The Astartes Family's Notebook

"No, I'm asking about now."

Tyrant remained silent, but gave Kars a death stare through his helmet.

I understand. I, Kaz, am so fortunate to be part of the esteemed Fourth Company.

Company Commander Motor Sich, you've worked hard. I'll give you a good kowtow sometime.

A prolonged defense inevitably leads to defeat, and passively taking hits and stacking up a mountain of muscular men is Astartes' only option, much like Kars removing his helmet in a desperate situation.

Although Tyrant disliked the command post, his century of war had given him considerable experience and knowledge, making him adept at setting up defensive positions.

After arranging the most fortified fan-shaped defensive positions for the nuns, Priest Hammurabi took Katz to experience the Empire's cyberpunk style, which far surpassed Night City's.

So what exactly did humanity in the Golden Age add to their DNA? Cyber ​​neurosis is nothing to the current human empire.

Don't misunderstand, Hammurabi wasn't going to the Mechanicus to demand command of the Protectorate Army; Astartes has no authority to interfere with the Mechanicus's armed forces.

The company chaplain had brought Kaz to give a speech to the private soldiers of the hive nobles.

The differences in civilization and technological capabilities among the various worlds of the empire are that vast.

Compared to Anwizlan, Omidas was as weak as a little brother sucking on a pacifier.

These nobles assembled a private army to protect the battle nuns. Each member possessed a V-shaped physique, and even the lowest level of cybernetics enhancement reached 30%. Not only were all of them equipped with combat cybernetics, but many had also undergone body enhancement surgery.

On paper, their combat strength completely overwhelms that of ordinary Star Guardians.

The problem is that noble private soldiers are mostly bodyguards and thugs. They're great for showing off in the hive, but it's unlikely that they'll avoid problems when fighting against greenskin orcs on the battlefield. Private soldiers who lack trust or even have grudges against each other will cause trouble.

A show of force is definitely necessary.

Hammurabi, as the company chaplain and a lecturer on humanity in the Astartes, felt that having a few teaching assistants with him would make him look more sophisticated and facilitate his work.

The private soldiers of the hive dared not act presumptuously before Astartes, and obediently lined up in formation to listen to the holy teachings of the Emperor's angels.

However, Hammurabi and his assistants simply inspected the ranks without uttering a single word.

The scene was tense and solemn.

Astartes' demigod status was inherited by the state religion after the emperor was elevated to god-emperor.

Whether the Emperor is a god or not is unimportant. The God-Emperor is undoubtedly the supreme and only god of mankind. As the offspring of His Majesty the Holy God-Emperor, the Primarch is naturally also a god. Therefore, Astartes, as the genetic offspring of the Primarch, is naturally a demigod.

Wake up! The state religion is just trying to elevate its own status, and it conveniently included Astartes in the process. Don't take it too seriously.

The mere presence of Astartes certainly boosts morale, but expecting everyone to unite after just a few words from him is wishful thinking.

Hammurabi's visit was solely to compare the list with the real people.

Tyrant and Hammurabi agreed on how to use these noble private soldiers. They decided to divide them into groups, roughly keeping their ownership unchanged, into about 400 combat teams, and assign them defensive positions according to the defensive sector diagram.

In this way, we can leverage their strong individual combat capabilities while avoiding the hassle of building a command system.

Lock them down, completely locking them to their positions. Ammunition supplies and fire support are handled by the Mechanic Church. These people must eat, drink, and relieve themselves within their assigned defensive positions. Anyone who dares to leave their assigned position will be shot without trial, and their entire family will be held accountable.

After Hammurabi and Qaz finished inspecting the ranks and had a general idea of ​​the groupings, they announced the grouping decisions.

The nobles' private soldiers reacted indifferently to this, and even secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

These people were also afraid that Astartes would use them as a penal legion, sending them to engage in open-field battles with the greenskin orcs.

Holding their ground to the death is no different from defending their old residences during a civil war among the nobles of the Nest City. They're very familiar with this kind of work.

Life and death are preordained, wealth and honor are determined by fate. With the Astartes guarding the area and the Astral reinforcements on the outside, although the orcs are coming in a fierce manner, this place is still different from the Jedi.

The nobles' private soldiers were generally in good spirits. They happily went to familiarize themselves with the positions and repair fortifications according to the combat groups assigned by Hammurabi.

Having resolved the issue of manpower for filling the gaps, Hammurabi managed to persuade the battle-loving nun to back down.

It's really hard to guess whether these nuns chose to help their fellow Astartes from reason and faith, or simply because they had been suppressing their feelings for too long and wanted to show off.

