Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 943, 08.942: 『Pour l'Empereur! (Long live the Emperor!)』

"First rank—raise your rifles!"

The officers' commands were as crisp as whips, echoing across the battlefield.

"Fire!"

Jiong! Jiongjiong!

The soldiers in the first rank of the line formation resembled a precisely coordinated killing machine, their Carterell M41.777 laser guns simultaneously unleashing a thunderous volley at the green-skinned soldiers charging across the sand.

These laser guns are far more powerful than the "flashlights" most widely issued to the Imperial Guard. Through better and newer capacitor technology, the single-shot power of this new rifle is enough to reach 60% of the power of the Hellfire rifles equipped by elite troops.

Even the enormous energy consumption that comes with it is comparable to the "Lucius" laser gun, which is known for its high energy consumption and is commonly equipped by Krieg.

But a good gun is one that can effectively kill these big, pain-resistant, and unaffected green-skinned creatures.

The dense cluster of green hulls looked like they had crashed into a red curtain made of pure energy.

With just one salvo, a large number of green-skinned creatures fell to the ground, their bodies instantly vaporized by the high-energy beams, leaving behind charred limbs and broken bodies.

From Horatio's bird's-eye view, the scene resembled a deep blue tide, forcefully pushing the surging green waves back into the sea with rows of bursting red spray.

When the Imperial army's line of fire advanced close enough, a deafening roar erupted from the Greenskins' chaotic lines as they launched a counter-charge against these "blue-clad little shrimps" who dared to approach.

"Grenadiers—prepare to throw!"

Standing in the back row, the grenadiers, who lacked a straight firing line, were not idle either.

Under the officer's orders, they attached large grenade launchers to the front of the gun barrels in perfect unison.

They took out round, high-explosive fragmentation grenades engraved with the Imperial Eagle emblem from their waist pouches, raised their guns at an angle practiced countless times, aimed them at the sky, and pulled the trigger.

A series of crisp "thump thump thump" sounds quickly created a continuous storm of fragments above the green-skinned vehicle.

Explosions were happening all along the front line, and scorching shrapnel flew everywhere like raindrops. This disciplined infantry force managed to unleash a level of concentrated firepower that only an armored regiment could match.

However, these infantrymen were indeed surrounded by real Imperial armored vehicles that were constantly firing heavy bolts and battle cannons.

Those green-skinned soldiers, dazed and confused by the grenade launchers, soon faced another nightmare—a gleaming forest of bayonets made of high-quality steel.

This group of soldiers, wearing tall bearskin hats and with tall, sturdy builds, averaged nearly 1.9 meters in height with their hats on—a height that would be daunting for an ordinary human.

At this moment, facing the notoriously ferocious greenskins, even the mortal body seemed less fragile.

A green-skinned man, whose arm had been blown off by the explosion, was still waving his machete and letting out a defiant roar.

As the Imperial line infantry clashed violently with and surrounded the Greenskins' charging lines, several experienced grenadier veterans skillfully encircled them.

They coordinated and tacitly used bayonets to intimidate each other, their eager and deceptive feints concealing deadly intent.

The green-skinned creature's attention was only diverted for less than a second by one of the gleaming bayonets before the other bayonet silently pierced its chest from behind.

Greenie let out a painful roar, and its thick legs instantly lost their strength and went limp.

Then, more bayonets pierced its body, leaving deep, bottomless bloody holes.

The earth trembled violently once again.

This time, it wasn't They manipulating the earth's crust, but rather the iron hooves of thousands of cuirassiers that were making this "continental plate" tremble.

This was the first time Horatio had ever witnessed such a well-organized, classical cavalry charge.

He had seen cavalry from different astral legions on both Far and Carpathian, launching valiant charges against the Emperor's enemies. The Empire even had astral legions specializing in cavalry, like the Attila barbarians.

But Horatio had never seen such a magnificent and terrifying formation before: thousands of heavily armored cavalrymen, divided into several neat lines, launching a "wall charge" that advanced like a city wall. As the name suggests, a "wall charge" involves cavalrymen forming an extremely tight and dense formation, sacrificing mobility in exchange for a terrifying impact that would destroy the enemy's lines and morale to the greatest extent possible.

