Warhammer 40: Doom

Chapter 195: Guard against death
The ordinary people shuddered violently as the veteran's shout jolted their taut nerves.

Almost instinctively, the auxiliary soldier's finger landed on the trigger, instinctively wanting to fire.

At the last moment, he was held back by the instincts honed over a decade of training and did not fire.

The company commander in charge looked at the Night Guard, his body covered in cold sweat; he was equally shaken.

If one of his soldiers fires, he bears significant responsibility, and in the worst-case scenario, he could face retraining.

Fortunately, the soldiers withstood the test set by the Night Guardians.

"Not bad..." The Night Guard nodded. The mortal soldiers in front of him had not let down the soldiers' training.

"Sir..." the company commander said cautiously, the sweat on his body being carried away by the internal circulation of his power armor.

"What are you all so nervous about?" The Night Guard raised his hand to interrupt the mortal officer, and the veteran shouted, "What has your nervousness brought you?"

"It will only cloud your judgment, make you forget your usual training, and make your overly tense nerves stiffen your bodies."

"Relax a bit. True strength lies in inner strength. Enemies ahead are nothing more than a gentle breeze."

After his reprimand, the soldier visibly relaxed, took a few deep breaths, and then removed his finger from the trigger.

"We are an unyielding wall, we should just be at peace with ourselves. The breeze is fleeting, but the wall stands forever."

"Compared to the enemy in front of you, you should pay more attention to the condition of the weapons in your hands and ensure that they can fire bullets at critical moments."

The Night Guardian tapped the butt of his spear against a soldier's shoulder and asked in a low voice, "Can your weapon fire?"

The soldier's hands were trembling. He glanced to the side and was shocked to find that the safety on his gun was not off.

"Heh~" The Night Guard shook his head and walked away: "Rookie recruit...I wonder what he's so nervous about?"

Even with soldier training, differences between people still exist, and ordinary soldiers can never fully comprehend it.

Although he shook his head, the Night Guardian still acknowledged the mortal soldier in his heart.

On their first time participating in a real battlefield, they stood firm, overcoming their inner fragility with the instincts honed through training.

"You!" The company commander stepped forward and said to the soldier, "If you survive, I hope to see your self-criticism!"

"Understood!" the soldier shouted, trying to make sure as many people as possible heard, knowing how serious his mistake was.

He repositioned himself to his firing position, raised his gun, aimed at the enemy, and awaited the order to fire.

"Fire!" The orders from the various legion commanders were relayed from the command center to the battlefield.

"Fire!" The frontline officer gave the order, his calm tone leaving no room for argument, without any passionate shouts.

The soldiers pulled the triggers and opened fire immediately, using bullets to eliminate the enemy in front of them.

These alien slaves, though emaciated and propelled by withered muscles, still displayed undiminished fanaticism on their faces.

There were no loud gunfire, only the sound of electromagnetic catapults. At the front of Nur's auxiliary army, enemy soldiers fell in droves.

In the instant they opened fire to kill the enemy, Nur's auxiliary troops realized how fragile the surging tide of people before them truly was.

Only then did I realize that on the battlefield, only the weapon in your hand is reliable; inner tension and hesitation will only shackle your courage.

The initial gunfire was somewhat chaotic, but after only half a minute, the gunfire gradually stabilized and became rhythmic.

The strength of an army can be judged by its shooting ability.

The auxiliary troops, trained from childhood, gradually matured their mindset towards the battlefield through the baptism of killing.

As their inner turmoil gradually subsided, their formidable professional skills came into play.

The electromagnetic nail gun in his hand accelerated the steel nails to two thousand meters per second, piercing through the enemy's body.

No longer pulling the trigger to fire, and without the aid of aiming system, they aim with the naked eye using gun accessories.

The electromagnetic nail gun hissed and crackled, its muzzle flashing with electricity as it continuously fired 8mm steel nails, punching fist-sized holes in flesh and blood.

Inexpensive electromagnetic firearms are best suited for auxiliary military equipment, as they excel in both firepower and sustained firepower.

A standard magazine contains five hundred steel nails about the length of a knuckle, greatly easing logistical management.

The firearms are connected to the power armor battery, which can be used for decades.

"Reload." The support troops, after being divided into smaller groups, cooperated closely to ensure uninterrupted firepower.

