Warhammer: Saving Humanity Begins with the Resurrection of Horus

Page 200

The Iron Warriors had the advantage in numbers, while the Empire had the advantage in defense. The fortifications built under the personal supervision of Roger Dorn and the warriors of the Imperial Fist were far more robust than any normal commander could imagine. With these fortifications and the ample supplies inside, even if there was a difference in numbers and firepower, the Empire's army could still hold its ground and even launch a few decent counterattacks.

As time went by, after a month of fierce exchanges, both sides slowed down their offensives.

The reason is not only that the number of shells is starting to run out as the bombardment continues, but more importantly, after such a long time, the subspace storm that completely covered an entire star system still shows no signs of dissipating.

This has made both sides' commanders realize one thing.

That means the battle that's about to begin... and it's very likely to be a protracted one.

The key to victory or defeat in this war lies in two aspects.

The first question is which side will gain the upper hand on the ground in the unknown future.

The second question is which side's fleets and main forces, scattered due to the subspace storm, will be able to reach the battlefield faster.

Von Erik still wore the gas mask that had been issued that day, the same military overcoat he was wearing, and the same light gun he was carrying. A few drops of blood still clung to the bottom of the barrel. He looked no different from the first day, except for the extra dust, dirt, and blood.

No, there are actually differences.

A long black cloth was tied around his left arm, on which the Imperial Eagle emblem was drawn in white.

"Monitor."

A soldier approached and saluted him. The soldier's voice sounded young, and although he was similar in appearance to Eric, he gave off a very different vibe.

Just like Eric a month ago.

"what happened?"

"This is today's food ration."

The soldier reached out and handed over a palm-sized portion of military rations wrapped in oiled paper.

"There are fewer and fewer of them."

Eric spoke in a low, hoarse voice, almost whistling – a few days earlier, a shrapnel had grazed his throat during the battle, causing his current condition. Compared to the rest of his squad, however, he was lucky; everyone else had died instantly in the explosion of that powerful grenade, and it was after that incident that he was promoted to squad leader.

"It's alright."

The soldier said in a low voice, while quickly shifting his gaze to look around and make sure that the political commissar and his lackeys were not there.

"We can still eat our fill now. I heard that rationing has been implemented directly within the city. Ordinary civilians and workers can only eat one meal a day, and they can only eat until they are half full."

At this point, the soldier raised his hand and pointed to the searchlights.

"The lights broke down for some reason. Right now, the factory's energy supply is being rushed to meet military needs, and they're working hard to repair these things."

"...No wonder the new recruits came in when the next squad had finished fighting and hadn't even taken half of Terra."

"Is that how it is? After all... for the Emperor, Class Monitor."

"For the Emperor?"

Eric looked down at the food in his hand, feeling a strange sense of irritability and agitation.

For the Emperor.

For that emperor who sits on his throne in Terra, who is nowhere in sight, seemingly doing nothing.

why?

Why?

Confused thoughts arose, and a resentful expression slowly appeared on Eric's face. The soldier, somewhat puzzled, reached out and patted him on the shoulder.

"Squad leader, are you alright? Do you want to go to the back and rest for a while? I'll keep watch on the city wall for you."

"I'm fine, just a little tired. I'll be fine after a short rest."

Eric let out a long breath and unwrapped the oil paper package in his hand. A rich aroma immediately wafted out – the Empire's standard military rations were definitely not something to eat. They were hard and bitter, and many sacrifices had been made to concentrate enough calories to sustain the soldiers' high physical exertion. If it was not combat time, even if the soldiers wanted to eat them, they would choose to cut them into small pieces with bayonets, soak them in hot water, and stir them into a pot of porridge.

However, when you have to eat this stuff on the battlefield, it tastes pretty good.

It tastes much better than the blood and bits of flesh of your companions that splatter into your mouth.

Eric ate ​​his food and chatted idly with the soldiers. During the most intense days of the battle, such leisure time would be completely impossible. As soon as the enemy's artillery fire stopped, their own artillery would have to fire. As soon as the enemy's infantry came up, their own infantry would have to follow up and fire from the trenches and city walls. And when the enemy charged in front of them, a bloody melee was inevitable.

Amighadoon was exceptionally dark tonight; while not pitch black, it was still incredibly dark. Small searchlights were operating, but they could only illuminate a small area nearby.

Speaking of which, the trenches below are rather quiet today...

Well, who knows? There are hundreds of Death Angels down there; they wouldn't just disappear without a sound.

Shaking his head, Eric banished these thoughts and focused on eating.

After finishing his meal, Eric finally felt his mood improve. He let out a long breath, stood up, and prepared to brush the dust off his clothes.

But at that moment, he noticed that the soldier in front of him suddenly changed his expression, drew a combat dagger from his waist, and charged at him.

what? !

Before he could react, Eric instinctively leaned backward, but the soldier ignored him, and Eric simply walked over him, then brandished his dagger and stabbed forward fiercely.

"Gurgle........."

A soft scream escaped Eric's lips as he turned to find a soldier's dagger embedded in a man's heart.

This was a strange-looking man. He wore Imperial armor and held an Imperial light gun, but all the Imperial symbols on it had been worn away. In their place was a hideous skull and an eight-pointed star. On his bald head was a strange horn. Even stranger was his left hand—it had no fingers, or rather, flesh and blood had grown between the fingers to connect them.

With such an appearance, his identity before Halesridge's hive on Amegiddon is self-evident.

The mortal traitor legion belonging to the Iron Warriors Warband, the Blazing Wall.

