"Great Master!"
The Apothecary shouted to the massive Deathwing Grand Master as he tore the chainsword from the enemy's chest.
But Belial wasn't listening, his attention focused on the dismembered bodies of the three Chaos Space Marines he had just killed.
"We must fall back and join the battle group!"
Belial ignored the apothecary and pushed himself back into the enemy.
He dodged a whizzing chain axe, pinned an enemy warrior against a wall, cracked his skull between rocky concrete and ceramic pauldrons, then swung his Silent Sword with a single Swinging in a tight arc, he rushed into the surging red armor with cold fury.
The roaring chain blade flashed toward his neck, and he leaned back as far as he could, the weapon's teeth gleaming as it grazed his throat.
Roaring, he fired a bullet into the attacker's squinting helmet, vaporizing the Chaos Space Marine's head.
The headless body twitched back and disappeared under the pressure of the red armor.
"All the gene seeds have been extracted, Grand Master Beria! We must retreat!"
Finally, Belial struggled to hear the apothecary's voice, his heart beating as the sword tore through another enemy.
"Understood."
Roaring, he deflected the enemy's chainsaw, leaving the attacker's neck exposed, and drove the point of the sword into the Chaos Space Marine's windpipe, then immediately withdrew the blade and plunged it into the face of another minion of the Dark Gods.
"Everyone moves into formation!"
Suddenly, Beria felt the pressure from the enemy in front of him eased, causing him to take a step back and risk a glance behind him.
He saw Techmarine standing in the center of the corridor like a vengeful demon, the four arms of his servo harness spewing death from a series of laser cutters and plasma burners.
Techmarine wears gloves and holds a gear-powered axe. The Techmarine forged this weapon himself after returning from Mars. The axe's sparking head is shaped like the gears of a huge machine. It is a weapon of exquisite beauty and amazing power. It is imbued with all the craftsmanship of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
Geared tomahawks rising and lowering like the levers of an overdriven shorthand diagram, the Techmarine cuts down the enemy with brutal swipes that crackle on impact.
"Great Master, retreat quickly!"
Techmarine shouted to Belial as he sliced another Chaos Space Marine with his Cog Waraxe, bisecting him from shoulder to hipbone.
"The enemy has stepped up their offensive! The Supreme Master needs you!"
"Mith."
Belial turned his head. He could no longer see the other Deathwing Terminator, but the other's identity tag was still shining.
He's alive, at least for now.
"We can't keep him."
"The enemy will regroup soon."
Belial ignored the Techmarine's warnings, and his Retina monitor next to the body of the other attacker indicated where Meath should be.
The Deathwing Grand Master tossed the corpse of his archenemy until he saw the familiar bone-white helmet of a Deathwing Terminator.
"I found him."
Sliding his sword into the thigh of a charging foe, Belial grabbed Myth's gauntlet and pulled him from under the pile of corpses.
"Can you still lift him?"
The Techmarine's question was not intended as an insult.
"Can!"
Belial grunted with force, and two Terminators stepped forward, lifting the injured Mice's arms and legs.
The Techmarine nodded, chopped off the arm of one of his enemies, and then decapitated him.
Beria began to clear the way for the team, his fury methodical, although the aggression was tempered by the efficiency of the finisher.
Techmarine envied his calmness, but there were times when the Deathwing Grand Master's rage could no longer be contained.
On that day he would sympathize with Beria's enemies.
Although wearing a Terminator, Belial was no slower than a warrior wearing power armor. As he ran, many cultists were crushed under his ceramic boots.
The enemy's ribs were broken, bone fragments pierced his guts, and his organs were flooded with blood.
Around him, the Deathwing Company slammed into the breach in an orderly formation. The heavy firepower in their hands recoiled and washed away the bodies of surrounding enemy warriors, and the air was filled with the putrid smell of burning flesh.
But just when he thought there were only Scarlet Slayers, more heretics in black armor poured into the battlefield from all directions and started shooting wildly.
"It's the Black Legion!"
Seeing the large number of enemies, the Deathwing Master was shocked, and then killed three enemies with a series of explosive bombs.
But even so, the enemies still seemed endless.
He realized that this attack might not be so easy to resist, and the Black Legion would probably devote its main force to the Dark Angels.
Beria's guess was indeed correct. After learning about the death of his chief wizard from the escaped Garmozej, Abaddon decisively changed his plan and changed the main attack direction to the Dark Angel who went too deep.
As long as the Dark Angels, the Empire's most advantageous offensive spearhead, are severely damaged or even knocked out, it will be much easier for the Black Legion to continue to hold on or retreat.
For this reason, he even did not hesitate to mobilize defensive forces from other directions, gathering more than two thousand Chaos Space Marines around the Dark Angel at one time. This is what Beria saw -
A rare, Astartes-style mass offensive.
Belial dialed the weapon to full auto and fired again, killing a large number of cultists, their bodies torn to pieces by exploding bullets.
Yet they did not waver. Brushing away at the Deathwing like a possessed man, regardless of the damage they suffered.
And their fallen master is behind them.
"die!"
A bladed gauntlet struck Beria's shoulder guard, and he sidestepped a thrust intended to disembowel him and drove the muzzle of his pistol into his attacker's torso.
Limbs and chunks of flesh rained down on his armor as he pushed forward, spattering his bone-white Terminator armor.
The sharp smell of blood was suffocating as another sword struck him, and he blocked the downward blow with his Silent Sword before smashing his pistol into the face of another Chaos Space Marine.
The blow landed on the side of the cultist's skull, and Beria's pistol fired into the endless black and red.
He could smell the Warp on them, it soaked them, wafting from their pores like a malevolence.
Suddenly, a warning sign flashed on Beria's helmet display, indicating that his ammunition had reached the last round.
The Deathwing Grand Master growled before blowing the head off a gaunt assailant, the heretic's torso appearing dissimilar to his bony legs.
Belial magnetically latched his pistol to his armor and thrust his sword into the nearest cultist's bloated neck.
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