40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 684 66. Belated Judgment (Twenty-Seven)
"We don't have much ammunition left. We can only give you three standard magazines at most." The Messenger Zefeng said softly.

"That's enough," Serafax said.

The radioactive dust rolled in, sweeping across their armor and sound source capture units with creepy screams. The two Astartes stopped talking at the same time and began to look in the direction of the sound. Of course, they were destined to see nothing.

After experiencing multiple Chaos invasions, nuclear bomb drops and endless bombings, the harsh environment in this war zone has reached an unprecedented level and can almost be regarded as a man-made natural barrier.

Expecting the combat goggles to help them overcome such difficulties? This idea is so absurd that it seems like a crude joke.
Zefeng turned back and made a suggestion in a serious tone: "Since you have made up your mind, I will not stop you. But we haven't met other people for a long time, so I suggest you go east."

"Before the entire plateau front was declared defeated, that was where the most troops were gathered. The 4th, 5th, and 12th Legions all deployed more than two large companies of troops there to stop the demon tide."

Serafax silently took this into account and nodded.

All that had been said was that Zefeng of the Ninth Legion actually did not agree with his decision to set out on foot to look for the main force, but he did not dissuade him and instead gave him all the support he could.

Frankly speaking, the Dark Angel did not understand this, but he noticed another thing. He raised his hand, wiped the thick dust on the eyepiece, turned off the loudspeaker unit in the breathing grid, and asked a question in a very low voice.

"But you're out of supplies."

"There are still eleven standard units of baseline ammunition in the ammunition depot of the Blazing Flame, which is more than enough for our number."

Serafax shook his head, his voice growing quieter. "No, I mean something else, Zefon - you don't have any food or water. You may be able to hold on for a while, but these people..."

He looked down and saw the soldiers who were holding their positions on the towering body of the Blazing Flame. Most of them were motionless, as if they were already dead.

A kind of anger mixed with grief surged into the Dark Angel's fictitious old heart, causing him to instinctively clench his fists and unable to continue speaking.

Zefeng saw everything, but just smiled. His laughter was very clear and carried an extraordinary power.

But, in the end, all he said was, "Don't worry about us. Good luck, cousin. We'll hold our ground. Go do your job."

Serafax chewed on his words and headed east. Due to the multiple damages to his power armor, his speed was forced to slow down a lot.

Putting aside the parts that would compromise the defense, the real problem was actually the disconnection between the servomotor and the artificial muscle bundle. Even in the past, the technical sergeants would directly replace the damaged muscle bundle to deal with such problems.

The reason is simple: manual repair is too troublesome. Disconnection will cause the muscle bundles to be stretched to the limit and then break one by one. Even if they can be "stitched" again, their strength will be greatly reduced.

Therefore, the few remaining crew maintenance workers on the Raging Flame had no way to repair his power armor.

But what more could Serafax ask for? A high-level maintenance servitor? Or a mechanical priest?
To be honest, a hundred maintenance servitors on an Emperor-class Titan would not be too many, but the Raging Flame had been shot down. Its crew and captain had all died at that moment, and the remaining Skitarii, servitors, and priests relied on the churches and buildings on board to fight a positional battle with the surging demon tide and traitors.
Zefon and his remnants actually arrived at the Titan after they were all dead, and like Serafax, they followed the sound of the hammering on the ground.

Strangely, even though it was unmanned and its energy core had been disabled, the Raging Flame was still executing this order.

No one knows who issued the order. The data terminals used by the Firebee Corps have special encryption technology, which also makes Zefeng and Serafax's idea of ​​reading the battle log come to nothing.
Is it a machine spirit? the Dark Angel wondered.

He lowered his head and hurriedly crossed a piece of volcanic rock formed by the day after tomorrow, and then jumped onto a piece of overturned and melted steel ruins. Thick ashes and corpses covered it, forcefully occupying every inch of space.

Serafax walked slowly with his sword in hand and quickly came to the conclusion that this was once the location of an armored unit. However, after the volcano erupted, they became what they are now.

