The strongest astral army in Warhammer 40K

**The Eye of Fear: The Black Legion's Secret Laboratory**

Abaddon stood before the incubation chamber, gazing at the two clones floating within—**Horus** and **Koz**, whose bodies were 90% complete, but whose souls had not yet been infused.

"Commander, are you really going to continue the cloning program at a time like this?" Fabius Bayer's fingers flew across the data panel. "The Zerg swarm has breached the galactic defenses, and our fleet has suffered heavy losses."

Abaddon's crimson goggles flickered slightly: "That's precisely why we need more Primarchs."

He turned to look at the communication screen. The image of Loka Aurelion was blurry. This Primarch of the Word Bearers was hiding in the deepest part of the warp, his body bound by chains of the Gospel of Loka.

“Luojia, I need your psionic support.” Abaddon’s voice held a rare hint of pleading. “This war concerns the very survival of Chaos.”

A strange smile crept across Luo Jia's lips: "The Emperor's curse prevents me from approaching Terra... but I will open a door for you."

His palm rested on the Gospel of Loka, and the pages automatically turned to a forbidden chapter: "A legion of demons stands ready to ambush the swarm from behind—on the condition that I possess half of the post-war galaxy."

Abaddon sneered, "Deal."

Guilliman stood before the Golden Throne and refused Abaddon's request for communication.

“The power of chaos will defile the Throne Sanctuary.” His voice was icy. “Tell Abaddon that his forces can only fight in the outer sectors.”

Russell stood to the side, the God-Slaying Axe trembling slightly: "What is he plotting...? The cloning project continues."

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Guilliman looked at the Emperor’s withered face above the throne. “Once the Ancient Weapon is activated, all conspiracies will vanish.”

Just then, Archsage Caul of the Cult of Mechanics burst in: "My lord! We have received a signal from Dorn!"

The holographic projection unfolded, revealing an encrypted signal from the edge of the galaxy—**the runes of the Iron Fist**, coupled with an ancient code that only the Imperial Regent could decipher.

"He's in the 'Eternal Wall' system!" Guilliman jumped to his feet. "Dispatch him immediately—"

The alarm suddenly went off.

"The main Zerg swarm has broken through the defenses! They are devouring the Necromancer's Engine!"

Killieman quickly adjusted the deployment:

The Khan led the White Scar Fleet to the Eternal Wall in search of Rog Dorn.

**Vulcan** and the Steel Hands Chapter venture deep into the Martian tombs in search of clues about Felus Manus (rumored to have his mechanical arm still resonating deep within Mars).

**Lane** and **Kolax** are in charge of Terra's defenses, resisting the impending Zerg swarm attack.

Saint Gilles and Russell continue to guard the ancient artifact, awaiting its final activation.

“As for Abaddon…” a cold glint flashed in Guilliman’s eyes, “let him and the Zerg swarm wear each other down.”

The Word Bearers' secret fleet suddenly appeared behind the swarm, but not to attack—instead, it was to **sacrifice**.

Millions of Chaos cultists were thrown into a warp rift, their screams awakening the slumbering **Khorne's Grand Demon Legion**. The Blood God's messengers roared as they charged towards the Tyranid swarm, only to be **reverse-controlled** the instant they came into contact with the Mainframe's psionic energy!

“Foolish,” the holographic image of the Silent King sneered. “The Swarm can even devour Chaos.”

Luo Jia, however, laughed wildly and turned to the last page of the Gospel of Loka: "This is part of the plan!"

The corrupted Khorne daemons collectively self-destructed, their flesh and warp energy mixing into a toxic storm that temporarily paralyzed the mainframe's psionic network—**buying Abaddon's clone fleet precious time**.

In the ruins at the edge of the galaxy, the Khan found traces of Dorne—

A fortress forged from black stone and imperial steel, its walls inscribed with the vow of "Never to fall."

Deep within the Martian core, Vulcan's molten blood illuminated a gigantic mechanical coffin, upon which were inscribed:

"Feralus Manus—Reborn of Steel and Fire."

…………

Commissar Kazimir stood atop the crumbling command bunker, his power sword broken and his explosive rifle long since empty. His gaze swept beyond the burning wreckage of armor to the horizon—where the swarm of insects surged in like a black tsunami.

