50 The Predule of war.

In the heart of what was once a bustling Saiyan base, the landscape now lay in stark contrast—void of life and desolate. The tents, which had once housed scholars immersed in the pursuit of knowledge, had vanished, leaving behind a haunting emptiness. Even the nearby villages, once vibrant with the daily activities of the community, now stood silent and uninhabited. The once-lush crop fields, symbols of prosperity, stretched out expansively but remained devoid of any signs of life.

Under the cosmic glow of an almost full moon, the five Saiyans found solace in meditation. Each figure, surrounded by an aura of ki, sat in contemplation, seeking to master the intricate techniques bestowed upon them by Seleri. The moonlight, accompanied by the twinkling stars and other celestial bodies, cast an ethereal illumination over the land. The air, cool and refreshing, carried a gentle breeze that intermingled with the Saiyans' deep, rhythmic breaths.

As the night unfolded, a serene silence enveloped the Saiyan base. The only interruptions came from sporadic bursts of ki, each an experiment in testing the limits of their newfound abilities. The Saiyans recognized the importance of refining their techniques, especially in the face of the imminent Tyranid invasion. Every flicker of ki represented a step forward in harnessing their latent powers, and the test of sudden insights.

The meditative quietude persisted for hours, the moon witnessing the Saiyans' dedicated pursuit of mastery. Eventually, Seleri broke the silence, her eyes fixated on Bann, who had joined the meditation last. Her question echoed through the stillness, probing for insights into their preparedness for the impending threat.

"Do we have an idea of what to expect, Bann?" she inquired, seeking guidance. Bann's eyes opened slowly, revealing a countenance that hinted at a depth of understanding. His response carried a calm assurance, "You have read the texts about the Tyranids on the Inquisitor ship. What makes you think anything will be different?"

Seleri, grappling with the incessant chittering in her mind, voiced her frustration. "I don't know!" she admitted, the strain evident in her voice. "Their chittering is driving me crazy, and I just want to know what to expect aside from an almost infinite amount of bugs."

Bann, gazing upward at the starry sky, sighed deeply. The distant violet nebula painted a cosmic tapestry overhead, a silent reminder of the vast unknown. In this moment of uncertainty, the Saiyans continued their quest for understanding, seeking clarity amidst the cosmic silence that surrounded them.

Standing amidst the Saiyan group, Bann surveyed the faces, noting the mix of curiosity, concern, and anticipation etched across their features. With a subtle nod, he began to articulate the intricacies of his strategy for the impending Tyranid invasion. "They probably don't know we are protecting this world, so we can be assured that we'll have an easy time repelling their first wave," he explained, his deep voice cutting through the night air. "The problem is with the consequential waves. If the hive mind does prepare for our attacks, then we'll have to change things."

Lowering his gaze, Bann rose to his feet, his powerful presence commanding attention. "That is why we need to lower our strength first, destroy them with minimal effort. So, once they get stronger while sending their waves, we can increase accordingly to not lose our edge and let them adapt to our abilities." Folding his arms across his chest, he allowed a moment for his words to settle among the group, knowing the weight of the responsibility that lay ahead.

Rucule, ever the cautious one, voiced his concern, "But don't we endanger ourselves this way? Not only will we put ourselves in a bad spot, but it may threaten to let our capabilities of destroying their numbers diminish."

In response, Aprit, with a confidence that reflected his Saiyan pride, asserted, "In that case, we only need to focus on making our attacks more destructive, preventing them from even reaching our positions to attack us." His gaze held an unwavering belief in their strength, glancing with mild confusion at Rucule for raising such concerns.

Ramela, the spirited warrior, challenged Aprit's suggestion, injecting a note of skepticism, "Where will the fighting be in that case? If we just bother throwing our abilities, then there's no fun."

Bann and Seleri, sharing a moment of exasperation, faced Ramela's spirited comment. Bann responded with a stern tone, "We're not going to fight for fun, Ram. When you see their numbers and what they are capable of, I can assure you the words said by Aprit will be the first thing to come into your mind."

Unfazed, Ramela retorted, "C'mon, Bann, how can they adapt to our attacks? We will sweep them apart and leave nothing remaining of them. Have you lost your edge due to these humans?" Her eyes probed Bann's resolve.

Shaking his head, Bann calmly stated, "Instead of taking this conversation, we should be training. If not the technique, more destructive abilities since our job won't be easy at all." With purposeful steps, he floated away from the base, his silhouette outlined against the night sky.

