[You lead your revitalized Crusader squad in a heavy, thundering charge against the countless mortals.]
[A large number of Astra Militarum soldiers, their movements stiff and puppet-like, discover your presence. They awkwardly manipulate lasguns from within the mortal ranks. Heavy firepower from Imperial vehicles opens up, unleashing a barrage of fire upon you.]
[Scorching red lasers snap past your helmet. Large-caliber bullets, capable of tearing through ceramite armor, whine and graze past you, splattering frozen dirt and snow against your greaves.]
[Without hesitation, you pull the trigger of your bolt rifle, rapidly depleting the high-capacity drum magazine in a sustained, deafening roar.]
["For the Emperor! No pity! No regrets! No fear!"]
[The Castellan, roaring in absolute fury, along with the newly recruited Initiates chanting scriptures, launches their own counterattack against the threatening mortal agents ahead.]
[The combined roar of bolt rounds echoes all around, countless propelled blasts piercing the cold wind and snow, shattering the flesh and blood of numerous mortal agents in crimson bursts.]
[You forcefully propel your 'Armor of Faith' to the front of the squad, your boots churning snow.]
[You unexpectedly discover that the golden beam of light, visible through the blizzard, is moving, accelerating away from you.]
[At the same time, countless unarmed mortals seem to receive a silent command. Like mindless zombie puppets, they let out a unified, guttural roar and charge towards you, their faces blank.]
[Even a large number of Imperial civilian ground-cars roar their engines, their tires slipping in the snow as they slowly surround your position.]
['That heretic is trying to escape! We can't let the mortal ranks hold us back!' You immediately make the judgment, shouting without turning your head.]
[Your deep voice is transmitted throughout the squad via the communication device inside your metal helmet.]
[Your thick arm, bound with chains of piety, swings back and forth, your hand gripping the bolt rifle, holding the trigger down.]
[In an instant, the deafening, continuous roar of the bolter blasts a bloody path through your way, a path littered with the ruined flesh and blood of mortals.]
[An Imperial civilian vehicle blocking your path is also accidentally hit by the stream of shells, its engine block exploding in a violent burst of flames and black smoke.]
[However, the seemingly endless mortal puppets, undeterred by the relentless blizzard, surge forward wave after wave.]
[More Imperial vehicles are also traversing the snow-covered plains, rapidly approaching your location.]
[Your bolt rifle clicks empty. You sling the useless weapon over your shoulder.]
[You instinctively let out a raw battle roar, amplified by your vox.]
[You swing your heavy 'Black Sword' with sweeping, powerful strokes at the mortals swarming you.]
[Where the black blade passes, countless mortal bodies shatter, scalding blood splattering everywhere, steaming in the cold.]
[Among them are the elderly, toddlers just learning to speak, and young couples, all moving with the same blank-eyed purpose.]
[You don't hesitate for a moment.]
[Having experienced countless battles, you deeply understand that no mortal can stop your advance.]
[This damned psyker heretic needs to pay a bloody price for everything he has done.]
[Just then, a Newblood on the flank of the team empties his boltgun with a final clack.]
[He instinctively drops it and raises a power sword, shimmering with a deep blue energy field.]
[But a young child, only a few years old, with skin blue from the cold, roars and lunges at the Newblood's thigh, which is covered in ceramite armor.]
[The child bites and gnaws frantically, its face a mask of mindless rage, seemingly unaffected even as its teeth shatter and blood fills its mouth.]
[The Newblood, stepping onto the battlefield for the first time, seems to have forgotten the fact that he is wearing power armor, and forgotten the arduous training of the past years.]
[He even forgets your earnest teachings from the training ground.]
[He freezes, hesitating for less than a second, caught in a moment of bewilderment.]
[In that instant, a horde of puppets, composed of countless mortals, roars and surges towards the towering, unmoving figure of the Newblood.]
[They swarm him, overwhelming the Astartes Battle-Brother with their fragile flesh and blood, a tide of bodies climbing his armor.]
[The Newblood, utterly panicked, finally breaks his freeze and struggles desperately, shouting incoherently over the vox. He nearly breaks free from the throng several times, throwing mortals aside.]
[Until several laspistols are aimed at his helmet visors from point-blank range and the triggers are pulled repeatedly. The Astartes's struggles cease. He falls silent.]
