Warhammer: Saving Humanity Begins with the Resurrection of Horus

Page 194

Lesander took a deep breath, and then his gaze hardened.

"But I know that now, the power is on our side."

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Peturabo's face was so gloomy it was almost dripping with water.

The Ironblood, located at the rear of the fleet, successfully escaped the attack, but the warships at the front of the fleet were almost completely destroyed. The data report was presented in just a few seconds, and upon seeing the loss of more than four hundred warships, Peturabo pulled the cable from the back of his head, disconnected the connection, remained silent for a moment, and then burst into laughter.

"Hahahahahahahaha............."

He laughed loudly, and the steel warriors around him looked at each other in bewilderment. Several old men quickly shielded the group of newcomers in front of them, then swallowed hard, nervously awaiting their father's next outburst of rage.

Surprisingly, Peturabo did nothing but stand there and laugh.

The entire command bridge of the Ironblood was filled with an eerie atmosphere. Everyone held their breath, afraid of joining the brother who had just been hit by the flying head punch.

However, just as mentioned earlier, Peturabo really did nothing. He didn't kill anyone, or even get angry. He just laughed for a full minute, and his huge, monstrous body made a rumbling sound, like the roar of an engine or the beating of a heart.

A minute later, the laughter stopped abruptly.

"Notify all troops."

Peturabo issued the order without a trace of emotion.

"Target Amigidoton, forget about all other targets, just drop virus bombs on it."

The Lord of Steel remained expressionless.

"I want them dead."

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Roger Dorn removed the spear from its prepared pedestal, where a blue gemstone, now cracked and devoid of luster, resembled a blue stone.

But in reality, this very stone contained most of the energy needed to unleash the psionic lightning on Peturabo.

Around the base, think tank members from various warbands sat cross-legged at various nodes of a huge magic circle. At this moment, these think tank members were in their own critical situations. Some were fainting on the ground with blood flowing from their seven orifices, while others were given a stimulant by the apothecary and then handed over to the technical sergeant to be rushed into the fearless mechs that the warband had prepared in advance.

Thank you, Father.

Roger Dorn looked at the spear and thought to himself.

Ten thousand years ago, the emperor personally handed this sacred object to him and instructed him to build a tower and draw a magic array according to the blueprints in times of future crisis, so that the power contained within it could be activated.

Ten thousand years later, he finally succeeded in extracting this power and activating it.

However, the person he was aiming at was one of his own brothers.

He was also a traitor.

Roger Dorn rarely showed a hint of emotion. He gave a self-deprecating laugh, then turned and walked out of the tower.

What follows is the real drama of this war.

Chapter 228 Flesh Millstone

Have you ever seen a millstone?

This is a tool used in the most remote imperial worlds, where every harvest season, farmers would carry sacks of grain on their backs and walk for kilometers to the lord's private mill.

Here, they pour grain into a millstone, and then let domesticated animals pull the heavy millstone to slowly grind the raw grain into coarsely processed flour.

Von Erik didn't know what a millstone was, nor did he understand why farmers would carry sacks of grain and use such an inefficient method to perform preliminary processing of the grain.

The Empire is an absolute bloated corpse, with many things about it inefficient and incompetent. However, on Amegiddon, in this world of the Empire, the locals have an inner drive for efficiency due to the crises of the past many years.

The people of Armageddon exhibit an efficient attitude in their daily lives. When it comes to food, they generally choose items similar to portable military rations. Besides being stored in large quantities in these warehouses, these foods are also imported in large quantities every year from Imperial transport fleets or itinerant wanderers.

It is said that this kind of food is produced by the mechanical religion through certain means, which transports the grains harvested in the agricultural world in a unified manner and then produces them all at once on an assembly line.

So Eric, who grew up eating this kind of food, couldn't understand what the old soldier from another planet meant by the millstone.

At that moment, the veteran just smiled, then took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. After checking that there was no political commissar around, he cautiously started smoking.

