Chapter 139: The Sermon of Satiated Lead
Kian Voss gripped the spade-handles of the Wrathful Lumberer, letting the Machine Spirit's homicidal euphoria flow through his own nervous system. The weapon was a miracle of industrial hatred. He didn't need to aim for vitals; he just followed the "strobe lights" of enemy muzzle flashes.
Whenever a mercenary gunner sparked in the distance, Kian would rotate the turret, hold the reticle over the position for three seconds, and watch as the 20mm shells pulverized the cover and the man behind it into atoms.
The fire-power was simply too great for the Underhive. It was a level of violence that didn't belong in a gang war. Under the unstoppable weight of Kian's lead, the frontline of Wraiths dissolved, and the elite mercenaries were being raked from their perches.
The Tox-Mother shrieked, her voice cracking with a high-pitched, chemical terror. "WAKE THE SOWS! WAKE THEM ALL! CRUSH THE METAL BEAST!!"
Her inner circle of gunners, trembling with fear, mashed their remote triggers.
Across the vault floor, fifty dormant Chem-Sows shuddered as the "Frenzy-Spurs" on their spines slammed needles into their marrow. With a collective, earth-shaking roar, fifty mountains of distended meat and iron plate rose from the muck.
The Sows' initial instinct was to shred the closest living things—the Hounds. But as they caught the scent of the "Repulsion-Chemical" on the junkies, they let out wet, gurgling groans of nausea. The stench was so foul it overrode their rage, forcing them to turn and charge blindly toward the Voss perimeter—the only place that didn't smell like a chemical latrine.
The sight was horrific. Fifty iron-clad giants barreling toward them, each step making the metal floor-plates vibrate with a heavy thud-thud-thud.
For the Voss Guard, this was the breaking point. Several recruits froze, their bladders failing. One coward let out a pathetic "Emperor save me!" and threw his rifle into the dirt, turning to run.
But the majority held. They remembered the taste of real meat. They looked at the Grade-4 armor protecting their chests and the military-grade rifles in their hands. They were the Voss Guard, and they weren't going back to the vats.
"Focus fire on the lower third!" Big Joel roared, his light machine gun already barking. "Leg them! Don't let them close the gap! Aim for the joints!!"
One hundred and fifty autoguns opened up on the charging giants. Even if the small-caliber slugs couldn't pierce the iron chest-plates, the volume of fire was so high that it acted like a kinetic hammer, slowing the Sows' momentum.
Kian, having cleared the mercenary snipers, rotated the Rail-Destroyer's turret toward the lead Sow.
"Hard targets acquired," Kian whispered.
The Lumberer spoke. THUMP-THUMP-THUMP.
The heavy shells slammed into the lead Sow's chest. The 20mm rounds didn't just 'hit'; they drilled basketball-sized craters through the iron plate and the ribcage beneath. Kian held the stream steady for three seconds. The Sow's internal organs were turned into a liquid slurry of heart, lungs, and stimm-waste.
The giant didn't even have time to squeal. It simply collapsed into its own momentum, sliding across the floor as a lifeless heap of blubber.
Kian didn't celebrate. He moved to the next. One by one, the giants were systematically audited.
The other four Lumberer-teams on the flanks joined the execution. They fired short, disciplined bursts, raking the Sows' knees and stomachs. Sparks danced off the iron plates as the heavy shells found the soft meat beneath.
"Leg them! Leg them!" Little Joel screamed from his position. "Keep the server lag high! Break their foundations!"
Under the combined fire of five autocannons and a hundred and fifty rifles, the "Armored Wave" met its end. Not a single Chem-Sow reached within twenty meters of the Voss line. They lay scattered across the vault like rusted, bleeding boulders.
The nearest Sow—a massive brute that had almost reached the train—had its legs turned to splinters by Kian's fire. Kian leaned over the turret and held the trigger down for thirty continuous seconds, pouring lead into the creature's chest until the giant was literally bisected by the kinetic force.
The vault went silent. The Hounds were gone. The Tox-Mother, seeing her "Invincible Horde" reduced to scrap and meat-pulp, had vanished into the service pipes with her few remaining lieutenants.
But the Wrathful Lumberer didn't care that the war was over.
Kian's fingers were no longer on the trigger-plates. The drum was empty. But the gun was still screaming. It was howling for more blood, more iron, more sacrifice. It was an "Unstoppable Cycle" of Warp-fueled rage.
THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP!!!
The water-cooled sleeve was hissing violently, venting clouds of thick white steam. The water pump was working at 200% capacity, cycling boiling water back into the reservoir. The barrel was glowing a dull, angry orange through the jacket.
Kian tried to wrestle the spade-handles, but the Machine Spirit was fighting him. It wanted to find more targets. It wanted the world to end.
"Whoa, easy girl!" Kian yelled, his ears ringing from the thunderous reports. "The audit is closed! The ledger is settled!"
The gun didn't listen. It kept raking the empty tunnel, its shells punching holes in the far bulkheads. Kian realized his eardrums were on the verge of permanent failure.
"Fine! Have it your way!"
Kian grabbed a heavy industrial chain from the floor of the car and lashed the handles together, locking the gun into a high-elevation angle. The barrel pointed toward the ceiling, away from his men.
For another full minute, the Lumberer roared at the ceiling of the Hive. The sound was a physical weight, driving everyone to their knees, hands over their ears.
Finally, with one last, violent THUD, the weapon went silent.
The Machine Spirit let out a long, satisfied metallic sigh and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. The gun sat there, wreathed in steam and the smell of burnt Sanctified Spirits.
Kian wiped a streak of oily soot from his face and let out a shaky breath.
"Four thousand rounds in one engagement," Kian muttered, checking the stats. "I'm going to need a bigger water tank."
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