This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 329 The First Month of War (Part 2)

The silence after the artillery fire ceased was the only sound.

The air was cold, carrying the acrid smell of burning weapons and the pungent stench of evaporating blood, a suffocating stench.

The entire fortress sank into the trench below the edge of the Cadia fissure.

The charred remains of tracked war machines piled up like dead beetles in an insect-killing box trap.

They were piled up haphazardly in the trench, overturned and disorderly, with traces of activity still visible on the upper layer. The tracks hung limply, as if dying beasts were trying to climb over the corpses of their kind. The only thing rising was a wisp of smoke and dust that drifted slowly.

Their heads were impaled on stakes outside the embankments of the trenches and on the roads leading to the high plains.

The heads served as turrets, some of which were equipped with weapon racks, while the barrels of other turrets were severed, with jagged breaks, as if they had been forcibly torn apart by brute force.

This is a peculiar fetish of the World Eaters; they also display decapitated tanks as prizes, each wreckage deliberately arranged in a humiliating posture, with the cannons lowered, as if bowing to the conquerors.

The dried-up ravines were filled with wet bones.

The rotten flesh had long been devoured, leaving only pale bones stuck to the charred soil.

The deceased's hands were fused with the burnt weapons, his knuckles curled up through his finger guards, as if he were still trying to pull the trigger, before he was buried in the mausoleum formed by the destroyed bunker.

On a high ground made of steel and bones, a Khorne Obliterator knelt on one knee, the weapon on his body vibrating with each breath, the chains and gears emitting a low hum, his movements devoid of any respect.

This is just a process.

The corpse beneath him belonged to a loyal warband; his gold-red armor was covered with gouges from slingshots and tears from chainsaws, like a broken tool.

He won the battle.

At the cost of several times the casualties.

[Thirty-five to one. 】

Such is the casualty situation for both the attacking and defending sides. Under the roaring firepower of the fortress, the existence of the Void Shield forces the attacking side to rely on slow-speed projectiles to unleash a barrage of ammunition, and then send assault teams to engage in close combat.

The Annihilator ignored the constant roars of commands echoing in its ears and then stretched out its hand.

His gauntlets had worn away, revealing the metallic ceramic steel underneath.

He reached his hand into the tear in the Space Marine's breastplate.

This was a highly effective wound; he inflicted it.

A precise chain axe strike slashed diagonally from the collarbone to the ribs, almost splitting the entire torso open.

The sensors under the gauntlets continuously fed data back to the Khorne Berserker.

Temperature: It is dropping.

Vital signs: None.

Internal structure: Disintegrating.

The feeling of running your fingers through the jagged, broken edges of a plate-like rib is like reaching into a bag of broken pottery.

The berserker found the heart.

His spoils.

A biological engine has just shut down.

It was warm, heavy, its muscle tissue still taut, retaining the stubborn memory of its last throbbing.

Puchi~
The berserker ripped it out; the sound of the tendon snapping was dull and damp.

He held his heart up to the visor of his helmet, as if on a pilgrimage, and pressed it against the breathing grille of his helmet through the cracked crystalline goggles.

The teeth clenched, and the metal ground against the flesh, producing a piercing sound.

Then came the deluge of information.

There was no taste, only data—a violent, raw stream of data that bypassed his taste buds and poured directly into his cerebral cortex.

He tasted his last thought, an electrochemical signal mixed with responsibility and steely stubbornness.

He tasted the trajectory of the power sword he had wielded thousands of times in his muscle memory, the angle of each parry, and the impact of the recoil on his shoulder blades every time he pulled the trigger.

He felt his loyalty.

That's a useless impurity that needs to be filtered out.

He absorbed anger, he absorbed combat skills, he absorbed the essence of being a warrior, and discarded useless emotions such as honor and sacrifice as waste.

He stood up.

However, the hunger in his stomach did not disappear.

Since setting foot on this cursed land, he has never tasted the soul again.

He looked around at the terrain made up of corpses and remains.

The sky was overcast, with flashes of light from airdrop pods rubbing against the atmosphere streaking across the horizon. Occasionally, the wreckage of massive warships could be seen falling, and above the thick clouds, there were dense bursts of flashes.

Through his damaged eyepiece, the world was reduced to its most basic form: living things and dead things.

