In orbit above Laeran, on the bridge of the Pride of the Emperor, seventy-two hours into the campaign.
The Laer resistance was ten times fiercer than anticipated.
These serpentine xenos displayed a terrifying, blood-curdling adaptability.
Their warriors were not standardized units; instead, they were biologically customized to fit specific tactical demands.
The Laer encountered in the claustrophobic alleys often had all four arms grafted with slicing blades, moving with a ghost-like agility. Out in the open, variations appeared wielding massive biological shields and long-barreled energy rifles capable of punching straight through power armor in a single shot. Their aquatic combat strains possessed extra gill-organs and propulsive tentacles, allowing them to launch dead-silent ambushes from the deep sea. There were even sightings of suspected psychic units—a handful of Laer capable of manipulating the growth of coral crystals to rapidly form traps or makeshift cover.
Casualties among the Emperor's Children were climbing.
In just three days, over ninety Astartes were confirmed dead, with another three hundred heavily wounded and rendered combat-ineffective.
The losses among the Imperial Auxilia were even more staggering...
Five Solar Auxilia cohorts had suffered over forty percent casualties, and the average life expectancy for a fresh replacement soldier had dropped to less than eight hours.
Yet, right in the heart of this meat grinder, two specific groups of people were thriving in an utterly bizarre fashion.
--
Eastern sector of the Sky Coral, amidst the outer ruins of the seventh landing zone.
[Worthy of Sanguinius's Blood] crouched low behind a wall of coral, the barrel of his lasrifle running hot in his grip.
He had just dropped three Laer snipers attempting a flanking maneuver...
"Sanguinius! Right flank! Laer inbound!"
The roar of [I Eat Tomatoes] tore through the local vox-channel.
[Worthy of Sanguinius's Blood] snapped his head around and spotted over five four-armed Laer, all wielding slicing blades, pouring out of the honeycomb-like holes and charging their position with a sickening, slithering speed.
It was a textbook Laer tactic... use the snipers to draw aggro, then send in the melee swarm for the harvest.
"Crossfire! Focus the frontliners!"
[Worthy of Sanguinius's Blood] ordered coolly, squeezing the trigger.
A las-beam slammed directly into the lead Laer's chest plate, but the creature barely staggered before resuming its charge.
This specific strain possessed remarkably thick carapace armor, purpose-bred for close-quarters slaughter.
"Switch to solid slugs!"
[You're Not Loyal] chucked two frag grenades over their cover.
The explosions flipped three of the Laer, but the surviving monsters had already closed the gap to under ten meters.
Right at that moment...
"For the Emperor!!!"
[For the Regent Yellow Guilliman] burst out from the flank, hefting a glowing green energy gauntlet he had brazenly looted off a dead Laer.
A violent pulse of green energy detonated from the gauntlet.
Two of the Laer were blasted into literal confetti, scattering shattered carapace and gore everywhere.
"Holy shit! Bro is a beast!" [You Are My Little Apple] screamed.
"Beast my ass! This thing drains juice way too fast! I only have two shots left!" [For the Regent Yellow Guilliman] hollered, backpedaling furiously.
The skirmish ended thirty seconds later.
All five Laer blade-bugs were reduced to corpses. On the loyalist players' side, only one sustained a minor injury...
[I'd Even Be the Emperor's Dog] had taken a grazing hit from a slicing blade to the arm, but the cut wasn't deep.
"Hurry up! Loot the field!" [Worthy of Sanguinius's Blood] urged.
The players sprang into action, efficiently stripping every valuable scrap off the Laer corpses. The green energy gauntlets were fetching an estimated salvage price of around 480 Imperial Coins. Slicing blades, classified as biological appendages, went for roughly 315 Imperial Coins a pop. Sniper rifle energy cores were worth about 250 Imperial Coins each. Even the biological carapace fragments, treated as raw crafting materials, pulled in around 10 Imperial Coins per kilo.
In just three short days, the players had turned this grind-loop of kill, loot, trade, and upgrade into an absolute art form.
--
At the exact same time, in the western sector of the Sky Coral, on the outskirts of the Emperor's Children's temporary command post.
[Are You Sure This Melon Is Ripe] was carefully cradling an object wrapped in waterproof tarp, marching straight toward an ornately decorated purple tent.
Two Emperor's Children Astartes stood guard outside, their power armor scarred and pitted from brutal combat, yet their posture remained as rigidly upright as flawless marble statues.
"Halt."
One of the Astartes raised a hand, his voice buzzing mechanically through his helmet. "Mortal, what are you carrying?"
"S-Sir!" Harry forced his voice to tremble with appropriate awe. "We found this while sweeping the battlefield... A biological communicator from a Laer commander! It might contain vital intelligence!"
In reality, he had just brutally ripped the thing off a particularly flashy Laer corpse. He had absolutely no idea if it actually belonged to a commander.
But the transhuman giants didn't know that.
One of the Astartes took the parcel and peeled back the tarp. Inside was a complex organ woven from biological tissue, its surface still faintly writhing.
"Wait here," the Astartes commanded, turning and ducking into the tent.
He emerged a few minutes later.
"The Chief Apothecary is inside. He grants you entry."
Harry's heart pounded wildly against his ribs. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the tent.
The interior was vastly larger than he'd imagined, entirely repurposed into a makeshift laboratory. Arcane instruments flickered with cold light, illuminating dissection slabs laden with Laer corpses and harvested organ specimens.
