This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 332 The Order Has Been Issued (Two Chapters Combined)

What was the enemy's objective in launching this attack?
To establish a landing ground? Simply to seek glory? Or have his rabble gone mad again?

Instead of waiting for an answer, he quickly issued instructions to initiate a de-burdening process at the Antarctic Star landing site, while simultaneously drawing up the evacuation list and prioritizing the transportation of non-military personnel to the highest level.

The hatch slid open, and the messengers hurried about, relaying orders to every terminal.

Romulus's first reaction was not to defend stubbornly.

Of course, we still need to defend.

His gaze swept across the strategic map, highlighting the defensive array of the Antarctic Star landing site, but he was pondering a different question.

How much will the other party invest? And how much can I invest?

Unlike Peturabo's attack, which was almost a gamble, Romulus had a very high threshold for defending against Kadia.

He wasn't too concerned about the front lines; his main focus was on depleting the enemy's manpower through repeated engagements.

The dome of the command room projected real-time battle information. The chaotic assault troops surged towards the defensive line like a tide, only to crumble before the precise barrage of fire. He had seen too many similar scenes, and after each defeat of the enemy, he chose to abandon the pursuit.

Damn it, you're Primarchs, Primarchs of unparalleled nobility, how come you don't even dare to pursue the remnants of your army?

This nonchalant fighting style tormented Chaos to the point of near death. Time and again, the traps he prepared proved useless. Chaos's commanders often roared in the public communication channel, denouncing his cowardice, but Romulus just watched coldly.

Similarly, the two sides had very different command structures in naval battles.

Pralax, leading a group of Iron Warriors with Imperial Fist genes, commanded the navy with great ease. Unlike during the Great Rebellion, he didn't need to implement aggressive, disadvantageous base-trading tactics; he could simply conduct exchanges gradually.

Anyway, a steady stream of fleets are heading towards Cardia, one ship for another. How many warships does Chaos have to exchange?
Therefore, Romulus's first thought was how much of the enemy's forces he could tie down and how many of their fleets he could destroy in the landing operation.

If there are enough, then one landing site is enough; you can leave it there.

The enemy really underestimated their coordination ability.

"The plan was proposed by Kosolax, and the military force consisted of two Ramirez-class star fortresses and a full-strength escort fleet, including the Conqueror."

Ramses sent back a new message, accompanied by a dull tremor from the impact of debris striking the deck in the void.

At this moment, his soul was in the Warp, shining brightly. However, apart from some young demons who had not experienced the hardships of Warp society, the demons, including the Four Gods, were no longer fooled.

Romulus immediately recalled his experience of forging the world in Cyprus.

"He wants to drop Starfortress directly on it?"

Almost instantly, Romulus guessed what the other side's deployment was for.

"What is the purpose?"

"Sacrifice."

Ramses replied.

The surface and sky of Kadia belong to the Wings of Dawn. If the Chaos faction wants to carry out the ritual, they can only prepare in advance and then throw the ritual vessel onto the surface.

"That's very determined."

Romulus smiled.

"Let's see how much they're willing to give."

"Polax, draw some of the fleet to form a defensive line."

The ruler straightened up and ordered Pharax to prepare a defense plan.

"Get me the Eternal Expedition."

His voice echoed through the communications channel, simultaneously connecting with Grand Marshal Ledodes, who was commanding the Eternal Expedition.

"grown ups!"

On the other end of the communication line, Ledodes' resolute face appeared, with the bustling sounds of the bridge coming from the background. His eyes, fixed on the ruler, were filled with excitement and honor.

The two sides are old friends.

In the projection, Ledodes unconsciously straightened his back, and the battle scar on his face, which was slashed by Arthur during the duel years ago, was particularly conspicuous under the bridge lights.

Back then, Ledodes only hoped that the Elders could establish a firm foothold in the galaxy, so he chose to follow the magnificent Dawn Expedition, but he never expected that he would directly send the Primarchs to the pinnacle of power.

And now, Ledodes never expected that, after only ten years apart, Lord Romulus would once again bring them an even more glorious battlefield.

Those were several traitorous Primarchs, formidable enemies whom the Empire had always hoped to eradicate completely. They also represented a disgrace to Astartes. The Black Templars' absence from the 'Battle of Amegiddon' during the exile of Angron once caused Ledodes to beat his chest in frustration.

"I need the Eternal Expedition to descend for orbital defense, along with three branch fleets, to intercept any possible forced landing by the enemy."

Romulus began.

"Yes, my lord."

Ledodes looked surprised and confused, but still nodded in agreement.

To be honest, he rarely encountered this kind of slow, drawn-out struggle; for his main forces, pursuing a quick victory was the norm.

