Serious person, who is learning magic in Marvel?

Chapter 965 320. Battle of Connaught (2, 3k)

Author: Cut the wallpaper with a knife

Chapter 965 320. Battle of Connaught (2, 3k)

The damp plague wind blew from the west. Balk wrinkled his lips in disgust and spat.

Above them, the sacred creation called the Black Tower blocked the filth of subspace from the outside, but also passively revealed the nature of the wind to them. Everyone in the trench could see those hidden in the wind, wailing

Little monster.

That was not a demon, but rather a manifestation of some kind of malice.

Balk admitted that he had goosebumps after seeing this scene.

"The Emperor's sacred sword."

A soldier in the trench cursed in a low voice. "What the hell are these bloody things?"

"Don't ask." Balk said slightly warningly, while raising the light gun in his hand.

The Astartes who fought alongside them brought some new weapons specially distributed to the auxiliary troops, but the quantity was not enough after all, so Balk still held the famous M35 light gun.

He has no dissatisfaction with this. In his opinion, the M35 is enough for him to vent the emperor's anger. This reliable weapon will never become obsolete. At most, it just lacks firepower.

Anyway, he shoots very accurately, he always shoots very accurately. His shooting assessment results are among the best in the entire Connaught sector, which also earned him the responsibility of company commander.

"Get ready to shoot," Balk said. "These sons of bitches dare to attack Ultramar. Who gave them the courage?"

"Anyway, it wasn't the fart I just farted."

Someone told a vulgar joke, which livened up the atmosphere a little. Balk snorted in disapproval, and the correspondent's voice came from the headset's communication channel: "Please be prepared, the artillery position has carried out precise coverage strikes.

."

Hearing these words, Balk immediately retracted into the trench. He leaned against the black metal, and the feeling from his back made him feel relieved. He turned his head, and the body that had been molded in these ten minutes

Peep out from the observation port reserved by the miraculous creation.

At the other end of the horizon, in a deliberately reserved wasteland on Connaught, countless disgusting monsters are rushing towards this direction. They are fat, rotten, and infested with maggots.

His face twitched violently, and the urge to vomit surged up from the depths of his throat. At the same time, something else was also trying to contaminate him with dirty power. The company commander knew nothing about it, but Hei

But the tower could see clearly. The stand shone and the pollution was cleared.

Balk spat again and wiped the corners of his mouth in disgust: "Be ready for the shooting later. Guilliman is on board. These things are really ugly."

His words were very prophetic. Six minutes later, when he saw the zombies staggering forward and rushing toward the defense line, the curses in the trenches never stopped. In contrast, there was light.

The sound of gun firing.

Balk was also one of them, and even as a company commander, he was not exempt from the vulgarity. While he was shooting, he was madly insulting the monsters who designed these things.

They had no clothing to cover their bodies, and many of the living corpses looked as if they had been dug out of centuries-old tombs, as if they would break into pieces if the wind blew. However, their skin and rotten muscles were tough.

It's scary, the M35 often requires three consecutive bursts to hit completely to kill one.

"Where are our tanks, Captain?"

Someone in the company asked, Balke gave the person a kick without looking back, and immediately began to move in. The target of the insult naturally changed from a living corpse to one of his soldiers.

"You didn't listen to the tactical points in the pre-war meeting, you bastard. It's not time to push back yet. We just need to defend our position. Why do we need tanks? Are they going to be used as bunkers for you?"

"Keep shooting, keep shooting!" he shouted. "Aim at them and grant them the holy wrath of the Emperor! In the name of Guilliman and Ultramar, send them back to their cursed place!"

The beams of light guns converged into raindrops, but they did not fall from the sky, but were shot from the hot barrels of the guns. Their training did not fail them, and their stance isolated them from the impact that these things could have on them. In fact, it also

Gave them courage.

The zombies that originally came like a tide now seemed to have hit an indestructible hard rock, and the power brought by the collective shooting easily destroyed their diseased flesh.

The rotten bones were beaten into powder, and pus splashed out from their bodies instead of blood. The light gun shot would have produced a burnt smell, but all Bucker could smell was the special smell in the trenches.

of fragrance.

If he were a mage, he would know that it was a magic potion. But he wasn't, so he just kept shooting.

He watched them being beaten to pieces, watching their internal organs exposed from the swollen bellies that had been punched open, and watching them open their mouths blankly and stretch out their arms in an attempt to get closer to them.

Then he cursed, shouted, and swore.

