Dedicate loyalty to the good empire

Chapter 97: I am going to dismantle Titan? Part 2
Everything we do is for the day of ascension, my brothers of our race. When the tentacles of the Great Devourer reach us, all our sacrifices will be worth it.

————Recorded in Austin before the third type of Earth planet fell to the Zerg attack, a heretic priest's wild words.

Taylor now kept talking about his misfortune. The bad luck didn't seem to be there at other times, but it happened at such a critical moment.

Now it seems those Genestealers have become even more cunning.

No longer afraid of death.

For example, now he was aiming at a Genestealer supervisor and wanted to shoot, but a steady stream of hybrids surrounded him, eager to take his bullet.

Although a few fragmentation mines can clear an area, those things will fill the place again like a tide.

The Genestealer's followers shouted as soon as they saw Taylor.

"It's that heretic!"

"The heretic who killed our Son!"

"The Four-Armed Divine Emperor is above, and the throne is above!"

"Our Saint and Nest Master are witnessing our honor!"

"For the Four-Armed Emperor! For the Great Devourer!"

Taylor felt his scalp tingling as he rewarded them with more explosive bombs and lasers. He patted his ammunition rack, which had quickly shriveled up.

This feels more terrifying than spending money recklessly. After all, it is almost a race against your own life.

He asked. "Is Ferenstein ready to start?"

Katie emphasized. "The engine is warmed up nicely, the power is back, and it can fight its way out!"

Taylor said frankly. "There are too many enemies, estimated to be tens of thousands. Fueled by faith, they're as deadly and insane as Krieg. But they're probably no match for the Krieg brothers. That's the only good news."

Taylor looked at the dark mass outside the telescope. They became a dividing line, trying to devour part of the empire's military forces.

According to the information sent by the communicator, the artillery regiment has been destroyed and half of the Krieg Corps will also die. It seems that Taylor has little chance of survival.

He sighed, drank some more coffee, and said, like a green man intoxicated, "Let Ferenstein roar."

"rush!"

Ferenstein's engine roared, and the whole car rushed out of the pothole at an extremely fast acceleration, and then relied on the power of downhill to add an amazing impact force on its body.

In an instant, countless enemies were torn apart by Frenstein's ramming horns. The chariot crashed directly into the Genestealer's supervisor, and in a moment, tore the existence holding a one-handed laser and dressed like an Imperial Commissar in half.

The damn black blood of the Zerg covered the observation window of the vehicle. After Taylor wiped off part of it with a waterproof cloth, more deaths and more black blood covered the view again.

Taylor cursed. "Don't slow down! I'll crawl out and observe the situation. Follow my instructions!"

Ms. Katie said trustingly. "Yes, Boss!"

Taylor climbed out of the vehicle, half of his body sticking out, holding a saber and a laser. At this moment, some of the Imperial Guards who were still holding on saw his appearance and shouted.

"It's the loyalist, the Undead Baron!"

"On the throne, what an honor!"

"He used that knife to kill a tyrant worm. It was a killing blade from an axe worm. My god, it's simply legendary."

"Brothers, we will definitely survive! Shoot, shoot!"

But Taylor didn't hear those rumors. At this moment, all his attention was focused on the damn enemy.

He raised the blade and skillfully cut open the shells of several Genestealer purebloods that jumped onto the car, then gave orders to Ms. Katie.

They were so in tune with each other, it felt like a match made in heaven. The car shuttled through death, and Taylor's presence gave countless morale and hope to many Imperial Guardsmen. Although the Titans were still advancing in the distance and the Genestealer bastards kept crawling out of the ground, the Emperor's light did not abandon this world.

Local militia and Freeblades arrived late, and with the help of additional firepower and the militia's active supply transport, the Empire's front began to advance again.

However, Taylor was not so optimistic. After all, the Titans were still there, a large number of Dark Mechanicus were still there, and Dragan's plan had actually been declared bankrupt.

He just felt very weak now, as if he was walking on cotton, the soles of his feet were floating, and he was barely surviving in a bubble called victory.

However, he still showed his signature service smile, which was a perfect "loyalty" expression after being trained time and time again by old man Tychus.

Eight teeth, bright and loyal.

He was like a living statue, fulfilling his responsibilities.

It wasn't until he saw the number of Genestealers growing larger and larger that Frenstein had to stop, as even its engines and armor, which exceeded those of a normal vehicle, could not withstand such a large number.

Because in the distance, a shrine was being lifted up by a bustling crowd.

It was a golden object, with intricate relief carvings and shimmering bulbs, and an abnormal psychic aura covering it.

A beautiful woman stood on it, but she was bald, with abnormal chitinous protrusions of Genestealer on her forehead, and she was wearing a heavy robe.

She was wearing a gorgeous gray-red dress, just like the legendary red-robed bishop, but she had four arms, crossed in the posture of a penitent, with her eyes closed.

Her clothes were like a large reddish-brown straw raincoat with a high collar that covered most of her head, but it was definitely not bulletproof.

But Taylor never cared about propriety, righteousness, integrity and shame, and he didn't like to respect the old and love the young on the battlefield. After all, God knew what those "old" and "young" were.

He raised the plasma gun and shot at the damn saint without hesitation.

Under normal circumstances, the bullet would most likely be blocked by the bodies of crazy religious believers, or deflected by the bullet-deflecting force emitted by the shrine.

But Taylor's attack hit the target.

Under the burning of plasma, the saint's head completely disintegrated and dissolved, turning into a ball of hot rotten flesh.

The hit was so accurate.

After the beautiful body fell from the shrine, the entire battlefield fell into silence for about 3 seconds, as if the entire battlefield was thinking about what had happened.

Until the silence ended, the believers frantically snatched the flesh, hair, and bones from the saint's body, and then roared like beasts.

Those farther away looked at Taylor and called him names like "demon," "thug," and "the assassin of St. Peter."

Actually, those nicknames are not bad, much better than the weird names like Undead Baron that combine vampire and Slaanesh.

But the malice behind those words probably cannot be hidden.

In an instant, the entire battlefield began to move forward with Taylor as the core. The gene stealers lost their rationality and chased after Ferenstein.

Taylor had to let out a terrifying scream to declare his bad luck.

At first, he just thought that killing the saint would make those guys collapse and fall like the greenskins.

But the reality is that destroying statues of faith and leaders has always been a taboo in war, and the current situation must be considered when taking action.

Now there is good news and bad news for Taylor.

The good news is that the death of the saint gave the empire a chance to breathe.

The bad news is that this opportunity only requires the life of one unlucky person, and that person is Taylor.

(End of this chapter)