How come he is here?

"Squad leader! Look!"

The soldier stepped forward and pointed to the area below the city wall. Eric immediately stepped forward to observe, and soon he saw the densely packed figures below the wall.

He gasped in shock. In that brief moment, the veteran, who had survived a month on the battlefield and possessed both luck and skill, understood what had happened.

"Enemy attack!"

A piercing alarm blared over the hive city, instantly transforming the once-silent city into a bustling hub of activity. Following the first alarm, the giant searchlights atop the city walls suddenly illuminated the area, as if they had timed their own repairs perfectly, consuming enormous amounts of energy to bathe the entire land in daylight.

At this point, everyone could clearly see the scenery outside the city walls.

The trench positions set up outside the city walls had been completely wiped out. Whether they were mortal astral soldiers or Astartes, they all died tragically in their own positions. The few who were still breathing had their vocal cords cruelly cut off, tied to racks, and bled as they followed the troops forward.

This was a sudden attack without any warning.

The flamethrowers set up on the city wall began to operate. Under the control of the machine servants, they mercilessly spewed out hundreds of meters long fire snakes, turning all the enemies in front of them into ashes with the raging flames.

But that's not enough, because although this attack came without warning, it doesn't mean the enemy was without a plan.

A deafening roar echoed from the distant horizon as cannonballs rained down, slamming into the area just outside the city walls. This spot was precisely a short distance from the Void Shield, preventing the cannonballs from exploding upon contact.

But then, the outer shells of these "shells" burst open, and steel warriors clad in black power armor burst out.

Unlike the Empire's Angels of Death, or the Astartes, these steel warriors of the Astartes are clad in dark gray power armor adorned with gilded horns and patterns. The armor is covered with the marks of war, fully showcasing its cold, hard metallic texture.

They had a pair of curved, golden horns on their heads, and their skeletal armor was covered in a menacing skull design. Their eyes burned with a fierce, crimson light.

Their mere presence exuded an indescribable ferocity and terror. Their aura was overwhelming, as if all the fortresses in the world were nothing more than piles of sand before them, which could be crushed with a single kick.

Eric felt his breathing slow down. Although it wasn't the first time he had seen these treacherous angels of death, seeing them now still gave him a sudden surge of fear.

It was as if a voice was calling out.

"you will die."

That's what the voice said.

"You will die by the guns of these traitors."

The voice was persuasive and encouraging.

Is it really worth dying for an emperor?

“I…I…”

Eric struggled with his voice, but the next moment, another voice sounded behind him.

"All ready to fight!"

Arek, gripping his gun and dragging his aged body, once again came to the front lines.

"For Armageddon! For humanity! For the Emperor!"

Chapter 236 Awakening of Psionic Power

Sometimes, even the Astartes, these superhumans recognized as the Angels of Death within the Empire, have to acknowledge a certain fact.

That is, even mortals, though they are fragile, ignorant, greedy... and have as many bad qualities as stars, if they could bring out their good, excellent, and positive qualities, then under the sun's light, the stars would be hidden and almost invisible.

Those who can do these things all share a common title.

That is a hero.

From the outstanding mortal auxiliary generals and chroniclers who followed the various Astartes legions during the Great Crusade ten thousand years ago, to the warriors who faced demons and enemies during the Siege of Terra during the Great Rebellion, and the people who sacrificed themselves for the continuation of the Empire over the past ten thousand years, they are all heroes. The power and courage they displayed were so great that even the gods would take notice.

So, could Sebastian Arreek be considered one of these people?

Of course it is possible.

In the repeated battles to protect Amegiddund, this mortal commissar has grown old, but his soul remains steadfast. He is like a symbol of the Iron Legion, no longer a concrete person, but the embodiment of an abstract concept in reality.

So, the moment he appeared on the city wall, the troops, which had been slightly chaotic due to the sudden attack, immediately calmed down. The political commissars and military police of each corps went deep into the soldiers' lives and swept away the remaining chaos.

The presence of the political commissar did stabilize the ranks, but he couldn't single-handedly stop the Iron Warriors' attack. The flamethrowers were still operating, burning one by one those who used specially made ladders and ropes along the city wall into wailing ashes, causing them to fall from mid-air and smash into charred fragments on the ground.

However, these things have their limits. Fuel reserves will not allow them to be used indefinitely, and the Iron Warriors will not allow them to stand in their way.

As the hundreds of steel warriors advanced, the roar of engines echoed from the distant horizon—Thunderhawks and Stormbirds, along with other strangely shaped fighter jets made of steel and flesh, flew in like a dense swarm of bees. They covered the sky, swooping down to meet the firepower of the Hydra anti-aircraft guns, dropping their armored vehicles, bombs, and other debris onto the ground, city walls, and inside the hive.

Green poisonous gas spread outwards from the blast site. Some people accidentally inhaled it and collapsed on the spot, blood flowing continuously from their seven orifices.

"Gas mask!" someone shouted.

Sebastian Arrek remained firmly standing on the city wall, as if the escaping poison gas behind him had nothing to do with him. His expression was cold and ruthless, his electronic prosthetic eye emitting a crimson glow. He was like a banner, inspiring not only his allies but also ensuring that his figure was clearly visible to the enemy.

A brave warrior raised his gun, but before he could pull the trigger, he was stopped by his comrade.

"Catch him."

"My companion said, then raised his hand, and two Chaos Predator tanks rolled over the corpses on the battlefield and charged forward. They aimed at the walls of Halsridge's hive city and opened fire, attempting to create a large hole there.