Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 880, page 08.879: 『Vive l'Empire! (Seeking monthly votes!)』

The firing pin struck the primer, igniting the entire propellant charge inside the sealed breech.

In an instant, chemical energy was converted into violent kinetic energy, propelling the 130mm high-explosive fragmentation projectile at the front end forward along the rifling.

Bang - boom!

The Earthshaker let out a roar powerful enough to tear eardrums.

The devastating shockwave from the cannon was like an invisible giant hand, capable of violently hurling almost any unsecured object on the deck—including human bodies—backwards.

A torrent of flames, mixed with acrid gunpowder smoke, erupted from the cannon muzzle, extending more than ten meters forward before turning into billowing black smoke.

In the brief flash of light, a black phantom streaked through the air at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye.

The next second, a burst of intense golden-red sparks erupted from the center of the massive body of the twisted abomination that had just rushed into the cabin.

No matter how tough the biological structure of such a monster, which is stitched together from five, six, or even a dozen pieces of flesh and blood using evil techniques, it will ultimately not be able to surpass the physical limits that flesh and blood can withstand.

Faced with the direct hit of heavy artillery, its massive body was detonated from the inside, instantly exploding into a cloud of blood mist.

The remaining metal fragments transformed into a deadly storm, sweeping rapidly through the surrounding corridors and mercilessly tearing apart the fragile flesh and blood of the alien enemy soldiers fighting alongside them.

Captain Horatio Cochrane's orders had already been issued to the entire ship: all firepower was authorized to be used if the warship could be saved.

He stood on the command throne on the bridge, his face stern, his eyes fixed on the flashing enemy and friendly markings on the tactical hologram.

If the ship cannot be saved, then any efforts to reduce secondary damage will be meaningless.

Even if a friendly fire causes an irreparable fire inside the ship, it would be acceptable, since the worst outcome would be to drag these enemies of humanity down with us and perish among the stars.

The forward positions were already firing. Dense laser beams, fired in unison at the officers' whistles, wove together into a deadly net of light, precisely targeting the ever-flowing enemy ranks.

Clatter—clatter—clatter…

The tracks of the Chimera armored personnel carrier screeched as they rolled over the dark gray metal deck, leaving two deep scratches.

The mobile force drove their steel fortresses to the front line, and the laser cannons on the chimera turrets began targeting the mutated monsters that were difficult for ordinary soldiers to kill effectively.

These focused beams, capable of easily piercing through heavy armor, could also effortlessly penetrate the monsters' gelatinous flesh, leaving behind charred and smoking holes.

The dull roar of the twin-mounted heavy logging gun and the booming of the heavy explosive arrows had long since blended into an indistinguishable symphony of slaughter in the echoes of the enclosed cabin.

The deafening sound of destruction filled everyone's ears with a piercing ringing, as if the entire world consisted only of this pure violence.

The anti-aircraft artillerymen of the Krieg Death Legion were calmly operating the electrically driven Hydra self-propelled anti-aircraft guns.

They skillfully directed the machine spirits to lock onto infantry targets, aiming at the alien monsters that were chasing the fleeing crew.

After the last crew members ran out of Hydra's firing range, or were slaughtered in the pursuit, the Thinkers who had been directing the turrets to lock onto those massive flesh-and-blood creations were released from their restraints.

Puff puff puff!
The four cannons fired alternately at an astonishing rate. Those standing to the side could only see a blazing whip of fire composed of tracer rounds sweeping down on the enemy ranks.

The narrow, one-inch-caliber cartridge cases were violently ejected from the ejection ports in front of the electric feeders on both sides, sizzling and emitting blue smoke on the deck.

In no time, the ground was piled up with small mountains of golden bullet casings.

The aliens had no idea they would be facing such a situation.

They charged into the compartments under the intense barrage of close-in weapon systems from the warship, hoping for a one-sided massacre of the unarmed crew, but instead encountered such tenacious and deadly resistance.

Now, they have no choice but to continue charging forward amidst the empire's steel and fury, bearing the destructive lash of fire.

They were torn apart one after another. The 25mm adamantium ammunition had terrifying penetrating power; a single shell could easily pierce through the flesh of three or four aliens before coming to a stop due to exhaustion of kinetic energy.

Even the most outstanding creations of the Bloodwalkers—those painless abusers and twisted abominations—could withstand a few hits with their resilient modified bodies, but the brutal firepower of the quadruple-gun could completely crush their resistance in seconds, sending their massive bodies flying or tearing them into countless pieces.

The Dark Eldar are not dull-witted green-skinned orcs.

After probing the ferocity of the Empire's frontal firepower, they decisively abandoned the main battlefield to the Bloodlust and his fearless flesh-and-blood creatures to wear them down.

They themselves, like ghosts, vanished silently, bypassing the barracks, the main battlefield, and launched swift and deadly flanking attacks from the hatches of other compartments.

The flanks of the defensive line quickly engaged in bloody close combat with enemy forces surging in from all directions.

But the Krieg grenadiers forged an indestructible breakwater with their flesh and steel, stubbornly blocking the enemy's futile assault.

They guarded the traffic deck leading to the middle of the ship—the lifeline of the entire warship, behind which the ship's rail transport vehicles were located, and the entire ship's armed operations depended on this.

As long as this "heart and blood vessels" running through the ship's hull are still functioning, the Swift Skyhawk can carry out efficient armed deployment and continue to fight.

Fight the invaders on the ship, fight the enemies in the void.

In the cold, desolate void, an even larger and more intense battle is erupting.

Like a knight's lance, the 'Eastern' charged toward the besieged light cruiser Swift Eagle, escorted only by five escort ships.

"Glory! Motherland! Heroism! Discipline! Long live the Empire!"

A burst of enthusiastic and fervent cheers erupted on the bridge of the Dongfang.

This fervor infected the Gothic fleet officers and men, who were depressed due to prolonged fighting and casualties, and stirred up hope in their hearts.

Horatio had heard of the infamous Sintira flintlock regiments, but this was the first time he had ever seen Sintira people so passionate and fervent in their fighting spirit.

This reminded him of the official GW description of them: the bravest, most adventurous, and most outstanding Sintira people are in the Imperial Navy.

Singing victory songs, we overcame countless difficulties.

'The will of the God-Emperor guides us forward, from the North to the South, the horns sounding all the way; the time for battle has arrived!'

Tremble, enemy of humanity, bloodthirsty and brutal aliens!

'The citizens of the empire march forward, and the enemy will be cast into the grave.'

'Triumphant or dead; citizens of the Empire are born for victory.'

As the stirring melody emanated from the sound array, the officers and soldiers of the Calithis fleet sang a song similar to a 'song of departure'.

On board E-103, Lieutenant Commander Pierre Dumanor Le Pelli, filled with excitement and emotion, joined the chorus in a low voice, his eyes fixed on his prey—a slave ship putting up a desperate resistance, attempting to kidnap another batch of slaves from the Swift Eagle before escaping.

'When we take up arms, we must win...'

'The time has come to make the aliens and traitors weep; the Empire is calling us.'

'Either triumph or die.'

'The Imperials are born to win.'

"Captain! Lieutenant Commander Kretschmer (E-99) has recommended a coordinated attack! They have reached the vicinity of the Swifthawk! Crossfire trajectory has been calculated!"

"It's time to make these greedy aliens pay the price! Torpedoes fired!"

(End of this chapter)