84: Chapter 84 Crossfire and the Gear Emblem

The screech of tearing metal pierced his eardrums. The gate collapsed, its frame edges melting as dark red molten iron snaked along the threshold. Lin Yuan stood behind the force field generator, the Silver-wire Network beneath his right arm heating up slightly. The smell of ozone mixed with burning Promethium wafted into his nose. The scent of death.

Rustnail's troops surged out from the smoke. The days of raiders in cobbled-together armor were over. On the force field shields held by the front-row soldiers, a sophisticated energy grid shimmered with faint light. In the center of the shield, the brand of a cog superimposed over a skull was clearly visible. The Cog Mechanicum of the Adeptus Mechanicus glinted coldly amidst the wasteland dust.

"Crossfire." Lin Yuan's voice cut through the neural link, slamming directly into the auditory centers of the two Astartes.

THRONE-01 crouched on the left side of the force field generator. His left arm appeared a sickly grey-green, with rust patches squirming beneath the skin. He raised his bolter pistol, black machine oil seeping from the interface between the gun's body and his palm.

machine spirit corruption was gnawing away at his pain receptors, but another kind of agony brought by the neural link was even sharper. DORN-00's ten thousand years of loneliness and rage poured in through the neural cables, scraping against his brain.

"Copy that." Lin Chen's voice was as raspy as sandpaper. He pulled the trigger. Bolt Shells exploded in blue flames against the surface of the force field shields, their impact points precisely locked onto energy nodes—standard suppression fire of the Seventh Legion.

Hallucinations flickered at the edge of his vision. A non-existent Terra sky, blindingly blue and sickeningly pure.

DORN-00 moved through the shadows of the right corridor. Within his nearly three-meter-tall frame, mutated bones bulged under his skin, and bone spikes on his left shoulder pierced through his Power Armor. His left eye was as murky as ink, while his right eye was as clear as the sea.

The ink-colored eye saw ruins—the collapsed Eternity Wall and a burning Terra. The sea-blue eye saw the crossfire net of Rustnail's troops, with red dots flickering in the targeting reticle.

"Traitors," DORN-00 growled, his voice sounding like grinding metal.

"Wasteland raiders, not traitors," Camilla's voice came from the wheelchair's communicator. She was on a high platform behind Lin Yuan, her fingers flying across a tactical tablet. "DORN-00, three o'clock direction, force field shield frequency 12.7 Hz, suggested impact angle 35 degrees. THRONE-01, cover fire, suppress the automated turrets on the left."

Her voice was as cold as a scalpel. Her paralyzed legs felt nothing; her anger had been forged into ultimate precision.

DORN-00 did not execute the order immediately. The gene-seed resonance burned with the instinct to protect his "brother." He remembered this tactic: an Imperial Fists siege breakthrough. The muscles in his right hand swelled unnaturally, and bone spikes pierced through the flesh of his knuckles.

"Control it," Lin Yuan sent a suppression pulse through the Silver-wire Network. "Do not release it completely."

Conventional tactics couldn't tear through the force field shields. Lin Yuan calculated the consumption of ammunition and stamina; the countdown showed 21 minutes and 47 seconds. The rust on his younger brother's left arm was spreading, the grey-green patches reaching the elbow. Conservative play would drag them into a war of attrition, while full release meant going berserk.

"30 seconds." Lin Yuan made his choice. A timed command was hammered into DORN-00's spine via the Silver-wire Network. "Partial release, 30 seconds. I will force a disconnect then."

DORN-00's blue right eye flashed with clarity. He chanted a broken battle cry in a low voice: "For the Emperor and Dorn."

His body swelled. Bone spikes proliferated, muscle fibers reorganized, and power rippled outward. DORN-00 charged out, lunging forward like a battering ram. His right fist smashed into the first force field shield, the energy grid screaming as the shield surface overloaded and exploded within 0.3 seconds. Shrapnel embedded itself into his forearm, but he didn't pause.

THRONE-01 stood up at the same moment, his body straightening into a mobile shield. His bolter pistol shifted from precise shots to suppressive fan-fire, pinning the left-side automated turrets behind cover. He shared DORN-00's bone-tearing pain; consequently, the rust on his left arm accelerated, grey-green patches pulsing in rhythm with an ancient beat.

"Target breached," Camilla reported. She saw DORN-00's spine curve at a non-human angle as bone spikes, like spears, pierced the second soldier's force field shield, pinning both the shield and its wielder to the wall.

