The territory of Alacaster stretched vast enough to steal the breath, with five colossal hive cities rising like metallic mountain ranges, rusted pillars holding back the tide, standing between barren plains and polluted swamps, forming the Empire's most critical strategic anchors and centers of population and production on this world.
"I Am Not God" was stationed at Heralius Hive City, located in the planet's southeastern quadrant.
The hive's outer perimeter had long ceased to resemble a thriving metropolis.
Instead, it was riddled with hastily dug trenches, makeshift sandbag bunkers, firing positions cobbled together from scrapped vehicles and metal plates, and extensive networks of barbed wire and anti-tank ditches crisscrossing the landscape to delay the enemy advance.
The air hung thick and foul, reeking of industrial waste, lingering gunpowder smoke, and a faint, unsettling sweetness of distant rot.
In the opening phase, the Imperial Guard forces defending this position weren't the renowned specialty regiments, but rather the most basic troops, local conscripts and standard Imperial Guard legions reinforced from nearby worlds.
Their equipment was relatively standard and morale acceptable, but they lacked the unique resilience, cunning, or ferocity of specialty regiments.
The true "aces" required players to "purchase" them with points earned on the battlefield, or to wait for the battle to progress to specific stages, when higher command at the "Adeptus Administratum" would judge the situation and commit them.
Soon enough, Chaos's first wave crashed down exactly as anticipated.
The vanguard came as a black tide of Traitor Guard, descendants of those mortal armies who had followed their Primarchs in betrayal ten thousand years ago, their souls and bodies long since thoroughly corrupted by the Warp.
Clad in patchwork armor defaced with blasphemous symbols and wielding all manner of modified or captured weapons, they unleashed chaotic, maddened war cries as they surged toward Heralius Hive City's outer defenses like a polluted flood.
"I Am Not God" gripped his standard-issue lasgun tightly and crouched behind the reinforced parapet of a trench section.
He could feel the ground trembling beneath him, the result of countless marching feet and sporadic enemy artillery. Around him rang the sharp crack of laser beams, the dull roar of ballistic weapons, and the tense breathing and firing orders of AI Imperial Guard soldiers.
"Hold steady! Aim before you shoot! Conserve ammunition!" a sergeant-like AI bellowed hoarsely nearby.
I Am Not God took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.
Through his sights, he locked onto a Traitor Guard squad leader charging at the front and brandishing a power axe. He squeezed the trigger. A crimson laser beam lanced out, striking the target's chest precisely and burning a hole through the armor.
The squad leader staggered but didn't fall immediately. Instead, he charged even more frantically.
"Damn, that armor's tough..." I Am Not God cursed under his breath, quickly firing several follow-up shots before finally dropping him.
The surrounding AI soldiers also fired desperately, their interlocking fields of fire mowing down charging traitors in waves. But the enemy numbers seemed endless; they trampled over their fallen comrades' corpses, howling as they pressed closer.
Both sides engaged in brutal back-and-forth fighting along the frontline, with trenches changing hands repeatedly and every inch of ground soaked in blood.
I Am Not God relied on decent talent and his previous armchair experience to maintain output and survival amid the chaos. He took aimed shots at overextending enemies, lobbed frag grenades to slow enemy clusters, and occasionally operated the mounted heavy bolter beside him to sweep the field.
Points accumulated steadily through his kills, assists, and defensive contributions, slowly but definitely increasing.
Seeing those affordable specialty regiments and support options in the shop, hope kindled in his heart. Just hold on a bit longer, save enough points, and he could call in reinforcements to turn the tide.
However, the Chaos offensive was far from over.
When the Traitor Guard's charge was somewhat contained and corpses began piling up in layers before the positions, a mutation occurred. Those fallen bodies, whether traitor or Imperial Guard, began writhing unnaturally in certain areas, as if something beneath were breaking through the soil.
Then the ground split open, viscous energy of bizarre colors erupting forth, accompanied by teeth-grinding sounds of bone growth and carapace scraping.
Twisted figures crawled from the corpse-heaps and fissures: Bloodletters, Horrors, Plaguebearers. All manner of lesser daemons joined the battlefield.
These daemonic units proved far more troublesome than Traitor Guard. Bloodletters fought fearlessly with savage ferocity in close combat; Horrors appeared and vanished, harassing with weak psychic powers and obscuring vision; Plaguebearers moved slowly but were incredibly durable, dripping corrosive toxins from their bodies.
Their appearance instantly shattered the fragile frontline balance.
The Imperial Guard line began wavering. Standard lasguns proved far less effective against daemons, and when facing these supernatural enemies, fear began spreading among the soldiers.
The defensive line was torn open at multiple points. The mixed flood of daemons and traitors poured through, beginning to divide, surround, and slaughter isolated Imperial Guard squads.
