Chapter 147: The Swarm That Was Bombed Into Forgetting What It Is (Patreon)

Watching the chaotic situation unfold, Heydrich fell into thought. The Emperor's Scepter was undeniably overpowered — but only when complete. A single piece by itself wasn't really that impressive.

As for the Amphoreus that Lokhust had cooked up, well — Star Rail's day-one geniuses really were something else.

Besides, looking at the chaos of the Warhammer universe, Heydrich was considering whether he should try to anchor the future.

"Forget it, no need for now. Things haven't gotten bad enough yet — or rather, if I did that, it might just make everything more chaotic."

Heydrich quickly set the idea aside — things hadn't reached that point yet, and besides, the computers and supercomputing devices he currently used were more than sufficient. No need to bother with it for now.

"How many of the first batch are left now?"

Setting aside the idea of forging an Emperor's Scepter for now, Heydrich wasn't confident about it. He was nothing compared to Zandar — he didn't believe he could cobble together an Emperor's Scepter with the abilities he currently had.

"Almost all of them have fallen already. The swarm has withdrawn for now — off to go kill the Khorne daemon lord further back. We can rest for a bit."

The Lion slumped limply onto the table beside him — even he found a battle of this magnitude utterly draining.

"Let everyone rest. I'll go recover the war engines — these things absolutely cannot fall into anyone else's hands. Also, go tell the ones waiting in reserve that they won't need to sacrifice themselves for now."

Looking at the Lion slumped there, Heydrich knew pursuit was out of the question. Supporting Ka'Bandha was even less possible — if even the Lion was in this state, there was no need to ask about everyone else. The Imperium needed a proper rest too.

"Someone go requisition a batch of supplies. Alcohol is out of the question during active combat, but cigarettes and cola-flavored candies can be handed out. Nothing feels better than a smoke in the trenches."

With that, Heydrich had his people gather another batch of supplies to distribute among the tens of millions of Astra Militarum and Planetary Defense Force troops. This time, they were the true main force holding the line — even Heydrich's Titans and Space Marine units had only played a supporting role.

As for the self-destructing Voidrangers that came after, those were a separate matter — they were just the final nail in the coffin.

"Keep watching the swarm's movements. If they try to retreat, tell me immediately."

He'd already played several of his trump cards — he wasn't sure if he'd left the swarm with lasting psychological scars or not.

But Heydrich guessed the self-destructing Voidrangers had infuriated them badly. Really, if this were the Destroyer from the era of the Swarm Disaster, that thing would absolutely have fought the Tyranid swarm to the death.

***

Meanwhile, elsewhere, among the Ecclesiarchy's fanatics...

"By the decree of the great Ancient Sage, the sacrifices already made have turned the tide of battle. Every one of us still has our uses — we must continue to devote ourselves to the Emperor!!!"

Soon, a group of priests received the message — in essence, no more sacrifices were needed for now.

But after receiving the order, the priests all silently agreed, without a word, to dress it up with flowery language before announcing it to the crowd of fanatical believers below.

"..."

For a moment, dead silence fell over the scene — the fanatical gleam in the believers' eyes went utterly blank.

Then they exchanged bewildered glances with each other, and the mood turned awkward in an instant.

Even the priests broke into a cold sweat at the sight. But before anyone could say anything, the war engines — each nearly the size of an Imperator Titan — were swiftly recalled by Heydrich, leaving everyone exchanging baffled looks.

Then a wave of sorrow swept through the crowd — they'd just carried out a magnificent, one-way holy boarding action. So who exactly hadn't been invited? Hard to say...

"NO!!!"

Soon, shrill screams tore through the sky, echoing across the entire hive.

"These people must be out of their minds — isn't living better? Uh, well, fine, living in this cesspit admittedly isn't all that great..."

With all his War Forges fully recovered, Heydrich caught the wretched wailing too. He rolled his eyes hard, but quickly put it out of his mind.

