bookbashuk Page 192
Page 192
[Gas can be compressed into a liquid state under high pressure, and this liquid is released from the gun chamber.]
I thought they would like this air from Barbarossa, so I specially modified the recipe.
More suitable for Mimanike models with metal casings.
These alien races are too naive. The Memaniks possess formidable physical strength, but their combat wisdom is not superior.
Hades nodded silently.
They're still too young.
Only hundreds or thousands of wars and bloodshed can mature a race, and the Memaniks have clearly missed that opportunity.
Green liquid splashed on the ground, immediately creating a thick fog. The shelling continued; the enemy had countless specially made shells. Soon, a huge green barrier stretched across the entire wasteland.
Cunning, brutal—the enemy's brutality exceeded Ou's imagination. Are these the humans who can contend with Randan? Even if they are incredibly vulnerable, do they still resort to such brutal tactics?
Its senses were being eroded, breathing became difficult, and a burning, unbearable pain climbed up on it. O covered its pores and tried to force its way out of the fog. It could hear the screams and curses of its companions. The general roared for them to keep going, but the roar soon turned into a suffocating sound.
My Death Guards, launch the attack!
[Bury them in this foggy field.]
O's speed was slowing down, but it was still staggering as it was about to run out of the fog. A third of its comrades had been lost, and it hoped that they had just fallen behind.
The deep green faded to a pale green; it was about to burst forth. Ou breathed a sigh of relief as a faint whooshing sound rang out, and the enormous four-legged alien abruptly halted—
The sharp scythe barely grazed its neck; the metal clashed, sparks flying, and Ou even saw a cold green light emanating from it. Death lingered on its neck, reluctant to let go.
The mist, like gentle waves, carried the cold armor, revealing a corner of the dull scythe. The black barrel of the hound watched them. The Death Guards silently stepped onto their home field, the empty eyepieces reflecting Ou's figure.
The snow continued to fall heavily, landing on Ou and the Death Guard.
Fear gripped it, and O finally remembered the frosty land it had once passed through, which it had never seen again since leaving its homeland.
There might be more, depending on whether I get stuck writing.
I haven't been feeling well these past few days. Yesterday morning, I was woken up by the pain. I struggled to get out of bed to take painkillers, and my vision blurred and my legs went weak, almost causing me to kneel down. Luckily, I didn't wake up my roommate.
I'll update this intensively during summer vacation. We'll all finish our exams on July 7.7th; there are exams every week.
Chapter 231 Hello, Alien Race, Your Calamity Has Arrived (Part 3)
The lush green mist settled at her ankles. She lifted her feet, watching the vapors cling to her shoes before reluctantly dripping down.
These are weapons personally crafted by Lord Mortalian. These weapons will not corrode the Death Guard's equipment, but will cause their enemies to perish in suffocating pain.
As a member of the Hound Hunters, this was her first time experiencing a real battlefield. Explosions, impacts, thick blood, and the roars of aliens left her dazed. But as the gunner of a Hound tank, her hands never stopped moving. Sweat dripped down her gas mask, and her eyes itched. She could only shake her head violently, desperately trying to open her eyes, and then press the cannon barrel against the alien's throat and fire! Fire!
Thick liquid spurted from the cannon barrel, hissing and breathing. Through the narrow scope, she saw the tall beasts rotting under the shells, blood and flesh dripping down. The Death Guards following beside the hounds did not hesitate to reap their heads. This was hell; they had created hell.
She mechanically repeated the movements taught by the technical experts on the training field. When the order to "rest" was given, she still stared blankly at the scope like a quail, nervously waiting for the order.
[Come out for some fresh air, little guys, well done!]
The technical sergeant on the outside of the hound tapped their vehicle with a wrench. The dull thuds echoed through the pipes and metal. After confirming that the war was over and they could leave the vehicle, the crew members crawled out. Because of the cramped space inside the vehicle, she realized that her legs were trembling uncontrollably, her muscles were stiff, and her protective suit was soaked with sweat.
[25, not bad. You helped kill at least 25 aliens, and your poison boxes were also used the most.]