Steel and steel were tangled together, the soldiers inside were scalded alive by the magma, and the accompanying infantry simply turned into charcoal or ashes.
But where are the dormant volcanoes on Terra?

Serafax looked up at the sky. As always, the radioactive dust blocked all prying eyes. It treated all creatures in the Himalayas equally. It was extremely dangerous, but also extremely fair.

He continued forward, and to his surprise, after passing this place, he saw a battlefield still emitting smoke, with many flags flying in the wind. They were not particularly complete or neat, but they were not broken, which meant that they were still protected by flag bearers or company members.

He stopped immediately, sheathed his sword, and even took off his helmet. Dust blew in his face, staining his pale face black. Ignoring the burning pain, Serafax spoke quickly, letting his voice echo in this seemingly empty battlefield.

"Is anyone there? I am Serafax of the First Legion, and I have been ordered to come here—"

"-Harlan Kosen, War Dog, Captain of the Third Company." A voice interrupted him, but it did not sound like a human voice. Instead, it had the stiffness unique to machines.

Serafax looked in the direction of the voice and saw many figures slowly rising from the mud, blood, and dust. The warhounds' bright two-color armor now looked extremely dull and scarred. The figure of the person who made the sound was in the center of them, looking particularly large.

Serafax looked closely, and it took him several seconds to realize that this was actually a set of MK3 power armor, but it had been so thick due to multiple heat repairs and scars that even the legion's logo could not be recognized.

However, compared to the condition of the armor, the giant beheading sword held in the hands of the War Dog Captain was still sharp and not stained with blood.

"Put on your helmet, Dark Angel, or you'll soon be blinded."

The war dog warned him in a mechanical tone, waved at him, and suddenly turned over and jumped off the battlefield. Serafax wiped his face and quickly followed his instructions. He stepped over the deadly battlefield and followed him into a very deep trench.

It was about seven meters deep, and was obviously not a fortification dug by the auxiliary troops. However, even if the garrison was mainly composed of Astartes, was it necessary to dig so deep?

Serafax suppressed his doubts and walked towards the warhound captain on the hard soil. The others returned to their respective posts without saying a word, and no one even looked at them.

It was not until then that he discovered where the latter's strange mechanical synthesized sound came from - most of Harlan Cosen's face was perfectly replaced by bionic parts, as well as a small part of flesh and blood in the throat.

There are usually two treatment options for this kind of injury. One is to rely on drugs, medical technology and the Astartes' self-healing ability. The other is to use bionic parts to directly replace all the lost flesh and blood like he did.

Fast, but not safe. The mechanical transplant surgery in the early days of the Great Crusade was limited by the modified physiological structure of the Astartes. Once rejection occurred, it would take a lifetime to adapt, and in severe cases it would even cause nerve atrophy.
"Are you alone?" asked War Dog.

Behind him was a complex, deserted fork in the road. This huge trench seemed to be far beyond the fortification standards of an ordinary position. Serafax even saw four bunkers with closed doors at a cursory glance. He couldn't see the firing holes, but he thought there should be more than three heavy machine guns. "Yes." Serafax nodded. "I came from the Firebee Legion's garrison position in the west. The original crew members and Mechanicus forces have all died. They are replaced by the Blood Angels' Herald Zephon and a group of auxiliary soldiers from different units."

Harlan Kosen looked at him and said nothing more. He just gave a slight nod, then turned and walked away, taking him deep into the trench.

Several minutes later, Serafax saw an entire infantry squad of the auxiliary army in a cave that had been dug the day before. They were preparing here. Everyone was wounded and covered in dust, but the flag was wiped spotless and hung on the composite metal fixing beam in the cave, fluttering slowly.

Serafax looked up and read the name on it: "Burning Sand?"

He quickly recalled the things related to it.

The Burning Sands are an auxiliary army unit with outstanding merits. All of their members are Nuceria. Among the first batch of veterans, there are even many slave gladiators who were contemporaries of the Lord of the War Dogs. They are known for their extreme fighting enthusiasm and close combat ability.