He wasn't sure if he'd use them again, but when not in use, these things needed to be kept safely put away.

Mainly because the things were simply too terrifying, especially combined with a cesspit of a Warhammer universe. This one battle alone had broadened his Path of Destruction by a huge margin — the fanatics who'd willingly climbed into the forges and detonated themselves alongside the swarm were genuinely horrifying.

But somewhere Heydrich knew nothing about, a group of Harlequins had gathered.

"Did you see it? That magnificent Destruction."

***

At that moment, the Harlequin troupe leader — the Great Harlequin — looked down at the envious expressions on every face below. As a race of born psykers,

they could clearly sense that in the instant of Destruction, those people's very souls had returned to nothingness — what a sacred kind of death that was. It was something the Eldar longed for but could never attain. After all, aside from the Eldar, Heydrich had genuinely never encountered a race so afraid even of dying — not in this world, not in any other work he knew.

Back in his original world, after all, there was a saying: worst case, death settles everything.

"Hm, I've found new records now. Time to adapt the story. Should we tell the rest of the Eldar about this?"

At that moment, a Harlequin in charge of the script flipped through a notebook that had appeared from who-knew-where, puzzled. He could confirm there wasn't a trace of corruption on it.

But given that they'd worked for years in the Eldar's — or rather, the Old Ones' — great library, they'd grown used to books simply appearing out of nowhere.

"Better not, actually..."

The Great Harlequin thought it over for a moment and shook his head — because while this was a kind of liberation for individual Eldar,

for the Eldar as a whole, it would be a disaster. Right now their race could still barely hang on. They'd found in Heydrich a possible way to escape Slaanesh — but if the general Eldar populace ever found out about this,

the Great Harlequin had no doubt that Eldar would line up one after another to leap in and embrace that eternal peace.

That would be a true catastrophe for the Eldar as a species — one misstep and the whole race could go extinct.

"Never mind that. I've already written this battle into a new performance piece. Once we're back, I'll gather all the Harlequins at the tavern and hand out the new score."

Hearing this, the scribe-playwright wrote furiously — ninety-nine ideas were already swirling in his head, more than enough to adapt into nine different performances.

"Strange, why isn't there any corruption..."

Realizing something, the playwright went back to confirm with the Great Harlequin, puzzled — and indeed, there was no corruption at all.

After all, the Eldar could ignore just about any Warp nonsense besides Slaanesh — they had the protection of their own race's gods.

But ever since Slaanesh was born, the bond between them and Slaanesh had become even more absurd. Even if you dragged an Eldar straight to an altar and sacrificed them to one of the other Dark Gods, that god still might not win out over Slaanesh's claim.

***

Meanwhile, with the swarm temporarily withdrawn, in front of Netherworld Star, a group of people exchanged glances before collapsing to the ground, bodies limp as if all their strength had been drained away.

Though Heydrich had done his best to stagger the fighting shifts so they could rest, war was war. Looking at the Tyranid swarm packed thick enough to fill mountains and seas, not one of them could actually fall asleep — or at least not sleep soundly.

After all, no one wanted to open their eyes to find not a warm bed, but the gaping maw of a Tyranid.

"Excuse me, is it like this back on Cadia too?"

Standing near a few Cadian veterans, several local Netherworld Planetary Defense Force troopers asked, with a hint of admiration.

Although General Dhrost's trump card was the several million Cadian troops under his command, to boost overall combat strength, he'd mixed some Cadian soldiers into the local Planetary Defense Force as tactical advisors and instructors.

This particular Cadian veteran now served as an acting regimental commander of the Planetary Defense Force — though the once fully-staffed regiment now numbered fewer than a thousand.

Even so, through sheer cool-headed tactical command and experience, he'd pulled the regiment back from the brink of total annihilation time and again.

So now, everyone from top to bottom held him in deep respect. That's just how the battlefield worked — there wasn't much room for subtlety.

