Emperor's Bane

Chapter 957 Giants Ahead (Part 2)

"How long until reinforcements arrive!"

"Nine minutes! I'll be there in nine minutes!"

"Nine minutes?"

"alright."

"Primarch bless: My troops will not be wiped off the map in nine minutes."

……

From the day he accepted the honor and officially became the chief champion swordsman of the Dawnbreaker Legion, Bayar never imagined that he would have this day.

He actually became the one shouting and begging for reinforcements on the Legion communicator.

Bayar? Requesting aid?

These two conjunctions were enough to make a million Astartes warriors raise their eyebrows in astonishment.

Damn it, he didn't want Acudona or Astram to hear about what happened today: he would be laughed at by those bastards into the next era.

Of course, if they're still alive by then.

"...Sizzle!"

The thought of his old buddies back in the real universe having such a miserable time while he was fighting his bloody battle in this damned alien nest amused Bayar, who found himself laughing at his own sudden burst of humor.

He maintained his smile, noticing a slight change in the wind pushing him from the side. He swung his longsword horizontally, turned around without hesitation, and before the Dawnbreaker's eyes could find the one who wanted to ambush him, the blade, drawn by power, cleaved him in two at the waist, the filthy corpse falling onto the battlefield covered in blood and dirt.

Morgan's son did not let his guard down. He didn't need to think at all. After killing the enemy on his flank, he immediately turned 180 degrees and brought the blade in his other hand down heavily from top to bottom. Another ugly head was cut in two in front of him, and the scimitar-shaped blade was already close to him.

As his opponents, who had attempted to attack him from both sides, fell to the ground, Morgan's champion swordsman had already skillfully retreated several steps, entrusting his back and flanks to his allies further back: the entire process was so smooth that it took only a few heartbeats.

For Bayar, these actions were nothing more than physical memories from countless battles, physiological instincts that did not require any thought from his brain. He had been ambushed from the flanks countless times, and these ambushes were often two opponents attacking from opposite directions at the same time. When he dealt with such a pincer attack, he should have realized that he had become somewhat out of line.

This is a basic understanding for any veteran: staying mobile and vigilant is the best option.

Those guys who can only stand and shoot on the open ground without any cover are nothing more than the "elite warriors" in the minds of third-rate writers. They don't even qualify as cannon fodder on the battlefield of Astartes.

Bayar's thoughts drifted for a moment, and the situation on the battlefield worsened even further: the open space he had just retreated from was now being overwhelmed by the tide of the Dark Eldar, countless piercing howls were hidden in the dust and smoke, and thousands upon thousands of malevolent ghosts cast countless shadows, which were surging in from more directions, completely surrounding the combined forces of the Dawnbreakers and Salamanders in the center.

Bayar silently counted the numbers in his mind.

One thousand, two thousand, three thousand...

When he counted the eight thousand blurry figures, Morgan's son finally lost confidence: because he discovered that there were at least several thousand more undetected beyond his field of vision.

"How many of you are there?"

With his Adam's apple bobbing in extreme dryness, the champion swordsman raised his hand and chopped off the head of an alien, then asked the salamander company commander who had been guarding him.

"Three hundred, at most."

Vulcan's descendants seem quite resentful.

"We fell for a diversionary tactic in the early stages; otherwise, our battle lines wouldn't have crumbled so quickly."

The burly, dark-skinned warrior held a plasma bombardment cannon. Wherever his silent gaze swept, the aliens there would be reduced to dust.

These precious weapons are in no way inferior to Bayar's blades in terms of killing power, and when hundreds of Salamanders are armed with such killer weapons, such as heavy disintegration cannons or particle pulverizers, they form the most perfect killing formation on the battlefield, except for the stagger caused by their excessive weight.

The Dawnbreaker witnessed firsthand how the salamanders beside him executed dozens of aliens in a minute, turning them into charred ashes: these sons of Vulcan, known for their gentleness, displayed a hidden rage when facing the Comorians that would command the respect of the Blood Angels, and their efficiency in indulging in slaughter would put any Dark Angel to shame.

More often than not, Bayar preferred to protect this great firepower provider: they could also take the opportunity to exchange information about their respective units.

How many people did you bring?

"The fire lizard asked."

"Four hundred and seventy-six."

The Dawnbreaker exhaled a breath of stale air, noticing that his longsword was wet and sticky from too much blood.

"It seems our luck isn't so good."

Vulcan's sons seemed to be sighing: his deep green armor was illuminated by sky-blue plasma.

