Warhammer 40: My Fiancée Fulgrim.

Chapter 14 Little Captain (Part 2)

As dust rose, several dark dots appeared on a patch of yellowish sand dunes, growing larger and larger.

“wooooololololo—!”

They shouted discordant, primitive war cries as they rode motorcycles made from scrap heaps of waste, their engines humming and roaring across the ground strewn with rubble and gravel.

"Enemy is nearing the limit of effective firing range. Fire team, switch to laser rifles and prepare to fire."

Because they needed to carry a large number of refugees, the metal carts that Casca and his group chose were barely faster than running.

It's practically impossible to shake off these annoying flies just by speed.

"shooting!"

With Kasgar's command, a dozen crimson laser beams shot through the dust towards the small black dot in the distance.

Although very few of the fires actually hit the enemy, and even those that did hit were rarely fatal to the heavily armored motorcycle units.

This is what a flashlight looks like.

However, killing is never Casgar's goal. A barrage of fire, enough to provide suppression, is sufficient.

"Now, the escort team and I will ride our motorcycles together and flank them from the side!"

There are also differences between motorcycles.

Compared to those roaring, seemingly collapsing piles of scrap metal, their Carax assault mobile unit was like gods descended from heaven.

These off-road motorcycles, personally designed and improved by Fugrim, are highly adaptable to the environment of Chemos, traversing sand and gravel with ease and maintaining their speed.

A skilled craftsman can be worth a hundred skilled swordsmen.

Fortunately, Fugrim is both.

As he stepped on the gas and closed in on his opponent, Casca couldn't help but think this.

Facing the astonished Surfa people not far away, he pulled out the flaming pistol from his left hand.

A master-crafted incendiary pistol, custom-made for Casca by Fugrim using disassembled materials from incendiary weapons and reverse-engineered.

perfectly worked.

There was no intention to show off.

With a dull, solid hum and a deafening explosion, the unfortunate Surfaman and his beloved wild motorcycle burst into vapor, buried beneath the rubble and sand of Chemos.

Although the Surfa people are known for their fierce attacks and high mobility, they are among the most troublesome nomadic groups.

However, when facing the Casca, whose weaponry is a level above theirs, it is undoubtedly a case of modern troops brutally beating primitive people.

After their mobile units set off, the originally brave and skilled Surfa people were riddled with bullets before they could even get close, falling one after another to the enemy's superior weaponry and firepower.

In the absence of sorcery and force field shields, the superior firepower theory is often much more effective.

"All visible Surfa motorized units have been completely annihilated."

"Reconnaissance team, report the latest battle situation."

Casgar calmly put the pistol back into its holster.

However, before he could even feel happy for a moment, bad news came through the communication device.

"No, sir!"

"More motorized units are approaching your location!"

"The number of people rapidly approaching our troops is increasing, and even on our left side, a large number of unknown signals are appearing!"

"And further ahead! There are more unknown readings ahead; it's very likely that the Surfa have ambushed their main force here!"

The situation is not good.

"It seems they've mobilized their entire force."

Upon hearing this, Kasgar frowned: "Send a signal to notify Fugrim to come to our aid."

The motorcyclists appearing on their right side generally represent the entire attacking force.

Normally, the raids of the Surfas consisted of this: using their highly mobile motorized units to seize slaves and goods, and relying on their mobility to escape before the main enemy force arrived.

Shoot and run.

This tactic also made it difficult for him and Fugrim to find shelter in the harsh surface environment of Chemos.

But now, the entire tribe has mobilized almost all of its fighting force, including mutants, cultists, and swordsmen without mobility equipment, just to ambush them.
Have all these Surfa people gone mad?

Risking exposure just to intercept this shipment of refugees?

"Prophet, what other instructions does God have?"

The leader of the Surfars is a heavily modified mutant.

Scars and mutations covered his hideous face, and even the use of mechanical parts as a disguise could not hide his horrifyingly distorted appearance.

As for the prophet he inquired about, she was thin and frail with hardly any flesh on her body, yet she was adorned with countless gold and red ornaments, much like a beautiful dancer.

Her face was obscured by a curtain made of numerous gold ornaments, making it impossible to see her features clearly.

If she weren't standing here, it would be hard to imagine that she was a scavenger from a cannibal tribe.

"God praises your piety, child."

The prophet's voice was so clear it didn't sound like that of an old man.

"All that He asks is here."

"What, the prophet?" "But what exactly does He want?"

The leader was filled with doubt, but the prophets, shamans, and messengers of the Surphalians continued to issue commands:

“The called one of the Unborn Mother will come of his own accord. Just go and seek him out; do not ask any questions or think too much.”

“Those two infants, a boy and a girl, are our future [Saint] and [Vessel].

The words of the prophet are difficult to understand.

But it is known that she wants two children, a boy and a girl, and they must be alive.

This is enough.

"Row."

The leader looked down from the heavy armored vehicle and saw the shocking casualties of the vanguard.

"Damn it, how come these bastards suddenly became so good at fighting?"

"Don't engage in combat yet. Ask them if they're willing to hand over the hostages before we start fighting!"

"Two children, a boy and a girl, alive?"

Casca rode his motorcycle back to the convoy.

Are you offering sacrifices to the Dragon King here?
The content of the shouts of those Surfa people puzzled him greatly.

This group seems to have a very clear purpose.

They only wanted the two twin children; once they had them, they would leave, not coveting the refugees.

Or rather, under the threat of Kasga and his forces, the Surfa people dared not covet it.

There are very few refugee children in the entire group now, and the twin boys and girls that the other party is asking for can only be one possibility:
The two children who had spoken with Casca not long ago.

What do the people of Khurfa want them to do?
Kaska didn't know.

But as time went on, the Surfa people's encirclement drew ever closer.

If no decision is made soon, the disadvantage will only increase after being surrounded.

"Sir, how about we give the child to them?"

"Our population here consists entirely of refugees who are unable to fight. If a major war were to break out, the casualties would be dire."

One of the guards offered a cautious suggestion.

Fugrim loves children the most.

And so do their followers and believers.

Compared to the diverse group of mutants in the car, the endearing nature of the two children is self-evident.

But in any case, on the other side of the scales of life, there are countless lives waiting to be saved.

No matter how ugly or stupid mutants may be, they are still living beings, still human beings.

Abandoning two children to save a whole truckload of guards and refugees.

it's a bargain.

The other guards also remained silent.

Although it's cruel, it's the choice we all made together.

The Chemos have long been accustomed to this cold-blooded trade of lives.

"Brother Casca"

The two children were brought before them by the crowd.

Although they are still young, they are precocious and already know their fate.

"Brother Casca, it's alright, please let us pass."

"I...I'm not going to be the captain anymore."

Her eyes were slightly red.

“My uncles have said it before: we orphans are born to be eaten by the Surfa people outside.”

How can a life destined to be eaten become a ship's captain?
Casgar did not make a decision immediately.

"Little Captain, what's your name?"

He simply comforted the girl and lifted them both up to his chest.

"My name is Corleone."

"Corleone Corleone, interesting."

His expression changed slightly. He turned his head to examine the boy on the other side more closely before turning back.

"Alright, Corleone!"

"Now, hold on tight!!!"

With the child in his arms, Casca instantly flipped over, mounted his motorcycle, and floored the accelerator.

We sped off toward the horizon, toward the dim, yellowish plains in the opposite direction.

(End of this chapter)