Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

Chapter 102 Duran Farce (9)

"Hold your weapons, load your ammunition, and put on your helmet."

The officer took a deep breath. He wanted to smoke or take a sip of wine, but the current conditions did not allow it.

Raising his hand, he flicked the dust on the brim of his hat. The air he just breathed in was filled with the pungent smell of gunpowder and rotting corpses, which made him cough uncontrollably. The dust that had not been bounced off fell one after another, and then It stuck to his face and clothes, making him look dirty.

But he no longer has the mind to care about it. Now is not the past. He is no longer the arrogant courtesy soldier.

He checked his weapons, stuffed the pockets that had been turned out again, straightened his sleeves, then rubbed his right hand on his trouser leg, and carefully took out the pendant in his arms. The photo above is A dignified lady and two naughty children.

The corners of his mouth curled up, and he wiped the photo in his palm over and over again, then kissed it gently, and then carefully placed it back in his arms like an attendant placing a crown.

Then, he closed his eyes and continued to take deep breaths, brewing his courage between the rise and fall of his chest.

I don't know how long it took, but he opened his eyes, turned around, and looked behind him.

Groups of soldiers were behind him. They were staying in this temporarily dug trench like him, doing almost exactly the same thing as him: some of them were already his old subordinates, and these soldiers looked resolute and Silent, and the others could hardly be called warriors. Their faces were filled with deep grooves, or green stubble that had just grown out and had not yet been shaved off.

In the past, they would not have appeared here.

He sighed.

The officer walked to the front of the team and tidied up his appearance one last time. Although he was still covered in ashes, he looked as if he was going to receive a medal from the emperor.

He stood up straight and looked at the army in front of him: soldiers, teenagers, old men, and even incomplete people, they made up this army: this could hardly be called a real army, but it was indeed It's an army, fighting for their homeland.

He spoke with a tone that was more sincere than anything he had ever heard in his life.

"Everyone."

"It is the greatest honor of my life to be able to fight alongside you."

That’s all.

He turned around, and a moment later, he heard the piercing attack call, and countless war cries and roars echoed in the air, the wind, and the communication network in his ears.

He roared, roared, remained silent, raised his weapon, and was the first to rush out.

——————

The air is filled with blood and dust.

The officer did not run or yell. He embodied the qualities of a veteran. He gripped his weapon tightly, looking for places where he could cover himself among the countless wreckage and ruins, and moved forward step by step.

He stretched out his head and saw the battlefield in front of him. He recognized that this was once the most popular square in the city center. It was usually full of food stalls and roadside shops. His children especially wanted the dolls sold here. Every time after school, , will pester him here for a long time.

But now, there are only ruins here. Gray sand and black steel bars are the only colors. The once magnificent statues and flowers are now tattered and scattered among the piles of dirt and potholes. At the end of them was his goal: a fortress, now in the hands of the invaders.

He wasn't far from there, maybe only a kilometer.

An insurmountable kilometer.

He saw the corpses, those huddled, completely charred corpses of Duran people. Thousands of them were scattered among the burning armored vehicles, announcing the [results] of the Duran army in the past hour. .

And the number of these results is increasing all the time, because those temporarily recruited soldiers are not suitable for the battlefield at all: they walk ignorantly among the ruins, or charge with a roar of passion, and some are simply scared to death. They were at a loss for what to do - but the result was the same, whizzing bombs hit the target one after another, and someone died almost every second.

Only those who lie down on the ground in time, find bunkers in time, and learn from the veterans in time can be regarded as getting tickets to the battlefield.

But their sacrifices were not meaningless. When the invaders were busy cleaning up the cannon fodder that might carry explosives, Duran's real killer move: tanks, aircraft fleets, and land-based armor began to appear in groups. And on the distant horizon, the last Duran artillerymen gritted their teeth and provided fire cover, but often they would be hit from the sky after just firing the first shot: Duran's sky no longer belongs to Duran. people.

But despite this, the support has not stopped.

The Durans were bleeding, but there was nothing they could do but bleed.

The officer waited, and it didn't take long before he heard the second sharp whistle: that was the horn of the general attack.

Just like the newly born sun disc piercing the morning fog, in an instant, the entire battlefield roared.

Everyone is roaring, all the war beasts are roaring, all the land and air of Duran are roaring, tens of thousands of Duran warriors rush out from their hiding places, forming an army in an instant An unstoppable wave of attack, with countless roaring war engines mixed in their ranks, like steep boulders in the ocean of destruction.

They roared, raged, and raged. They rushed toward the land occupied by the invaders. They rushed toward the dense trenches, barbed wire fences, and minefields. They rushed toward their own death, perhaps a meaningless death. .

But they have no choice.

In the face of such violent waves, the fortress seemed to pause for a second, and then a torrential rain of artillery fire swept in, carefully ravaging every inch of land where the Duran people stood, and dozens of guns fired in unison, harvesting Guys who survived the fire.

The officer was running and roaring. His voice was completely hoarse in the first moment after the charge. His face was tumbling in rounds of dust, and explosions and screams were heard all around.

The remnants of his eyes could see everything next to him: the war engines that the Duran people were once proud of had all turned into burning torches, and the armies that once shook the world were reduced to piles of debris in a matter of seconds. Through the melted blood, he saw those dead people, those who died under bullets, those who were shattered by landmines, and those who were twisted by barbed wire.

He knew it, he didn't know it.

Bodies, bodies, bodies everywhere.

He was running, but seemed to have stopped. His mind was filled with chaos, making it difficult for him to recognize the situation and reality in front of him. Blood and death pierced his rationality, causing him to fall into a different world. In the midst of such madness: What's going on? What about their army? Where are his comrades?

