The apothecary called out 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!"
Beria 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 rock 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 jerked 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, the sword tearing through another enemy.
"Understood."
He roared, deflecting the enemy's chainsaw, exposing the attacker's neck, and drove the tip of his 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 lightened, causing him to take a step back and risk a glance behind him.
He saw Techmarine standing in the center of the hallway like a vengeful demon, the four arms of his servo harness spewing death from a series of laser cutters and plasma burners.
The technical sergeant was wearing gloves and holding a gear-powered ax in his hand. The technical sergeant forged this weapon himself after returning from Mars. The spark head of the ax was shaped like the gears of a huge machine. It was an exquisite and powerful weapon.
It is imbued with all the crafts of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
The geared tomahawk rose and fell like the lever of an over-speeded shorthand diagram, the Techmarine cutting down the enemy with brutal swipes that crackled on impact.
"Great Master, retreat quickly!"
Techmarine shouted to Belial as he sliced another Chaos Space Marine with his cogwheel axe, bisecting him from shoulder to hipbone.
"The enemy has stepped up their offensive! The Supreme Master needs you!"
"Mis."
Belial turned his head. He could no longer see the other Deathwing Terminator, but his identity tag was still shining brightly.
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 display next to the other attacker's body showed where Mice should be.
The Deathwing Grand Master threw the enemy's corpse away until he saw the familiar bone-white helmet of the Deathwing Terminator.
"I found him."
Sliding his sword into the thigh of a charging foe, Belial grabbed Meath's gauntlet and pulled him out from under the pile of corpses.
"Can you still lift him?"
The tech sergeant's question was not meant as an insult.
"Can!"
Beria grunted with force, and the two terminators stepped forward, lifting the injured Mies' arms and legs.
The technical sergeant nodded, cut off the arm of one of the enemies, and then beheaded him.
Beria began to clear the way for the team, his fury methodical, although his aggression was tempered by his finisher's efficiency.
Techmarine envied his calmness, but sometimes the Deathwing Grand Master's rage could no longer be contained.
On that day he would sympathize with Beria's enemies.
Although he was 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 penetrated his internal organs, and his organs were flooded with blood.
Around him, the Deathwing companies slammed into the breach in an orderly formation. The heavy firepower in their hands recoiled and washed away the bodies of surrounding enemy soldiers, 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 seem 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 shifted his main attack direction to the Dark Angels 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 2,000 Chaos Space Marines around the Dark Angel at one time. This is what Beria saw -
A rare, Astartes-style mass offensive.
Beria switched the weapon to full-automatic and fired again, killing a large number of cultists, their bodies blown to pieces by exploding bullets.
Yet they did not waver. Regardless of the losses they suffered, they pounded into the Deathwing like possessed men.
And their fallen master is behind them.
"die!"
A bladed gauntlet struck Beria's shoulder gauntlet, 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, splattering against his bone-white Terminator armor.
The sharp smell of blood was suffocating, and another sword came at him. He blocked the downward blow with his Silent Sword, and then smashed the 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 like a malevolence from their pores.
Suddenly, a warning sign flashed on Beria's helmet display, indicating that his ammunition had reached the last round.
The Deathwing Grand Master roared, and then blew his head off a skinny attacker. The heretic's torso looked very different compared to his skinny legs.
Belial magnetically latched his pistol to his armor and thrust his sword into the nearest cultist's bloated neck.