The war beneath the surface of Gidlam was not fought in lines.
It was fought in layers.
The Dusk Raiders did not descend blindly. They mapped the underhive as they advanced, every corridor scanned, every junction recorded. Servo-skulls drifted ahead of the formations, feeding constant data into the Legion's tactical net.
The enslaved population was not random in movement. Their attacks were directed, funneled into kill zones, used to stall advances, to divide squads. There was a centralized control point, trying to direct the Dusk Raiders away from it.
Captain Crysos identified it within hours.
"Primary nexus located," he voxed across the Legion network.
"Sub-stratum level nine. All units converge. We sever the head." with a point of attack identified the strategy shifted immediately
No more wide sweeps, no more gradual clearance, they now move for a decapitation strike. Three assault columns were formed, each composed of veteran squads supported by breacher elements and heavy weapons teams.
Their objective was simple, punch through, converge, and destroy the nexus. The resistance of the enemy intensified, the deeper they went, the worse it became, humans were no longer merely controlled.
They were changing.
Bodies moved beyond natural limits. Limbs bent at impossible angles without breaking. Eyes blackened completely, reflecting nothing, and their numbers were inexhaustible
"Psychic saturation increasing," one Legionary reported.
"Maintain advance," Crysos replied. "We are close."
Dravion moved with the second column, some veterans had begun to watch him. They did not do it openly, but with a hint of suspicion on him
In the earlier engagements, he had fought like a storm, reckless, overwhelming, bordering on madness. A liability, some had suggested, it was different now, although he was still as aggressive as he was he had gotten control over his madness.
His movements were sharper, his strikes more deliberate. Where before he had pushed too far, now he held the line exactly where needed. One of the veterans, a scarred Legionary named Helkar, voxed quietly to his sergeant
"He's learned control."
The sergeant responded just as quietly.
"Or he's burning slower."
The second column reached a choke point three kilometers from the nexus.
A vast transit corridor, partially collapsed, funneling into a narrow passage reinforced by old industrial supports. It was a perfect defensive position, the Khrave had a plan for it.
They flooded it, immediately the Dusk raiders were in position. Not allowing them to establish proper defensive lines.
Thousands of enslaved bodies surged forward, packed so tightly they formed a living wall. Behind them, something worse moved, shadows slipping between forms, directing, and controlling the attackers, but their assault failed.
Heavy bolters opened fire, cutting down dozens at a time, but the dead simply created obstacles. The living climbed over them, pressed forward, relentless. Flamer teams now present, advanced on the enemy.
Promethium roared as bodies burned, but they still came
"Advance stalled," the sergeant voxed.
"Negative," came Crysos's reply. "Advance continues. Hold that corridor."
In normal fashion of the Dusk raiders the captain ordered. Formations tightened up, shield and heavy armor veterans covered the front, and heavy fire came from the back.
Dravion once again moved towards the front, when the pressure hit him immediately like a heavy tank. Every movement resisted his pace, every thought strained, the Khrave moved closer to the raiders
Then within him, his tattoo responded, his breath slowed and deepened. He tightened his grip on his bolter and everything began to wash over, his mind moving into a haze. Without loss of his thought process
He moved into the corridor colliding head on with the first wave. There is no stopping him at this point, he was ready for them.
Bolter fire thundered in controlled bursts, each shot finding a target and more, each kill precise. Where others fired to kill one, Dravion fired to eliminate 2 or 3. He kept moving forward into the enemy again and again
The tide pressed against him yet he did not yield. The squad realizing his position reformed, anchoring their firing lines around his position.
"Hold!" the sergeant roared.
Hours passed yet the pressure only increased. Dravion began to feel the strain, this was once again a time where he was in this state for this long.
His muscles burned not from exertion, but from something deeper. His body was pushing beyond standard limits, sustaining output that should not have been possible.
Meanwhile once again Caspian took the brunt of the suffering in his stead. His body began to wither away with his sustained use of this ability.
Dravion oblivious to the suffering of their origin ignored the strain. A Khrave entity slipped through the mass, saw him as prey to be hunted…he lunged at him
Dravion reacted faster than thought could form. He dropped his bolter, his chain sword already in motion. The strike landed but not against flesh, but against something that resisted definition.
The creature recoiled which was enough as a second Legionary finished it with a point-blank bolt round.
"Contact confirmed!" the sergeant voxed. "They're here!"
The corridor became a slaughter, but the line held. Dravion became the backbone of the line, without him faltering the line held longer than it should have.
Time passed by longer and longer, until even the veterans began to feel the fatigue in their muscles. Sustained combat is something that most Astartes could manage, but to sustain this level of alertness and efficiency is not something they were built for.
The battle dragging on with this intensity made some of the Astartes slow down. Dravion on the other hand was still in top condition, but he knew when this battle was done he will pay a great price for this.
Helkar, who had seen Dravion's excessive hunger, saw him now and the idea of an empty man came to mind.
"Rotate!" he ordered.
Dravion did not respond, he could not when the line needed to be held, for the other to accomplish their mission.
"Mission completion paramount, non shall stand in the way of humanities rise"
The pressure finally broke an instantaneous change of pace. The wave stopped as their enslaved puppets froze and collapsed all at the same time, in every region over the entire world.
The Khrave nexus had been destroyed. At the heart of the underhive, Captain Crysos stood over the remains of the creature that had ruled the world. It was a true alien in the minds of humans, not something they could easily describe.
Its form only partially visible, its true structure existing somewhere beyond perception. It had taken everything the first column had to bring it down. Heavy weapons, close assault and un-relentless pressure.
"Primary nexus eliminated," Crysos voxed.
The war finally drew closed. Without the control nexus millions of humans collapsed where they stood. Some had not eaten or drank anything in a long time, merely living because their master demanded it.
Dravion felt it immediately the moment the pressure lifted, his body almost gave out, having to lean against his sword to remain upright. The hunger once again hit him with a vigor that he had only felt once before.
"Still breathing, Dravion" Helkar asked.
Dravion gave a strained nod.
"Get him out." A sergeant went to help him out.
The campaign lasted three more days. Not of combat, but securing the planet to receive the Emperor's grace upon them. Also awaiting someone from the Administratum to manage the mortals
Purge operations eliminated remaining Khrave entities. Population centers were stabilized allowing command structures to be established in different areas of the planet. The cost had not been significant to the Astartes.
But the victory rang absolutely in the hearts of the mortals of the now renamed planet, New Gidlam.
A mark of reclamation was carried out in accordance with Imperial procedures and a statement of ownership. Dravion with his exhausted body, immediately went for the rations when he arrived at the ship.
A servitor presented nutrient intake which he consumed in a tornado of hunger. A Magos present on the ship observes his behaviour, calculating but failing to reach a reasonable conclusion.
"[Analysis]: Metabolic demand elevated beyond standard parameters," the Magos noted.
Dravion said nothing.
He simply kept eating.
Later, as the Legion prepared to depart, Crysos stood once more at the observation deck, below the planet New Gidlam turned slowly in the void, reclaimed into the light of the Astronomican.
This was made possible because the Dusk Raiders had come.
And they had not failed in their mission.