Black Wave

For a moment, the cloud of ash and dust cleared and he could see movement, the heaving columns of the Brigannion infantry moving forward in the wake of siege tanks and spider-legged daemon-engines. The advance continued, unimpeded.
...
The ground shook, and the whine of rockets and the grotesque roar of dying daemon-engines filled the air. Men screamed and gods bellowed in agony. He gaped, stunned by the sight that greeted him.
Across the battlefield, the burning, flowing army swept over the dead, trampling their corpses into something unrecognizable. Before Skaranx’s eyes, a hundred men died, and then two hundred – three, four – whole regiments swept aside by a burning scythe-edge of black armoured ghosts that marched slowly, purposefully out of the broken hive. A hellbrute slashed out at phantasmal attackers and swung massive claws, but was dragged under by sable-clad enemies. A maulerfiend cried out in distress as it was pierced by burning weapons that stripped its ruinous protections from it as if they were nothing.



Remorseless