The technical sergeant lifted them off the vehicle like chicks and began inspecting it. To her relief, apart from the commander and that slightly eccentric old man, everyone else was just as disheveled as she was. They huddled together, leaning against the hound, listening to the roar of the technical sergeant's electric drill.
Through their thick protective suits, the breeze from this strange planet touched them. She looked up and saw small, cold white dots falling from the sky. She had never seen anything like it before; her homeland had never witnessed such a sight.
She looked into the distance; the enemy's corpses lay quietly rotting on the ground. Sporadic gunshots rang out from the depths of the fog, and the reassuring footsteps of the Death Guard echoed faintly. She looked at all this as if waking from a dream. They had done it together; they had succeeded. "Praise be to the Lord of Death," she murmured, unable to stop stroking her hound companion behind her.
The solid feel of this enormous creature reassured her, and a surge of pride rose in her chest. She suddenly remembered the scattered words she had uttered during training, and, feeling a little guilty, she began again, "Praise be to the Lord of Death, praise be to the King of the Underworld."
Death gave them salvation, and Hades granted them power. Without Death and Hades, as a former slave of Galapagos, she would never have stood here. Perhaps she would have died on the alien battlefield, but the process of fighting alongside the army had made her death without regret. Life and death were given value; they were no longer corpses in the sewage river of Galapagos.
Names and beliefs possess a magical power. As she silently recited the name of Hades, she looked intentionally or unintentionally into the deepest part of the battlefield. A feeling of disgust surged up like an electric shock, then quickly dissipated. She seemed to see that tall figure in the mist. She blinked in confusion, but everything vanished.
The wandering knights moved silently through the mist, in the most intense part of the battlefield, in a place where the soil was soaked with blood like a field in early spring, Hades silently examined the corpses.
No, not at all.
Finally, Hades shook his head, signaling the two Ghost Riders to leave the area. The irrelevant Death Guards and Hounds were on the edge of the battlefield and could not observe their actions.
No traces of psionic corruption were found.
There was a brief silence on the other end of the channel.
[Hades, return to the ship now. Follow this route; the others have already been moved aside.]
[Motalian, were there any traces of psionic energy in your battles against the enemy ships?]
No, in reality, this race has almost no understanding or control over psionic energy; they only use Mandeville Point for the most basic navigation.
Both fell silent, and finally Hades hesitantly spoke.
If they are not of a different race, then we must look for the answer in the humans of this star system.
Mortarian let out a neighing sound, as if in a sigh.
This is why I hate people who use psychic powers so much.
The Primarch looked up at the giant map above the command center, which displayed the entire Ruster system, where a dazzling fleet battle was underway.
The good news is that, due to the enemy's underestimation of the speed and scale of Imperial support, the Death Guard has successfully captured the two outermost planets of the system and gained control of Mandeville Point.
Apart from the troops previously stationed on the outer reaches of the galaxy, they did not encounter fierce resistance from the enemy. The main force of Memanic was still attacking Just's home planet instead of immediately turning back to face the Death Guardians.
The enemy wants to bite down on Ruster and then turn around to counterattack. If they turn around now, they will face the fate of being attacked from both sides by the Death Guard and the Mechanicus. With a forging main star behind them, the Mechanicus can quickly recover their combat power, and then they will be even more difficult to deal with.
Therefore, the alien races chose to take over the forging star first. The powerful productivity of the forging star would also help their counterattack.
The closer they get to Ruster's main planet, the harder it is for the opposing fleet's defenses to break through.
Mortalian calculated that if Ruster, the main planet, fell, the war would deteriorate further.
Although the Primarchs were indifferent to these mechanical sages who arbitrarily worshipped gods, they did indeed need a fleet now, a fleet that could reinforce the main planet of Ruster. The Mechanicus on Ruster was teetering on the brink of collapse, and it was a miracle that it had lasted this long.
As Mortalian pondered, the door to the command room behind him opened, and Hades strode in, his armor adorned with tiny crystals of poison gas.
