Warhammer 40K in a box

Chapter 458 Cultists

Iron Claw's body suddenly arched forward, letting out a suppressed groan of pain. His back was instantly torn open, and scalding blood gushed out like a torrent, staining his tattered clothes and the ground beneath him!

"Iron Claw! No—!" Several screams, filled with sobs and disbelief, erupted from the crowd.

Some people instinctively took a step forward, only to be frozen in place by fear; others clung tightly to the arms of those around them, their nails almost digging into the flesh, their eyes filled with struggle.

The old fear of chaos and violence clashed violently with the blood shed to protect their homes.

The excruciating pain was like a red-hot branding iron piercing through his entire body, and his vision was instantly shrouded in black mist, but Iron Claw clenched his teeth tightly, blood seeping from his lower lip, and a low, wounded roar rolled from his throat!
Instead of letting go, he used the momentum of the fall to press the subdued cultist firmly against the cold, hard ground with his blood-stained body and his only remaining left hand!

It was as if he himself was the last gate!
His face, stained with blood and sweat, jerked upwards, contorted by excruciating pain and intense anxiety. With the last breath he could muster, he roared in a heart-wrenching, almost inhuman scream towards Figesin's team: "B-7!! B-7 pipeline junction! They've hidden promethium! They're going to burn our home down!!"

That hoarse, cracking roar, like sandpaper scraping, was like a boulder being smashed into a viscous, stagnant pool!

In an instant, countless gazes—terrified, bewildered, hesitant, and even angry—all focused on that pool of blood!
The focus is on the way Iron Claw used his body to firmly press down on the cult members and used his life to protect the dilapidated shantytown behind him that he called "home"!

The woman holding the child forgot to scream, oblivious to the baby crying loudly in her arms, her eyes fixed on the blood-stained back of the iron claw.

The old man, who had covered his mouth, still had fear in his cloudy eyes, but something even harder was gathering. He suddenly spat a mouthful of bloody saliva in the direction of the cultist with the knife.

The roar of "our home" from Iron Claw was like a spark suddenly ignited in the darkness.

This tiny glimmer of light flickered clearly, faintly, yet undeniably real in countless hearts long frozen and nearly extinguished by the chaos and numbness of the past.

The flash made some hesitant steps freeze in place, and some evasive gazes become fixed on the knife-wielding murderer.
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"B-7 junction! Target: Heretic arsonist! Purify!" Figsin's voice was resolute, like a sword drawn from its sheath.

Deep inside the dark, damp pipes, the pungent smell of promethium was almost suffocating.

Several distorted figures were frantically trying to push the heavy metal cans marked with danger symbols toward the pre-set detonation point.

Fear and madness intertwined in their eyes.

The leader was dressed in a tattered, blood-stained red robe, his face smeared with a blasphemous eight-pointed star symbol, and he uttered hoarse, unintelligible curses.

They were like trapped beasts, making a desperate last-ditch effort.

"For the Emperor! Purify the heretics!" The battle nuns descended like divine warriors, the searchlights on their power armor shoulders piercing the darkness of the pipes and exposing the blasphemers in the shadows!
The roar of the chainsaw sword was like the pronouncement of death. The nuns moved swiftly and smoothly, easily ending the two unsuspecting cultists on the outermost edge. Blood and bits of flesh splattered on the rusted pipe walls.

The roar of the bomb gun followed immediately, accurately eliminating the exposed targets.

Almost at the same moment, the bailiff squad also poured in from the other side of the pipe branch!

They were dressed in black armor, carrying laser guns and shotguns, their eyes sharp and wary beneath their tactical helmets.

"Block the flanks! Suppress fire!" the bailiff captain roared. The deafening roar of shotgun shells instantly filled the fray, a dense barrage covering any cover or escape routes the cultists might be using!

The narrow pipe was instantly filled with gunfire and the shrieking of chainsaws, turning it into a graveyard for blasphemers.

Figueir is like the embodiment of silver judgment, her twin pistols being a relentless extension of her will.

The Rose Bomb Gun fired crisp, deadly bursts, and the head of a cultist attempting to light the fuse in the distance exploded; Fiona calmly spewed out devastating flames, sidestepping the flying debris and pulverizing the enemy behind cover along with the pipe structure in which he was hiding!
"Stop them! For the flames of the true god!" the red-robed leader roared hysterically.

In their desperation, the remaining cultists erupted in a final frenzy, desperately resisting by using piles of debris and pipe corners.

Explosive bombs, laser beams, and shotgun shells whistled through the confined space, weaving a deadly web of fire.

The stray bullet grazed the trail left by the nun's high-speed movement, sparking as it struck the pipe wall.

In the midst of this fierce firefight, a bailiff was shot in the shoulder by a cultist hiding in the shadows. After letting out a muffled groan, he was dragged back to cover by his comrades. Immediately, another bailiff took his place, and the dense steel balls spewed from the shotgun blocked the firing port.

However, this brief period of localized suppression and chaos seems to have become a signal—

A piercing, tooth-grinding shriek, like metal twisting and breaking, suddenly tore through the roar of gunfire, erupting from the deepest shadows of the pipe!

Huddled there, a previously inconspicuous, ragged figure suddenly stood up!

His robes fluttered without wind, his withered hands twisted and stretched into the air, his cloudy eyes rolled back completely, and thick black blood gushed from his mouth and nose—an illegal psychic!
He had been waiting for this chaotic moment!
An invisible mental shockwave, carrying intense malice and chaos, struck like a heavy blow, taking advantage of the moment when the bailiff squad's formation was slightly unstable due to the wounded and replacements!
"Ugh!" The first few bailiffs were hit hard, clutching their helmets in pain, blood seeping from between their fingers. They staggered and crashed into the pipe wall, some even collapsing to the ground! The tight line of defense was instantly torn open!
At the same time, several heavy scrap metal plates were suddenly snatched up by an invisible force, slamming them down with a whooshing sound as they crashed into the fighting nuns on the other side, who were trying to use the bailiffs' firepower as cover to flank them!
The cultists seized the opportunity to fire wildly, suddenly increasing their firepower.

Faced with this sudden double blow, the nuns reacted swiftly and efficiently.

They moved continuously amidst the dense hail of bullets, precisely dodging the whistling, heavy objects that came crashing down, or raising their arm armor to block them directly.

The combined interference of psionic and physical forces forced them to slow down the pace of the chainsaw's advance, but the offensive did not stop.

“Witchcraft heresy! Purify!” Figshin’s voice was as cold as frost, instantly locking onto the source of the threat.

While using "Fiona" to suppress the cultists' firing positions, she moved with lightning speed, quickly changing positions within the limited space of the pipes, trying to find a sniping angle with the Rose Bomb Gun.

But the psionicist cunningly hid behind the promethium jar, continuously unleashing disruptive psychic shrieks and flying metal fragments.

In the midst of this brief chaos and suppression, unexpected reinforcements appeared!
"Sister! This way! There's a shortcut!" A hoarse but urgent voice came from a narrower maintenance pipe opening on the side!

It was "Old Lame," followed by several mutant residents carrying crude tools and even picking up weapons dropped by cultists from the ground!
Although fear still lingered in their eyes, there was even more anger at witnessing their homes nearly destroyed and a hint of determination!
The old lame man pointed to a rusty pipe, half-covered by debris and barely wide enough for one person to pass through: "Go...go through here! We can get behind him!"

(End of this chapter)