"In the name of the Emperor, Guilliman and Ultramar, destroy their decaying flesh! Behind us lies one of Konor's forges, and we guard it as our ancestors guarded it!"

"We are the people of Ultramar. We are the fire of rage and the poison of hatred. If these abominable monsters want to taste our flesh and blood, let them be burned to death and poisoned to death! Shoot, soldiers,

For Ultramar!"

——

It was so smooth that it was so smooth that it was unsettling. Those zombies who came from nowhere could not pose any threat to the Ultramar auxiliary army. Of course, Insel was happy to see this, but he knew another thing better.

How could the demons stop here?

Any attempt to belittle your enemy and imagine your enemy as incompetent will only make you the incompetent person you imagine yourself to be.

"The launch of the Black Tower has been completed. Orbital bombing can be carried out at any time. The ten Thundercloud war mechas supported by the Repenting Flame Legion are also ready, and preparations for the launch are in progress."

The cold voice from the built-in array sounded in Inser's ears. He pondered for a moment and raised his head. Badan Dovaro's gaze made him understand that the latter had obviously also received this message.

"The war situation is progressing in a good direction." The chapter leader of the Nova Warriors said seriously.

His hands were placed on the city wall. Behind him, the position formed by a black tower that had just landed was blending with the outside of the city. Troop carriers and heavy firepower formations drove out of the city gate one after another. They passed by.

After a while, he continued to speak and describe his worries.

"And the demons of Nurgle have never shown their true appearance." He pursed his lips and said slowly. "This makes me extremely worried, Chapter Master Inser."

Their famous, symmetrical blue and white paint made him look like a chess piece on a chessboard. Under the raised visor, the fierce face with high cheekbones was tense at this moment: "I used to work with Na

I have dealt with dirt demons, and they are quite difficult enemies to deal with. They are extremely powerful and difficult to kill, and the destructive power of the disease on mortals is immeasurable."

"We have no choice but to wait."

Insel raised his right hand. The land-based Titans of the chapter leaders all had a simple version of the projection device installed on their right arm armor. This device allows them to conduct complete command at any time. Originally, it could only be used after remote sensing mapping.

The work carried out in the ship's command room has now become easier and more convenient.

He observed the deployment of the Iron Snakes with the same serious expression, but not as worried as Badan Dovaro.

After a while, he said: "I am only worried about one thing now, Chapter Commander Bataan."

"What?"

"Witchcraft." Insel made a gesture. "The devils damn evil witchcraft. The Black Tower's position can prevent deadly germs from destroying the soldiers' healthy bodies, but it cannot stop witchcraft. The center has warned many times.

Let’s go over our issue regarding the stability of the Black Tower’s position being affected by witchcraft.”

"Our think tanks may be able to resolve this matter."

Badan Dovaro said this after a moment of silence: "I have no intention of hiding that our think tank system is not consistent with the requirements in the holy scriptures. They may be able to prevent it by arranging a ceremony - damn it."

His expression suddenly darkened, and his eyes were suddenly filled with anger. Insel saw him raise his left hand and quickly slide on the battlefield situation map that popped up on his right arm armor. At the same time, he began to command

.

Several complex commands related to think tanks and rituals were quickly thrown out by him, disappearing in the increasingly sticky wind.

Inser's gaze also became dangerous. He looked at Badain, and then immediately issued an order using the communication channel within the battle group. The think tanks of the Iron Snake began to move quickly on the battlefield situation map.

stand up.

There is actually only one reason why they are so nervous.

wind.

The nature and color of the wind changed.

The moist, plague-carrying wind changed. The dark green color visible to the naked eye swept from the wasteland at an extremely fast speed, lifting up the soil and flying corpses, causing their joints to fly, arms, legs, and even heads.

It began to spin in the violent wind.

They were blown up, and the decayed bones were blown into stubble, and the swollen internal organs and thick liquid were involved, and the threads were pulled up tenaciously. A strange life force began to be born in this scene of destruction, and the fallen arms began to build up with each other.

Together, the legs were bent and stacked, and thousands of corrupted heads opened their lifeless eyes and stacked on top of each other, and squirmed rapidly.

The wind began to dance wildly, the wind began to roar, the wind began to take on its own form.

A corrupt, blasphemous, horrific form.

Inser heard himself cursing and praying to the emperor, and he knew that Badan Dovaro, who was a few steps away, was probably doing the same thing.

There is also a 3k chapter.

(End of chapter)