16: The ground is your grave.

[Simulation in Progress: 05 minutes 12 seconds]

BOOM—

That was more than just a crash; it was the sound of geological structures wailing.

Millions of tons of rock, aided by gravitational acceleration, collided with immense force. The resulting shockwave was like an invisible hand, instantly flattening all protruding structures on the central main island.

The central platform, once suspended ten thousand meters high like a fortress in the clouds, now had one-third of its structure violently smashed by the impact of the peripheral island.

The two islands were like two giant beasts locked in a death struggle, their horns interlocked. Rubble, metal supports, and unfortunate corpses cascaded like a waterfall into the abyss below.

The entire battlefield structure, held by the few remaining gravity chains, tilted precariously, emitting a teeth-grating screech.

Dust and smoke blotted out the sky, reducing visibility to less than five meters.

The air no longer held the crisp chill of high altitude. Instead, it was filled with the stench of sulfur, the pungent smell of ozone, and the distinctive acrid odor of burnt plastic from fried circuit boards.

"Cough, cough... Report! Everyone, report engine status immediately!"

Sky Wing's voice roared over the comms channel. The lofty, god-like composure he once possessed was utterly gone, replaced by unconcealed terror and panic.

His proud Storm Knights, these once-dominant aerial hunters who viewed ground units as ants, now resembled a pile of rotten flesh mercilessly swatted against a wall by a fly swatter, a pitiful sight.

The intense shockwave from the violent impact, combined with the sudden eruption of chaotic air currents, caused those precise yet fragile anti-gravity engines to overload and shut down one after another.

The flying soldiers clad in lightweight, streamlined armor, designed for optimal aerodynamics, instantly became iron coffins the moment they lost power.

They were either flung into the clouds below by immense centrifugal force or crashed heavily into piles of rubble, bones shattered, their agonized screams echoing one after another.

"Commander... Engine restart failed! The anti-gravity core overheated and melted! We can't fly!"

"Left flank squad annihilated! Radar is all static, thermal imaging is full of interference noise... We can't see the enemy! There's something in the smoke!"

The comms channel was filled with screams, dying gasps, and the harsh crackle of static interference.

Sky Wing stared intently at the holographic screen before him.

The once-clear battlefield situation map was now a chaotic mess of red blotches. High-temperature fire sources from crashes and electrical sparks from short circuits were everywhere, making it impossible to distinguish enemies from burning wreckage.

Fear, like a cold snake, slithered up his spine.

"Don't panic! Fight on the ground!"

He ground his teeth and gave the order, trying to use his roar to dispel the chill in his heart. "We still have energy rifles! As long as we maintain distance and use our range advantage, those clumsy tin cans can't catch up..."

Zzzzt—

A piercing sound, like a power saw forcibly cutting through wet bone, abruptly cut off his command.

Immediately after, a short, sharp, and agonized scream came over the comms channel, followed by deathly silence.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Heavy, metallic footsteps striking the ground echoed from deep within the smoke. Each step seemed to fall in sync with a human heartbeat, each accompanied by the heavy hiss of hydraulic rods venting pressure.

The dust and smoke churned.

A massive, nightmarish black shadow slowly tore through the gray curtain.

Arik Taranis emerged from the shadows of the wreckage, dragging his Chainsword, which still dripped with black engine oil and bright red blood.

His Mk II power armor was covered in deep scratches and dents, marks left by the recent impact.

The armor on his left shoulder was completely shattered, revealing the charred synthetic muscle bundles beneath, with a few cables still sparking with blue electricity.

But he seemed completely unfazed.

The heat vents on his back suddenly expelled a blast of scorching white steam. The turbulent airflow dispersed the surrounding smoke and dust, revealing those crimson, emotionless electronic eyes.

Behind him, thirty Thunder Warriors fanned out in a semicircle.

They were like a pack of demons clawing their way out of hell, their bodies covered in rubble and dust, their weapons held low, radiating a predatory pressure.

They no longer stalked.

At this distance, in this chaotic, narrow, debris-filled battlefield, stealth would be an insult to violence.

"Distance... zero."

A low, rumbling roar emanated from Arik's external speakers. It was a modulated battle broadcast, sounding like the pronouncement of death.

"Harvest."

BANG!

The ground exploded, sending rubble flying.

The Thunder Warriors activated the hydraulic burst systems in their legs.

These monsters clad in half-ton armor instantly erupted with a terrifying, unnatural acceleration.

They weren't running; they were more like a salvo of siege cannon shells fired from their barrels, whooshing through the air as they instantly charged into the Storm Knights' disorganized and broken formation.

"Fire! Fire now! Stop them!"

A terrified Storm Knight raised his energy rifle, finger clamped tightly on the trigger, unleashing a frantic barrage of laser beams.

Zzzzt! Zzzzt!

The high-energy laser beams struck the Thunder Warrior leading the charge, instantly burning through the thick ceramite shoulder pauldron, even charring the flesh beneath, releasing a nauseating smell of burnt flesh.

But the warrior didn't even flinch.

In fact, the corner of his mouth twisted into a ferocious grin.

[Pain Conversion Activated]

Excruciating pain stimulated the special glands implanted in his body, flooding his mind with violent combat hormones.