The front line in front of Nur was now a scene of carnage, filled with the mutilated corpses and severed limbs of enemy soldiers.

The Empire's laser guns, upon hitting living beings, would burn the wounds, thus having a certain hemostatic effect. This resulted in large piles of corpses in front of the Empire's lines, but no large amounts of blood flowing out.

In the command room, Atum nodded imperceptibly; the father of genetic engineering had not wasted his efforts.

Data shows that when auxiliary troops fire, they consume a huge amount of ammunition but have a very low kill ratio.

After a minute of familiarization, this ratio increased and continued to improve the kill ratio.

He stared at the command post, paying little attention to the enemy's movements but more concerned with the coordination of the mortal army.

"Notify the artillery to bombard this area with phosphate ammunition." The legion commander sat in his seat, outlining an area on the map:
"Burn enemy corpses to prevent the infantry's firing range from being affected."

"The supply team keeps up and constantly monitors the troops' ammunition consumption, so that the soldiers have no worries about ammunition."

"The battle order will be changed in one minute. Everyone must kill the enemy and be baptized by the battlefield."

The twenty-five legion commanders each performed their duties, coordinating the operation of the battlefield.

They are also transforming, shedding some of their panic and inadequacy, and becoming more adept.

Atum stopped focusing on trivial matters, and Nur became more proficient in his auxiliary military duties, shifting his focus to the overall picture.

According to the orbital ship scan, Morse World still has 600 million people, all of whom are under the control of Randan.

There were initially about one billion, of which four hundred million were wiped out by the First Legion.

The population is decreasing rapidly, with non-combat casualties exceeding those killed by humans.

In order to wear down the landing force, Ran Dan ordered everyone to leave the nest city and surround them on foot across the planet's wasteland.

Atum shook his head as he looked at the vast number of them. He knew that Randan's pollution ability was amazing, but he didn't expect it to be this powerful.

According to intelligence provided by Grand Master Ulian, the key to Randan's population control lies in water resources.

The aliens first control a small group of people, then inject their secreted brain fluid into the hive's water source, and soon they can control the entire hive.

With just a tiny amount of cerebrospinal fluid, the alien can establish a mental link, forcibly distorting human thoughts and turning them into its loyal servants.

This process is irreversible; once it is controlled, it leads to eternal damnation.

Now, with the changes in the Void Battlefield, the entire population of the Morse world is flocking towards it.

The alien warlords within the hive city could no longer contain themselves and sought revenge against humanity, launching a coordinated attack with the void fleet.

Atum rested his chin on his hand, deep in thought about how the aliens would attack the human front.

Land and air are unlikely to be safe; without their shields, elite warriors exposed to firepower would be committing suicide.

“Master mechanic!” A cold glint flashed in his eyes as he called out to the Nur technicians.

“My lord,” a middle-aged man in a black robe with an auxiliary arm backpack stepped out from inside the command fortress, “what are your orders?”

Atum nodded and asked the mechanical engineer, "Is the earthquake monitoring device functioning properly?"

A mechanical arm extended in front of him, projecting an image in front of the mechanical master: "Normal operation, but there is too much clutter due to battlefield artillery fire."

Atum's eyes were grave, and the readings from the earthquake monitoring device were trembling violently, like a human heartbeat monitor.

He looked at the mechanical master and said with certainty, "The aliens will launch their attack from underground."

"I understand." The mechanical master retracted the mechanical arm, bowed, and left to set up the equipment and take preventative measures.

Atum nodded, saying it was not too late to take precautions, since the battle had not yet reached its climax.

The Primarch is currently consuming Randan's Void Fleet, striving to achieve maximum results.

The Father of Genetics' objective was to destroy Randan's fleet before the boarding operation.

The Randan troops on the ground are like meat on a chopping block for humans; how they are prepared is entirely up to human will.

If we abandon Morse's natural resources, orbital strikes and extermination orders would be enough to wipe out the alien infection.

However, they cannot be moved; the Primarch needs elite warriors to draw away the Randan fleet.

The battlefield is now so tightly knit that any rash move by either side could lead to total defeat and prevent the maximization of the victory.

Time marched on relentlessly, and the chess game that Doom had set up gradually unfolded as he had predicted.

In the void, after a long period of "skimming," the two reconnaissance warships finally circled around to the back of the star, between the two battle moons.

(End of this chapter)