Hades took off his helmet, stared intently at the screen, and after a moment, spoke.
"We need to support Justus Prime."
"One fleet will suffice. As long as the main planet is not lost, the Death Guard fleet can slowly tear apart their defenses from the outside."
Mortarian raised his hand, interrupting Hades, who looked at him in confusion.
"In your opinion, who should lead this fleet?"
"I."
Hades answered without hesitation, “This fleet needs capable people, and among them, I know the Cult of Mechanics best.”
Mortarian was silent for a moment,
"This is assuming we didn't encounter that small boat."
Hades was stuck. He looked down in frustration and thought for a moment. Indeed, the warp's surveillance was still there, but Ruster could not be lost. Hades did not believe that Garo and Vox were capable of fighting alongside the Mechanicus. Any tactical mistakes caused by a lack of understanding between the two sides would be fatal. Those freaks might even deliberately sell out the Death Guard for the sake of victory, which was not uncommon.
"There are three Ghost Riders, two hundred and thirty-two Untouchables, and fifty-seven Think Tanks on the Endurance. Command is yours. That's enough for you, Mortarian."
Even in the most extreme case, if all the Untouchables were gathered together and killed, the anti-psychic energy field they unleashed before their deaths would be enough to overwhelm any warp creature, and they would be immediately expelled back into the warp.
Hades established the Untouchables for two reasons: first, to support his operations, and second, to ensure the Legion had a standing force so it wouldn't always rely on him. Even though Hades' abilities are currently top-tier, before the Great Rebellion even began, the Death Guard, this Untouchable force, was already considered Tier 1.
As long as the Endurance doesn't intentionally jump into the warp and suddenly fall ill, entering the warp turbulence and running amok while killing all the Astro Speakers on board, this team of Untouchables is more than capable of dealing with warp creatures in the physical world.
By the way, the example I just gave was how the Death Guard infiltrated the grounds to ambush others, and then tragically became corrupted, as depicted in the original work.
As for why it's so messed up, don't ask. The answer is that Karastifon's skill in convincing Mortalian is superb, but the current Mortalian wouldn't make such a stupid mistake. The Primarch is deeply aware of the dangers of the Warp, and Mortalian is even against entering the Warp for navigation, let alone letting the fleet wander around the Warp.
We still need to trust the barriers of the physical world. Unless it's pre-designed, places with altars, like the Endurance, won't be easily corrupted by the warp.
Oh, except for that time Hades acted recklessly, cough cough, an unexpected surprise.
Moreover, Hades could sense that the physical barriers on the outer edge of the Ruster system were not weak; on the contrary, the physical barriers here could be described as healthy. However, it was hard to say about the deeper parts of this system, Ruster's home planet Hades. Generally speaking, the higher the intensity of death, the more depressed people's minds are, and the more likely the subspace is to distort the real world.
Mortarian glanced at Hades, then began to arrange the fleet.
"You're saying the Endurance won't be in trouble?"
Hades hesitated before speaking, “It’s hard to say, but the subspace connections here aren’t very strong.”
Mortarian paused for a moment,
"Then you go, Hades."
Then Mortarian said something slowly and quietly.
"Sometimes I really wonder if you're a member of the Mechanicus or the Death Guard. Maybe approving your trip to Mars was a mistake."
Hades exclaimed in horror, "I'm a member of the Death Guard! Trust me, Mortarian! You see, I hardly ever talk to the Mechanicus!"
But Hades was thinking about being surrounded by the mechanical sages of the satellite cast by the Mint.
Mortarian gave him a look of utter disdain, as if to say, "You think I'm kidding?", and then issued an expulsion order.
"The Fourth Knight is ready, all soldiers from the Seventh Company. Hades, you can take over. After three Terra hours, we will cover your entry."
"If you need the power of the Zero Company, then take them with you."
Hades waved his hand. "You need them more than I do, Mortarian. Send them to ensure the stability of the main fleet."
"it is good."
Motalian didn't refuse. "Commander Hades, I order you to lead the Seventh Company to support Ruster Prime. The Seventh Company, the Fourth Knight, and their affiliated ships are all under your control. Act according to the situation and take them down."
