Warhammer 40 Spring: Loyalty of the Multiverse

Chapter 188 Silent Loyalty

As the saying goes, when the snipe and the clam fight, the fisherman benefits; when the mantis stalks the cicada, the oriole is behind.

But in this unpredictable ghoul star field, who are the snipe and the clam, who are the fisherman, who are the mantis, and who are the oriole and the cicada?

No one could guarantee anything. Tie Hui stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the selected soldiers below undergoing intensive training.

These soldiers were not only selected from veterans, but more importantly, they would serve as reserves for Astartes.

"War..." Tie Hui's eyes glazed over, as if he had been transported back to the peaceful life of his past life. That kind of war that only existed in his memories and on the internet, which they endlessly joked about and absurdly mocked.

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but feel sad again, wondering why he had to choose to come to this cesspool-like world.

Those who come into this world have only one mission from birth: to serve war. Even after death, their souls may still be used to wage war in the warp.

"What the hell!" His eyes slowly turned fierce, and after cursing, he turned to continue his mission.

His mother is Warhammer 40k!

"For the Emperor!" A political commissar brandished his explosive pistol and shouted encouragement to the Astral Army soldiers in the trenches behind him.

These interstellar soldiers showed no fear or despair, only numbness—a deathly numbness.

In just half a week, the political commissar of their front line, facing the frenzied attacks of the Chaos Aliens, had already been replaced three times.

The companions beside me have changed to the point where I can no longer remember their faces or names.

Various kinds of ash floated in the gloomy sky; it was hard to tell whether they were iron filings or human tissue.

But the occasional roars and deafening footsteps from the mist in front of their trenches told them that the enemy was about to charge.

With the bayonet attached, he held the laser gun by the middle with his left hand, while his rough right hand braced against the sticky, prickly bloody mud made up of iron filings and pieces of corpses.

With a sudden burst of strength, he pushed off the trench with one foot, leaped out, and silently launched a counter-charge towards the direction where the political commissar was charging.

呲呲呲——

Before they had gone very far, countless attacks rained down on them from the gray mist opposite.

Upon seeing this, the political commissar at the forefront narrowed his eyes. He had just raised his explosive gun when dozens of shots shattered him into dust, sending his soul back to the Golden Throne.

The numb Astral soldiers, whose front ranks lay across the muddy battlefield, were wiped out. The Astral soldiers behind them, seeing this, showed no panic whatsoever; instinctively, they lunged forward, ignoring the filth that resembled a fermenting cesspool, and began firing their issued M35 Galaxy-type laser guns into the thick fog ahead.

For a time, the back-and-forth fighting was quite lively. Although the political commissar who was supervising them was dead, they did not retreat, but they no longer charged forward in a suicidal manner like the commissar.

With the battle now at this stage, air support has ceased all activity since yesterday. All vehicles on the ground have essentially been turned into smoke-belching bunkers or scrap metal embedded in the rough, muddy ground.

Heavy firepower has been almost completely exhausted, leaving only the infantry. However, the enemy continues to arrive in waves. Of course, their current situation is similar to their own, but with the constant support from the subspace, they will eventually be worn down.

The uniforms of the surviving soldiers are now tattered and worn, making it impossible to identify which Star Guardian unit they belong to.

But now, without exception, they have all become elite veterans. Knowledge gained on the battlefield through risking one's life is always more useful than theory.

"Offer my skull, sit upon it; offer my blood to the God of Blood!" "Let my blood bathe my body!"

The figures in the mist finally appeared; they were a group of chaotic mortals corrupted by the power of Terror in the warp.

Their eyes were blood red, and some even had faint, demonic brown horns growing from the sides of their heads.

No matter how tattered or gorgeous their clothes were, they were all blood-red, as if they had just been washed out of a sea of ​​blood.

They charged forward frantically, their eyes filled with excitement and no fear.

The Astrakrian soldiers lying on the ground and behind cover all had their pupils shrink at the sight. Some veterans and higher-ranking junior officers waved their hands to signal the troops to retreat into the trenches.

After saying that, he ignored everything else and led some comrades who still seemed conscious to retreat towards the rear trenches, where they provided mutual cover fire.

But... a large portion of the Asgardian soldiers remained standing there, stunned. They stared blankly at the charging Khorne cultists ahead.

In their line of sight, above the charging Khorne cultists, a colossal, blood-red figure was watching them.

This caused their eyes to turn blood red, their bodies to tremble slightly, and their faces to become extremely ferocious.

The war reached its climax, with endless followers of Khorne, but the Astragalus troops in the trenches were dwindling in number.

As the war progressed, their faith in the Emperor became almost meaningless. But in this certain death, there had to be a belief that sustained them, even if they didn't believe, and made the Emperor their pillar of strength to keep fighting.

"For the Emperor!" A company commander, his face numb, fired the last laser attack. The energy batteries in his weapon were finally almost depleted.

After uttering those words numbly and calmly, he picked up his gun, climbed out of the trench, and rushed towards the sea where the Khorne followers were still a dozen meters away.

The surrounding soldiers numbly crawled out of the trenches, regardless of whether their laser guns had any power left. They knew there was no going back!
They all silently shouted, "For the Emperor!" Even though each person shouted in a calm voice, the sheer volume of voices still caused a small ripple in the subspace.

Khorne glanced at the scene out of the corner of his eye and then stopped paying attention. But this only made the Khorne followers charge forward with renewed ferocity, as if they had been injected with a berserk potion.

Some mortals who have become noticeably demonized have even begun to completely discard the rest of their human parts.

This time, there was no so-called political commissar, and both sides began charging at each other. Their weapons clashed repeatedly until the distance between them was reduced to just a few meters.

The attacks became increasingly intense; for every meter they advanced, they were stepping over the corpses of those around them. Many were tripped over the bodies that had just fallen a second before being trampled into a bloody pulp by those behind them.

In the final two meters, everyone exhausted the energy of their laser guns and launched a full-scale charge. The remaining few thousand Astral Army soldiers crashed heavily into the red tide.

The two sides' melee weapons clashed, blood splattered, limbs flew everywhere, internal organs slipped out, and they were trampled into dust, turning into bloody mud underfoot.

Less than ten minutes later, the battlefield was shrouded in the final sound of a human body being cleaved apart. The battle was over!

Those valiant Astral Army soldiers returned to the Golden Throne, just as the armies of these Khorne followers were celebrating their victory.

Suddenly, a bright white light shone in the gray sky, and they looked up in confusion.

boom--

(End of this chapter)