Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 932 (08.931): "We'll meet in hell!"

Inside the cockpit, alarms blared.

The pilot used every ounce of his strength, gripping the control stick tightly with both hands, and with the help of the wailing engine and auxiliary horizontal rudder, struggled to maintain the aircraft's balance and prevent it from immediately falling into a death spiral.

"The formation has been attacked! We might not reach our designated position!"

The captain's voice came through the intercom, his breathing heavy yet his voice still commanding, "But we can fly a little further! Hold on! Guys, don't panic!"

However, the attackers did not give them any chance to catch their breath.

Several Ducati Raven Atmospheric Fighters, like ghosts born from a nightmare, took advantage of the perfect cover of night to launch an elegant yet deadly surprise attack on the massive Valkyrie formation.

"Enemy aircraft! Multiple aircraft! Contact with the transport formation!"

In the communications channels of the 335th Interceptor Group, the shouts and warnings of the pilots intertwined into a chaotic symphony.

The escorting "Lightning" fighter jets reacted immediately, breaking away from their high-altitude patrol positions and diving down like angry raptors. The laser cannons under their wings drew fiery red spears, piercing the slender, ghostly figures that appeared and disappeared in the darkness.

The sky was instantly ignited by crisscrossing beams of energy and exploding fireballs.

"Damn it, when did the Valkyrie squadron descend? Wasn't the tactical coordination altitude nine thousand feet?" a Lightning pilot complained angrily after performing a maneuver with extreme G-forces to barely dodge a dark matter spear.

"That damned dark cloud interfered with their flight safety. They don't have as many redundant harpoons and electro-optical detection devices as we do! It's not their fault!"

Julia, the calm commander of the 335th Air Group, switched the channel. Her aircraft was locked on a Raven fighter that was slaughtering Valkyries. "All units! The number of attacking enemy forces is small. Eliminate them as quickly as possible and cover the assault force to complete its mission!"

Before she could finish speaking, she pressed her thumb hard on the red fire button on the control stick.

The six-barreled Punisher cannon unleashed a devastating storm of metal, engulfing the agile alien fighter.

The fighting, which had been barely quelled during the day, was reignited at this moment.

The explosion in the sky was like festive fireworks, dazzling yet deadly, and it also completely awakened the war beasts lurking on the ground.

"Huh?" A Cintira flintlock gunner, half-asleep in a makeshift bunker, was startled awake by a rumbling sound like rolling thunder coming from the distant horizon.

He knew that sound all too well—it was the distinctive shriek of a fighter jet's engine during a death dive.

He rubbed his eyes hard with his hands, which were covered in dirty velvet gloves, and almost reflexively grabbed the anti-aircraft binoculars beside him, aiming them in the direction from which the sound came.

Through scratched lenses, my sleepy eyes could only see countless intertwined beams of light and exploding sparks appearing and disappearing in the dark clouds.

Having been repeatedly harassed by Greenskins and Dark Eldar aircraft for several days, his nerves were already as taut as a taut string.

"Air raid!" He screamed in panic before he could even distinguish friend from foe.

Fear overwhelmed reason, and the instinct for survival prompted him to sound the hand-cranked alarm on the position.

A loud red siren pierced the night sky, followed by a piercing air raid siren that quickly spread throughout the war zone like a virus.

Boom!Boom!Boom!
In an instant, dozens of high-powered searchlights lit up the Sintira people's position, and beams of pale light with tens of thousands of lumens pierced the darkness and shot straight into the sky.

However, these beams of light were so powerless in the face of the thick cloud of smoke that they failed to illuminate any enemies. Instead, they were like spotlights on a dark stage, completely exposing the Valkyrie formation struggling to fly below the clouds.

"Damn it! These idiots!" Inside the burning Valkyrie cockpit, Harvey cursed angrily as he looked down at the brightly lit Cintira position. Commander Horatio's orders to him were: parachute silently, raid and destroy the data core containing critical intelligence, and then quietly retreat.

The cornerstone of the entire operation was the word "secrecy".

But now, thanks to the Sintila people's incredibly foolish actions, everything is over.

Greenskins, Severus rebels, Sintiras... every faction on the battlefield could clearly see the firelight in the sky and the Valkyrie transport planes flying forward, perfectly outlined by the searchlight beams.

Tap tap tap! Tap tap tap! Puff puff puff!
Almost simultaneously, regardless of whether they were friend or foe, all the anti-aircraft firepower on the positions seemed to be sharks that had smelled blood, and they all opened fire fiercely on the airspace illuminated by the searchlight beams of the Sintila positions.

Countless tracer rounds, anti-aircraft shells, and energy beams converged from all directions, weaving a giant net of death in the air.

"Ground-based air defenses are about to arrive! We've become sitting ducks! It's too late! Jump!" The captain roared in the cockpit one last time.

Before he could finish speaking, a large-caliber automatic cannon shell accurately hit the armored glass of the cockpit.

With a "plop," the reinforced glass shattered instantly into countless crystals.

The violent airflow, carrying shrapnel, rushed in, leaving the captain with only half a bloody, mangled face, his body slumped helplessly in the cockpit.

The weapons operator, Lev, who was in front of him in the cockpit, was now only his lower body, which was firmly strapped to the seat with a seatbelt, and half of his bloodied spine was swaying back and forth with the violent shaking of the fuselage.

The last sign of life in the cockpit was the emergency ejection signal that the pilot used his last bit of strength to take before being killed by the shrapnel.

“We’ll meet in hell! Jump!!!” Harvey shouted.

The green light flashed before Harvey's eyes, its brilliance dazzling at that moment.

His Valkyrie unit had long since broken away from the formation due to engine damage and was now far behind.

Below them was not the pre-planned drop zone, but an unknown, war-torn death zone.

But he had no choice.

Henry Harvey leaped out of the hatch.

In an instant, the world was spinning.

The howling wind instantly took over his entire world, and the feeling of weightlessness engulfed him like icy seawater.

He was like a stone that had been carelessly tossed about, tumbling uncontrollably through the air.

But the rigorous training of the Hell Soldiers came in handy at this moment.

He forced himself to perform standard in-flight stabilization procedures amidst the nauseating dizziness: roll, stretch, and adjust his posture.

He finally turned his face upward and saw a scene he would never forget—one Valkyrie after another swept through the dark clouds above his head, black figures constantly jumping out from under their bellies, like sowing seeds of death.

Most of the vanguard troops, under the desperate cover of the "Lightning" fighter jets, are flying toward the original drop zone.

But they didn't know that their commander, Captain Harvey, was far away from them, falling into a completely different hell.

(End of this chapter)