After all, you might not even have a life left tomorrow — and in times like that, people, like all living things, instinctively follow the strong.

"Cadia, huh..."

The Cadian veteran leaned against a heap of rubble, a freshly issued cigarette in hand. He took a swig of some strange sweet drink — right now, at least, this moment felt like heaven.

"I'm twenty-five years old this year, but I've got twenty-four years of soldiering behind me. On Cadia, learning to fire a gun comes before learning to walk."

The commander's face was etched with sorrow. Of all the Astra Militarum regiments, the three most famous, the ones with the most stories, came from three worlds: Cadia, Catachan, and Krieg.

Krieg itself wasn't top-tier as soldiers went — they were simply the best at fighting brutal, grinding wars.

Cadia and Catachan, though, were both elite. Especially against Chaos, Cadia formed the backbone of the fight.

Catachan, meanwhile, was mainly deployed on battlefields against xenos — a natural strength for each of these two worlds.

Catachan's environment was brutally hostile, giving its people vast experience fighting bizarre, monstrous creatures — perfect for facing xenos. Cadia, on the other hand, stared straight at the Eye of Terror from birth.

Fighting all manner of daemons had given them a resistance to Chaos that could even rival that of a Space Marine — not an elite one like Titus, but an ordinary one.

As for what happened to those without enough resistance to Chaos — well, let's just say they never grew up.

Cadians, of course, seemed almost inexhaustible. Heydrich didn't quite understand it, but every year this war-torn world contributed hundreds of millions of Astra Militarum troops to the Imperium. Catachan's numbers were far smaller by comparison.

Mostly because Catachan's habitable environment was too limited, which doomed it to a smaller population.

"Huh?"

Hearing the veteran's words, the group of Planetary Defense Force troopers were utterly baffled.

What did he mean, twenty-five years old with twenty-four years of soldiering?

Of course, scenes like this weren't unique to this spot — they were playing out all across the hive. Heydrich's resources weren't exactly abundant, but he could still manage to hand out small comforts to everyone during lulls in the fighting.

***

Meanwhile, back in the command room, after resting for over a standard Terran hour, the Lion was looking much better.

The swarm seemed to have been blasted senseless, or left with some kind of trauma — every last one of them had withdrawn for the moment, and the war had entered a brief lull.

This let everyone whose nerves had been stretched thin finally relax a little, and both the Lion and General Dhrost seized the chance to catch some sleep.

But with a Primarch's physical constitution, Lion El'Jonson needed only a little over an hour before he was fully refreshed. Dhrost, meanwhile, was still sleeping — right now, it was the Lion pulling Heydrich aside to discuss something.

"If I'd known your war engines would work that well, we should have sent fewer people in the first wave. I'm worried we've scared that swarm too badly."

The Lion was grumbling to Heydrich now — the two of them shared the same goal: keeping this swarm here for good.

"Yeah, but don't worry. That's just a minor variable within the plan — I've still got more tricks up my sleeve!!!"

A faint, wicked grin crossed Heydrich's face. The Alpharius operatives had done well. Clearly, the swarm — battered from the front by the exploding Voidrangers and harried from behind by Ka'Bandha — had been rattled enough to leave itself wide open on the inside.

So the group had dropped the Memetic Virus into every biomass pool. For the swarm to mass-produce new creatures, it first needed to draw biomass back into the bellies of its bio-ships before releasing it again.

In other words, nearly every bio-ship was now infected with the Memetic Virus. But at its core, this was still a virus — it had an incubation period, and even once it broke out, it wouldn't necessarily kill every infected host.

So while Heydrich hadn't triggered the virus yet, he could be certain it wouldn't infect every single bio-ship. But once triggered, it would definitely throw them into chaos — and amid that chaos, the bio-ships wouldn't be able to escape.

[Author's Note: Something came up at home yesterday afternoon, I was out running errands the whole time and came back completely fried. Didn't manage to write a single word last night. ORZ]