As he focused on controlling the amount and the effect he wanted to achieve, thoughts crossed his mind. 'If I could have each ki blast having a yielding similar to a nuclear attack, that'll be great.' With that idea, he unleashed powerful attacks that reverberated through the land, breaking the tense yet peaceful night, as his assaults illuminated the sky with bursts of intense energy.

In the dimly lit shadows created by the ki blasts, Seleri elegantly folded her arms, her piercing gaze fixed upon the assembly of Saiyans who, with arms crossed and intent expressions, observed Bann's actions amid the cacophonous symphony of explosions.

Her voice cut through the thunderous tumult as she addressed them with calculated determination, "We should move our attack balls to Redentia. Though I doubt the tyranids can do something at them, it's better to be safe than sorry. " Her words were met with solemn nods from her Saiyan companions, who gravitated towards the recesses of their bases, where their space pods lay dormant—a repository of their coveted treasure and the promise of a formidable legacy.

Emerging from the subterranean refuge that had served as their sanctum for a dozen of years, five gleaming attack balls came into view beneath the expansive Faradras sky. The Saiyans ascended slowly, a formidable airborne procession, bound for the nearest capital.

Meanwhile, Bann lingered, his focus unswerving upon his lone attack pod. Each ki blast, a testament to his relentless pursuit of power, yielded mixed results. 'It's not enough god damn it! The expenditure of ki for their resulting yielding makes it worthless!' Acknowledging the limitations of his finite energy amidst an insurmountable adversary, Bann found dissatisfaction in the inadequacy of his attacks compared to what he expected.

The night stretched interminably as he toiled, determined to achieve a result that met his exacting standards. He remained entrenched until the sun emerged on the horizon, casting its pallid glow upon the desolation he had wrought.

When, eventually, he soared above Redentia, an inscrutable countenance graced his features as he cradled his attack ball. No welcoming committee awaited him, for the other Saiyans had dispersed to their respective cities, engrossed in fortification strategies and familiarizing themselves with the looming battleground.

_____________________________________

"Ensure the conservation of your precious ammunition! No further supply shall grace your hands; it is the cold steel of your bayonet and knife that shall serve as the solitary bastion, guarding you against the ravenous jaws of the Xenos, eager to make a meal of your very essence!" The stern commands of a seasoned captain echoed through the air, resonating against the imposing walls of Redentia like a dire proclamation.

The atmosphere became saturated with sanctity as the preachers from the Ministorum raised their censers, the fragrant incense intertwining with their solemn prayers that sought the divine blessing of the Emperor upon the valiant defenders. Accompanying them, a select squad of Sisters of Battle elevated the Simulacrum Imperialis. The sacred book, catching the ambient light, fluttered its pages adorned with verses that danced in the gentle breeze. Behind the primary bearer, the formation of Sisters of Battle stood in stoic unison, each wielding a Censer of Holy Fire.

The flickering flames cast an ethereal glow upon the towering walls of Redentia, creating an otherworldly ambiance befitting the sacredness of the proceedings.

The Ecclesiarchy representative, with unwavering fervor, sanctified the wall through fervent invocations. Accompanying Sisters carried Litanies of Faith Banners, their inscribed prayers weaving into the hymns sung by the Ecclesiarchy choir. The air resonated with the distinct sounds of chainswords clinking and the rhythmic thuds of Penitent's Crozii striking the ground, each echoing in synchronized cadence, a martial hymn of devotion.

Beside the sanctifying figure, a Sister cradled the Reliquary of Martyrs, its contents whispering tales of sacrifice and martyrdom. The Aquila Standard, portraying the imperious double-headed eagle of the Imperium, soared high—an emblem of unwavering loyalty amidst onlookers who beheld the scene with profound solemnity and respect.

Cherubins, celestial companions in flight, trailed behind, their ephemeral presence marked by the soft shower of petals that adorned their celestial wake. They accompanied the procession along the towering walls, adding a touch of celestial grace to the sacred rites.

Observing this profound spectacle was Myrella, who swallowed hard, her heart filled with a reverential awe. Turning her attention to her lasgun, she meticulously attended to its care. Flanking her were a small cadre of soldiers—her new comrades—forged in the crucible of adversity after Bann had ruthlessly dispatched her previous squad alongside their captain. Each face etched with the weight of their trials and sacrifices, bound by a solemn duty to defend Redentia against the encroaching darkness.

"I've heard murmurs, whispers even, that we stand on the precipice of doom. Our numbers, they say, are a pittance against the impending deluge." The robust figure, clad in the sturdy embrace of flak armor with a dark shirt beneath, conveyed his foreboding sentiment in hushed tones, his words hanging in the air like a portentous shroud.