Hunger drove him to see everything before him as lifeless; it was not a desire.

It is an instruction.

This command led them to breach a fortress and bury it in a crater on the surface of Cadia.

The obliterators take their first steps.

The vibrations are transmitted through the atmosphere.

The Annihilator's eyes widened slightly, a lingering look of astonishment flashing behind its murky glasses. An invisible pressure slowed its thoughts, as if time itself had become viscous.

Then, he saw a tall knight come up in front of him.

The first thing that catches the eye is the jet-black armor and the scarlet cloak, which spreads out on the windless battlefield like a solidified waterfall of blood.

He was so far away just a moment ago, but now he's so close—

Up close, you can see every subtle pattern and every magnificent engraving on the armor.

Phew!

The next instant, the head flew off.

The sound of the blade slicing through the neck armor was ridiculously crisp, like cutting through a hollow metal tube.

The perspective shifted several meters in that instant, allowing the Annihilator to look directly down at the vast plain below.

The obliterators saw it.

They are steel warriors.

Their allies are advancing under the protection of a barrier nearly five kilometers long, with metal armor removed from the fortress embedded in a sturdy adamantite frame, behind which are dismantled void shield generators and massive engines propelling the barrier forward.

Flames and sparks crackled and burst forth as the steel plates rubbed against the ground or as the heavy turret on the back of the tractor rotated.

The steel warriors are pushing their fortresses, forged from the ruins, to the front lines, to the next target that needs to be conquered.

Behind the protective wall, the closest force was the siege army of the Iron Warriors, who waited silently alongside the mortal slaves, closely following the ever-advancing high wall before them.

The Iron Warriors' artillery and heavy tank units launched a barrage from further rear, systematically bombarding the outposts and trenches surrounding the fortress, while projectiles carrying low-velocity explosives hurled high-explosives at the fortress protected by the Void Shield.

Each salvo shook the earth, and the shockwaves sent up waves of concrete mixed with shrapnel.

A considerable amount of firepower was deliberately poured onto the large open area in front of the fortress in order to clear the mines laid by the Cadia garrison.

Further back, in an area where visibility was so low that it was difficult to discern with the naked eye, the rebel warhound-class titans emerged from the smoke and clouds, swaggering into view.

These nineteen Titans belonged to the traitorous Mordred family. Due to the advanced power equipment of Caladion, these Titans, whose mobility far exceeded that of ordinary models, accelerated forward, and their deliberately modified speakers emitted a piercing shriek.

Behind them, a somewhat cumbersome Imperial-class Titan was slowly moving forward.

The two sides are approaching each other.

Once the void shields of both sides overlap, the most bloody close-quarters battle will begin.

The walls of the fortress began to tremble, seemingly left with no choice but to passively await the impending assault.

Huhu~
His head spun in the wind, and the Obliterator had never experienced such a clear consciousness. His gaze shifted to the other side as the head spun.

The Annihilator saw it: behind the knight was a surging black tide, a black tide composed of more than a thousand Astartes.

Those are raven wings, the raven wings of a dark angel.

The Destroyers had witnessed their might ten thousand years ago, when they galloped across the lands of the Trans-Pacific Union, crushing everything in their path.

Compared to those elusive white barbarians, these warriors are more orderly, more obedient to orders, and possess more advanced weaponry.

They are approaching.

As the forces focused on the siege, and the effects of chaos completely crippled the unblessed armaments of both sides, Ravenwing launched its own attack.

Just as it was about to touch the pale purple membrane of the Void Shield, the Black Tide suddenly paused.

Then came the charge!

A fleeting charge.

The first group of riders arrived at the enemy's lines, only a moment later than the explosive shells fired from their powered halberds.

As they tore through the flanks of the Iron Warriors, the bodies sent flying by the explosive blasts hadn't even hit the ground yet. This sudden attack ripped through the enemy ranks, smashing into those who stood in its way, the gravitational field instantly crushing the mortals beneath it into mincemeat, and halberds, having emptied their ammunition, began to swing, spraying countless droplets of blood.

Ravenwing, who had been advancing relentlessly, left the enemy's shattered formation behind. The steel warriors scattered in disarray, while enemies in other areas opened fire on Ravenwing, who had plunged into the attacking formation, with equally exaggerated reaction speed.

