Warhammer 40K in a box

Chapter 506 Heavy Firepower Strike

The roar of the heavy-explosive gun was not just a simple gunshot, but a continuous, deep, earth-shaking roar, like an ancient Titan sharpening its destructive teeth in the abyssal furnace.

A deadly metal storm—composed of countless high-speed rotating, destructive kinetic energy-filled heavy explosives—precisely tore, gnawed, and penetrated the thick, elastic, and constantly writhing blasphemous "armor" of the Plague Pustule Cannon!
This is not lifeless steel, but living tissue twisted, bred, and covered with a slimy scab by the evil power of Nurgle.

The powerful warhead easily tore through the constantly regenerating, foul-smelling scab on the surface, embedding itself deep within the pulsating, pus-filled living tissue beneath.

Each hit blasted open a wound the size of a communion plate, with charred, smoking flesh curling at the edges, emitting the pungent smell of burning protein.

The foul-smelling, viscous filth, mixed with countless frantically wriggling maggots and broken bone spurs, gushed out violently like a punctured abscess!

These profane bodily fluids splashed onto the scorched earth, making a sizzling, corrosive sound and rising wisps of yellowish-green smoke carrying a sweet, putrid stench.

The pustule cannon's massive torso, made of rotting flesh and twisted metal, convulsed violently in agony, like a huge, dying creature.

It emitted a series of chilling wails, like a rotting Leviathan struggling for its life in a toxic swamp, the sound wet and suffocatingly sticky.

However, under the twisted power of the filthy blessing of the Father Nurgle, its core structure exhibits a blasphemous resilience.

Through Brock's sharp tactical goggles, he clearly captured that abhorrent scene: several heavy explosive warheads, enough to penetrate light armored vehicles, were repelled by the thick, foul-smelling, rotten fascia and overgrown bone plates!

Only a few charred burn marks and shallow, almost negligible dents remained on it!
"Stubborn scum! The Emperor's wrath will surely purify you!" Brock gritted his teeth beneath his sealed visor, his cheek muscles taut like a rock.

He held his breath, channeling all the extraordinary power of an Astartes into the stabilization servo systems of his power-armored arms and shoulders, using his iron will to firmly suppress the violently throbbing heavy gun barrel.

Each recoil of the slug gun felt like a tamed beast charging forward.

He precisely controlled the rhythm of his shots, each burst as deadly as a surgical operation.

Beside him stood another veteran of heavy firepower, equally composed, whose roar of heavy explosives perfectly intertwined with his, forming a destructive duet, like two sacred blacksmiths forging a piece of profane iron.

After several rounds of precise, ferocious, and relentless concentrated attacks, like a thunderous hammer, this blasphemous creation finally let out a final shriek, sharp enough to pierce the eardrums of mortals, filled with pain and resentment!
Its core structure collapsed completely under the combined pressure of the destructive energy accumulated inside and the external impact, convulsing violently like a giant abscess punctured by divine flames before collapsing.

The massive body disintegrated into a pile of rotting flesh and twisted, desecrated metal fragments emitting a pungent, foul stench and sizzling smoke, with filthy fluids flowing across the ground, becoming yet another stain on this corrupt battlefield.

On the other side, the Terminator squad leader, "Anvil" Qasim, emitted a deep, powerful hum from the servo system of his heavy Terminator armor, like an engine warming up.

His command, amplified by his helmet megaphone, carried a cold, metallic resonance, concise and undeniable: "Heat melt! Clear that blasphemous node! Target the core, keep irradiating!" The sensor array on his helmet was firmly locked onto a pustule cannon belonging to the 5th Company infantry, which was clumsily turning, trying to aim at the defensive node built on the wreckage of the airdrop pod.

The Terminator warrior codenamed "Furnace" responded immediately.

The heavy molten steel gun was as steady as a rock, supported by its power armor.

The muzzle of the gun gathered an intensely hot light that was impossible to look at directly. In the next instant, a blindingly hot, almost pure white spear of divine punishment—containing terrifying energy that could condense the temperature of a star's core into a single beam—tears through the air and strikes the core of the pustule cannon, which is swollen and shiny, like a giant sore!

Sizzle—Sizzle!

A terrifying sound, so loud it made your teeth ache, as flesh and metal were instantly vaporized by the extreme heat, suddenly erupted!
The intense heat, lasting for several seconds, triggered the most violent reaction in the profane substance.

The core swelled and throbbed wildly, like a living abscess thrown into a furnace. Its surface carbonized and cracked at a visible speed, while the viscous, yellowish-green pus inside churned and boiled wildly under unimaginable high temperatures, emitting a mixture of extremely toxic, sweet, and rotten flesh stench that was a hundred times stronger.

Finally, with a dull thud like wet leather being torn apart by a tremendous force, the core, along with the boiling plague pus inside, was completely vaporized!
A large, churning, and violently expanding cloud of highly toxic yellow-green vapor rose from the spot. Its stench was so intense that even through the Terminator armor's advanced triple filtration system, the environmental sensors inside the "Incinerator" helmet issued a sharp alarm.

A thin layer of highly corrosive acidic condensate instantly formed on the eyepiece.

"Target purified. The defilement has been incinerated." He reported calmly, his voice carrying a chilling satisfaction at the complete eradication of the blasphemy, and the absolute certainty of an Imperial Warrior that his duty had been fulfilled.

The battle at the landing site was instantly pushed to its most intense point.

The air was no longer a medium for sound transmission, but was saturated and torn apart by all kinds of destructive roars and wails: the sharp hiss of high-speed firing of bomb guns, the muffled, continuous roar of heavy bombs like rolling thunder, the hellish hissing sound of molten weapons evaporating flesh, the crackling sound of laser weapons scorching the air, and the endless, sticky, and unsettling collective wails of the filthy walkers, like a background chorus from a rotting hell.

The Ash Knights used the wreckage of the airdrop pod, which emitted a pungent smog and a burnt smell, as makeshift cover, forming a tight circular defensive line.

The veterans of the Fifth Company displayed unparalleled experience and discipline, firing precise and deadly bursts with their explosive rifles.

Each bomb was carefully designed to target the swollen, deformed heads of plague warriors who tried to get close to spray deadly pus, or the larger, abnormally behaving corrupted monsters in the horde of zombies that appeared to be acting as low-level command nodes.

The heavy firepower squads were like an unbreakable rock in the middle of the position. Their continuous and fierce heavy explosive fire created a devastating barrage, relentlessly suppressing the heavy threats in the distance—such as the staggering plague behemoths or the blasphemous war machines—as well as the hordes of zombies surging in like a stenching tide.

Each salvo of heavy explosives was like an invisible, sacred hammer crashing into the rotting swamp, instantly tearing apart, igniting, and vaporizing large swathes of enemies into foul-smelling smoke and flying, filthy debris.

(End of this chapter)