"I wanted to tell you that..."

In the darkness, Eric frowned as he smelled the smoke. He looked at the flickering firelight and the indistinct faces in the firelight, and heard what the other person was saying.

"We're on a giant millstone right now. But I think you understand, since you're from Armageddon, a member of the Steel Legion. Even if you're just a recruit now, as long as you survive, you'll inevitably see countless millstones, big and small... But honestly, I feel that no matter how unfortunate your future may be, you'll never see a millstone as huge as this one again."

Eric couldn't understand it at the time, but soon, on the first day of the war, after seeing the meteors being dropped from the enemy's warships, he finally understood.

The battlefield itself is a giant millstone, except that the millstones used in the feudal world are made of heavy stone, while the millstone of the battlefield is made of blood and fire.

The blood of the soldiers who fought on the battlefield, and the fires that ignited by their fighting.

"Everyone, put on your gas masks!"

The political commissar of the company shouted loudly. He was wearing a black overcoat and carrying the first chainsaw sword, which was still cooling down. Behind him followed his entourage and military police, who were carrying boxes that, when opened, revealed neatly arranged gas masks.

"Come and take what you don't have! Take what you have that's broken too! Don't hesitate! Save your own lives! So that they can serve the Emperor on a more valuable battlefield!"

Eric took a deep breath, and suddenly, he felt that the gas mask on his face wasn't so useful after all. He hesitated for a moment, then walked over to the political commissar and took a gas mask from the box under him.

The political commissar nodded at him, then raised the chainsaw sword high and shouted in a powerful, infectious voice.

"Soldiers! Fear not! The great Emperor is with you!"

Why did he have no time to listen to the political commissar's passionate calls? He hurriedly took off the gas mask on his face and put on the brand new gas mask he had just received. His youthful face was covered by the thick mask. In just a moment, he became different from the people around him, and then he became exactly the same as the people around him again.

These soldiers, wearing gas masks and black coats, and carrying light guns or automatic guns, stood on the city wall. They all looked outside the wall and saw the small black dot that had fallen from the sky and was rapidly moving towards the ground.

That was the enemy's first offensive, and the second sign that the war had officially begun.

"Boom!"

The earth trembled, and Eric's chest heaved uncontrollably. He looked out over the city walls and saw a massive mushroom cloud suddenly appear in the distance, about 3 or 5 kilometers away.

Immediately afterward, from within the smoke and dust rising from the mushroom cloud, a thick cloud of black mist burst forth and rapidly spread toward their location.

The black fog was moving very fast, giving the impression that it was even faster than the Leman Rustank traveling at full speed.

Within minutes, the fog enveloped the people on the city wall, and some soldiers who hadn't had time to put on their gas masks stared wide-eyed in disbelief.

They collapsed to the ground, clutching their throats with their own hands, their bodies contorting like fish in agony, until blood flowed from their seven orifices, and they died a miserable death.

The political commissar walked up to a poisoned soldier, drew his explosive pistol from his waist, and gave the soldier a rude awakening.

"Don't let your comrades suffer!"

He shouted angrily.

"Let's avenge them next!"

Eric took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. He wasn't exactly a complete new recruit, or rather, those who could be selected for the Steel Legion on Armageddon weren't exactly newbies.

These people have basically grown up in this world of war since childhood. They are used to war and the smell of gunpowder.

This is why the Armageddon Steel Legion is so famous in the Empire; excellent recruits form the foundation of an excellent legion, and also the basis for its dazzling glory in the Empire.

Moreover, not long ago, Eric had just participated in the war against the orcs.

However, even so, he felt tense at this moment, as if the enemy he was facing this time was completely different from the enemies he had faced before.

He wasn't sure where this feeling came from, but he could vaguely sense that something was appearing in his mind.

He looked up, and there were still faint traces of the golden lightning tree that had originated from Hades' capital. This lightning tree had shocked many people.