[You notice the Newblood's fall out of the corner of your eye.]
[You do not stop your charge.]
[Without hesitation, you drive the 'Armor of Faith' and smash shoulder-first into a small Imperial civilian vehicle, casually crushing the fragile body of the mortal driver inside.]
[Just then, the Castellan, the Newblood's mentor, suddenly lets out a deafening roar of pain and fury.]
[He tosses aside his own unloaded boltgun, loudly chanting the Emperor's prayer, and desperately swings his two-handed power sword at the mortal puppets surging towards him, each swing a decapitating arc.]
[The remaining Newbloods, having undergone a bloody ordeal, seem to gradually adapt to the terrifying environment of the battlefield. The hesitation is gone, replaced by cold fury.]
[They too toss aside their boltguns, following your and the Castellan's offensive pace. The snarl of chainswords joins the humm of power swords, and they wield them with brutal efficiency.]
[In an instant, the Crusader squad's charge speed increases dramatically, becoming a wedge of black armor cutting through the tide of flesh.]
[The next moment, you stare intently at the golden beam of light that is drawing ever closer.]
[Your wielding of the 'Black Sword' grows stronger and faster, a blur of black metal.]
[Countless mortal flesh and blood almost cover the snow-covered ground behind you.]
[Accompanied by the continuous explosions of scorching lasers and metal fragments, the enemy's fierce firepower gradually concentrates on your towering figure.]
[The power backpack of your power armor emits a series of low, rapid hums as lasers and bullets ping and splash against your armor. The ancient Iron Halo above your helmet shimmers, forcefully blocking the relentless harassment of ranged fire.]
[At the same time, the Crusader squad begins to change their charge formation, shifting to create favorable conditions for you to eliminate your target.]
[They surround you in a tight knot, fiercely hacking away at the surging mortal puppets, doing their best to prevent the Imperial vehicles from getting closer and blocking your path.]
[Through the obstruction of countless snowflakes, you spot him. A hunched figure standing atop a Chimera transport vehicle.]
[At this moment, the faint golden light emanating from the figure seems to hold a fatal, magnetic allure for you. The target.]
[You let out another battle roar that resounds throughout the surroundings.]
[Without hesitation, you break from the squad's protection and launch a furious, direct charge towards your target.]
[In an instant, an incredibly terrifying surge of psychic energy erupts from the hunched figure's frail body. The temperature plummets, and the air pressure drops.]
[Even the snow and wind swirling in the dim sky seem to be under the enemy's control, twisting into a vortex that completely envelops the chaotic battlefield.]
[The next moment, a crackling bolt of purple-white psychic lightning leaps from the opponent's withered, outstretched hand.]
[The terrifying, writhing bolt of lightning easily shatters the flesh and blood of several mortals in its path before swiftly striking towards your towering form.]
[You instinctively raise your 'Black Sword' diagonally to block it. The psychic energy explodes against the blade.]
[With the powerful protection of your power armor and Iron Halo, you withstand the opponent's psychic attack, though you are staggered a step back.]
[However, a Newblood who was charging alongside you is unintentionally swept by the tail of the terrifying lightning as it flashes past your towering form.]
[A piercing, agonizing scream erupts from within his power armor, cut short.]
[Instantly, a dark red, scorching heat emanates from the ceramite shell, and scalding steam from the melting snow around his feet rises in a cloud.]
[The power armor, now reduced to a pile of glowing, charred remains, crashes heavily to the ground. The still-roaring chainsword in its hand flips and falls, embedding itself diagonally in the snow, its motor whining down to silence.]
[You have no time to mourn the loss of your Newblood.]
["Heretic!" you suddenly let out a long-suppressed roar of pure anger.]
[The pious chains wrapped around your arm armor instantly slip free into your palm.]
[You quickly wrap them tightly around the hilt of the 'Black Sword' several times, locking the chain to the grip.]
[Then, you brace your feet in the snow, swing the heavy 'Black Sword' with all your might in a wide arc, and take the opportunity at the apex of the swing to loosen your grip, letting the chain unspool.]
[The pitch-black blade sweeps through the snowstorm in the blink of an eye, pulled by the chain, flying swiftly like an arrow released from a bow towards the hunched figure who is still unleashing terrifying psychic power!]
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