“We have fewer than eight hundred men: but at least twelve thousand Dark Eldar are surrounding us.”

"Why do you think I chose to call for reinforcements less than three minutes after the start of the battle?"

The Dawnbreaker gave a wry smile.

Even the Queen Champion, who is qualified to compete for the title of the strongest Astartes, is by no means an arrogant fool. Bayar may dare to draw his sword against a bloodthirsty and insane Primarch in a narrow passage, but he has absolutely no confidence in using his eight hundred men to hold off ten thousand Eldar. Moreover, neither he nor the Salamanders mentioned those beasts.

Those monsters are far more troublesome than the ordinary Dark Eldar.

To be fair, Bayar didn't think his Second Company could turn the tide of the battle: although they were almost the most capable company in the entire Empire, their overwhelming numerical superiority was still despair-inducing. The Dark Eldar were not a force known for their cannon fodder; even their slightly trained mortal units could rival the Astartes in strength, speed, and agility.

The legacy of an empire spanning millennia is truly enviable.

The Second Company of the Dawnbreaker Legion was like a lump of clay that wasn't solid enough, only slightly delaying the fall of the fortress. The most interesting thing was that the biggest factor hindering the Dark Eldar's advance was not the Dawnbreakers and Salamanders fighting bloody battles, but rather the enemy's poor command, which turned the battlefield into an endless scramble, leaving most of the Comoros's power unused.

Nearly ten thousand lawless lowly commoners, wielding rusty weapons and lured by blood, ran rampant on the raging battlefield. They not only consumed Asta's precious ammunition but also delayed the coordination of the true Comorian elite, preventing them from unleashing their full potential before Bayar, who was already waiting in full force, chopped off their heads.

Before he knew it, the pile of heads in front of the champion swordsman had risen above his knees.

But this was only a drop in the ocean: the arrival of the Dawnbreakers stabilized the Salamanders' crumbling defenses, but could not save their comrades who had been separated and surrounded.

Bayar watched as those dark green armored soldiers, forced to fight alone or in small groups, were swallowed up one by one by the wild black waves of the Comoros, like houses being gradually demolished under the waves of a tsunami. One after another, the sons of Vulcan and the elite of the Comoros fell, their blood flowing down the rusty metal.

The Salamanders were truly excellent warriors; each of them fulfilled their duty before death: any Vulcan's Son who still had a breath left would detonate the bomb on his body the moment he lost consciousness, taking away the most vicious curse in the galaxy with his own life.

This was undoubtedly the noblest act, but as Bayar witnessed the sparks blooming one after another at the edge of his vision, he still felt despair: the Imperial army's lines were gradually collapsing, and every fallen comrade was an unbearable weight, with the remaining manpower simply insufficient to sustain the fight.

They were too scattered, and the vast majority of the warriors were fighting alone. Unless they had the opportunity to regroup and gain advantageous terrain, they would not be able to stop the Dark Eldar's advance.

But how could such an opportunity possibly exist...?

and many more……

Bayar suddenly realized something.

In the five or six minutes after he joined the battle, he began to think for the first time.

"You're saying you were lured away from your base?"

The champion swordsman chopped off eight more heads. His breathing had become heavy and muffled, like the sound of a great bell, but it did not slow his movements. He then completed another perfectly coordinated attack with the salamander company commander beside him: Bayar raised his hand and cut down two Eldar who tried to ambush the salamanders, while the Son of Vulcan fired a cannon at his back, blasting a whole row of Comorian scum who were charging towards the Dawnbreakers into dust.

Then, the two company commanders retreated together, and the elite soldiers beside them quickly filled in the gaps in the battle line, giving the two men a chance to catch their breath and communicate in a timely manner.

"Yes."

The son of Vulcan nodded firmly, as if all his confidence in the war stemmed from this.

"That is our most elite force."

"But they'll be back soon."

"how long?"

"Within one minute."

"Okay, I see."

Bayar nodded.

No need to ask more: he knows what he's doing.

After a brief exchange, the two company commanders switched all communications to their unit's internal channel to avoid interfering with each other. They then advanced again, holding the crumbling front line, while simultaneously roaring orders through their minds to every comrade in battle. Some responded with battle cries, while others maintained a precious silence. But then, everyone actively adjusted their tactics: the sons of Vulcan unanimously turned their cannons, unconcerned even with the Dark Eldar's blades pressed against their chests. Their rifles and cannons roared, unleashing overwhelming firepower in a unified direction.

