Eroking
patreon
Chapter 164: Look, a Shooting Star!
🕑 Added 2025-09-22 11:23:29 +0000 UTCChapter 164: Look, a Shooting Star!
"Initial route has been imported."
Te Kahurangi's psychic whisper echoed in the minds of the Carcharodons.
CLANG!
Tyberos's lightning claws scraped a shower of sparks from the metal bulkhead. He tilted his head slightly, the sensors in his helmet rapidly scanning the corridor's structure. Then, he began to move, following the Librarian's guidance.
After the Primaris surgery, his nearly four-meter-tall body cast an oppressive shadow down the dim corridor, the joints of his custom Terminator armor emitting a low hydraulic hum.
The T'au defenders at the end of the road were still in chaos. Their communication systems paralyzed, they had not yet noticed the approaching crisis. Suddenly, an abnormal vibration came through the alloy floor—
SQUELCH!
The body of an Air Caste commander was torn apart like a rag, blood splattering across the control panel.
Only then did the alarm finally erupt among the surviving defenders.
The Fire Caste warriors in their XV8 Crisis Battlesuits reacted the fastest. The azure glow of ion cannons lit up the corridor one after another. Even without AI assistance, these elites still displayed astonishing firing accuracy.
However, the Carcharodons, as if they had foreseen the projectiles' trajectories, scattered in advance. The roar of their boltguns instantly drowned out the hum of the ion weapons. The T'au stared with disbelief, and the next second, their faceplates were shattered by bolter rounds, their shocked expressions forever frozen in the splattering brain matter and blood.
"Left."
The Farseer apprentice's voice sounded again in Te Kahurangi's mind, tinged with a bit of helplessness, and at the same time, a series of prophetic procedures were transmitted.
The Chief Librarian's brow furrowed under his helmet. After a brief silence, he spoke in a heavy voice, "...To the left."
Tyberos charged in silence, and the pack of Sharks immediately turned like a black tide.
The muffled thud of power-armored boots on the metal deck became a continuous roar. This torrent of death advanced at high speed along the main thoroughfare, leaving only twisted metal wreckage and mangled xenos corpses in its wake.
The Farseer apprentice, while repeating the operational procedures of the prophecy, guided them along each route, precisely avoiding the heavily defended nodes and striking straight for the star-fortress's most vulnerable heart.
A rapid metallic clatter echoed in the command room. The Air Caste fortress commander slowly looked up. A young officer was maintaining a standard upright posture, but his trembling body and constricted pupils betrayed his inner panic.
The commander's gaze swept over the control panel, which was still flashing with garbled code. His fingers lightly touched the controller at his waist. With a soft "click," the magnetic lock was released. He turned to face the newcomer—
CLANG!
The magnetic boots reactivated, firmly fixing his slender body to the ground. The members of the Air Caste, who had lived their entire lives in a zero-gravity environment, had a bone density far lower than their other T'au compatriots, which made them exceptionally fragile under standard gravity.
"The aliens who call themselves human are attacking the star-fortress." The young officer's voice was tense. "The outer defensive line... only held for ten minutes. And in fact, that was just the time it took for them to advance. Our resistance had little effect."
The commander's eyes widened in disbelief. The tech officers who were trying to repair the terminals all stopped their work, their bodies trembling uneasily.
They were not unfamiliar with humans. Thirty years of trade, a year-long conflict in the Damocles Gulf—they had a clear understanding of this race: a powerful but paranoid civilization, hostile to other races, and equally harsh to their own.
But no one could accept that the star-fortress's defenses, which had been impregnable since the T'au had first stepped into space, could be so fragile.
"Where are the diplomats of the Water Caste?" the commander's voice suddenly sounded exceptionally weary. "Have they tried to negotiate?"
The messenger's compound eyes flickered slightly, quickly retrieving the memory, "Sir, the diplomatic ship was destroyed the moment it left the gravity shield's range."
The commander's arm fell limply. The metal wall reflected his stooped silhouette.
The enemy clearly possessed overwhelming electronic warfare technology. Not only had they paralyzed the AI system, but even basic gravity regulation had become a luxury. More fatally, all communication channels had been cut. The ground command was completely incommunicado.
"Sir, what should we do?" the messenger's body trembled uneasily, his voice filled with a clear panic. He subconsciously gripped his data-slate, his knuckles turning white from the force. "Will the enemy accept our surrender?"
The commander turned back in silence, staring at the still-dead control interface, the holographic projection casting mottled light on his pale face. He finally shook his head slowly, "I don't know, but we can try—"
SCRAPE—
A piercing sound of tearing metal suddenly erupted.
A Fire Caste warrior in an XV15 Stealthsuit staggered onto the bridge, fluorescent blue blood constantly seeping from the gaps in his armor. He stumbled towards the control console, his blood-stained fingers flying across the panel.