The Tyranid vanguard had breached the third line of defense, their armor gleaming in the gunfire as acid cannons melted steel and flesh. The Astragalus forces' positions were compressed to the last five kilometers, behind which lay the last refuge of Maca—thirty million civilians huddled in underground bunkers, awaiting an impossible rescue.

"Political Commissar! The breach on the east side can't be held!" A blood-soaked Krieg Death Legion sergeant staggered in, his breathing mask shattered, revealing half his face corroded by acid. "They've broken through the minefield!"

Kazimir looked to the east—where Krieg soldiers were charging towards the Zerg swarm with molten bombs, using self-destruction to slow the enemy's advance. Each explosion shook the earth, but the Zerg swarm showed no signs of diminishing in number.

"Order all soldiers who are still mobile to retreat to the final defensive line," the political commissar's voice was hoarse but firm. "Activate the 'City Burning Agreement.'"

Commander Dmitri of the Krieg Death Legion stood before the last trench; his legion had been reduced by 70%, but no one retreated.

"Brothers," his voice boomed through the entire regiment's communication channel, "Today, we stand or die with Maca."

There were no grand pronouncements, only four thousand Krieg soldiers silently inspecting their weapons—they removed all unnecessary equipment, carrying only bayonets, molten metal bombs, and their last few explosive rounds.

"For the Emperor!"

The death charge has begun.

The Kriegmen surged towards the Zerg swarm like a gray wave, their bayonets piercing the Zerg's joints with pinpoint accuracy, and their thermal bombs detonating at the weakest points of their armor. Before each soldier fell, they would pull the pin on their explosive devices.

The swarm's attack was indeed delayed by ten minutes.

In the underground command center, Kazimir activated the incineration protocol—the entire core reactor of Maca would be overloaded, turning everything on the surface to ashes.

"All aircraft still capable of takeoff, evacuate civilians immediately." He looked at the communications officer, "Send a final message to Terra—"

"Markar has fallen, but the main Zerg force is tied down. The Burning City Protocol is activated; may the Emperor protect humanity."

Just then, the sensor suddenly emitted a piercing alarm—

"Political Commissar! An unknown fleet has appeared outside the atmosphere!"

The pitch-black starry sky was torn apart by golden light, and three warships broke through the clouds—

- **"Eternal Bulwark"** (Steel Hand flagship)

- **"Angel's Wrath"** (Holy Blood Angels Chapter)

- **HMS Imperial Shield** (Imperial Assault Ship)

"This is **Ferus Manus**." A cold, mechanical voice came through the communicator. "Hold on, soldiers."

Immediately afterwards, the drop pods crashed into the center of the swarm like a meteor shower, and the silver-gray steel-handed Terminators began their slaughter with heavy steps. But what was even more shocking was—

In the sky, the Blood Angels' paratroopers deployed their jetpacks, the roar of chainsaws and the fury of bombs echoing across the battlefield.

**Clone Saint Gillespie** personally arrives on the battlefield!

Saint Gilles's golden-red wings unfurled amidst the smoke, and each swing of his power sword, "Nemesis," sent swarms of Zerg debris flying. Even more terrifying was his psionic power—wherever the golden light touched, the collective consciousness of the Zerg swarm became disordered, and they began to tear each other apart.

Feralus, like a precise killing machine, ripped open the Zerg Overlord's shell with his mechanical arm and stuffed a molten bomb into its guts. The warriors of the Steel Hand followed the Primarch, reaping lives with mechanical efficiency.

Commander-in-Chief Russell did not land; his God-Slaying Axe hovered in orbit, its blade pointed towards the Zerg's mainframe node.

"Lord Guilliman has ordered that Macaron must be held for 48 hours." His voice echoed in the minds of every soldier. "Reinforcements are on their way."

When the first rays of dawn pierced through the smoke of battle, the insect swarm's attack miraculously ceased.

The Krieg soldiers stared in disbelief at the sight before them—mountains of Zerg corpses piled high, while the banners of the Iron Hand and the Blood Angels stood atop the peaks.

Commander Dmitry dragged his broken leg to Kazimir's side: "We...won?"

The political commissar looked up at the sky, where more Imperial fleets were leaping out of the warp.

“No,” he whispered, “this is just the beginning.”