As Nimrod vaulted between the staircases, relentlessly pursuing and slaying the Fra'ow, Maria and her two companions, fortified by their rigorously trained resolve, clung to consciousness, though they found themselves embroiled in a desperate struggle.
The echoes of the Howl reverberated, stunning dozens of nearby Fra'ow warriors and those further afield whose wills were frail.
Yet the remaining Fra'ow warriors pressed forward undeterred, their cold determination unyielding as they trampled over the corpses of their kin, charging upward with ruthless intent.
In the nomadic culture of the Fra'ow, the weak held no claim to survival; culling the feeble preserved precious resources.
Maria understood that this was a moment for desperate valor. She refrained from calling for Nimrod's aid, recalling her assassination of a psyker and the terror such beings inspired.
Nimrod's prioritization of eliminating the Fra'ow psykers was a sagacious choice; for now, she and her comrades must rely solely upon themselves.
Maria extracted a syringe from her black voidsuit, resolutely injecting its contents into her veins.
A surge of torrential power coursed through her, and her usually composed demeanor gave way to a glint of bloodthirsty ferocity in her azure eyes.
With a soaring leap, Maria launched herself into the air, her curved blades tracing arcs as she unleashed the sixteenth form of the "Osberh-Vaya" sword art.
She transcended her limits, executing ten piercing strikes in a fleeting instant.
Seizing a Fra'ow dagger that fell before her, Maria plunged into the throng of xenos, her form a blur of lethal motion.
Her hands danced, wielding the blades with such ferocity that she carved a bloody path through the alien horde.
Dementieva, her stamina waning, gritted her teeth and injected another syringe.
Alongside Tsvetana, she launched a frenzied assault upon the xenos.
Lasrifle beams flickered relentlessly, spent power packs clattering to the deck, until Tsvetana, grasping her final magazine, realized the Fra'ow's ferocity far exceeded her prior estimations.
Their earlier slaughter at Nimrod's hands was merely a testament to the giant's overwhelming might.
Tsvetana's heart sank as she noticed Maria's movements slowing, ensnared within the xenos encirclement.
In her moment of despair, a thunderous roar resounded, staggering her. The ultrasonic shockwaves reverberated within her mind, blood tears streaming from her eyes.
Though temporarily blinded, she exhaled in relief.
At the critical juncture before the trio's demise, Nimrod had eradicated the Fra'ow psyker cadre and descended with meteoric force.
His "Howl" reverberated through the Fra'ow's minds, felling dozens into unconsciousness. More terrifying still was the giant's presence, heralding a grim truth—the utter annihilation of their elite cadre of a hundred Aether Masters.
The Fra'ow warriors' resolve shattered irrevocably, their terror driving them to scatter in frantic flight.
A singular thought consumed them: to flee this infernal abyss, even if it meant boarding raider skiffs to wander the void—anything was preferable to remaining here.
In their panicked exodus, the deserters brandished Fra'ow glass blades against their own kin, desperate to outpace their comrades, disrupting the advancing warriors.
The first wave of Fra'ow deserters reached the deck, scrambling toward sleek raider skiffs, only to be met with a hail of searing lasbeams.
The xenos, riddled with wounds, collapsed into pools of their own blood.
Szczesny, leading Vostonia's Fourth Regiment, had boarded the Fra'ow battlecruiser via assault boats.
Despite prior training, the regiment's inaugural void engagement was fraught with difficulties.
In one assault boat, a Steel Warrior neglected standard operating protocols, his body dislodging from the restraint harness.
His uncontrolled form crashed into the cockpit's security door. Unfortunately, he was no ordinary man but a heavily augmented Steel Warrior.
His impact shattered the door, crushing the pilot and causing the assault boat to spiral out of control, careening into an asteroid.
Szczesny, upon boarding the enemy vessel, discovered the loss of an entire platoon.
It took longer than anticipated to reorganize the Fourth Regiment's formation.
Fueled by frustration, Szczesny charged onto the deck, colliding with a band of Fra'ow warriors fleeing the staircase.
With a swing of his chainsword, optimized for his "Sailor" Beyonder prowess, he cleaved through a xenos's skull.
His left arm shot out, seizing a Fra'ow's thrusting dagger.
The xenos warrior felt its wrist clamped as though by iron vices, the human's strength surpassing mortal limits.
With a twist of his "Sailor"-enhanced might, Szczesny snapped the Fra'ow's arm, his chainsword descending to sever its head.
Szczesny led his men, routing the xenos deserters, and presented himself before Nimrod, his voice tinged with shame.
"My lord, I arrived belatedly."
"Learn from your shame and rise with courage."
"Lead your regiment to clear the decks, level by level."
Nimrod, sparing him reprimand, issued his command with a gesture of clemency.
"As you decree, my lord."
Szczesny promptly rallied his men, plunging into the decks with renewed fervor.
Nimrod strode upward, passing the exhausted Maria and her companions, addressing them with measured approval.
"Your performance was commendable. Your task is complete. Rest and stand by."
"As you command, my king!"
The trio stood erect, their voices resonant with reverence, their hearts stirred with awe at Nimrod's superhuman prowess.
Moments later, Nimrod reached the staircase's summit, his power halberd crashing through the obstructing purple metal gate with a single blow.
He stormed the bridge, his eyes immediately fixing upon a Fra'ow clutching a purple crystal staff, suspended in midair.
In halting Low Gothic, tinged with a Vostonian accent, the xenos spoke.
"I am… the governor… of this vessel… human… state… your demands…"
"I am willing… to depart… this system… and offer… tribute…"
A sardonic smile curled Nimrod's lips. Tribute? I want them all!
He drew a mighty breath, unleashing a roar that shook the bridge.
Several Fra'ow collapsed, stunned, while the Fra'ow governor swayed momentarily.
Regaining his composure, the governor raised his purple crystal staff aloft, snarling, "Die!"
Nimrod's position, along with a radius of dozens of meters, was engulfed in a torrent of purple psychic flames.
Several Fra'ow senior officers wailed in agony amid the inferno, but the governor remained indifferent, deeming their sacrifice a worthy price to slay the formidable foe.
As the governor prepared to descend, a sudden pang of dread seized him.
His instincts screamed danger, but it was too late. A figure, clad in scorched obsidian armor, loomed before him.
The Fra'ow governor frantically summoned his psychic might, a telekinetic burst erupting with a resounding crack.
The explosion hurled him backward, blood spewing from his maw, yet relief flickered in his heart—his telekinetic shield had absorbed the blow.
But in the next instant, his visage contorted in horror.
"No…"
The governor's desperate cry echoed as Nimrod's left hand seized his right leg.
Nimrod swung the Fra'ow governor like a flail, smashing him against the deck with a colossal crash.
Amid the impact, Nimrod sensed an inner dissolution, as though something within him melded with his spirit.
[The potion is fully digested. I am now a true "Barbarian"!]
Landing, Nimrod dispatched every Fra'ow on the bridge, then retrieved a long-range vox from his armor.
"Rosicky, the xenos vessel is mine. You and Wojciech, come at once."
Nimrod did not linger, surging forward to slay every Fra'ow he encountered.
Only upon receiving Rosicky's vox did he return to the bridge.
Standing before the tech-priest, he declared with resolute intent.
"I seek to collaborate with the Cult Mechanicus to develop this xenos warship."