The Annihilator saw a Ravenwing Warrior walk past an overturned chariot.

Beside the car, a steel warrior wielding a plasma pistol had already aimed at him.

The Ravenwing Warrior's body sank, and the entire anti-gravity motorcycle tilted rapidly under his weight, avoiding the attack of the plasma. Then, he thrust out his halberd, and before the Iron Warrior could swing his power axe, the halberd, crackling with blue electric arcs, pierced into his head.

woohoo~
The anti-gravity motorcycle spun around once, the scorching steam spewing from its tail causing the surrounding mortal traitors to scream in agony. The Ravenwing Warrior slightly eased off, using the momentum to straddle the saddle again, and continued its charge forward.

The killing was carried out in one swift and decisive action.

Not far away, a Titan let out a mournful howl.

The Ravenwings' overwhelming offensive tore apart the Dark Mechanicus's protectors and broke through the defenses formed by these slaves who had devoted their souls to their evil faith.

Slow down and pass through the Void Shield.

He accelerated and threw the spear loaded with a massive amount of explosives.

The sharp spearhead pierced the Titan's weak leg joints, triggering a series of explosions before the Titan collapsed.

It's like they've rehearsed it a thousand times.

An untimely sense of nostalgia couldn't help but rise in the heart of the one who had perished.

This is the purest duel between Legion warriors.

A long halberd drew a cold arc, slicing through the gray helmet and the head inside. The ancient warhammer, carrying a thousand years of rage, crashed down, shattering the black breastplate. Bones and muscles turned to dust in the shockwave, and the heart and internal organs shattered into a bloody mist under the force field's vibration.

One of the Ravenwing Warriors suddenly convulsed violently, and a black, serrated spear pierced through his back and chest, lifting him off the speeding motorcycle. He grasped in vain in mid-air and fell like a raven with a broken wing.

The Iron Warrior's tactical visor had just flashed a red warning light when he was struck head-on by a speeding motorcycle. The moment he fell to the ground, the blue light from the overloaded force field generator crushed him and his armor into a flat, bloody sheet.

Broken armor plates rained down like metal, and the blown-off goggles spun in the air, refracting a blood-red light. Severed limbs rolled down in combat stances, and some fingers even pulled the triggers in a reflex.

The splattered blood flew everywhere, mingling with the torrential rain.

At the heart of the battlefield was the Lord of Knights, whose power was almost unshakeable. He was also the focus of the traitors' anger, and he dared to come among them and penetrate deep into the heart of the battle lines.

He destroyed the Void Shield's generator and severed the Warsmith's head.

Every strike he made was precise and deadly. Wherever his sword went, flesh and steel were torn apart as if they were thin paper. The traitors' carefully constructed offensive crumbled before him.

But this fearlessness will eventually come at a price.

A twisted desire burned in the eyes of the enemies; they had never imagined they would have the chance to end this legend with their own hands.

And now, fate has laid this opportunity bare before them—

How could they not go crazy?
They surged forth like a bloodthirsty herd, howling and roaring, filling the air with the filthiest curses and the most vicious oaths.

They swarmed forward.

They deserve to die.

boom! ! !
The noise stopped.

The roar surrounding them suddenly stopped.

A few seconds after the Ravenwings crossed the line of the Iron Warriors.

All sounds are silent.

Then the obliterator could hear a buzzing in its ears.

It started off low and gradually grew louder, like a sound coming from next door.

The obliterator could sense that its perspective had risen; it was the vibrations caused by the heating and impact of the atmosphere that were blowing it higher and higher.

The head spun up.

The sounds came rushing back.

Just twenty kilometers away from his line of sight, a large part of the fortress's seemingly indestructible walls had disappeared.

It vanished without a trace, leaving only the jagged edges of steel and the twisted, broken adamantite skeleton, still radiating a high-heat red light.

Boom!

Dozens more jets of surging metallic heat struck the Emperor-class Titan, which was dissipating heat, from different directions, tens of kilometers away. After a flash of light, a huge fire cloud rose into a mushroom shape. He felt the air bulge and more debris rained down. The behemoth, composed of tens of thousands of tons of steel, began to slowly tilt and then collapsed to the ground like an avalanche.

Finally, an endless heatwave swept in.

The spear of divine retribution fell.

He is out of sight.