At least six Salamander warriors lost their lives in this volley, but their sacrifice proved worthwhile: hundreds of coordinated particle cannons and plasma streams caught the Comoros army off guard, and those Eldar who were unfortunate enough to get in their way, whether they were elite warriors or lowly commoners, were instantly turned into charcoal-black dust, their souls swept into the void before they could even utter a wail.

This brutal scene deeply shocked the hearts of the Dark Eldar. When they realized that they too could become part of it, the fearless wave of aliens showed signs of pausing for the first time: although it was only for a few brief seconds, Bayar and the Dawnbreakers, who were already prepared, did not miss it.

"For Morgan!"

The champion swordsman roared in the communications, which was a novel experience for him, since the Dawnbreakers rarely had the habit of shouting battle cries. But perhaps it was because the killing and humiliation in these few minutes had been too much, or perhaps it was because the roar in his heart, which originated from the distant bloody land, could not be heard by only Bayar. In any case, hundreds of his fighting brothers who should have been silent responded to him.

"For the Emperor!"

"For the Primarch!"

"For Avalon and for humanity!"

The slogans were a chaotic mess, lacking any unified order or rhythm, but when loyal and righteous men forged them with their blood and fury, they were still enough to awaken the most valiant impulses within them: more than four hundred sons of Morgan charged fearlessly toward their hundred-fold opponents, raising their blades high against the army of the Dark Eldar.

Bayar charged ahead.

He charged towards the area with the most enemies.

He saw the alien head he had personally severed scattered in the blood and soil, the steaming entrails of the Comoro alien flowing from the huge gap, followed by the pierced throat, the torn torso, the shattered skull, and the painful screams between teeth. The Dawnbreaker's blade had precisely sliced ​​through every fatal spot, and his opponent lost his soul before he could even feel the pain.

He killed a hundred people, perhaps more, because the cruel voice in his heart never bothered to count; it only clamored for the same word: more, more.

With a furious roar, he beheaded another Elven. Watching the exposed armor and long, glossy black hair stained with blood on the ground, he picked up the alluring head and hurled it at the Elven who had already pointed his gun at him. As the Elven turned his gun away due to the distraction, the Champion Swordsman's blade was already pointed at the archer's neck.

He killed another hundred people; the witch spirit and the archer with the eggshell mask were the only two who posed a threat.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the effects of the massacre that had lasted only a dozen seconds. Countless dark souls were turning their gazes toward him, or toward his fellow fighters beside him, whose hands were also stained with blood. Some of the aliens were filled with terror and desperately tried to retreat, while others rushed toward them with fanaticism, eager to obtain the greatest prey they had ever seen.

But regardless of who they were, the Dawnbreakers' charge had already achieved their goal.

Further afield, the fire salamanders, previously scattered, did not let the opportunity pass. They looked gratefully at Morgan's offspring, then fiercely wielded their chainsaw axes and fists, carving a bloody path through the loosening encirclement and advancing towards the main force of the legions in the distance. The previously fragmented sons of Vulcan were gradually reuniting, closely following the killing field opened up by the Dawnbreakers to ensure that the warriors of the two legions could form an unbreakable battle line.

But these are not enough.

Far from enough.

The Eldar forces outnumbered them by at least fifteen. Although the Dawnbreakers' bloody display had shocked them, a significant portion of them had already reacted. A new wave was brewing, threatening to engulf them once more. Their strength was too weak; unless they received more support, Bayar and the others were merely changing their death trap.

Reinforcements...reinforcements!
where are they!
Bayar had his doubts.

The fire salamander whispered to itself.

Everyone was praying silently in their hearts.
They prayed until the champion swordsman caught a glimpse of that sudden, bright blue light out of the corner of his eye.

They were so dazzling and brilliant, a natural light that the dark city of Comoros would never radiate in ten thousand years.

Countless Dark Eldar who had gotten too close were blinded by the sudden light. They screamed and fled, breaking their formation and revealing the clearing the fire lizards had just carved out with their lives. The light was located precisely in this clearing, and the enormous shadows emerged from it.

The Dawnbreaker stared at them, its eyes wide.

Then he laughed.

These reinforcements were truly iconic.

They are far larger than ordinary Astartes. Their outstanding physique and the heavy weapons they wield, which are far beyond the control of normal people, all indicate that they are Terminators. But what makes them different is that these Terminators have huge, sloping reinforced armor plates on their shoulders, which are even larger and taller than their helmets, making the helmets sink deep into them, making them look like turtles with their heads tucked in.