"Facing Tyranids, my comrades, it matters not whether you've graced the halls of a schola. We were all schooled in the grim reality of what to expect from these xenos. With the forces at our disposal, I implore you to make peace with your existence, for this may well be the sepulcher of our days." His voice, once robust, took on a somber cadence as he continued to draw from his smoldering cigarette.

Myrella cast a final glance at the receding figures of the Sisters, her gaze then falling to the land below the imposing walls. There, a deep trench unfolded, fortified with various rows of barbed wires, caltrops, and an array of defensive measures strategically positioned.

Within the trenches, a multitude, numbering in the hundreds if not thousands, stood poised in their positions. These defenses, a testament to unwavering dedication, had been meticulously erected throughout the preceding day and the relentless night that followed.

"What's the worry? Haven't you surveyed our numbers? Even if these Xenos descend upon us en masse, we can swat them aside with ease. Remember, the Emperor protects!" A spirited young soldier exclaimed, his golden locks radiating a luminous aura, a dazzling smile gracing his square visage.

His fervent words prompted a reflexive chorus of "The Emperor protects" from those gathered, a unifying mantra that echoed despite the apprehensions lingering from earlier briefings.

The burly man who had been smoking merely shook his head, exhaling a plume of smoke as he continued preparing his equipment. The conversations along the wall persisted, reflections on what the looming Tyranid threat might entail, until attention shifted to a cry behind the city. "Look! It's one of those Xenos!" Alarm resonated through the ranks as eyes turned toward the pointed finger.

However, it was not a Tyranid that met their gaze, but Bann, clad in formidable armor, suspended in the crimson sky above Redentia. "Oh, it's him. Bloody hell Melvin, you nearly stopped my heart! I thought it was the nids," a seasoned veteran with a thick beard and bare torso chuckled, relief evident in his raspy laughter.

"At least we have one of those anomalies on our side. If he can wreak the same havoc he did against us, there's no reason we can't endure this Tyranid onslaught," a weary voice, unrecognizable to Myrella, chimed in as her eyes remained fixed on Bann's commanding presence. Clenching her fists, she swallowed the amalgamation of anger and fear that welled within her, her gaze unwavering on the formidable being.

A somber and grim atmosphere descended upon the wall as the eyes of the Guardsmen remained fixed on the Saiyan. "...I've always dreamt of the ability to fly and perform the feats that bastard is capable of. Soaring through the trenches, aiding our brethren..." The golden-haired young soldier murmured audibly, his voice carrying a hint of longing and envy, eliciting a mixture of scoffs and nods from his comrades.

"Do not be deceived by the Xenos, Cesar. There's a reason why he stands alone amidst our vast and mighty Imperium. The Emperor and his legions have laid waste to entire races of Xenos comparable to his might. People like us are far more capable than what a mere Xenos could ever dream of becoming." The resonant voice of the squad's captain suddenly pierced through the air, drawing the attention of many as they turned to regard the man. His features bore a softness, but the stubble around his jaw imparted a rugged quality to his otherwise youthful appearance.

Before anyone could interject, Myrella observed a whitish aura materialize around Bann, accompanied by a tidal sound that seemed to encroach upon the area. In the blink of an eye, he assumed a position and was propelled skyward, leaving behind a trail of brilliance.

BOOOOOM

A resounding sonic boom and hurricane-like winds engulfed Redentia, prompting urgent cries:

"TAKE COVER!"

"GET AWAY FROM THE BORDERS!"

Shouts and screams reverberated as the guardsmen sought refuge against the powerful gusts.

Amidst the chaos, a few laughs echoed, and one man jestingly remarked to his captain, "Are you certain, Captain, that the xeno can only dream? He appears quite formidable to me, hehehehe." Laughter erupted, and the captain offered a wry smile.

"Look! There's more of them!" A cry broke through the tumult as guardsmen rose from their cover to witness three additional faraway white trails streaking across the sky around Redentia, converging toward the same position.

Myrella observed the unfolding spectacle in silence, her ears resonating with the rhythmic beating of her heart. She lifted her gaze toward the assumed destination of the converging trails, she remarked "Seems like they're heading toward the space station."

With the Saiyans assuming strategic positions, the destiny of Faradras hung in the balance. A confrontation against overwhelming odds loomed on the horizon, the two forces poised for an imminent clash that would determine the fate of the beleaguered world.

The Tyranid war has begun.

==========

15 chapters in advance on my patreon. /Sr_Devoxero