Warhammer 40K in a box

Chapter 504 Orbital Drop
The massive armored hull of the "Gabbro" adjusted its attitude in the void and entered the high orbit of the planet Elegy VII.

Outside the porthole, the planet's appearance was horrifying: churning yellow-green miasma covered the surface, interspersed with vast, purplish-black areas of decay.

Beneath the thin atmosphere, the distorted outlines of city ruins and a vast swamp flowing with murky liquid are faintly visible.

An invisible, malicious whisper of psychic energy continued to seep in, even through the thick adamantite hull and void shield, attempting to erode the consciousness of the creature.

The atmosphere inside the bridge was somber.

Hathor stood in front of the holographic tactical console, his molten gold eyes fixed on the planet below that exuded an aura of death.

Loken stood like a steadfast silhouette behind her, the two points of light beneath his visor silently scanning the ever-updating tactical data stream.

"Psionic Suppression Ritual, Activate." Hathor's voice was clear and calm, penetrating the hum of the bridge.

As the order was given, a deep and resonant hum came from deep within the ship.

The main task force of the think tank led by Ahriman is already in position in the psionic matrix room at the core of the warship.

A massive array of runes lit up the deck, sophisticated psionic amplification devices operated efficiently, and the deep prayers of the think tanks coalesced into a powerful and stable torrent of psionic energy, clearly aimed at combating the planet's subspace contamination.

This powerful psychic energy, like an invisible beam of light, was precisely projected from the "Gabbro" and pierced the churning poisonous clouds of the planet Elegy VII.

The yellowish-green miasma churned violently and dissipated in the area that came into contact with the beam of light.

The suffocating chaotic psionic field formed by the power of Nurgle on the planet's surface was forcibly suppressed by this powerful Imperial psionic energy, temporarily creating a relatively "stable" combat space.

The pollution, like a thick slick of oil, covered the water's surface, but at least it provided a foothold for the landing forces.

"Orbital drop initiated. Target: Pre-designated landing site 'Purification Point Alpha'." Hathor's voice carried an undeniable decisiveness.

"Operation Furnace, start!" Loken repeated the command over the communication channel, his voice as cold as steel.

The massive airdrop pod launch array gates on the ship's belly roared open, revealing the churning, cursed world below.

Before the gates were fully opened, a low, binary chant rang out through the ship's public address system.

Several ecclesiastical priests dressed in red robes were already standing in the observation corridor at the edge of the launch array.

They held incense burners, and wisps of smoke carrying the distinctive scent of machine oil and metallic incense filled the passageway; other priests were carefully applying sacred machine oil, connected to data cables, to the launch rails, restraint interfaces, and control nodes.

Their mechanical eyes flashed with dense streams of data light, and they chanted ancient prayers to soothe the machine's soul and pray for the safe passage of their steel bodies.

Meanwhile, the elite veterans of the Ash Knights' Fifth Company and the Terminator Assault Team of the First Company were in position.

Chapter Priest Helios stood in the center of the cabin, clad in black power armor inlaid with a skull emblem. He wore no helmet, and his weathered face bore the marks of piety and fortitude. His sharp gaze swept over each Astartes.

“We are the ashes of the Emperor! We are the furnace of filth!” Helios’s voice boomed like a hammer forging fine gold in the sealed chamber: “Behold! Below lies a swamp of decay, a breeding ground for the source of filth! It desecrates life, twists creation, and turns the Emperor’s sacred domain into festering sores! Such grave sins can only be completely burned away by the Emperor’s flames and steel!” He raised his scepter high and proclaimed: “Your armor is the bulwark of your conviction! Your weapons are the divine wrath! Your lives are the sacrifices of your devotion!”
Remember your oath! Remember your duty! You will bring purification to the Emperor, and end to defilement! Your victory will be a sacred ashes covering all blasphemy!

"Faith is my shield! Loyalty is my sword! Death is my sacrifice! Ashes are my destiny!" The Astartes responded in unison, their deep voices converging into an unshakeable torrent of power, their eyes behind their helmet visors burning with faith and determination.

The air was filled with the smell of coolant and the pure, burning fighting spirit ignited by oaths.

The Terminator team members stood at the forefront, their heavy Terminator armor resembling a fortress bearing divine will, their power gauntlets gripped tightly, and their Storm Bomb Gun and power weapons poised to fire.

The veterans of the Fifth Company made a final check on the condition of the bomb guns and chainsaw swords, their movements carrying the solemnity of a completed ceremony.

The newly deployed Gravis-class heavy armored units hummed in standby mode, the Imperial double-headed eagle and skull insignia etched on their thick armor appearing particularly menacing under the bulkhead warning lights.

The gates burst open, revealing the churning, cursed world below.

Dozens of massive airdrop pods were released from their restraints by hydraulic systems, their tails instantly spewing out blinding plasma tail flames, like spears of judgment bearing the wrath of an emperor, accelerating their descent into the filthy abyss!
Inside the airdrop pod, the support structure emitted a low hum amidst the violent vibrations caused by the high-speed descent, while the heavy powered armor remained completely still.

The dim light from the tactical interface inside the helmet visor illuminated the focused, iron-willed faces of the Astartes.

"Maintain formation, combat upon landing!" The sergeant major's voice rang out over the communications channel, a sharp whistling sound piercing through the friction between the hull and the atmosphere. "Prioritize eliminating threats to the landing zone and establishing a defensive line! For the Emperor!"

"For the Emperor! Turn to ashes!" A deafening battle cry erupted in the confined space. It was a response to the priests, a declaration to the Emperor, and the final clarion call for the impending Holy War of Purification!
The airdrop pod pierced through the relatively thin layer of miasma suppressed by psionic energy and landed precisely at the designated landing site—a relatively dry black rock platform located on the edge of a huge, rotten swamp!

boom! boom! boom! boom!
A series of deafening impacts erupted as the massive airdrop pod crashed violently into the designated landing zone and its surrounding area.

The scorching plasma flow instantly melted and vaporized the rocks and decaying vegetation below. The shockwave, carrying scorching air and debris, spread violently in all directions, clearing out a charred circular area.

The hatch was violently flung open by the shockwave and the force of the internal explosive bolts!

Instantly, the suffocating stench of the planet Elegy VII flooded the cabin—a mixture of rotting corpses, festering wounds, putrid filth, and the cloying, pungent stench of plague.

Even with the filtering effect of the power armor's breathing grilles and their genetically enhanced endurance, the Astartes immediately sensed the extreme filth of the environment.

"Attack!" The Terminator squad commander was the first to step out of the hatch, his heavy magnetic boots landing firmly on the scorching, cracked rock.

What awaited them was not an empty landing field, but the filthy minions that had already gathered there!
Rotting zombies dragged their festering bodies, emitting inhuman howls, and surged out like a tide from the mud and rock crevices at the edge of the landing zone!

Their bodies are swollen and oozing pus, with rotting flesh hanging from their exposed bones, and they wield rusty farm tools or attack directly with their swollen and deformed limbs.

Interspersed among them were massive Nurgle warriors, covered in heavy plate armor, wielding enormous plague warhammers or equipped with corrosive pus sprayers.

Further away, some blasphemous creations, made up of enormous pustules and twisted limbs, were clumsily adjusting their course, preparing to unleash a barrage of filthy shells onto the landing zone.

"Fire! Clear the landing zone!" The sergeant major of the 5th Company's order was concise and deadly.

(End of this chapter)