Pain was no longer a signal to hinder action; it was Fuel to make the engine burn brighter.

The warrior charged straight into the Storm Knight's embrace, enduring the laser fire.

CRACK!

It was the crisp, teeth-grating sound of a spine snapping.

The Storm Knight's lightweight composite armor, designed for agility, was as fragile as an eggshell against the terrifying kinetic impact of the power armor.

The Thunder Warrior didn't even use his sword.

He simply reached out with that large hand covered in rough ceramite, grabbed the opponent's helmet like a chick, and then—

SQUELCH!

Like crushing a ripe grape.

Blood, brain matter, and fragments of electronic components from inside the helmet sprayed from between his fingers, staining the gray rocky ground red.

"Monsters... they're monsters!"

Sky Wing watched the life signals on his screen rapidly extinguish one by one, watched the green dots representing his elite soldiers turn into gray skull icons within seconds. His morale shattered completely.

His tactics were perfect: use high mobility to kite in the air, use the range of energy weapons to whittle down the enemy without taking damage. It was a civilized way of fighting, a higher-dimensional suppression.

But now, his wings were broken.

He was forcibly dragged to the ground, dragged into the mire where these beasts excelled.

Here, there was no elegant aerial combat, no sophisticated tactics, no so-called civilization.

Only the most primitive, most brutal, most savage Thracian combat techniques.

The Thunder Warriors couldn't even be bothered to use the Bolters they had seized. At this range, firearms were too slow.

They cleaved with Chainswords, the sound of serrated teeth tearing through flesh resonating across the battlefield.

They hammered with power fists, each blow capable of pulverizing an enemy into mush.

They struck with knees, charged with foreheads, even tore with teeth.

A Storm Knight tried to activate his backup jetpack, desperate to escape this hell.

Blue exhaust flames had just ignited; he had risen barely two meters.

A large hand, a hand stained with blood, reached out from the smoke and dust, firmly seizing his ankle.

"Get down!"

The Thunder Warrior roared, the muscles in his arm bulging, hydraulic rods shrieking.

He yanked the knight back to the ground like a ragdoll, then slammed him heavily onto the sharp edge of a rock.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Until the body became an unrecognizable pulp of flesh, until the jetpack sputtered and died, until the screams faded into weak moans.

This wasn't merely killing.

This was venting.

It was the insane revenge of souls imprisoned by a genetic curse upon this world.

[System Prompt: Enemy Morale has dropped to zero.]

[Enemy units have entered a 'Routed' state.]

On the battlefield, the surviving Storm Knights completely broke.

They dropped their weapons, fleeing in all directions while crying and shouting. Some tried to climb the tilted wreckage, others even leaped into the abyss in their panic, just to escape these unspeakable demons.

But Arik did not stop.

He strode toward the central storm beacon—the symbol of victory, the endpoint of this game.

But as he passed a wounded enemy soldier still twitching, his legs pinned under a massive rock, he paused.

The wounded soldier looked up in terror at the giant who blotted out the sky, at the blood dripping from that faceplate. Trembling, he raised a hand as if to beg for mercy, muttering incoherently, "Don't... don't kill me... I surrender..."

Arik looked down at him.

In those crimson electronic eyes, there was no pity, no sympathy, not even hatred.

Only the cold detachment of looking at a "resource."

In his logic, surrender was the excuse of the weak, and the weak had no right to survive.

"Waste."

He whispered, his voice as cold as a Siberian gale.

Then, he raised his heavy, gore-splattered power-armored boot, aimed it at the still-pleading head, and brought it down with crushing force.

CRUNCH.

It was the sound of a watermelon bursting.

The world fell silent... [Holocockpit Perspective]

Li Cang looked at the massive golden [VICTORY] slowly materializing on the screen. His face showed no surprise, only a hint of numbness.

His fingers twitched slightly from the prolonged tension of intense operation, but he paid it no mind.

He glanced at the resource bar in the upper right corner.

GP: +3000 (Promotion Match Victory Reward)

GP: +1000 (Win Streak Reward)

GP: +2000 (S-Rank Evaluation - Devastating Blow)

Total: 6500 GP.

"Enough."

Li Cang let out a long sigh, as if a heavy burden had been lifted.

He reached back and pulled out the neural link cable from his neck. A wave of dizziness hit him, but he stubbornly refused to fall.

The faint vibration from the heart pacemaker recharging spread from his chest throughout his body.

That feeling of suffocating near-death, that icy grip of death around his throat, finally receded somewhat.

"The electricity bill is covered."

Li Cang looked at the string of numbers, a faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

"The startup funds for the next phase... 'Astartes'... are also covered."

He turned his head and looked at the opponent's avatar on the holographic screen, which had now turned gray.

That once lofty, arrogant Sky Wing was now just a dimmed ID.

"Thank you for your contribution."

"Your failure shall become a brick in the foundation of the Empire. Your resources shall become the Fuel to ignite the galaxy."

[System Announcement: Congratulations to Contestant No. 100024 for successfully advancing to [Black Iron III]!]

[New Permission Unlocked: Primary Tech Tree Branch.]

[New Function Unlocked: Civilization Trait Enhancement.]