In any case, the fervent atmosphere was so overwhelming that even Hammurabi, the fanatical priest of Astartes, was somewhat overwhelmed.

Damn Tyrant, you didn't anticipate this situation, which is why you insisted on making yourself here as the commander, did you?

It's certainly wrong to make malicious assumptions about your fellow fighters, but what if it's not just assumptions, but pure malice?

While Katz was still helping Hammurabi deal with his relationships with the nuns, Tyrant had already led four tactical teams away from the front lines to conduct an outpost blocking operation.

As expected, the "seed" in the caste system refers to offspring.

Sephiroth has a daily death.

Chapter 75 Ancient Giant

If one shot is enough to kill, then we'll just pack guns everywhere. — Orcish Mastermind, Bad Guy. One-Legged Rogue.

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Orcs are a god of victory when they have the upper hand; once Waaaagh gets going, even a fart can smash the head off Astartes.

Therefore, to curb the orcs' Waaaagh, we must first curb their arrogant arrogance.

It is not impossible for a few thousand people to defend against an attack by tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, or even millions of orcs.

The key is to prevent the orcs from getting Waaaagh up.

You can't go wrong by hitting the biggest one.

The main problem is that despite having a hive city, Anvislan is being outmatched by the Orcs in terms of aircraft production capacity.

The empire certainly never lacks such lame jokes.

In atmospheric air combat, even with the bravery and skill of the Imperial Navy pilots and the superior performance of the Imperial standard fighter jets, everything was utterly powerless in the face of the sheer number of Gough squadrons.

What, a Thunderhawk gunboat?

What kind of idiot came from? The Thunder Eagle is a fire support gunship, not an air superiority fighter. What are you thinking?

So the final solution is indeed the same one that the tech enthusiast is currently using.

Hold the weather control device, use the planet's own power to disperse the dust cloud mixed with Waaaagh energy, then use the Imperial Navy's light spears and macro cannons to pick off the Orcs' high-value targets one by one, and finally have the Astragalus use a net-like encirclement to finish them off.

It seems that the second brother of the Mao family still favors the orcs. Despite the lack of any reconnaissance or infiltration, the orcs always seem to be able to strike at the Empire's weak points through intuition, relying solely on my intuition.

When the first orcish boulder fell to the ground, the weather control system was turned on at full power to prevent an ecological disaster. Why didn't these orcs attack Antarctica back then?

The weather control system hasn't even been turned on yet, and a whole bunch of green-skinned people have already arrived.

That doesn't make sense.

I'm amazed by how terrifying the power of thought truly is.

However, the Orcs' large-scale southward advance dispersed their forces, and the Ascendant Army on the main battlefield naturally wouldn't just stand by and watch.

It is impolite not to reciprocate. Mao Zedong was cruel and cunning, and the emperor was cunning and cruel. The army of the empire was never a pushover.

Let's exchange them.

Two Astral Army armored regiments are overcoming numerous obstacles and advancing towards the Weather Control Station. With reinforcements in place, it will be much harder for the Orks to tackle this tough nut to crack again.

Therefore, the Greenskins' first wave of attack was quite fierce.

With naval light spears overhead and shouts of "Waaaaagh!" echoing throughout, the orcish wagons, cobbled together from various battlefield scraps, carried the orc leader and his minions on a charge towards the defending positions.

The Imperial firing positions revealed their locations after opening fire and were quickly countered by orc artillery fire.

Kaz hated his excellent 70.0 visual acuity and hated himself for having to practice the skill of multitasking.

Orcs are truly a nightmare for those with obsessive-compulsive disorder and those who value rationality.

How did they manage to launch such small, junk shells from a tube made of sheet metal, and still manage to create a sonic boom?

Stop! My amazing wisdom! Stop it! I don't want to see! I don't want to think! I'm in so much pain! Oh, it's so painful!

Even when caught in a severe mental struggle and internal conflict between his left and right hemispheres, Katz could still handle the situation with 50% of his mental capacity.

At least these noblemen's private soldiers were all pretty good marksmen.

With cover, trenches, and barbed wire, the orcs won't be able to break in so easily.

The morale of the human side is still good, but the casualty rate is not good.

Apart from a small number of retired Astral Army officers recruited by nobles, most private soldiers' skilled street fighting techniques are not only useless but also harmful when facing a battlefield offensive.

The more afraid you are of dying, the more likely you are to die; betraying your teammates will only weaken your firepower.

The God-Emperor will not protect cowards.

More than a hundred people died in less than an hour. The casualty rate was indeed terrible, especially considering that the Empire was on the defensive.

