Warhammer 40k: The Men of Iron Return to the Galaxy Chapter 331 331: Slaughter

The battle, which had briefly stagnated, was ignited once more.

Not all Standard Template Constructs were created equal. During the era of the Federation, the central governnt was the sole authority permitted to produce Master Templates. Any corporation's developnt eventually required the submission of data for federal registration, after which the governnt would manufacture the Master Template. The subsequent issuance of sub-copies and single-use templates provided a perpetual stream of revenue for those research institutions or massive industrial conglorates.

The STC template discovered within Commorragh was no re sub-copy or disposable data-shard.

It was a complete Master Template, containing the data for a biosynthetic elixir known as the Panacea.

The Panacea was an extraordinary alchemical achievent based on genetic repair and biomass reconstruction. It could permanently cure all human ailnts, rectify genetic flaws, and eradicate every physiological defect. In the dawn of the Federation, the initial genetic templates of the n of Gold were derived from humans who had partaken of the Panacea.

Axion's databanks did not contain the specific principles of this elixir; perhaps because the technological path of the automata diverged so sharply from biological sciences, no one had thought to upload Panacea data into the Iron n. However, this did not hinder Axion from harvesting the data from the STC Master Template now.

With the corresponding data stored, the Iron n could reconstruct this specific model of STC.

In truth, the Emperor had once acquired a single-use Panacea STC and produced a limited batch of the elixir. It was upon the foundation of the Panacea, combined with knowledge wrested from the Four Gods of Chaos, that the Emperor had successfully engineered the Primarchs. The Adeptus Custodes were likewise products of this research. As for the ill-fated Thunder Warriors, they had clearly been denied the benefits of such perfection.

None of this mattered to the Iron n at present.

The Dark Aeldari had stolen Federation assets. Their transgression demanded a true and final chastisent.

The fires of war, which had briefly flickered low in Commorragh, roared back to life. The Drukhari soon found that fighting the machines was a nightmare far surpassing their struggle against daemons. While the Aeldari warriors and Wyches, masters of close quarters, were suppressed by Automated Sentry-Troopers possessing equally preternatural reflexes, nurous wraithbone constructs continued to pour fire across the battlefield.

Bloody altars of wraithbone hovered behind the front lines, brewing malefic sorceries. Yet the xenos sorcerers soon discovered that their spells, designed to drain the souls and vitality of victims, yielded no harvest from the unliving. Wraithblades locked in desperate close-quarters struggles with Armored Wardens, their ghost-axes' psychic malice proving useless against soulless machinery.

Wraithguards attempted to trade fire with long-range Armored Wardens, their wraithcannons clashing against the machines' heavy weaponry. Grotesques and Talos Pain Engines, bristling with claws, saws, and stingers, lumbered through the Drukhari ranks, but these war engines, designed to inflict ultimate agony upon biological prey, were systematically dismantled by the Sentry-Troopers' particle blades.

Raiders streaked across the battlefield, their hull-mounted blades sparking against tallic carapaces as the Dark Aeldari aboard shrieked in twisted laughter. Their disintegration beams and dark lances lashed against the shields of the Armored Wardens, creating rippling waves of energy. But the mont a Destroyer-class Heavy Automaton entered the fray, the Raiders beca a joke. A single strike from a multi-ter power claw reduced them to scrap in an instant.

The sky was thick with the crisscrossing trails of purple splinter fire and the brilliant neutron beams of the Sentry-Troopers. Swarms of Razorwing Jetfighters circled above, only to be t by the anti-air fire of ground-based Erratana-class Armored Wardens, who began their air-defense duties with shoulder-mounted Magalon-class atomic pulse cannons.

The dark lances of the Aeldari craft traded fire with the orange brilliance of the pulse cannons. These unshielded fighters, once hit, erupted into spectacular fireballs. In contrast, the Armored Wardens possessed thick shielding and resilient hulls that could withstand multiple dark lance hits or missile strikes. Even when damaged, they were swiftly repaired by nanite swarms to continue the slaughter.

From the mont the Panacea STC was identified, Axion had abandoned the notion of using these xenos thieves as "batteries." Total annihilation via a lightning strike was now the only option.

Venom transports ferried elite Kabalite Trueborn into the fray. After deploying their passengers, these nimble craft beca mobile fire-support platforms, their twin splinter rifles and splinter cannons chattering incessantly. Smaller Reaver Jetbikes streaked through the spires, diving to strafe the chanical ranks.

Against this aerial swarm, the fire-support arrays of the Peltast Sniper Automata unleashed their fury. Large-caliber armor-piercing rounds filled the sky. Guided by the Iron n's sapient targeting and trajectory prediction, they achieved a terrifying hit rate. Even the Voidraven Bombers, whose speed exceeded that of Imperial craft, could not escape the slaughter.

The carnage was more horrific than the battle against the daemons. Had an Imperial army attempted such an assault, it would have been a war of apocalyptic proportions. For the Iron n, however, it was a clinical operation. Spells that failed against daemons were even more futile against machines. The automata were cold, precise, and devoid of rcy or error. An emotionless, tallic advance began to grind through the entirety of Commorragh.

The defenses of the city, specially reinforced against daemonic incursion, ant nothing to the Iron n. The retaliatory strikes of malefic sorcery fared no better. In this mont, Axion truly perceived the frailty of the Aeldari.

His final cognitive summary: Your defense is as laughable and weak as your offense.

With their conventional forces failing, the Kabal of the Black Heart, assisted by their seers and sorcerers, summoned their ultimate military legacy: the Wraithbone Titan Legions.

Within a hidden Webway gate, fifty massive bone-machines of various designs lay in stasis. These were terrestrial hegemons stored here since the height of the Aeldari Empire. Aside from a dozen or so Revenant and Phantom Titans, the remainder had been twisted over the long millennia into Castigator Titans.

As vast psychic energies flooded their dimd spirit-stone cores, these ancient constructs began to groan and rumble. The consciousnesses within the Titans gradually cleared, letting out a thunderous psychic roar.

"I have heard your call, children of the Aeldari! I shall fight for you once more! With my might and my fury, I shall bring victory and glory! Let us stir a storm of blood across the cosmos!"

These gargantuan war engines were the reason Vect believed Commorragh had no need to fear the Iron n. While the Aeldari could no longer match the Titan numbers of the Imperium of Man and found maintenance nearly impossible, this was Commorragh, the Dark City. Within their own lair, logistics were no longer a concern.

As these towering wraithbone titans strode out of the Webway into the spires of Commorragh, the Drukhari erupted in cheers. These were the ancient, glorious icons of their race.

With the sudden entry of the Aeldari Titans, the tide of the battlefield began to shift with violent speed.