Screams, daemonic shrieks, and the sound of breaking weapons merged into cacophony.
The trench section where I Am Not God was stationed also came under assault. Two Bloodletters charged through the fire, one's razor claws tearing out an AI soldier's throat while the other lunged directly at him.
He backpedaled while firing frantically, laser shots sparking off the Bloodletter's thick hide but failing to inflict fatal damage.
Just as those vicious claws were about to reach him,
"Boom!"
From behind a nearby bunker, someone's melta grenade exploded, blasting the Bloodletter to pieces. I Am Not God, heart still racing, turned to look, only to see that the trench section was already lost, with surviving AI soldiers fighting a retreat.
Defeat.
The local battle line was collapsing. I Am Not God glanced at the upper left corner of his vision, where a newly added progress bar representing "Battle Intensity" had rocketed from 0% at the start to 4.7%, still climbing at a visible rate.
Each lost defensive line and each annihilated unit added to this bar's inexorable rise.
This was his fifth respawn at a backup rally point in the hive's lower levels. Of his previous four deaths, two came from Traitor Guard stray rounds and melee combat, and two from daemon ambushes.
His points had climbed to over 1,200 through intense combat, but watching the constant stream of "XX sector lost" and "XX squad annihilated" battle reports scrolling across his screen, along with the intensity bar now at 4.9%, he knew he couldn't wait any longer.
"If this continues, Heralius Hive City's outer defenses will completely collapse, and Chaos will directly assault the hive's main structure. Then it'll truly be over."
I Am Not God gritted his teeth, his gaze hardening with determination. Without further hesitation, he opened the battlefield support panel and went straight to the option that had just turned from gray to bright, flashing urgent red light, now that intensity had reached 5%:
[Request Specialty Imperial Guard Regiment Emergency Support]
[Requirement: Battle Intensity ≥ 5%]
[Cost: 1,000 Points]
[Description: Send highest-priority distress signal to Adeptus Administratum requesting deployment of a full-strength specialty Imperial Guard regiment to intervene in this war zone. Note: Regiment deployment requires time, and not all requests will be approved or responded to promptly.]
This was it.
Without hesitation, I Am Not God invested a full 1,000 points, the bulk of his current holdings, and pressed the confirmation button firmly.
[−1,000 Points]
[Emergency distress signal sent. Adeptus Administratum receiving.]
[Assessing battlefield situation. Heralius Hive City defense rating: Critical.]
[Request approved.]
[Coordinating available forces from adjacent war zones.]
The brief wait felt like a century. News of frontline collapse continued arriving, the intensity bar breaking through 5% to reach 5.3%.
Finally, the system notification grew solemn and majestic. A special theater-wide announcement rang through the communications channels of all Imperial players and AI units, accompanied by heavy, rhythmic marching footsteps like funeral drums:
[Adeptus Administratum Directive: No. 1447]
[The Defense of Heralius Hive City has entered a critical phase.]
[Hereby deploying: Death Korps of Krieg (Krieg Siege Regiment), 317th, 419th, 508th, 661st, and 792nd Regiments, five full-strength infantry regiments totaling approximately seventy-three thousand personnel, effective immediately via orbital drop and underground passages to reinforce Heralius Hive City's southeastern war zone.]
[Supreme Regiment Commander: Commissar Mors.]
[Directive: At any cost, stabilize the defensive line, purge all enemies from positions, and push Chaos corruption away from the hive's outer walls. For the Emperor!]
The moment the announcement ended, the sky above Heralius Hive City's southeast filled with countless troop transports trailing deceleration flames, descending like steel rain onto designated rally areas around the hive's perimeter.
Simultaneously, deep beneath the hive came the dull, continuous mechanical rumble and unified heavy footsteps echoing through vast passages, more Krieg soldiers surging toward the frontlines through the massive underground transit network.
"I Am Not God" rushed to a higher observation post, looking toward those landed drop pods.
Pod doors blasted open, and squad after squad of soldiers emerged, clad in black-gray heavy greatcoats, wearing distinctive gas masks, bearing entrenching tools and various heavy weapons, and forming up in silent, swift efficiency.
They didn't cheer or shout. There was only a cold, heart-stopping silence and ruthless precision.
At astonishing speed, they took over the crumbling defensive lines, using accurate and lethal volley fire, dense explosives, and frenzied bayonet charges to instantly stabilize positions, even beginning cold, merciless counterattacks against the Chaos forces that had broken through.
The Death Korps of Krieg had arrived.
This regiment, renowned for trench warfare, sacrificial spirit, and absolute obedience, flowed like frozen steel into a dying body, beginning to reshape Heralius Hive City's defenses.
And that commissar named Mors, though his figure had yet to appear on the frontlines, represented even harsher discipline and a more resolute fighting will.
The first frenzied wave of Chaos had crashed against the first true Wall of Sighs.
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