And standing in the very center of it all...
Fabius Bile.
The Chief Apothecary of the Emperor's Children, the future artisan and darling of Slaanesh.
He hadn't completely fallen to Chaos just yet, but the paranoid, fanatical obsession with fleshly perfection gleaming in his eyes was already painfully obvious.
"Mortal," Fabius said, turning around. He wore the purple robes of his station, a scalpel dripping with viscous green blood resting lightly in his grip. "You have found something interesting."
"Y-Yes, Lord Apothecary!" Harry bowed his head in a show of total subservience. "We thought it might aid in your study of Laeran physiology..."
"Indeed it does." Fabius took the writhing biological communicator and slid it beneath the lens of an augur-scope. "The arrangement of these neural synapses... highly unconventional. The Laer's mastery over biological modification holds much for us to learn."
He looked up, his gaze fixing heavily on Harry. "You have done well. Are there more?"
"Yes! Yes!" Harry replied eagerly. "We've spotted other combat strains out there. Some Laer have arms that spew highly corrosive acid, others have sprouted wings from their backs, and we've even seen some that can shift their skin color to perfectly blend into their surroundings!"
With every new adaptation Harry listed, the gleam in Fabius's eyes burned just a little brighter.
"Excellent. Continue your harvest. For every valuable variant you bring before me, you will be rewarded."
Fabius paused, his augmented mind calculating. "Your current designation... the Third Battalion of the 447th Solar Auxilia Regiment, correct? I shall speak with your commanding officer. You are being transferred to my personal research auxiliary detachment."
"Th-Thank you, my lord!" Harry stammered, his voice trembling with genuine excitement.
As he stepped out of the tent, his UI flared to life with a string of notifications.
[System Notification: You have gained the attention of Fabius Bile]
[Task Progress: Assist Fabius Bile in researching Laeran flesh modification technology - 0.5%]
[Rewards Issued: 500 Imperial Coins, Apothecary's Favor (Minor)]
Harry clenched his fists in triumph.
This was the proper way to play a Chaos faction character. Cling to the heavy hitters, farm their approval ratings, and personally nudge key NPCs down their pre-destined paths of absolute corruption!
He pulled up the [Wings of Freedom Regional Chat] and fired off a message.
[Are You Sure This Melon Is Ripe]: "Brothers! I got an in with Fabius! He's officially requisitioning me to collect more mutant strains for him!"
[Konnichiwa Slaanesh-chan]: "Badass! I was just poking around the camps. Rumors about the Blade of the Laer inside the temple have already started spreading among the grunt soldiers."
[All According to Plan]: "Excellent. Keep spreading it. The key is to emphasize the lore... ensure they firmly believe that only the most perfect, courageous warrior is truly worthy of wielding the holy sword that can end this war."
[I Just Like Sleeping In]: "Copy that. Speaking of which... it looks like the Loyalist faction is grinding out merit points too. I saw [Worthy of Sanguinius's Blood] leading a squad and wiping out an entire pack of Laer today."
[Number One Handsome of the Soul Hall]: "Heh heh heh... let them grind. The moment Fulgrim steps foot inside that temple, they're going to learn the true meaning of despair."
[Blue Pigeon Knows Nothing]: "We still need to stay on our toes, though. I've got this gut feeling those Loyalists are cooking up something big..."
[All According to Plan]: "Which is exactly why we need an insurance policy."
He paused for a moment before typing out a detailed schematic.
[All According to Plan]: "First, we keep flooding the rumor mill with the legend of the temple and the holy sword. Ideally, we want Fulgrim to 'accidentally' overhear it. Second, in the late stages of this campaign, we figure out a way to orchestrate the heroic, tragic deaths of a few Loyalist Emperor's Children right in front of Fulgrim to completely shatter his emotional stability. Third, and this is the most critical step... we need to optimize our previous plan for the final push."
[All According to Plan]: "Picture this: An Imperial soldier, captured and brutally tortured by the Laer, expending his dying breath to scream 'For the Emperor'..."
[All According to Plan]: "...begging his Primarch to take up the sword... to end the suffering."
[Konnichiwa Slaanesh-chan]: "Holy shit, man. That plan is utterly filthy."
[I Just Like Sleeping In]: "Who's going to volunteer to be the prisoner?"
[All According to Plan]: "I'll do it. For the victory of the Chaos faction, and to draw the gaze of Slaanesh and the Ruinous Powers... a little temporary agony is nothing. But I'll need your full cooperation. When I'm 'captured', you have to ensure that my torture sessions are conveniently witnessed by Fulgrim himself."
[All According to Plan]: "When the time comes, a few of you will need to shape-shift into Laer forms. Don't hold back, torture me relentlessly! We run this concurrently with the original plan. Double the insurance! The cost in Imperial Coins is a drop in the bucket. With all the gear we've been salvaging lately, we can afford to use the Respawn function dozens of times over."
[Number One Handsome of the Soul Hall]: "Heh heh heh... truly a noble sacrifice, my friend!"
[Blue Pigeon Knows Nothing]: "Approved. For the sake of the grand design, the sacrifice is worth it."
A wave of agreements flooded the chat.
The Chaos players knew exactly what was at stake.
In this grand faction war, the Loyalists were fighting tooth and nail to change history. Their own job was infinitely simpler: ensure the timeline remained perfectly on its original, damned trajectory. Or better yet... accelerate it.
--
Next Bonus chapter at 900 Powerstones.
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