Dedicate loyalty to the good empire

Chapter 226: Brothers' Battle, Part 3
Guilliman's armor absorbed the gas from the surface of the moon and analyzed the situation. He got the answer almost instantly through the residual promethium, blood and other complex components in the air.

He pointed his blade at Magnus, and even through the thick visor, the movement made people feel angry.

"Brother, you are totally wrong. You have brought us so much suffering along the way."

"You have become a pathetic slave to the horrible creatures of the Warp."

Magnus glanced at the brown Terra. "Perhaps..."

"I'm no longer myself, brother, but I still stand by my current thoughts and actions."

He raised his staff, a fiery psychic flame blazing. "The Empire is dead, the Emperor can never return to earth!"

"this is the truth!"

Guilliman drew his sword and lunged forward, the two giants' weapons clashing.

The sound of metal striking metal was transmitted through tiny media in the thin lunar air, such as carbon dioxide or dust, so that Taylor could also hear the warm vibration.

The mortal panted as he tore open a demon's head with his chainsaw sword, then looked at the battlefield between giants and demons, a place he never wanted to join in his life.

He shouted into the communicator. "Strengthen our defenses! Prepare for the enemy onslaught. Remember, the Primarch is with us!"

He muttered to himself, "With us? We can't do anything to stop them from fighting."

He glanced at the monstrous battlefield in the distance. It was the first time he saw Guilliman giving his all.

Although Taylor would secretly tease Guilliman about his poor fighting ability, when that exaggerated speed of movement really appeared in front of him, he couldn't help but think about it.

Even if it was Guilliman, could he possibly resist for even a second? For him, for Magnus, wouldn't crushing him be no different from killing an ant?

However, he didn't have much energy to watch the fight between the Primarchs. He just watched several Chaos Wizards waving their arms in front of him.

I don't know what those guys are doing, but it's probably not a good thing.

The moment they stopped, Taylor immediately held down the brothers around him and pinned them under the cover.

A scorching fireball exploded, and the scorching psychic energy even dissolved a lot of the huge ruins of a battleship.

Taylor couldn't help but wonder why he didn't have psychic powers?

Although he was a wizard space marine, who was more powerful than ordinary wizards, the power of this was comparable to that of a heavy laser cannon!

Think about it, a mobile humanoid laser cannon, what could be more exaggerated than this?

Taylor was now hiding behind cover and cursing. "Sister Leitlin, are you done yet?"

Just as he finished speaking, a hot depleted uranium bullet pierced through a wizard's head. When the other Chaos Space Marines noticed, the girl hiding in the mezzanine of the battleship ruins had already left.

She looked more like the Grim Reaper than Death at this moment. The pitch-black armor and the deadly depleted uranium sniper rifle, the large-caliber weapon penetrated her, and the wounds caused by just a grazed object were enough to cause her flesh and blood to fester.

She hits accurately and changes positions faster, deeply implementing Taylor's core idea, which is that it is better to run than to fight, and it is better to waste time than to run.

With the empire's endless resources, they will triumph one day.

After the wizard fell, a large number of Rubric Warriors and Demons also rushed forward. They were very resistant to ordinary caliber weapons, and Macragge's elite were all helping the Primarch.

No one cares about ordinary people like him, so ordinary people always try to survive. This is Taylor's core understanding of war: either survive or die.

He said self-deprecatingly. "Guilliman is the protagonist. I'm just an unlucky guy. When the Empire recalls this period of history, no one will mention the officer huddled in the corner."

"No one!" After saying that, he raised his plasma gun, and the scorching flames hit the chest of a Thousand Sons, penetrating his armor. Then other veterans shot at the sunken area of his chest at the same time, heating the wound again.

With a perfect coordination, the huge body of a Space Marine collapsed.

Taylor wanted to praise his old comrades, but had to face the sudden attack of a demon.

If his armor were torn, he would have to face the difficulties of being unable to breathe and rapid hypothermia.

Even if the repeatedly filtered air inside this damn armor smells like garlic and cumin, plus a mouthful of spit, it's still much better than suffocating!

Only this time he would have to suffer the worst, he thought.

I was daydreaming in class at that time and also forgot how to repair the gaps in the imperial armor.

At that time, no bubble glue will be used, and no armored plate will be added.

It is said that a good officer of a generation died before he retired because he forgot how to patch the gaps in his armor!
By then, his face would have turned purple and swollen due to suffocation, and people would have taken pictures of it and engraved it in the infantry manual. He would inevitably be treated as a bad guy and laughed at by the instructors of the Imperial Navy.

At this moment, he seemed to have seen a revolving lantern, and he wanted to remember how to go through those complicated procedures, but everyone has their own expertise, and he was not from the navy!
He thought quickly and prepared to cover the gap while taking the demon's attack, but before the sharp claws touched him.

The molten metal hit from the flank and instantly burned the demon to 12% done. Taylor was in a strange posture of covering his stomach, which was quite embarrassing.

He coughed, thanked Roland for his help, and cursed himself inwardly for being too suspicious.

He looked at the battle situation. They had suppressed the Space Marines without realizing it, which was understandable.

After all, the Thousand Sons were a group of inexperienced academic wizards, and even the Space Marines were not as formidable as the battle-hardened warriors who had come before them.

Taylor realized that he had overestimated them and was frightened by the Daemon Primarch, but the situation was not optimistic because Guilliman had begun to fall behind.

After all, the Lord of the Ultramarines is a hexagonal warrior who is good at strategy, governance, and fighting, but he is not strong.

He was completely clueless about psychic energy. If it weren't for the Emperor Sword in his hand, with its psychic flames that made him feel at ease like sunlight dispelling darkness, he would have been taken down by Magnus's poison long ago.

Secondly, Guilliman still has some brotherly feelings in his heart, although not much, compared to Magnus who has seen thousands of years of suffering and bloodshed.

To the Daemon Primarch, those brotherly sentiments were worth less than the dust on the ground.

The means he used were so vicious that it made people panic, but Taylor did not think he could help the Primarch in any way.

There are still many remnants of the Thousand Sons army and demons here, and the battle in the void has not yet been decided.

Unless the Emperor can still provide them with troops...

Thinking of this, Taylor saw several golden transport planes passing through the sky and landing in this troubled place.

He was still wondering if the heroes there were not afraid of death, but when several three-meter-tall golden-armored giants holding long spears walked out, Taylor's breathing paused slightly.

The Emperor is really good to his own children...

(End of this chapter)