Rustnail stood at the back of the formation, greed and fear intertwined in his single eye. He pressed his communicator, his voice fawning yet cruel: "Lord Bishop, samples confirmed. Two Defective Primarchs, plus an STC Adapter. Requesting activation of the Purification Protocol."

An electronic voice like grinding gears came from the communicator. "The Messenger of the Omnissiah requires samples. Losing two-thirds of the troops is an acceptable price. Activate the self-destruct protocol, radiation blast. Ensure no intact corpses remain."

Rustnail's finger hovered over the red button at his waist. Half of his troops were already lost, but the Bishop's punishment was more terrifying than death. He pressed the button.

Devices on the soldiers' waists flashed red. STC-tech radiation blast devices would turn all life within fifty meters into radioactive dust.

"Self-destruct protocol activated!" Camilla's sensors shrieked. "Full-spectrum radiation, countdown 15 seconds!"

Lin Yuan's calculation was completed instantly. There was no time to retreat, and the force field generator couldn't withstand this kind of radiation. He glanced at THRONE-01, DORN-00, and Camilla; his Silver-wire Network flared as he made a desperate decision.

"DORN-00, maximum power, knock down that wall. THRONE-01, overload the force field, protect only Camilla. Execute!"

DORN-00's mutation had lasted for 28 seconds, and his sanity was on the brink of collapse, but Lin Yuan's command acted as an anchor for his last bit of consciousness. He turned and charged at the main hall's support wall, using both bone spikes and fists to crush concrete and rebar like rotten wood.

THRONE-01 lunged toward the high platform. His left arm was completely rusted, the mixture of machine and flesh crumbling as he ran. He used his remaining right arm to scoop up Camilla and shove her into the core protection pod of the force field generator. The machine spirit shrieked as the corruption level instantly jumped to 82%, and his vision was consumed by hallucinations. Streets of Terra, the burning Imperial Palace, and a Golden Figure falling in the distance.

The radiation blast blossomed behind them. Blue light swallowed half of the main hall, and Rustnail's troops were reduced to ash in the light, their screams torn apart by the radiation storm. Even in his final moment, Rustnail was still fawning into the communicator, begging the Bishop to remember his loyalty.

DORN-00 used the collapsed wall as cover. His body was scorched by radiation, but his mutated bones absorbed most of the damage. The 30-second limit was forcibly cut by Lin Yuan at the 31st second; the mutated tissues retracted, and the pain forced him to his knees, blood-tears streaming from his black left eye.

Lin Yuan stood by the wreckage of the force field generator, his Silver-wire Network dimmed. He watched the radioactive dust settle, watched his younger brother crawl out of the protection pod, and watched DORN-00 gasping in the ruins. Rustnail's discarded communicator flickered with a green light among the rubble, still transmitting a signal.

He walked over and picked up the communicator. The screen displayed the last unsent command from a frequency labeled "Messenger of the Omnissiah." The samples in the freezer pods on the laboratory's bottom floor were a higher priority than the Defective Primarchs; a recovery team would arrive in 72 hours.

Lin Yuan's finger paused for 0.5 seconds. He looked at THRONE-01; his brother's left arm was now completely covered in rust, the boundary between machine and flesh having vanished entirely. He then looked at DORN-00; the giant was staring at him with his blue right eye, his gaze carrying an ancient sense of recognition.

"Control Room," Camilla's voice came from a broken speaker. Her wheelchair was crushed, but the tactical tablet was still working. "Access permissions unlocked. Countdown paused; the enemy has temporarily retreated to regroup."

Lin Yuan helped his brother up, feeling Lin Chen's body trembling slightly. The neural link had shared DORN-00's memories. A tacit understanding based on shared pain was thus established, and a fixed pairing of defense and assault was solidified at this moment.

DORN-00 slowly stood up and walked to Lin Yuan's side. The mutation had retracted, but the bone spikes hadn't fully withdrawn, looking like a row of exposed sharp teeth. He glanced at THRONE-01's rusted left arm, then at his own mutated right hand.

"Shield and spear," DORN-00 said, his voice regaining a bit of human tone.

Lin Yuan didn't answer. He looked at the corridor leading to the Control Room, leading deeper into the laboratory, toward the secrets left by the Adeptus Mechanicus, and toward the recovery team arriving in 72 hours. The communicator still held the residual warmth of the radiation, its green indicator light flashing like a single eye in the darkness.

Behind the ruins of the wall, the blast door leading to the laboratory's bottom floor was revealed amidst the tremors, cold mist seeping from the gap. Sensors briefly activated in the aftermath of the battle, showing biological reactions from deeper levels that echoed the shattered Terra sky in DORN-00's memories.