In past naval battles, either the Empire lost a sector in a single day, or the Empire achieved a crushing victory, without even needing to deploy the Star Forces on the surface.

"Focus on depleting the enemy's manpower; there's no need to engage in risky decapitation strikes."

Romulus looked at the Supreme Marshal's calm face and nodded.

They brought about many changes, and patience was one of them.

In the past, the Imperial Navy, the Space Marines' fervent pursuit of glory, and the dire state of the Empire always led them to choose more radical measures, and were always more easily exploited by Chaos.

Romulus, however, was more concerned with the distant future.

If a war started by Peturabo is this intense, what will become of the slaves chosen by the gods?

How much pressure will the four gods feel when they accept that they must pay the price to receive a reward?
This is merely the prelude to countless wars to come.

"We still have a long time ahead of us."

He offered words of comfort to the marshal who was seeking glory.

There will be plenty of wars to fight in the future.

"understand!"

Ledodes replied seriously.

Romulus then hung up the communication and began to calculate the details of the upcoming war.

Countless tactical parameters flowed through his eyes, and the lights in the command cabin cast his elongated shadow onto the metal wall.

A game has officially begun.

"I can't put all my eggs in one basket with Starfortress."

The command throne of the Steelblood emitted a heavy mechanical hum as Perturabo's fingertips manipulated the tactical panel.

"I cannot guarantee with absolute certainty that the fleet I send will completely annihilate the enemy, and the pressure from the evil god is also a factor to consider."

Inside the bridge of the Dawn, Romulus stared at the strategic star map, his brow furrowed slightly.

This is a concern.

"I need to take further precautions. I must ensure that the advantage I create on the surface of Cadia can attract the attention of the gods. The sacrifices cannot rely entirely on Starfortress for transport; a feint attack is needed first to put pressure on them while depleting those ships that try to take advantage of the chaos. The useless ships from various warbands are also qualified sacrifices. The ritual can be carried out using the demon engine. My war machines are not so easy to collect."

The Steelblood's engine emitted a deep roar, and Perturabo's metal fingers tapped unconsciously on the armrest.

"I need to eliminate as much of the enemy's manpower as possible, forcing them to take more aggressive actions. In this process, we must rely on Arthur and Karna to withstand the pressure. They are also very susceptible to the attention of the evil god, but the Star God fragments have been assembled. As long as they do not actively step into the warp, the impact will be limited. They can focus on surface combat."

Outside the porthole of the Dawn, flames surged, and Romulus's cobalt blue cloak swayed gently as he pondered.

This is the process.

"I must engage Romulus without losing the vast majority of the Iron Warriors' strength and carry out the decapitation strike."

Inside the command center of the Steelblood, a crimson glint flashed in Peturabo's eyes.

"I must ensure that, while Arthur and Karna tie down the vast majority of the enemy forces, we can achieve a two-on-one advantage against Perturabo, thereby securing victory in the naval battle."

In front of the Dawn's tactical holographic console, Romulus's finger hovered beside a gleaming gold spear, trembling slightly.

This was their tactical objective. Almost simultaneously, on two warships far apart, the commanders of both sides issued their orders.

Snapped!
Two different hands fell.

Inside the command cabin of the Steelblood, Perturabo slammed his metal hand heavily on the control panel, producing a dull metallic clang.

On the bridge of the Dawn, Romulus's hand landed lightly and precisely on the tactical panel, making a crisp click.

On the earth, countless lives and forces from all sides, stretching across the entire planet, began to flow like blood in veins. On the surface of Cardia, armored columns raised clouds of dust, mobile units formed a line, and battle cries rose and fell amidst the smoke of battle.

In the void, the steel torrents composed of countless warships, surging through the deep space of Cardia, once again stirred up their own waves. The engine nozzles spewed out dazzling tail flames, the turrets slowly turned and locked onto the target, and the carrier-based aircraft swarmed out of the hangar like bees.

"The order has been issued." x2——
"Urgent communication: We need to take over the logistics department for the evacuation from the Antarctic Star landing site."

A voice reached Commissar Alex's ears.

'Connect them to the fourth fixed line, hand over the N5 area of ​​the underground fortress to them as an office location, and transfer additional material data processing there.'

Alex wanted to offer advice as usual, but his mouth seemed to be sealed shut, and he couldn't open it no matter what.

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, and then he could feel fine beads of sweat forming on his neck and forehead.

"According to the command center's assessment, the Antarctic Star region is about to be subjected to concentrated attacks, and troops need to be deployed for defense."

'The Antarctic Star Fortress area needs to abandon its shallow defenses. Forces should be concentrated in the orbital gun area, defended by heavy anti-ship armor, and then further control the energy area. We must ensure the long-term operation of our air defense facilities and destroy them before the area falls.'