Activate defensive cannons, seal the blast doors, activate the escape pods—a series of operations as smooth as flowing water. After completing the final command, he finally couldn't hold on any longer and fell heavily backwards.
The hideous wound, which extended from his abdomen to his chest, was leaking a large amount of bodily fluid. The emergency sealing system of the XV15 armor was letting out an overwhelmed alarm.
"Shas'vre'O'Vesa!" the messenger cried out, rushing forward, only to be pushed away by the other.
The Fire Warrior struggled to prop himself up. The respirator under his faceplate sprayed a mist of bloody froth, "Quick... escort the commander... evacuate..." He was enduring intense pain with every word. "Get the message... to the Ethereals."
He suddenly began to cough violently, fluorescent blue blood spilling from the edge of his faceplate. When he spoke again, his voice was filled with a bone-chilling cold, "Tell them... these humans... are pure butchers... they don't even spare unarmed personnel..."
The command room was instantly dead silent, the air as if frozen into ice. Only the Fire Warrior's heavy breathing echoed.
"They... didn't even give us a chance to negotiate?" the commander's voice was as faint as a dream.
"No."
Seeing that the commander was not moving, the Fire Warrior suddenly erupted, using his last bit of strength to grab the commander's arm and drag him towards the escape pod, his damaged armor scraping a piercing sound on the metal floor.
"Go! Go now! The star-fortress has fallen!"
"But the data-core!" the commander, who was being dragged forward, shouted. "We have to destroy it! If these humans are really butchers, we absolutely cannot let them get the coordinates of the other worlds!"
"Leave that to me—"
BOOM!
The commander's words were cut short. The massive sound that exploded in his ears instantly deafened him. He only felt a warm liquid splash across half his face. The Fire Warrior at his side, as if struck by an invisible giant hammer, his XV15 battlesuit disintegrated in an instant—flesh, armor fragments, and fluorescent blue blood splattered across the command cabin wall in a radial pattern.
A black, metallic claw had pierced through the fifty-centimeter-thick alloy blast door, the jagged edges of its teeth still holding twisted metal fragments. With a sickening tearing sound, the entire blast door was ripped open, a shower of sparks pouring down like a rainstorm.
In the dust, the silhouette of a four-meter-tall giant gradually became clear. The chainfist on its arm-guard was still humming, the teeth entangled with what looked like organic tissue debris.
"This..."
The commander's pupils violently contracted. The next second, the roar of a bolter filled the entire space.
The shockwave from the barrage blasted the control console into a cloud of fragments. The flying metal shrapnel reaped lives like a scythe.
The members of the Air Caste cowered behind their instruments, witnessing a vision of hell through the gaps.
A Fire Caste warrior had just raised his pulse rifle when he was cleaved in two, along with his gun, by a power axe. An XV8 battlesuit was torn apart like paper under a chainsword, the pilot crushed along with the cockpit.
A blood-stained power weapon reflected a cold light. The moment it was retracted, it touched the head of an Air Caste member, extinguishing the resistance that had not yet been raised.
This was not a battle.
It was a slaughter.
The sound of breathing coming from under the giant's faceplate was like the whetstone of a grim reaper. Every step was accompanied by the wail of the metal deck. They advanced in silence, methodically delivering the killing blow, even making sure the corpses had completely lost all signs of life.
The commander, paralyzed in a pool of blood, finally understood the Fire Warrior's last words.
The reaper had come to collect.
Only a silver-gray wreckage remained in the void.
A massive starship circled the space-fortress. Crimson lances cut through the disk-shaped star-fortress, like a needle piercing a water bubble. Debris began to spew continuously from the rift, creating rings of eerie blue ripples in the silent deep space.
The space-fortress was disintegrating. One layer of its dome after another exploded. Countless tons of coolant fluid spilled from its chambers, turning into a colorful cloud of ice crystals, which, under the pull of the planet's gravity, began to fall along with the metal fragments.
The plasma generated by the atmospheric friction enveloped the wreckage, like a fire-spear thrown by a god at the mortal world. The silver-white ring that had once looked down on the planet was now shattered. The burning metal wreckage was breaking through the atmosphere, the plasma fire dyeing its falling trajectory a magnificent, bright gold.
"Teacher! Teacher!"
An Earth Caste little girl, who was on an outdoor activity with her teacher, suddenly left the group, pointing at the brilliant trajectory in the sky and shouting.
"Look, it's a shooting star!"
Amidst her innocent laughter, the storm of burning metal was tearing countless brilliant golden wounds in the stratosphere.
The largest piece of wreckage broke apart with a roar as it entered the troposphere. The light from the explosion illuminated the side of the planet facing it as bright as day.
(End of Chapter)