But for Eric, besides the shock, he also had another feeling.

A strange feeling.

He shook his head, clearing the jumbled thoughts from his mind. "Meteors" began to appear in the sky—those were the Iron Warriors' drop pods; these death angels, who had betrayed the Emperor, were now bringing death to the Empire.

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Roger Dorn stood in the command room, silently watching the image of the planet Amigiddon's surface that kept showing red dots, analyzing in his mind Peturabo's possible next offensive strategy.

Rogdorn knows Perturabo very well, perhaps even better than he knows himself.

After all, during the Siege of Terra ten thousand years ago, the two of them had engaged in countless battles on the high walls of Terra, analyzing each other's psychology thoroughly. As tactical masters, they both understood the simplest of principles.

That is, know yourself and know your enemy, and you will win every battle.

Originally, Roger Dorn had some doubts about his own understanding.

After all, he had been trapped in the Demon Realm of Khorne for ten thousand years.

A person's character can be shaped in a few decades, so how much would ten thousand years change a person's character?

This is why Roger Dorn dares not fully trust the impressions in his mind.

However, after his first communication with Peturab, he once again believed his impression.

Perhaps I shouldn't have doubted myself.

That's what he thought.

After all, although steel may decay, it will not change its essence. No matter how much time passes, the giant baby will still be the same giant baby.

If that's the case, then I can roughly judge what tactical moves Peturabo might make next.

"Messenger! Please take note of the following adjustments I'm making."

"Yes, Lord Dorn!"

The messenger, dressed in a blue robe, immediately approached Rogdorn. His modified body began to move, with two pairs of steel arms embedded in his back, one holding parchment and the other holding ink and a quill, waiting to record Rogdorn's next orders.

"Reinforce the Tarshan-Helsridge defense line with the 4th and 11th Astartes Columns, plus two Astral Legions; the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 7th Columns, plus the 1st Armored Regiment of Armageddon, will guard Hades and establish a rapid reaction force outside to execute the Anvil Tactics; the 10th Column, plus five siege regiments and three heavy artillery regiments, will be stationed along the southern waterworks line of the main continent, ready to intercept the enemy at any time; the 12th Column, plus twelve guard regiments, will protect the hive city of Kolomb; two Titan legions plus the Knight families will guard their respective hive cities, paying attention to enemy Titans and Knight mechs, and should not engage the enemy alone; the 1st Column will serve as the general reserve. Do not move."

After Roggle Dorn finished outlining the ground battle plan, he looked up at the messenger whose image had already been written down, waited for two seconds, and then spoke after the messenger finished writing.

“Repeat it for me.”

"Yes, Lord Dorn. Reinforce the Tarshan-Helsridge defense line with the 4th and 11th Astartes Columns, plus two Astral Legions; the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 7th Columns, plus the 1st Armored Regiment of Armageddon, will guard Hades and establish a rapid reaction force outside to execute the Anvil Tactics; the 10th Column, plus five siege regiments and three heavy artillery regiments, will be stationed along the southern waterworks line of the main continent, ready to intercept the enemy at any time; the 12th Column, plus twelve Royal Guard regiments, will guard the hive city of Kolomb; the two Titan Legions, plus the Knight Families, will guard their respective hive cities, paying attention to enemy Titans and Knight Mechs, and should not engage the enemy alone; the 1st Column will serve as the general reserve. Do not move."

After listening to the messenger's retelling, Rogdorn nodded and dismissed him to quickly relay the order to all units.

Over the past few days, Rogdorn has integrated all the Astartes forces, dividing them into columns based on the characteristics of each chapter, to facilitate unified management and deployment in the upcoming battles.

Thanks to the Primarch's influence and the support of the various Sons of Dorne chapters, the decision was not met with much resistance and was carried out very easily.

And now, the efficiency demonstrated by this decision is also showing its face on the battlefield.

But it's not enough.