Hades had already begun his hasty departure toward the door, raising his scythe and giving a simple salute as a response to Mortarian.
"Make sure you come back alive."
Thank you all for your concern... I'm fine! It's just that finals are keeping me busy, and with a writer's fragile and unhealthy sleep schedule, I might be going to be posting only for the next two weeks. But if inspiration strikes, I'll try to write more! _(:з」∠)_
I'll definitely update a lot during summer vacation, definitely, definitely, definitely! I'm counting, I owe four updates already.
Thanks for subscribing, happy reading! ('ω')
Chapter 232 Hello, Alien Race, Your Calamity Has Arrived (Part 4)
They are about to die, be occupied, be devoured, and the wisdom and efforts of dozens of generations will be reduced to ashes as the blasphemous alien race is about to touch the city of Om Messiah.
They had given their all, every drop of blood falling on the arid wasteland of Ruster. Every single person took up arms to face the invading alien race. The dilapidated production line was running at full speed, bullets emerging from the steel chains and being instantly loaded into the gun barrels. They had given everything they had.
But it's no use.
The best opportunity has been missed. The Great Sage, who was hanged by the angry sages, misjudged the strength of the enemy. His arrogant attitude towards the enemy led Ruster step by step into the abyss. Now the Great Sage's bones still hang at the top of the Ruster World Forge, beneath the gorgeous red silk is the scum despised by all.
No matter how much punishment is imposed on the dead, it cannot undo the sins committed by the guilty. Everyone will die, die under the swords of foreign races, and pay the price for the arrogance of the great sage.
God, save them! Ruster has forged a world, a dazzling mechanical jewel. The God of Machines will not tolerate His wisdom falling into the hands of a blasphemous alien race.
They were still praying, still resisting, still struggling, but the alien fleet covered the entire sky, isolating them from the outside world. Their only hope was themselves.
They received no news of outside rescue until the very last moment before the main planet was blocked.
They are inevitably sliding into the abyss, and in a day at most, everything in Rust will be stained with the filth of the alien race.
When they realized that the final outcome would still be destruction, people stopped actively organizing logistics and strategizing. They simply shouted the slogan of Om Messiah and rushed out in despair and misery. The blades of beasts mercilessly tore their bodies apart. Wires were wrapped around chunks of flesh and blood, piled up in a messy mess. Fat and blood made them greasy, and rust leaped and cheered like moss.
Perhaps the destruction of a world forged by a single forging is insignificant in the eyes of an empire as bloated as a behemoth, and makes no ripple in the selfish and ruthless Martian forging network, but in the eyes of the people who have lived in this forging world for generations, it is the end of their entire world, the inversion and shattering of the world they have always depended on for survival.
God abandoned them.
But even if God abandoned them, they were unwilling to abandon God.
A portion of the troops voluntarily withdrew from the defeated front lines and entered the factories where they had once lived, where they began to systematically destroy and burn the sacred machinery.
Holy oil was spilled on the paper that recorded knowledge and burned to ashes; the sculpted holy sword was removed and stuck into the engine; the sages began to destroy miracles that took centuries to forge; and some even trembled as they ignited their own chips to commit suicide after blowing up a factory.
Before the alien race even set foot in the main city, raging flames had already begun to engulf it, and discordant melodies echoed above the city—the groans of machines dying completely.
In the very center and core of the main city, Ra, who had succeeded the Great Sage, stood in despair before the World Forge, the part that occupied the core of the entire planet. It was an unrepeatable miracle in the history of industry, a vibrant and beating heart forge.
But now, he must personally stop this powerful heartbeat; it cannot fall into enemy hands.
Ra trembled, unwilling to be a sinner. The craftsman smashed the treasure with his own hands, and the wise man voluntarily burned the books. He was enveloped in immense sorrow and despair.
"Why? Why does Juste have to face all of this?"
"Lord, if you truly exist, why are you indifferent to the obscuring of knowledge? Is everything we trust still just a lie?"