On the Frontlines
"Disperse! By the Golden Throne, spread out!"
"Prepare for teleportarium extraction! Destroy all fixed weapon emplacements and get ready to move!"
Across the trenches and forward fortifications, First Legion officers barked orders through the vox-net, their voices sharp over the cacophony of battle. The air reeked of promethium and burning ceramite as disciplined squads fought tooth and nail, holding the line against the oncoming horde of heretics.
....
The soldiers moved with precision—systematically dismantling heavy weapons, planting melta-charges on autocannon turrets, missile silos, and macro-artillery platforms before pulling back.
One after another, controlled detonations sent plumes of fire and debris skyward, turning the once-formidable defense lines into smoldering wreckage.
Within moments, the entire defense line was rendered useless to the enemy.
Once the sabotage was complete, the soldiers spread out, ensuring no one stood too close before the mass teleportation sequence.
The last thing they needed was a miscalculation fusing two men into a single horrific mass.
Meanwhile, senior officers and armored units boarded their Leman Russ tanks, awaiting extraction.
The air crackled with unnatural energy as a cold, synthetic voice echoed through their helmet comms:
["Teleportation sequence initiated."]
🔹 3.
🔹 2.
🔹 1.
FLASH.
In the blink of an eye, the entire First Legion—
Men, tanks, artillery, even reconnaissance drones vanished in a brilliant burst of energy, leaving behind only the acrid tang of ozone and scorched earth.
....
The enemy forces, still pressing forward, continued blindly firing into the now-empty battlefield, their guns chattering for nearly two minutes before the truth settled upon them—
The entire First Legion had disappeared.
Bewildered, the assaulting forces advanced cautiously, their rifles trained on the empty trenches.
They had won without resistance.
An easy, bloodless victory.
Yet a deep, gnawing unease crept through their ranks.
Because they all knew—
The First Legion was still out there.
Somewhere.
Waiting.
....
Talon Hive Spire
Atop the Spire, in the Governor's inner sanctum—now a profane shrine to Chaos—Marshal Stinger, known in hushed tones as Cultist Venomfang.
The corrupted warlord overseeing the attack sat deep in meditation, surrounded by heretical tomes and twisted artifacts, their surfaces crawling with glyphs that shimmered with malign intelligence.
He exhaled slowly, his warpfire-blue eyes, pupils slit like a serpent's, closed as he plunged into the Great Ocean's depths—
And the vision came.
He saw it.
A massive counterattack from out of nowhere.
Legions of soldiers, Leman Russ tanks, and war machines emerging from shimmering rifts—
Not from the trenches.
But behind his own defensive lines.
He saw the slaughter—
His own forces routed, torn apart in minutes.
Thousands dying before they could even react.
The battle was lost before it even began.
Venomfang's eyes snapped open.
Sweat poured down his face.
He gritted his sharpened teeth in frustration.
"Accursed technology…" he muttered, shaking his head.
Even the warp-spawned horrors he once commanded feared this kind of precise, instantaneous teleportation warfare.
....
Venomfang reached out with his mind, sending a psychic command to his field commanders:
〈"Withdraw. Cover each other's retreat."〉
His frontline armies were already dead men walking.
There was no saving them.
He would not waste forces on a doomed battle.
Then, he turned to a robed sycophant, trembling before him.
"Prepare the ritual. Gather the necessary offerings."
The servant hesitated, his voice shaking:
"My lord… but what if their teleportation is not warp-based? What if—"
Venomfang sneered.
"I have disrupted the Imperium's finest Astartes teleporters before.
No matter what technology they use, I will see it undone."
He pointed at the door, his eyes glowing with malice.
"Get. To. Work.
NOW."
The servant scrambled away.
The ritual would soon begin.
....
Underhive
Back at New Kato Stronghold, the teleported forces quickly reorganized.
Weapons were checked. Armor systems recalibrated.
Meanwhile, the Thunderborns of the First Legion received new orders.
Through a secured vox-channel, Lord Commander' Qin Mo addressed his most trusted warriors:
"You will be teleported to different zones, behind enemy lines.
Your priority is establishing teleportation beacons for the main force.
If you encounter a psyker, do not engage.
Report their position immediately. Yoan will deal with them."
His orders were precise, absolute, unyielding.
The Thunderborns acknowledged the command and braced for deployment.
One by one, their teleportation barriers activated—
And they vanished.
....
Behind Enemy Lines
Captain Grey materialized in an abandoned zone outside the Lower Hive District One.
Through his helmet's HUD, he spotted an entire enemy regiment in the distance—
Moving to consolidate their hold on the District.
Unaware. Vulnerable.
Without hesitation, Grey deployed his teleportation beacon—
Then, without hesitation, he ignited his jump pack.
He shot forward like a comet of destruction.
His heavy bolter roared, tearing through unprepared enemy lines. Explosive rounds detonated within flesh and armor alike, sending bodies sprawling.
Panic. Disarray.
The enemy scrambled for cover, desperate to mount a defense. But they made a fatal mistake.
They didn't check behind them.
Behind enemy lines, the 87th Regiment materialized.
Led by Duncan, armored shock troops and Leman Russ tanks emerged from the teleportation field.
Duncan rose from the hatch, his chainblade raised high.
"FORWARD! IN THE EMPEROR'S NAME, CLEANSE THIS FILTH!"
His war cry thundered across the battlefield.
The enemy turned in horror—
Only to see rows of gun barrels aimed directly at them.
The 87th Regiment opened fire.
Bolter rounds ripped through flesh, plasma blasts turned men into ash, and artillery shells detonated within enemy ranks—
Reducing entire squads to nothing but burning wreckage.
Within two minutes, over half the enemy regiment was annihilated.
The survivors tried to flee—or play dead.
It didn't matter.
They were hunted down and executed.
Grey, seeing the battle was under control, disengaged—
Deploying more beacons as he moved to his next target.
.....
Across the battlefield, similar ambushes unfolded.
Entire squads materialized behind enemy lines.Artillery positions were wiped out before they could even turn their guns.Retreat routes were cut off—thousands were trapped in a kill-zone.
The First Legion's teleportation warfare was utterly unstoppable.
Even unmanned artillery platforms joined the attack—
Teleporting from one position to another, raining death upon the enemy.
Faced with an enemy that struck from nowhere and vanished just as fast,
The enemy forces fell into complete chaos.
Command structure collapsed.
Soldiers began breaking ranks.
This wasn't a battle anymore.
It was a slaughter.
The First Legion had achieved total battlefield dominance.
....
Back in New Kato, Qin Mo took a deep breath, stepping away from the command console.
The battle was already won.
All that remained was ensuring the teleportariums had the power to sustain their relentless offensive.
Victory was inevitable.