Each cuirassier's horse occupies only two-thirds of a meter on each side and two meters in front and behind. With the tiny gaps that must be left, a two-row formation with forty-eight squads on each side and two rows in front and behind has a total width of about thirty-five to thirty-eight meters. On average, each cavalryman occupies less than 0.8 meters on each side!
Even so, these fanatical noblemen held their heads high, letting their polished breastplates reflect the sunlight, as if they wanted to bring the emperor's glory to this filthy battlefield, crushing all obstacles with their superb horsemanship and strict discipline.

They held their power cavalry swords high in their right hands, the long blades gleaming with energy, pointing directly at the green-skinned men before them.

Each of them had a mounted musket on the side of their saddle, but they seemed to disdain using such firearms, preferring instead to launch this unstoppable and glorious charge against the enemy with their swords.

The magnificent, genetically modified warhorses they rode, purchased from the Attila barbarian cavalry, with Terran blood flowing through their veins, made the earth tremble with their iron hooves.

When the green-skinned orcs saw the nearly four-meter-high, incredibly fast "horse wall" charging towards them, for a moment, their simple minds didn't know which one to attack first.

On the battlefield, hesitation means death.

The warhorse's heavy body slammed into the green-skinned beasts, sending these ferocious creatures, known for their strength, flying through the air like bowling pins.

Those greenskins who managed to escape the first wave of impact were pierced by the cavalry swords that had already activated their disintegration force fields.

These sharp blades, possessing a disintegrating force field, almost disregarded the rudimentary armor on the greenskins, and with the unparalleled powerful impact of the warhorses, pierced directly through their armor and flesh.

The scene instantly became extremely chaotic.

These cuirassiers, composed of young, fanatical noblemen, employed extremely simple and brutal tactics in combat.

They were not tanks, yet they fulfilled the duty of steel with their flesh and blood, crushing through the raging tide of green-skinned beasts and forcibly trampling these ferocious creatures under their hooves.

In the chaos of battle, being knocked down by a warhorse also meant death.

The fallen green horse, under the dense and heavy hooves, had no chance to get back up.

War is mercilessly trampling on their flesh and blood, the claws and spikes on horseshoes are being driven deep into their bodies.

The first rank marched past, followed by the second, third, and fourth ranks... the hooves of the entire cavalry army sounded the war drums.

Under the cover of the towering grenadiers at the center of the line, Leman Rustank quickly stormed into the energy hub complex.

Their leader, the serious-looking young brigadier general Jean Lannes, the elder brother of Colonel Jadvig, always stood with his men.

He dismounted his warhorse, had his attendant lead it away, tightened his red officer's belt around his waist, drew his saber and pistol, roared, and led the charge with the grenadiers toward the shattered outer wall of the energy center.

Meanwhile, the cuirassiers continued their exhilarating gallop across the vast sandy plains.

The Greenskins' massive army had long been fragmented and scattered across the land controlled by They. Meanwhile, the Cuirassiers, with their overwhelming numerical superiority and unstoppable charge, could utterly crush any Greenskin unit in their path.

After they crushed a Greenskin unit, They would use artificial movement of the earth's crust to precisely deliver another segment of the enemy to the cavalry, allowing them to crush them again like a plow.

The entire battle turned into a brutal and efficient massacre, like a meat grinder destroying pieces of flesh.

That brave and courageous cuirassier officer, who led from the front, stabbed the green-skinned wagon commander, who had sprung from the stolen wagon and was firing a machine gun, to death with a single sword strike. He then swung his sword, imbued with a disintegrating force field, from the top of the wagon and severed the iron flagpole.

He proudly raised his spoils of war—a military flag emblazoned with a menacing green demon face—high toward the gaze of the aged general.

The cavalrymen present became even more excited and invigorated.

At that moment, the sound of laser guns and the cannon fire of Lemanrus were drowned out by shouts of slogans.

The only thing that resounded loudly above the battlefield was the constantly repeated, high-pitched slogans—

Pour l'Empereur! (Long live the Emperor!)
(A cavalry sergeant of the 5th Cuirassier Regiment of Sintila)

(End of this chapter)