Warhammer: The 11th Primarch - The Black Emperor Chapter 278: The Ritual Assault of the Dusk Raiders

The Fourteenth Legion landed on Stivnich II, following Nareth's orders.

Upon landing, the Dusk Raiders did not imdiately go on the offensive. Instead, they held their ground against the Anderes' attacks, waiting patiently for dusk to arrive.

Two Honor Guard of the Shadows of Order, Alex of the Eighth Chapter and Shkodran of the Eleventh, stood atop a mountain ridge, surveying the battlefield below.

They saw the enemy's strange, disk-shaped tanks advancing on the defensive lines at the mountain's base.

The tanks rolled forward while spinning, with four Andres gunners positioned at right angles, taking turns to fire their cannons in rotation.

The Shadows of Order quickly noticed that the design allowed for continuous fire, but the caliber of their shells was barely half that of Imperial tanks. The firepower was significantly weaker.

"A flashy design. Their tanks are far less dangerous than our own," Shkodran remarked.

Beneath them, the gray-armored Dusk Raiders charged under the command of the Second Company Captain.

The warriors of the vanguard carried storm shields, larger, heavier, and more advanced than combat shields. The shields offered vastly improved protection but were too cumberso to allow dual-wielding.

Alien shells rained down on the glowing blue energy barriers, sparking like lightning.

The storm shields absorbed the impacts of both lee and ranged weapons, even lascannons and heavy ordnance. The Andres' light cannons could do little against them.

The Dusk Raiders advanced like human tanks, shields locked, slamming into the xeno armored lines. Their energy fields tore open the hulls of the disk-shaped tanks.

With thunder hamrs raised, they smashed the enemy at point-blank range.

The Andres tank line crumbled almost instantly under the brutal assault.

From the rear, more alien armor opened fire.

Again, the Dusk Raiders raised their storm shields, sparks and arcs of power flaring across the battlefield, illuminating the entire ridge.

Alex observed quietly, 'The Dusk Raiders are highly skilled in heavy infantry.'

The front ranks, shields interlocked, ford an unbreakable wall. No barrage could break them.

Behind them, the second rank advanced under this protection, firing and pushing forward.

"They are masters of survival," Alex concluded. "Their defenses are stubborn beyond asure."

"And their stamina is impressive. From the landing until now, they've endured fifteen full enemy assaults without slowing."

Shkodran added a note of caution, "But their maneuverability is lacking. An intelligent enemy, might exploit their exposed flanks."

Alex nodded, "They're not like the Iron Hands with their armored firepower, but they excel at frontal assaults."

The two Shadows of Order descended into the makeshift command post.

Inside were the Dusk Raiders' company commanders, except for the Second, who remained at the front holding the line.

Shkodran, mindful of the legion's tradition of ritual nas, addressed them formally:

"I have heard of the Unbroken and the Storm-Walkers…"

One of the captains corrected him, "Now they are called the Iron Hands. But yes, we are all of Albia. Even the Emperor's naming of us, the Dusk Raiders, Storm and Hamr, was drawn from the war arts of the Albia tribes."

The First Captain, Balasin, clad in gray armor heavy with campaign dals, confird.

"In the Unification Wars, during the Battle of the Ironsides, our proto-doctrine was born. It was only later we realized dusk was the optimal mont to strike."

The Seventh Captain, Tetsus, glanced at the power sword at Alex's waist. As the most formidable of the Raiders' captains, he instantly recognized the black-armored outsider as a warrior of considerable skill.

"Only through battle can one truly understand the Unbroken," Tetsus declared. "You will follow into combat."

He turned to Shkodran, "You will accompany Balasin."

Alex bowed his head. "By your will, Lord Tetsus."

Shkodran inclined his head as well.

Balasin faced the hololithic map and issued his orders.

"The auger scans show this world is riddled with hive-factories. Tetsus, your company will launch the first counter-assault. Break their lines, then strike this point, Factory A."

He ended with the command the Dusk Raiders were known for: "As always, we attack at dusk."

Later, Shkodran once more stood on the ridge beside Balasin. The battlefield below seethed with Andres tanks, tens of thousands, surging like a tide.

Yet the Second Company's line held firm. Storm shields interlocked, their formation unbroken. Whenever a warrior fell, another stepped seamlessly into place.

Every counter-charge they launched destroyed hundreds of tanks.

Shkodran's calculations were clinical:

'Losses under 140. Their defense is exemplary. Only our Third Chapter could surpass them, and if it were the Third, the enemy lines would already be broken.'

anwhile, Alex, embedded with the Seventh Company, watched as the gray-armored warriors perford ritual preparations.

Each held a boltgun in one hand and a ritual bell in the other, slowly and thodically passing it over the weapon's fra in solemn reverence.

They ignored the raging battle below, as though afraid to anger the machine-spirit if the rite were incomplete.

Alex, himself a warrior who prided in treating his weapon as an extension of his body, found himself impressed.

He cleaned his own bolter and oiled his power sword, mirroring their devotion.

Shkodran, observing in his Lawyer mindset, reflected deeply,

'The Dusk Raiders place greater value on ritual than any other Legion. Every war they fight, they anchor their assault to dusk. Why such fixation? If they counter-attacked now, they could break the enemy line already…'

He considered the possibilities.

The ritual exhausts the foe both physically and ntally.

Habit itself grants them strength, the ritual empowers belief.

And perhaps, they truly exploit the shift of light at dusk

"Instrunts confirm: dusk will fall in precisely seven minutes."

Shkodran set a countdown in his visor.

"Set the tirs," Balasin ordered. "We strike on schedule."

Across the tactical network, tirs synchronized.

At three minutes, the companies were already in position.

At one minute, the Second Company repelled yet another assault, still unaided by the others.

Shkodran frowned: 'Too rigid. Too predictable. If the enemy ever learns this pattern, they could exploit it.'

Then, the tir hit zero.

Darkness fell.

At that instant, the Dusk Raiders unleashed hell.

Bolters roared in unison, the volleys like a dam bursting, sheets of fire raking the alien lines.

Alex charged at the head of the Seventh, and in that mont he noticed it, at dusk, the Anderes' fire faltered. A physiological hesitation.

The Raiders struck like thunder. The alien lines collapsed instantly.

From above, Shkodran watched the entire battlefield,

'Exactly as I expected. Their delaying defense drained the enemy. Then, at the instant of light's extinction, they struck with overwhelming fury. Only the Astartes, with their vision and speed, could seize such a fleeting mont.'

And yet, another thought nagged at him.

'Effective… but it feels less like strategy, more like ritual. A sacred assault at a sacred hour.'

.....

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