How come it's all over?

He opened his mouth, and his teeth were full of sand. Then, he suddenly felt something, raised his head suddenly, and found the target fortress: he was standing at its feet.

And on top of it, there were several vague black figures.

They look so tall.

Are those the guys who invaded them?

He thought, and then, a sharp stabbing pain suddenly penetrated his forehead.

The gunshot seemed to be an afterthought. When he heard the gunshot, he had already fallen to the ground. Blood and brains flowed into a stream on the ground, staining the amulet that had been completely torn apart. Those carefree smiling faces in the photos.

——————

"One minute ago, the enemy launched a small-scale attack on the landing area controlled by Morien. The number of people was probably between 30,000 and 50,000, using armored troops and artillery."

Jonson nodded and this message was ignored.

They are standing on the top of a huge fortress, which is almost the commanding height outside the Duran Palace. From its tower, you can directly observe the core area of the Scarlet Fortress more than ten kilometers away: Duran's tyrant is hiding inside.

Capturing this place means that Jonson's part of the plan has been completed. This is not easy: if it were not for the attack, the shield that had been covering this fortress suddenly disappeared, resulting in the imperial army's air superiority being maximized. Depending on the evolution, the Dark Angels might have to dump hundreds of corpses here.

Obviously, it was the Second Knight Order responsible for seizing the shield generator area that took the credit.

[Gail did a great job. 】

Thinking of this, even the Lion of Caliban couldn't help but nod his head in sincere admiration.

[As for Morien, has he not opened up the situation yet? 】

Facing the Lord's question, Arachos just turned on the tactical holographic projection again. The Scarlet Fortress and the land around it were clearly displayed: Jonson and his main force were in the west of the fortress, while Gale and his third The two knights stayed in the north of the fortress. Under the attack led by Morgan himself, the control areas of the two teams were connected.

Across the Scarlet Fortress itself, to the east of the fortress, Morien and his knights were compressed into an extremely small area. Only a few fortresses were in their hands, and the Duran Legion surrounding them The number of them has reached a point where the Primarch himself feels a little bit intrusive.

[What did Morion say? 】

"He said that he could hold the position, but it would cost some. He hoped to urgently deliver a batch of reinforcements to his area. The battle losses of the first batch of airborne troops had exceeded half, and the Duran army at least still had Ten million to thirty million people.”

[Let Kaos do it. 】

Then, Jonson remained silent, looking at the projection, and at the core area of the Scarlet Fortress, where the Space Wolves' attack route was either frustrated or twisted.

[At this rate, by the time they chop off that tyrant’s head, I will lose the entire Sixth Knights. 】

The Primarch whispered, and then the abominable werewolf image appeared in his communicator.

——————

Morgan walked up to Jonson.

The lion of Caliban glanced at her a few extra times, seeming to be curious about her anger: the silver-haired lady almost never had such violent emotional fluctuations.

【What happened? 】

【already solved. 】

Zhuang Sen nodded and didn't ask any more questions. His eyes returned to the tactical holographic projection. Orders came out through his words, mobilizing the entire First Legion.

Morgan stood next to him, witnessing all this in silence. The angry aura quickly disappeared at a speed visible to the naked eye, as if it had never existed. She looked at the crappy battle situation on the holographic projection, and just It was like watching a professional boxing champion fight with an old lady.

She endured it for five minutes.

[Lord Zhuangson, if you want to reverse the situation of the war, the best way is to ask me to directly pull up a teleportation array and teleport it to Tyrant Duran's room: as long as his head falls to the ground, this war will end in an instant. will end. 】

The Lion King did not speak, but Arachos on the side spoke for him.

"That's true, Ms. Morgan, but that's the Wolf King's prey, and it's not the agreed time yet."

[Indeed, there are still forty minutes left, which means that Morien and his knights will still be leaning there, spending forty minutes for no reason. 】

[When we reach into the mud, if we cannot pull out what we want immediately, we will be swallowed by the endless mud. 】

Arachos did not reply, but the Lion King looked at the mortal assistant who was in charge of communications.

[Can I contact Leman Russ? 】

"Sorry, sir, that fortress is still in a state of information suppression..."

The Lion King continued to remain quiet. He just quietly watched the Space Wolves disappearing only one step away from the target, watched his legion consume lives on a futile resistance front, and watched the Vietnam War. More and more crimson signs appeared in the projection, each symbolizing an approaching Duran Legion.

Before Morgan arrived, he was watching like this, and after Morgan arrived, he was still watching, but after a long silence, he shook his body and spoke out the words in his heart in a low voice.

[This will make that brother of mine furious. 】

Arachos blinked and pondered the words of his genetic father. He subconsciously looked at the silver-haired female officer beside him, and then heard a chuckle.

【Everything is not perfect. 】

[It is a great waste to have a good opportunity but to wait in vain, Mr. Johnson. 】

The Lion King did not look back. He glanced at the tactical projection in front of him again. The weight of the promise and the life of his offspring was constantly changing in his heart.

He thought of those werewolves that flashed by.

[The Space Wolves still haven’t moved...]

[How's it going over there in Morien? 】

"The two fortresses AS and AX have just been lost, and the enemy has begun a large-scale suicide attack."

This answer made Zhuang Sen pause for a moment. He turned around and looked at his blood relatives.

Then, he got a pair of Gujing Muha's pupils.

[This is no longer a war, Your Excellency. 】

[This is a farce. 】

Zhuang Sen's brows moved.

[Is this advice? 】

[It is a suggestion. 】

He turned around and took another look at the battle situation, and at the battle line that had not moved at all.