This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 303 We Must Fight!
768.m41 November 8

Originating from the eternal rift in Kadia, the Blood God once again unleashed his roar that tore apart the real universe.

This roar swept over the believers caught up in the war, and the veil that had kept them from tasting blood collapsed with a deafening roar.

The master of war, the god of blood, overturned so-called reason with his rage, turning it to ashes.

The scrolling code on the data panel became a kill counter.

Within the furnace, the war machine could no longer endure the daily maintenance and grew sharp fangs.

The warships' machine spirits went berserk, killing their weak masters who tried to stop the carnage, and driving the fleet to launch an attack downwards.

At this moment, the curtain rises.

The rest will be handled cleanly and efficiently.

war!

Just as his master desired.

So-called rationality once held them back, causing them to hesitate, become indecisive, and turn them into weaklings.

Now, all reason that could have stopped them from waging war has vanished.

They can move on, to ravage the next place, to kill even more.

To brew more libations for the thirsty gods.

When the followers of the Blood God saw the warships start up and fire at the creatures of the earth, they cheered incoherently, plunging into the earth like a blindly overflowing torrent, swarming forward into the fire.

Most people are so consumed by a wild hunger that they cannot comprehend the objects of their attacks.

They were unaware that it was an important spaceport, or a fortress that could provide them with refuge, nor did they understand whether it possessed significant strategic value.

Just like the god who drove them to reap blood.

They don't care.

Come, let's fight!
-
Nokmond Sector Defense Circle, Crimson Planet.

On that wasteland shrouded in dust, human resistance is bringing this catastrophic invasion to a stalemate.

The traitor legion's ground forces formed a mobile battle line stretching for kilometers, passing through broken arches and over city ruins, surging towards the shattered city like a tide of vengeance.

They infiltrated every street, climbed hills made of building debris, and filled every crack in their path like filthy slime.

These traitors charged forward while chanting blasphemous battle cries.

Commissar Alex glanced at the screen during a break in command.

He saw a tall figure moving through the rebel ranks.

Those giants, clad in lead-gray armor, were the fallen Astartes. From the smoke-filled rear, they sounded distorted war horns, attempting to manipulate the battlefield to their whims.

He saw other Astartes wearing dark red armor, the color of rotting flesh, with brass ornaments on their shoulder armor, and some with twisted, giant bull horns growing from their heads.

The filth that had congealed on these monsters had formed thick scabs of blood.

The iron-gray Astartes slowed its pace, like a hunter releasing his hounds.

The hounds clad in red armor immediately charged out.

They pounced like mad dogs injected with combat stimulants, unstoppable like genetically modified bulls.

They showed almost no human characteristics, more like war machines shaped by anger.

The few iron-gray Astartes stand like sculptures, calmly surveying the battlefield situation like gladiators.

The crimson Astartes ran wildly on all fours, their furious roars almost shattering communication frequencies, as they brandished their chainsaw swords and battle axes.

Not far behind them, on a much wider plain, were the Chaos Knights who were attacking alongside these Chaos traitors.

Between the cracks in the veil of reality, countless crimson demons surged forth like a tide, their twisted forms tearing apart the laws of physics, their blasphemous roars echoing in the warp storm.

The casualty figures for the loyalists kept rising, and each increase represented a heroic sacrifice.

Their comrades were falling one by one into pools of blood. The artillery fire had never ceased since it began burning in the sky, the roar of the massive artillery array shaking the atmosphere, and the dust rising up obscuring the blood-red stars.

The dim light still illuminated the armor, and spears of light fell one after another. Astartes headed to the center of the ritual to sabotage it and stop the Blood God's minions from further infiltration. The Astral Army launched a massive wave of attacks, giving the enemy no chance to breathe.

They fought brutally on the land, every inch of soil stained with blood, swords, and cannon fire.

The shouts of charging and counter-charging never ceased, and the ashes of corpses covered the earth.

Alex turned his head and looked at his comrades who should have retired with him.

For millennia, the desolate ruins of the Eye of Terror have torn open wounds in the galaxy, unreservedly venting its fear upon the human empire.

But for every spring and autumn of these ten thousand years, Cardia has stood firm.

With unwavering faith forged in blood and bone, the fortress is impregnable.

Few are recorded as loyal souls who sacrificed themselves to defend the world of the Gates of Cardia; the tides of traitors, heretics, and demons have been halted by their sacrifice.

With them as role models, countless people around the world understand how elusive peace is in this darkest of times.

The starlight illuminating the Milky Way grew ever darker and more obscure, extinguished like a candle flame swept away by a gale. Countless navigators scratched in agony at their mutated third eyes, losing their way in the fading starlight.

The Eye of Fear pulsated, fel energy surged, and the tides of the warp distorted the nearby star systems into nightmarish shapes.

With a roar from the Blood God that pierced through the hazy star field, the blasphemous engines of the Dark Mechanicus spewed out thick, sulfurous smoke, painful faces appeared on the armor of the Chaos Space Marines, and maniacal laughter began to echo from the bridge of the traitorous Navy.

The dense fleets entrenched in the star sector have had their reins of reason severed.

The sword's edge pointed straight at the walls of the empire, ready to burn the hazy star field to ashes with its fury.

The Misty Starfield is ready.

The Great Ruler had long foreseen this war, ignited by the ambitions of Chaos, and the Misty Starfield was fully armed for the arrival of the Great Primarch.

Romulus's brushstrokes charted routes through the galaxy, which were perfectly executed by the national defense bulwark that commanded the legions.

The massive Imperial fleet patrolled the frigid deep-space currents, and outside the encirclement woven by hidden enemies, an equally powerful force began to converge, with all worlds receiving unprecedented reinforcements at the Primarch's call.

The magnificent banners of the knightly families fluttered alongside the glorious battle insignia of the Astartes.

The war machines of the Mechanicus, which stand tall on the earth, and the nuns, whose warriors are equally fervent for their faith, stand together.

The Astronauts' omnipresent warriors have been training hard for this moment, and for this very moment.

Participate in this battle that will rewrite the future of the galaxy.

"We have gathered here to fight, to fight in the name of humanity, to fight for the vision of the Primarch, and to fight for every inch of the land beneath our feet."

"Death will eventually come, but at least let us die on the battlefield. We don't need to dwell on the insignificance of the individual. Since we are well aware of the limitations of mortal bodies, we have only one purpose in gathering here."

"That's all they expect from us."

Let us fight!

"Let's bring victory back to Cardia."
-
The air was thick with incense, obscuring the view.

Unfinished documents flew everywhere, and the screen flickered.

This is the office building belonging to the Minister of the Interior.

The aged Minister of the Interior was restrained in his chair, his white hair whipped by the wind stirred up by the collapsing documents.

As he stared at the message in his palm, sweat dripped from his forehead.

That was a report urgently sent from the Primarch to Terra from the Misty Starfield.

"On August 8, 768.m41, the Mechanicus forces, led by Incaladion, in collusion with the Chaos traitors, launched a sweeping attack radiating from the Gate of Cardia to the surrounding star sectors, causing incalculable damage. This massacre and devastation continues to unfold."

"The Dawn Star Region Government hereby formally declares war on the traitors and will lead the armed forces of the Misty Star Region and local governments of various planets in an extermination operation against the invading Chaos forces."

"Any armed force entering the war zone must be subject to the control of the Dawn Star District government, and any act of disobedience will result in destruction."

A notice.

(End of this chapter)