He tried to speak again, but no matter what he did, he couldn't control his mouth; the faint sound only traveled through his bones back to his brain.

Alex felt as if he were enveloped by something.

Is it chaos magic?
His first thought was of those evil creatures, and his immediate urge was to pull out his gun and give himself a quick death.

His mental abnormality made it difficult for him to determine whether he or his comrades were affected. However, for safety reasons, and because he might have mistaken his allies for enemies under the influence of witchcraft, he had to be the first to be dealt with.

He moved his fingers and found that they were equally difficult to move.

His body was also held down.

Alex began to struggle.

"."

With sheer willpower, he tore off the glue that seemed to be binding his eyes and pulled away the coat that was restricting his body. Commissar Alex then got off his chair.

At the same time, he opened his eyes.

The surroundings were bustling with activity. The passageways and seats were packed with people, who flowed through the passageways like surging blood, exchanging information with the surrounding officers who were like cells, as if exchanging oxygen.

On the tactical platform, the Lord of Cadia Fortress, the supreme commander of all the Cadia assault forces, was currently absorbing and processing the messages from these people with a group of Astartes advisors, and turning them into orders to be sent out.

Busy as always.

Noticing Alex's gaze, he couldn't help but cast a concerned look at him.

This political commissar's nearly three hundred years of experience leading troops enabled him to coordinate the distribution of supplies among various units and to conduct precise command in local battlefields. Many of his suggestions were of great reference value.

Alex was stunned.

There was no intrusion.

His own eyelids blocked his vision, and a military overcoat draped over his chest to keep him warm restricted his body.

Damn it, he actually fell asleep in the General Staff Headquarters!
The political commissar, who had once been strict with himself, suddenly changed his expression.

This is an absolutely unacceptable, elementary mistake.

"Political Commissar, you're awake."

An attendant stepped forward; they were responsible for providing food and supplies to the staff, and for providing first aid and rest when necessary.

Would you like me to take you to the rest area?

he asked.

"No need!"

He cleared his throat, wiped his face, and with one hand lifted the folded military coat to wipe away the secretions that had seeped from the corners of his eyes during his short rest.

Commissar Alex replied in a hoarse voice.

"I'm sorry, it was my fault."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Political Commissar."

The attendant brought over a drink to ensure normal metabolism and said softly:
"You're just getting old."

Alex suddenly looked up, his eyes, which held the weight of nearly three hundred years of war, meeting the gaze of the attendant.

The servant, who was much taller than the old body, instinctively showed a look of avoidance, as if he were facing an old, ferocious beast.

I stared at him for a while.

buzzing-

A ringing sensation struck my ears.

Then Alex turned around, panting heavily.

The truth is like a thorn in my side.

He was lost in memories.

Recalling the members who first welcomed back the original body.

Kwek has made a glorious sacrifice.

Sister Arabella abandoned her deep faith and now resides on Dawn Star as an educator.

The Sage Caldwell continued his scientific research, always striving for the truth.

Inquisitor Aglaia wields immense power, not only controlling intelligence networks among high-ranking officials in multiple star sectors, but also leading the Inquisition's Shield Order stationed in Cardia as they traverse various fortified cities, dealing with localized Chaos threats.

And those Astartes, the Emperor's angels.

The Commander of the Man-Eating Shark Chapter, Tiberos; the Marshal of the Black Templar Branch Fleet, Orlando, who was bestowed with the honor of being the 'Welcoming the Dawn'; and the Supreme Marshal of the Black Templar, Ledodes.
Familiar names flashed through my mind.

They have long lifespans; a dozen years is but a fleeting moment in their lives. They are still active on battlefields throughout the galaxy under the Primarch's command.

And what about him?
Alex clenched his fist, the wrinkles of his skin appearing starkly prominent at that moment.

He often joked about his old age and prayed that fate would no longer torment this old man, but when these words came from other people's mouths, they sounded so jarring.

He is old.

He's no longer of any use.

Alex took a deep breath, raised his eyes, and looked at the troops that were being prepared to be sent to the landing site on Antarctica under the orders of Lord Cadia.

He stood up and inquired about the departure time of the support troops.

"Three hours later."

An Astartes from the Dark Angels replied in this way, and then continued to focus on battlefield deployment.

Arax thanked the other party and then, unusually, accepted the servant's suggestion to arrange for him to rest.

But before that, there was one more thing he needed to do.

The political commissar strode forward, nimbly weaving through the crowd under the astonished gazes of his attendants, and arrived at the list of auxiliary troops to be deployed by the support forces. He then wrote down his name.

This is his right.

This is something he can still do.

He doesn't have much time left.

　P.S.: I wrote this a bit too quickly, so I'm posting it now.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)