In contrast, the orcs were strikingly large but incomprehensible.

Human morale is affected by casualty rates, while orc casualty rates are affected by morale.

Even though the orcs around them were shot in the head with a slingshot, as long as their morale didn't collapse, the greenskins were even interested in commenting on which unlucky guy's head exploded and the blood splatter was the most beautiful.

But when the battle nun, clad in power armor and carrying a heavy flamethrower, charged out of the position, the first group of green-skinned orcs to collapse in morale appeared.

Quack! Run! It's the shrimp's crazy old woman!

Power armor is not exclusive to Astartes.

Because of the presence of the black shell, Astartes can establish a direct neural connection with the power armor, making the power armor equivalent to a second layer of skin and a second set of muscles for Astartes warriors.

While other Imperial power armor users, including the Battle Sisters, are not as extraordinary as Astartes, the high output and protective capabilities of power armor are unmatched by shell armor and body armor.

Hammurabi remained completely unfazed by the Battle Sisters' proactive attack; was that still the Battle Sisters?

But just as the battle nuns were about to press their advantage, Hammurabi lost his composure and quickly ordered Kaz to take three of his battle brothers to block these precious treasures of the Martyr's Order of Women.

Kaz cleared his mind, which had been tormented by orc technology, and, too lazy to take a detour, led his company brothers to take a shortcut through the line of fire, blocking the battle nun's path.

"Your Excellency High Sister, Reverend Hammurabi asked me to pass on a message to you: do not fail the Emperor's will."

Reasoning with him won't work; Kars is an Astartes, and he knows all too well what it feels like to be thrilled and excited in battle.

Therefore, all that can be done is to repeat the rather literary advice given by Pastor Hammurabi.

Sure enough, the Emperor's doting daughters were happy to listen to their father and invoked the Emperor's name, which somewhat alleviated the nuns' fighting frenzy.

“Brother Katz, please tell Pastor Hammurabi that we will handle things properly.”

The elder nun glanced regretfully at the unmoved Kaz, and could only lead her battle sisters back the way they came to guard the trenches.

Then Kaz fully demonstrated what a hypocrite he was. He led his three combat buddies around the line of fire for a long time, running out of ammunition and breaking the teeth of his chainsaw sword before returning to camp for resupply.

Hammurabi wanted to reprimand Katz, but when he thought of his previous suspicion and harsh criticism of him, he softened.

Forget it, everyone has their carefree, youthful days of fighting. You're back safely now, so don't let it happen again.

The first day passed uneventfully. What was there to care about, a few hundred casualties? Were they afraid the empire couldn't afford to die? Who did they think they were?

Exactly, that's right. The orcs think so too. Who do they look down on? Once we have more of the heavy armor boss's followers, we'll show them what true wisdom in all-in betting is.

Since the Imperial Navy has air superiority, as long as there are signs of a large-scale orc gathering, they will send out light spears to bombard the ground.

But do the orcs care? No, they don't. Digging trenches is something anyone can do. Just throw the fart-sprites and snot-sprites in.

So the cunning orc boy got kicked by the orc leader and could only vent his anger on the fart spirit who had been hiding in the trench earlier, trying to suppress his laughter.

The Astragalus armored regiments were still making a difficult advance, the Imperial Blitzers were still dogfighting with the Orcish jet fighters, the weather controllers were methodically accumulating energy, and the Guardians didn't notice anything amiss.

Just when both sides had gotten used to the intensity of the current war, Brother Gao Mao gave Kaz and his men a big surprise.

Waaaaagh's energy field, carrying the orcs' distinctive green psionic lightning, tore through the veil of space. The orcish colossal trash, the Titan Ancient Colossus, which had been hiding inside a dust cloud to avoid Imperial Navy fire, appeared on the battlefield without warning, having traversed thousands of kilometers via teleportation.

The Empire is facing the danger of collapse.

Chapter 76 What the hell?

There was no such thing as "Gao Mao" in the world originally, but the orc boys pondered it too much, and that's how "Second Brother" came to be.

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Humans know the history of orcs only from the shoe prints on their faces, while orcs know their own history only from wild speculation.

So when the ancient giant was torn open by the physical hands of the second brother and thrown over, not only were the defenders on the Empire's side stunned, but also the group of orcs who stopped their attack and stared blankly at the sky.

So here's the question: which arm belongs to Brother Gao, and which arm belongs to Brother Mao?

Having witnessed the power of a warp deity for the first time, Kars was momentarily stunned.

My goodness, Your Majesty, do you usually have to arm wrestle with these things? That must be really hard on you.