The consciousness of the obliterator lingered for the last time on the crimson clouds in front of it, illuminated by the light from the rifts.

If you follow the camera upwards along the battlefield where Arthur is, passing through the clouds polluted by the poisonous fog, and arrive at the planet's orbital space, you will be able to see it.

[Orbital strike completed, initiating evasive maneuvers]
A massive strike cruiser began to climb, its huge angle of attack kicking up a massive amount of gas that scorched its ramming head to a crimson red.

Boom!

A traitorous Apocalypse-class battleship locked onto the cruiser that had strayed from its formation while maintaining orbital strikes. Its dense array of light spears spewed out flashes blessed by the warp, piercing through the Void Shield after a standoff of more than ten seconds.

Click!

Unable to adjust its attitude any further, the strike cruiser neither dodged nor evaded, its crimson ram plunging straight into the side of an Abomination-class heavy cruiser that was attempting to seize the spoils of war, scraped by the atmosphere.

Chaos and Empire are locked in a fierce battle, with countless warships of all sizes expending all their resources, aiming their shipboard weapons at any enemy in sight, and occasionally casting light spears at the ground, targeting densely populated areas.

Above the outer orbit of Cardia, a planetary ring composed of warship wreckage is slowly forming.

The Iron Warriors retreated, leaving behind several Titans and a long trail of corpses.

Watching the warship fragments fall from the sky and be obliterated by the surface anti-aircraft fire, Arthur sheathed his longsword, which radiated a faint golden glow.

"Your Highness, shall we pursue them?"

Samuel, one of the Ravenwing Mentors, shook off the filth from his halberd and asked Arthur, who had already appeared at the edge of the fortress, for instructions.

Behind him, riders with raven wings emerged one after another from the thick fog, their numbers growing ever larger. Although not all of them survived, their numbers were still astonishing.

More than 800 people returned, and the returning vehicles came with the sound of the enemy remnants' gunfire as they departed.

Some riders were injured, and some riders carried the wounded. Some of the wounded were pressed tightly against the seats, while others were laid horizontally in the gap in front of their laps by their comrades.

Arthur looked away from the burning corpses of the Annihilators.

Obliterators are typically dimensional blacksmiths from the Chaos Space Marines who are infected with a technological virus called the Obliterator, and are formed by the fusion of themselves, their armor, and a demon.

They can absorb any weapon that has been held for too long into their bodies, and can also generate weapon ammunition from their flesh by consuming materials and promethium. In battle, weapons can suddenly emerge from their flesh and blood to fire.

This bizarre mutation is usually more likely to occur in the dimensional blacksmiths of the Iron Warriors, but for some reason, the surface combat forces have discovered this mutation in the Khorne Berserkers more than once.

"Do not pursue, continue to maintain a flexible defense."

Arthur gave the order.

Annihilating the remnants of an army is indeed an incredibly glorious thing in a war.

But for now, there's no need for that.

"Yes, Your Highness."

Samuel led his troops back to the fortress in an orderly fashion, without any questioning.

No one knows how many conspiracies await in those wastelands occupied by chaos.

Khorne consumed one of his Archdemons, the Archdemon that created the first Annihilator during the Great Rebellion and was born from the first weapon created in the universe, causing the Rift to spread across the surface and launching the first wave of attacks.

As a result, almost all unblessed precision instruments on the surface of Cadia failed.

No one knows whether He will throw out another bet.

Arthur was certainly capable of going forward to close those cracks.

Romulus's decision was to ignore it, not to fall for it, and to focus on defense. Given the current casualty ratio, the enemy was much more anxious than they were.

Arthur turned and watched the enemy depart under the gloomy sky.

His figure disappeared into the sandstorm, heading to the next battlefield where he was needed.

November 1, 774 m41
Click~
Rubble and debris fell.

The defenders were repairing the breach in the fortress, while workers below were replacing the Void Shield's core, which needed cooling.

Troops that had been patrolling returned to the fortress to resupply and repair their equipment before heading to the next battlefield.

The Battle of Cadian Gates spent its first month amidst endless warfare.

The three fortresses have fallen, and the Blackrock Spire has been destroyed.

Cracks spread across the earth, and portals opened one after another.

The seemingly endless tide of chaos begins to crash against the next reef.

There are 1,297 seats remaining.

(End of this chapter)