After the first wave of attack was mercilessly crushed by the Helldivers, the tyranid Swarm chose a cautious retreat. Not only the combat units, but even the biomass pools in the distance, which were constantly converting planetary matter, began to writhe and contract.
Huge pipe-like organs extended from the bottom of the pools, like giant pythons, sucking away all the viscous biomass slurry within them and transporting it to a more distant location beyond the horizon, to prevent another devastating prometheum flame strike.
The battlefield then fell into a deadly silence.
Only the sea of fire around the fortress, composed of prometheum, continued to burn fiercely, crackling and turning the charred insect corpses into ashes. This silence was more grinding than deafening artillery fire; the air before a storm is always so oppressive and unbearable.
After this suffocating wait lasted for thirty minutes, Boni, the most impatient among them, finally couldn't hold back. He looked at the unmoving enemy responses on the tactical projection and suggested, "Why don't we just deploy the air force and bomb those new pools with tactical nuclear bombs? Actively increase the tyranid's hatred for us. Otherwise, the current combat intensity is too low, and many of our prepared backup measures can't be used, so we can't see which ones are most effective against the tyranid."
"Don't rush, Boni," Dimitry raised his hand to stop him, his eyes still calm as water. "Thirty minutes, even the peripheral prometheum flames haven't extinguished yet. It's not yet time to throw tactical nuclear bombs to draw aggro. Let's wait and see."
Time ticked by, and after another ten-odd minutes of waiting, the tyranid Swarm moved.
The first abnormality appeared in the sky.
Initially, everyone thought it was just a strange black mist, perhaps some kind of spore cloud attack released by the tyranid Swarm. But when the "mist" approached, under the extreme magnification of the optical lens, everyone finally saw its true face.
That was no mist at all; it was a living canopy formed by an endless swarm of flying xenos! Gargoyles with bat-like wings and exposed bones gathered into a black tide that blotted out the sun, sweeping down towards the fortress.
"Air units incoming! Anti-air firepower net, maximize output!" Joker's voice rang out in the comms channel.
All point-defense cannons immediately turned their muzzles skyward, spewing tongues of death with all their might, attempting to stem the tide of these descending tyranid Swarm. Dense tracer rounds wove a huge net of fire in the air, tearing swathes of gargoyles to pieces, with flesh and carapace raining down.
It was precisely when all point-defense cannons were preoccupied that the ground swarm crossed the still-burning prometheum fire wall.
Compared to before, this time the hormagaunt swarm showed a clear change. Their bodies were covered with a thick layer of oily, shimmering mucus, which even made the creatures' bodies slightly reflective in the firelight.
This mucus of unknown composition clearly provided sufficient insulation; they roared as they rushed into the sea of fire, the flames licking their bodies, but unable to ignite them immediately. They endured the scorching flames, charging through the defensive line one after another.
"Such rapid evolution?" Boni's eyes widened, his face full of disbelief. "They can ignore prometheum flames in such a short amount of time?!"
"No, not ignore," Dimitry's voice remained calm. He pointed to the magnified image on the tactical projection and said in a deep voice, "Look closely, the tyranid that are charging through still have obvious charring on their lower bodies and the parts that contacted the flames. This layer of mucus can only temporarily hinder the direct damage of prometheum flames. If an incendiary round directly hits their bodies, they still can't withstand it."
He paused, his tone becoming even more solemn: "...But this amount of time is enough for them to cross the fire wall, and also enough for the other tyranid following behind to drag back and recycle the bodies of those that are killed."
Leonid looked at the ground swarm of flesh and claws on the tactical projection, his brow furrowed: "Without fire support from point-defense cannons, relying solely on the laser guns, heavy stubbers, and heavy bolters on the defensive line, it will probably be difficult to suppress a tyranid charge of this scale."
Dimitry understood Leonid's unspoken meaning — whether or not to use backup measures now. But he still said calmly, "No need to rush. This is a good opportunity to collect data on the killing efficiency of various individual weapons against different tyranid units."
Hearing this, the always-silent Joker immediately understood Dimitry's intention. He waved his hand to the side, and a commander immediately handed him a communicator.
"Outpost Three, this is Command. Can you hear me? Over." Joker's voice was steady and clear.
The communicator quickly returned an echo, interspersed with dense gunfire and xeno shrieks: "This is Outpost Three, Command, please speak. Over."
"Reduce your fire density. Let some hormagaunts through," Joker gave the command clearly. "We need to test the killing efficiency of various close-quarters combat methods against the tyranid. Also, grab a few alive while you're at it. Over."
"Outpost Three acknowledged. Over."
The communication ended, and the holographic projection in the command center immediately switched to a real-time view of Outpost Three. Upon receiving the order, the Helldivers at this outpost showed almost no hesitation.
The previously dense firing line instantly developed several gaps. Several of the foremost hormagaunts were thus allowed to pass, unscathed, through the final fire blockade, roaring as they charged towards the outpost.
This straightforward order, almost equivalent to telling the outpost soldiers to commit suicide immediately, was executed with such unwavering obedience? Wick felt a chill of disbelief.
When the hormagaunts charged close, the Helldivers in the trenches truly began to draw regular weapons like entrenching tools, bayonets, and combat knives, facing the monsters wielding scythe-like giant claws. The ensuing scene astonished Wick; these soldiers' close-quarters combat abilities were astonishingly powerful.
Their movements were precise, deadly, and they possessed superhuman strength and speed. After paying the price of several lives, they used cold weapons to kill these few hormagaunts that had broken into the outpost, with an exchange ratio of almost one-to-one.
However, capturing the last remaining hormagaunt alive resulted in far greater casualties than before. To subdue it without killing it, at least a dozen Helldivers were disemboweled by its sharp giant claws. After finally pinning it down with a human wave tactic, the hormagaunt's mouth suddenly snapped open, spewing out an even smaller, scorpion-like creature!
The small creature was as fast as lightning, pouncing directly onto the face of a Helldiver, and began to savagely tear at him with its sharp claws and teeth. The soldier's gas mask was instantly shredded, followed by a gruesome scene of flying flesh and blood.
The surrounding Helldivers immediately drew their daggers, preparing to kill this ferocious little thing. Just then, Boni in the command center's eyes lit up, and he excitedly shouted, "We want that small one alive too!"
Joker immediately relayed the order. And the Helldivers at Outpost Three, upon hearing the command, actually retracted their already raised daggers. Even the soldier with the creature on his face, half his cheek torn off, lowered his right hand which was already raised and holding a dagger.
Ultimately, the small one was captured. But the cost was that the Helldivers had already been stabbed through the eye into his brain by its mouthparts, dying a violent death. And several other Helldivers who attempted to grab it with their bare hands mostly had several fingers, or even entire palms, severed by its sharp appendages.
Seeing all this, Wick seemed to understand why the guards of these three Tech-Priests were not Skitarii Guard.
Ordinary Astra Militarum in such a situation, even if they didn't openly defy orders, would certainly feel extreme dissatisfaction with the officer who gave such an outrageous command, and the soldiers' morale would inevitably reach a dangerous breaking point.
But these Helldivers, however, still executed every word without hesitation.
Although the Skitarii Guard could also achieve this level of absolute obedience, which Magos would dare to expend them like this? The bionic modifications and data implants for every Skitarii Guard member were extremely expensive! Treating them as disposable consumables like this would be akin to using gold bricks to crack walnuts.
And these Helldivers before him... they were too cheap. They only needed a set of standard carapace armor and a lasgun. Wick couldn't even recall seeing them eat in his memory! Were these Astra Militarum truly human?