Warhammer 40k : Space Marine Kayvaan

Syladria took a steadying breath, her gaze sweeping over her companions. "We still have a chance. If we can kill her and recover her soul stone, we might sever the grip Chaos has on her. We can pull her back from the abyss. It's our only chance to save her—and ourselves."

One of the rangers muttered bitterly, "And the humans? What use are they? They hide behind their fortress walls and shake with fear. They couldn't stand against even a few rangers, let alone Rosina."

"There are so many of them," one ranger muttered, his tone dripping with disdain. "Every human life requires just one well-placed shot. When they gather, a burst of psychic energy can destroy them in one fell swoop. Mon-keigh are perfect targets—ugly, crude, barbaric. Their faces lack elegance, their existence devoid of beauty. Rosina must be delighted to turn these vulgar monkeys into red mist."

Syladria silenced him with a sharp look. "Their flaws may amuse Rosina, but we can use their presence to our advantage. They'll distract her, drawing her firepower, and that gives us our opening. Humans are not entirely useless. They may lack grace, but their strict organization and discipline make them formidable. An army, even a human one, can do what we cannot alone. Rosina may overpower us, but with their support, we stand a chance. Besides," she added with a sigh, "their fortress received reinforcements. Some of them are surprisingly capable warriors. Yes, they're crude and vulgar, but they're the only allies we have. The situation is dire—we no longer have the luxury of choice."

Syladria's voice grew firm as she addressed her rangers. "I know I led you here. I am responsible for what's happened, but I will do everything in my power to ensure you leave this planet alive. Please, trust me as you always have."

One ranger stepped forward, his voice resolute. "I have walked darker paths, but a ranger does not fear the shadows."

Another echoed, "My eyes are yours to guide, and my rifle follows your command."

A sudden sound carried on the wind—a series of coded signals, part of the rangers' prearranged communication. Syladria tilted her head, listening intently, then smiled. "Good news," she said, her voice lifting with rare optimism. "Our human allies have found Rosina's hiding place."

The mood among the rangers shifted instantly. Words of encouragement, no matter how heartfelt, could never compare to the power of actionable intelligence. After days of enduring Rosina's relentless assaults, they finally had a target. Rangers were never meant to stand passively, waiting for an inevitable attack. They were hunters, not prey. The despair of being forced into inaction lifted, replaced by a fierce desire to strike back.

With renewed morale, the rangers quickly fell into formation. Guided by Kayvaan, they moved swiftly toward the underground ancient city, their pace relentless. When they reached the gates, they found two massive bolter turrets mounted on armored towers guarding the entrance. Each turret was manned by servitors, their soulless mind keeping the weapons trained on anything that moved. The dual bolter cannons were devastating, capable of firing 6,000 explosive rounds per minute. Their relentless firepower could turn even the most armored enemies into smoldering ruin. Though stationary, they provided an impenetrable defense for key positions.

Kayvaan whistled, his tone light. "Well, I didn't expect Gustav to bring these beauties along." Internally, however, he cursed. 'Gustav, you idiot. Why set this up so early? What if you scare the Eldar into refusing to go in?'

The turrets were an intimidating sight. Their presence alone could deter most foes, and their overwhelming firepower ensured that anything brave—or foolish—enough to approach would be reduced to ash. If Rosina were on the surface, she will surely escaped, but than she wouldn't have been able to evade the rangers for so long. Unlike other rangers, she couldn't simply crawl into a hidden crevice to wait out the search. Her plans required something far more elaborate—a dark altar, essential for conducting the vile rituals needed to open a warp gate.

The ritual wasn't as simple as spilling blood or offering corpses. Each sacrifice—be it a body, blood, or a soul stone—had to be meticulously prepared. To offer them carelessly would risk offending the Chaos Gods, a blasphemy even Rosina wouldn't dare commit. Chaos summoning rituals, especially those involving the opening of dimensional gates, demanded strict adherence to detail: the placement of candles, the preparation of sacrifices, the drawing of intricate runes, and the precise incantation of spells. All these requirements made a quiet, secure, and spacious location essential.

The underground ancient city provided the perfect environment for such work. Its labyrinthine corridors shielded Rosina from detection, explaining why the rangers had failed to locate her.

The moment the ranger stepped forward, the air erupted with the deafening roar of bolter fire. Kayvaan reflexively ducked, his combat-honed instincts screaming at him to hit the ground. But he quickly realized he was well outside the turrets' range and straightened up, relieved that he hadn't embarrassed himself by overreacting. The ranger, however, reacted with agility one would expect from the Alaitoc. He dropped to the ground in a fluid motion, rolled to the side, and sprang up behind a rock. His movements were seamless, a masterclass in evasive action. Yet, despite the impressive display, no one paid him any attention. The rangers remained focused on the situation at hand.

The turrets weren't firing at the rangers. Their barrels were aimed inside the dungeon's entrance, unleashing a relentless barrage of explosive shells. From the angle, it was impossible to see what they were targeting, but the sound of the gunfire was a chilling reminder of the destructive force those weapons wielded. 

The first hint of the enemy came in the form of a deep, guttural roar. Emerging from the shadows of the ancient city's gates was a creature that seemed plucked straight from nightmare—a towering beast with the head of a bull, the body of a man, and cloven hooves. Its blackened, sinewy muscles gleamed under the dim light, and its hulking frame stretched nearly three meters tall. In one hand, it effortlessly wielded a massive axe. 

The creature—resembling the Minotaur of human myth—lowered its horned head and charged toward the bolter turrets like an enraged bull. The ground trembled under the beast's thunderous steps, its sheer mass radiating raw power. It moved as though nothing could stand in its way, as though even the mightiest walls would crumble beneath its charge.

The Vulcan bolter turrets swiveled slightly, their movements almost casual, as if swinging a massive whip. The explosive-tipped rounds shredded the beast's body with terrifying precision. Bright blood sprayed into the air as the Minotaur staggered, its charge abruptly halted. The sheer force of the gunfire left its massive frame quaking uncontrollably, and another arc of fire tore through it, splitting the creature in two. Within moments, the monstrosity was reduced to a gory ruin. 

Even as the turrets recalibrated, more Minotaurs surged forth from the depths of the city, their roars echoing across the battlefield. Each carried massive axes, their numbers multiplying by the second.