Warhammer 40,000: Mortal Gods

"Imotek declares that our race is about to be destroyed?"

"Before you arrived, it even conspired with those supreme ministers, saying that it did not want to go to war with humans."

Guilliman looked at the pained and determined expression of High Marshal Hyperreint of the Black Templars.

Hyperreint was stunned for a moment, and then he instantly understood why there was a river of blood in the High Lords Council Hall.

Then the Grand Marshal fell into deep thought. He didn't understand why Imotek did this. After forcibly putting himself back, he knew that as long as he came to Terra, the conspiracy between him and the high lord would be crushed.

Guilliman was also lost in thought.

He was equally puzzled by Imotek's actions.

If Imotek really wanted to get the Empire to terminate its partnership with Talon, and really wanted to make the Supreme Minister think that this war should not have been started, then it should not have let Hyperreinte back.

Imotek's motives for doing these things are puzzling.

After thinking for a moment, Guilliman suddenly remembered what Qin Mo had told him about the Necron race, and then he suddenly realized that there was no need to think about Imotek's logic.

All of this, everything, may just be Imotek's imitation of his behavior and thinking when he was still an organism, or he may just have some fun in his long and endless life.

Imotek may not have wanted to achieve any purpose through this series of events.

"We cannot figure out the thinking logic of a species whose members are all crazy." Guilliman stood up from his position as regent and walked to Hyperreinte. "I need you to take all the soldiers of the Black Templars and rush to the final destination." The front lines are engaged in this war that determines the fate of mankind.”

Hyperreinte heard the regent's call, but he only felt powerless: "I'm sorry...I..."

Guilliman could see that Hyperion's will was very depressed, and even letting him participate in the battle would only have bad results.

The regent frowned and pondered for a few seconds, and then said to Hyperreinte: "You resisted my call. You are not qualified to continue to lead the Black Templars. Give your position to a warrior who is more determined than you, and then go to you." Kneel before the statue of your primarch, my brother."

This cold command could only make Hyperreint feel relieved.

When the Black Templar Grand Marshal returned on the Necromancer's ship, he would always have visions and hear his Centurion subordinates.

The centurions insulted him and rebuked him.

Hyperreint doesn't want to fight now. He just wants to kneel in front of the statue of the Gene Father according to the regent's order until death and usher in relief.

After saluting, the Generalissimo turned around and left, his back looking lonely and slumped like an old man with a mortal body.

Guilliman's eyes showed sympathy.

He knew that the statue of Rogal Dorn in the monastery also had a broken arm, and he hoped that Hyperreint could realize something in front of Rogal Dorn, his genetic father, and cheer up.

"Tribune." Guilliman looked at Corken, "I need you to bring some of the Imperial Guards to the front line to support my brother."

Kirken nodded: "What about you?"

"I will stay here to quickly get the Imperium back on track after this bloodshed on the Senate floor," Guilliman said.

Kirken saluted and accepted the order.

As he left the hall, Kirken looked at the messy scene again. He knew that Guilliman certainly did not kill all the traitorous High Lords and their lackeys alone, but perhaps it was the Emperor's blessing rather than someone who suddenly rushed in. Terra helped Guilliman.

Hope not.

…

A week later.

front.

Ryan stared at the tactical table day and night, trying to maintain the stability of the battle line as much as possible.

The Tyrones completely took over the empire's logistics, and countless new equipment was distributed to every battlefield on the front line.

Ryan had learned about the new weapons.

It is similar to a huge land combat weapon like a Titan, but it does not have armor attached, and it is not as thick and majestic as the Empire's Titan. Instead, it is equipped with a large number of anti-gravity devices to maximize its flexibility.

When attacked, either use an energy shield to absorb it, or just dodge like a juggler.

Now Ryan finally understands the design ideas of the Eldar war machines. For example, why even the Eldar war machines as huge as Titans are designed to be extremely slim and agile.

Ryan once thought that it was the Eldar's unique problem of being more artistic than practical, but now he understands that it is not an artistic consideration, but a design that is completely practical to the extreme.

The firepower of Necron war machines generally does not require a second fire on the same target. No matter how powerful the energy shield is, it is difficult to withstand large Gaussian weapons. No matter how thick the armor is, it cannot block phase weapons. This is the physics of the real universe. The limitation is at the scientific level, not that the designers are not smart enough or the technology level is not high enough.

In this case, mobility becomes a lifesaver.

Ryan had always looked down on the pointed ears of the Eldar, but now he felt that these pointed ears were the species that had fought the war in heaven with the Necrons, and their accumulated experience had to be said to have some merit.

After thinking about the sensitive war machines of the Tyrone people, Ryan suddenly realized that he had just been distracted.

His heart immediately became tense, and he concentrated on the changes in the battle situation, and quickly counterattacked various strategies made by the enemy.

"You are starting to lose your strength." Gray walked over from the tactical table on the side. He has been commanding the Tyrone people with the generals of the Tyrone Army these days. The situation is not bad now, so he has time to care about Ryan.

"No." Ryan shook his head in denial. As he spoke, his hands moved and his brain whirled, but he admitted in his heart that he felt a little tired.

The opponent's commander, Imotek, was of astonishing skill. In previous wars, except for those brothers who had rebelled, no one could make Ryan feel that a hostile commander was so difficult to deal with.

There is no tactical strategy that Imotek is not good at. It can organize a major counterattack against the Orps sector, and it can also organize a small-scale infiltration operation against other theaters. It can command hundreds of millions of warriors to attack humans. Launching an advance of staggering scale, they can also command a tactical team composed of Death Mark snipers to destroy a seemingly inconspicuous military facility at a targeted location, and use this small loss of humanity to amplify their own results and the decline of humanity.

Since the war, Ryan has already evaluated Imotek, that is, he is a genius, an all-around genius, a genius without any flaws except for the mental illness unique to the undead.

Ryan thought to himself, it would be great if Guilliman was by his side. At least Guilliman is good at multi-threaded thinking. He is a military staff think tank.