The core chamber of Gherash roared with life as the Salamanders faced the Tyranids in a climactic struggle. Tendrils of biomass pulsated along the walls and ceilings, their sickly glow casting eerie shadows that danced across the Imperial architecture, now consumed by the alien infestation. The central core, a towering mass of ancient machinery entwined with xenos growth, dominated the chamber like a macabre altar.

At its base, the Tyranid Prime stood as a grim sentinel, flanked by two massive Tyranid Warriors and a swarm of Genestealers and Hormagaunts. The air buzzed with the sound of chittering claws, the rhythmic thud of Tyranid talons striking the ground, and the unnatural, guttural hisses of the xenos.

The Salamanders formed up, their green and black armor gleaming with the glow of flickering flames and plasma discharges. Thran stood at the forefront, his chainsword idling with a steady hum. Beside him, Daedren planted his twin shields into the ground, their edges glowing faintly with plasma energy. Behind them, Caldon readied his flamer, its pilot light spitting tiny bursts of fire, while Erath calibrated his plasma gun, its coils glowing with an ominous blue light.

“Brothers,” Thran began, his voice resonating over the din of the xenos, “we stand at the heart of the Tyranid infestation. We will not falter. For Vulkan and the Imperium, we shall purge this corruption.”

The Tyranid Prime let out a guttural roar, its bone-sword raised high. At its signal, the swarm surged forward, a tide of claws and fangs driven by an insatiable hunger.

“Hold the line!” Thran bellowed. “Daedren, brace yourself!”

The Tyranid wave struck with terrifying force, a seething mass of claws and teeth crashing against Daedren’s shields. Fleshborer rounds spat from Termagants, their living ammunition pinging harmlessly off his reinforced armor. Hormagaunts leapt forward, their venomous claws slashing at any exposed weak points. Daedren gritted his teeth, holding firm as the swarm battered against his defenses.

Caldon stepped up, his flamer roaring to life. A jet of liquid promethium engulfed the first ranks of the xenos, reducing them to shrieking, thrashing husks. The acrid stench of burning biomass filled the air, but the Tyranids were relentless, swarming over the charred remains of their kin.

Erath’s plasma gun spat superheated bolts into the swarm, each shot vaporizing a Tyranid on impact. His aim was precise, targeting the larger bioforms that loomed behind the smaller xenos. “Two Warriors advancing on the right flank!” he called out, adjusting his aim.

The Tyranid Warriors moved with grim purpose, their scything talons gleaming as they hacked through the debris-strewn battlefield. One of them lunged at Garron, its talons slicing through the air with lethal precision. Garron dodged the first strike, his bolter barking as he unloaded a volley into the creature’s torso. But the second talon caught him across the chest, the blow sending him sprawling.

“Garron is down!” Daedren shouted, stepping forward to shield his fallen brother. He bashed the Warrior with his shield, the plasma edge leaving a deep gouge in its carapace. The creature roared, ichor spilling from its wound, but it continued its assault.

“Caldon, cover him!” Thran ordered, his chainsword revving to life as he charged toward the second Warrior.

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Caldon pivoted, his flamer spitting fire at the encroaching swarm. The flames created a temporary barrier, forcing the smaller Tyranids to halt their advance. He reached Garron’s side, dragging the injured Salamander behind Daedren’s shield wall.

Thran engaged the second Warrior in a brutal melee, his chainsword biting deep into its carapace. The creature retaliated with a sweeping strike, its talon narrowly missing his head. Thran ducked under the blow, driving his chainsword into its exposed abdomen. The weapon roared as it tore through flesh and bone, and the Warrior collapsed in a heap of twitching limbs.

As the swarm began to thin, the Tyranid Prime roared, its bone-sword raised in challenge. Behind it, a Lictor emerged from the shadows, its camouflaged form shimmering as it stepped into view. The creature’s barbed claws glistened with venom, and its predatory eyes locked onto Erath.

“Lictor sighted!” Erath shouted, firing a plasma bolt that grazed the creature’s shoulder. The Lictor hissed, darting forward with unnerving speed. Erath tried to evade, but the Lictor’s claws raked across his thigh, cutting through his armor and sending him to the ground.

Daedren reacted instantly, his shield smashing into the Lictor’s side with a resounding crack. The creature screeched, its form flickering as it tried to retreat, but Daedren pressed the attack, his shield slamming into its head and leaving it dazed.

“Finish it!” Daedren called out, holding the Lictor in place.

Thran leapt forward, his chainsword carving through the Lictor’s torso in a single, decisive strike. The creature let out a final, guttural hiss before collapsing into a heap.

The Prime, undeterred by the loss of its minions, charged toward the Salamanders with terrifying speed. Its bone-sword came down in a brutal arc, aimed directly at Daedren. He raised his shields, the impact reverberating through his arms. The kinetic absorption systems in his armor absorbed the worst of the blow, but the sheer force drove him back a step.

“Flank it!” Thran commanded, moving to the Prime’s left side.

Caldon and Erath fired on the Prime, their bolter rounds and plasma bolts slamming into its carapace. The creature roared in defiance, ichor spilling from its wounds, but it fought with renewed ferocity. Its lash whip snapped forward, wrapping around Caldon’s leg and dragging him off balance.

“Get off me!” Caldon growled, firing his bolt pistol into the whip. The rounds severed the tendril, but not before the Prime’s bone-sword came down, slicing through his shoulder guard and drawing blood.

Daedren roared in fury, charging the Prime with both shields raised. He slammed into the creature’s torso, the plasma edges of his shields carving deep gashes into its flesh. The Prime screeched, its attacks growing wild and uncoordinated as it tried to fend him off.

“Now, Thran!” Daedren shouted.

Thran seized the opportunity, his chainsword finding purchase in the Prime’s exposed flank. The weapon roared as it tore through the creature’s internal organs, ichor spraying across the chamber. The Prime staggered, its movements sluggish as it struggled to stay upright.

Erath delivered the final blow, his plasma gun discharging a bolt directly into the Prime’s chest. The superheated energy exploded within the creature, tearing it apart from the inside. With a final, guttural roar, the Tyranid Prime collapsed, its massive frame convulsing before falling still.

The chamber fell silent, save for the crackling of flames and the hum of the augur core’s machinery. The remaining Tyranids, leaderless and disoriented, scattered into the shadows.

Thran surveyed the battlefield, his armor battered but his resolve unbroken. “Report,” he demanded.

“Garron and Caldon are injured but stable,” Erath said, his voice steady despite the exhaustion evident in his movements. “No further contacts detected.”

Daedren lowered his shields, his breath ragged as he surveyed the carnage. His armor bore the scars of battle, his shields dented and scorched, but they had held. The fire of Vulkan had seen them through.

“Core is secure,” Thran said, his voice filled with grim determination. “Begin the reactivation process. We will hold this position until the augur-station is operational.”

As the Salamanders began their work, Daedren stood guard, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of a lingering threat.