what we've been through. We can't clear the outpost. There are only seven of us left!"
"Seven heroes like you... they don't stand a chance," the lieutenant sneered, his words laced with mockery. The captain's lips curled into a thin smirk, satisfaction flickering across his scarred face.
Jorvik clenched his fists, anger twisting his features. He spat, stepping toward the lieutenant. "You leave us here to die, after everything we've done? Emperor da—!" Severus grabbed him, yanking him back. "No!" he hissed, his grip tight on Jorvik's arm. "That would be treason."
The lieutenant chuckled, the sound grating. "Treason, indeed."
The captain's gaze flicked between Severus and the others, his smirk deepening. There was a cold satisfaction in his eyes, like a predator toying with prey. "The Emperor's eyes are upon you... What do you have to fear?" His voice was low, the challenge unmistakable.
A flicker of defiance rose in Severus, but he hesitated, the weight of the captain's stare pressing down. The silence stretched, and Severus realised with a jolt that an answer was expected—demanded.
"Nothing," he muttered, the word bitter on his tongue. "We have nothing to fear."
The captain's smirk deepened. "Then complete your mission."