But as soon as they saw the twin heavy disintegration cannons and heavy plasma bombardment cannons in their hands firing at the Comoros army without hesitation, no one would feel contempt because of this somewhat ridiculous analogy: they all knew what this shape meant, it meant the highest technological masterpiece of the human empire at present.

"Saturn-shaped".

Morgan's son grinned.

"Three of them? Good stuff."

Under the watchful eyes of the Dawnbreakers, three of the tallest, heaviest, and most advanced Terminator armors charged into the battle like mythical giants. Behind them, sixty or seventy Salamander warriors emerged one after another. Clearly, they were already aware of the situation on the battlefield and did not hesitate at all about the presence of the Dawnbreakers and the collapse of the battle line. Instead, they rushed to join their allies.

"Rush over!"

At the champion swordsman's command, hundreds of Dawnbreakers roared and charged toward their opponents, while salamanders wielding giant axes and muskets followed closely behind. Caught in a pincer movement, the Dark Eldar quickly collapsed, losing their positions in confusion. By the time the Comoros army finally arrived from afar, the Imperial army, which had already joined forces, had firmly secured a corner of the encirclement.

They protected themselves in a triangle, with the fortress entrance on one side, which they had to hold firmly: after all, reinforcements would be coming out in a few minutes or ten minutes. On the other side was a mountain of flesh and blood tens of meters high, the most common sight and artwork in the Dark City, with countless dismembered and twisted corpses bound together with barbed wire, crawling with flies and maggots.

This landscape, which should have been a favorite of the Comorians, has now become an insurmountable curse for them: the Astartes' battle lines have been greatly shortened as a result. Centered around three ferocious Saturn-type Terminators, they have quickly built a sufficiently strong and well-coordinated defensive line. The Dawnbreakers, wielding their sharp blades, deal with enemies that get too close in front, while the Salamanders provide safe support from behind.

In the following minutes, aside from more and more corpses and futile efforts, the Dark Eldar gained nothing in their battle against the Empire.

"How much longer do you think we can hold out?"

Bayar sensed the alien army's retreat: he hadn't severed a head worth remembering for almost two minutes.

"I don't think it's up to us."

Surprisingly, the salamander company commander beside him still seemed somewhat pessimistic about the battle situation.

His voice was still very muffled.

"But it lies with the commander on the other side."

"You mean that guy?"

Bayar had naturally spotted the monster standing behind the entire Comorian army long ago.

It was a Bloodwalker, standing arrogantly on the highest city wall, as if watching the duel between Astartes and the Dark Eldar. Behind him were hundreds of roaring monsters, and groveling beastmasters beside him. Clearly, the beastmasters would rather watch their brethren bleed than use their prized monster army unless this artist, wielding a nerve torturer and a skinning knife, spoke.

"I think that guy's patience is running out."

"The salamander company commander said with some concern."

"The reason he didn't make a move before this was simply because he was concerned about the lives of these guys in front of us."

"After all, there are not only lowly people here, but also nightmares or witch spirits that are worth paying attention to."

"But now..."

Before the Son of Vulcan had finished speaking, a horn sound that was extremely deep and like the howl of an ancient beast overwhelmed everyone's minds like a death shock: but compared to the roar and raging sound of hundreds of huge net-path monsters that followed, everything that had happened before seemed so gentle.

As the Dark Eldar army looked behind them with disbelief and fear, watching as the monsters easily crushed the city walls, only one question remained in Bayar's mind.

Transmitting...

His response was a cold, indifferent electronic voice.

"Estimated transmission time: nine minutes."

"What?"

Morgan's son's veins bulged instantly.

"Why is it still nine minutes?!"

"You've been matched with... the most suitable and powerful allies for the current situation... We need some more time..."

"..."

After a moment of silence, Bayar let out a muffled groan.

He slowly tightened his grip on the blade and looked up at the horde of monsters that was only a thousand paces away from them: before charging into the ranks of the Imperial army, these monsters of the net had already stretched their greedy mouths toward the Comoros ranks: when they saw the sturdy armor that they needed to deal with seriously being chewed up like potato chips in the mouths of these monsters, every Astartes instinctively wiped away the sweat.

"Powerful reinforcements..."

Bayar gritted his teeth and muttered to himself.

"Hopefully they won't forget to bring the body collection team."

(End of this chapter)