"Yes, Burning Sand." Harlan Cosen responded slowly, looking a little surprised. His only remaining eye couldn't help him convey this emotion well, so this look even looked more like a threat.

Serafax caught up with him, and his tense nerves finally relaxed a little - he was getting closer to his goal, and no news could make him more excited than this.

They continued walking, and the Burning Sands' men didn't even bother to say hello to the War Dogs' captain.

They were busy maintaining their weapons, and only a few of them saluted the terrifying-looking Harlan Corson with eyes that did not look like they were looking at their superiors. The latter nodded in response one by one, also appearing very restrained.

After passing through the cave, a completely different scene appeared in front of Serafax. He saw many force field generators scattered in the mud walls, automatic turrets in operation, and power generation cables covering the ground.

The taciturn Iron Warriors in iron-colored armor were scattered at various intersections, inspecting and evaluating these machines. Harlan Kosen took him along these cables to trace the source bit by bit.

On the way, Serafax saw many portable generators, and their servants were working tirelessly to generate electricity in a rather primitive way - by pedaling or cranking.

Soon, they came to the end of the road, where a soldier from the Fourth Legion was working with a data tablet with his back to them.

Serafax couldn't tell the model of his power armor, so he thought it must have been designed by him alone - there shouldn't be many people who can enjoy this honor. Serafax secretly guessed that this must be a war blacksmith.

However, when he turned around, Serafax saw a rough iron mask. It was probably made temporarily and didn't even fit his face well. Blood was slowly flowing and spreading along the edge of the mask.
"Who is this?" the Iron Warrior asked hoarsely.

Harlan Corson walked up to him, explained a few words, and then turned away, obviously going back to his post. The Iron Warrior approached him, clasped his hands in front of his chest, and made a Sky Eagle salute.

"You said you were ordered to come here, Brother Serafax. I know the secrecy of your First Order, so I only ask one question. Can you tell me?"

Serafax shook his head.

"Very well, how can I help you?"

Why did he believe me so easily? Serafax immediately realized this problem. At the same time, Zefeng's words also came to his mind, and the performance of the Announcer and the Iron Warrior made him quickly draw a conclusion.

At this point in time, his army has not yet officially entered Terra, or has already entered but has not yet joined other forces. Either way, it is a good thing for him.

Serafax took a deep breath and spoke slowly.

"I need power armor repairs, ammunition supplies, battlefield communications, and a current situation map. The more detailed the better. In addition, about 82 kilometers west of here is the garrison of the Raging Flame. If possible, can you send support?"

"Other things are not a problem," the Iron Warrior said simply. "But I am powerless to change the communications and the situation map. The power of Chaos is pervasive and has destroyed the most basic communication system."

"Okay, then please show me the direction."

"Where are you going?"

“The palace,” Serafax said.

The Iron Warrior was silent for about half a minute before he answered seriously, "Logically, I shouldn't ask a Dark Angel acting alone what mission he is going to perform. But since you asked about the direction to the palace."

He slowly moved his hand over the handle of the bolter at his waist, slowly enough for Serafax to see it clearly.

"What do you want it for?" the Iron Warrior asked word by word.

Serafax was silent for a moment as he usually was, then raised his hand, removed his helmet, and spoke a word in his own voice.

"I have a message for the Emperor."

"What news?" The Iron Warrior asked slowly, narrowing his eyes.

“There’s been a rebellion on Caliban,” Serafax said simply. “Civil strife—in the Legion.”

He put on his helmet after saying this. No one knew the pain in his heart, but he felt even more ridiculous: using this shame to commit a scam in order to gain a tactical advantage?

Ugh.
He sighed silently and clenched his fists. The Iron Warrior seemed to take his behavior as something else, so the eyes behind the iron mask quickly changed from initial astonishment to disbelief.
In the end, he himself even let out a sigh.

"Okay, I see." The Iron Warrior said. "Wait here for a moment. I'll contact the White Scars."

(End of this chapter)