Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 969, 08.968: "The Imperial Navy thanks you for your service and sacrifice."

After much effort, Sister Arabella finally removed Lieutenant Vox's heavy power armor, which was twisted and deformed in many places, riddled with bullet holes and corroded.

As the last piece of breastplate was hydraulically sheared open, a stench of blood filled the air. She personally removed the lieutenant's helmet.

The soldiers watching all took a half step back and looked at the young, haggard face that was almost bloodless.

His face was covered in dried and fresh bloodstains, and his breathing was as faint as a candle flickering in the wind.

If it weren't for the life detection equipment built into his power armor stubbornly displaying a faint heartbeat, he would have looked no different from the corpse covered by a white sheet next to him.

"The second wounded soldier's injuries are relatively minor. I have already performed initial bandaging and he can be transferred to the rear hospital immediately," the first combat nun reported, her voice hoarse with exhaustion.

"The third wounded soldier is of moderate injury and can be sustained with life support to reach a rear hospital for amputation," the third combat nun added.

Horatio's gaze finally settled on Sister Arabella.

She was kneeling beside Lieutenant Vox, performing a battlefield surgery in a race against death.

His situation was dire. In the final moments, he used his heavily armored body to shield two Hellslingers from the catastrophic collapse.

It can be said that it was thanks to his heroic final act that the two Hellsoldier soldiers wearing relatively light Glory power armor were able to survive.

But this is not without its costs.

Lieutenant Vox suffered a devastating impact: his left arm was shattered, his right shin was severed at the root, he had multiple fractures throughout his body, and his ribs were broken in a supporting manner, with the stump of his fifth rib almost touching his heart.

At this moment, severe blood loss and high fever caused by infection were teetering on the edge of consciousness and coma.

Sister Arabella is giving him an emergency blood transfusion using a portable blood bag from the first aid kit.

It's fair to say that if it weren't for the final dose of combat stimulant injected into him by the power armor before he fell unconscious, he would already be dead.

He is now barely surviving on the last remaining adrenaline produced by drugs.

“Arabella, can we move him away?” Horatio’s voice trembled slightly.

“No!” Arabella bit her lower lip and answered without looking up.

Her scalpel moved swiftly and steadily, her hands never stopping. "Move him now; any slight tremor could cause the broken ribs to pierce his heart."

She first used a small plasma cutter to dismantle the remaining breastplate, then used surgical cutters to cut open the combat suit that was tightly attached to her body, and began to make incisions.

The soldiers nearby spontaneously formed a human wall, using their bodies to block the raging sandstorm.

The sight was so horrific that the other soldiers present could hardly bear to look. This was absolutely the most severely wounded yet still alive soldier they had ever seen.

As another round of painkillers and adrenaline was injected into his body, Lieutenant Vox's eyelids twitched slightly, and he slowly opened his eyes.

He looked around at the people with a blank stare, his gaze unfocused and empty, as if unable to concentrate.

Finally, his gaze fell on the tall, burly man with a naval captain's insignia on his shoulder.

"Captain... Captain." He gasped, as if clinging to his last breath, "Did you... get... the intelligence...?"

"Got it, Lieutenant. You've successfully completed the mission." Horatio knelt on one knee, leaning down so his voice could clearly reach his ears.

“Where is Captain Harvey?” His pale lips trembled violently with each syllable he uttered.

“Captain Harvey has returned safely. Now, we’re taking you home,” Horatio reassured him with a white lie.

He didn't, and couldn't bear to, tell the dying lieutenant that he hadn't found any news of Captain Harvey at all.

“Captain…” His gaze began to wander, passing over Horatio’s shoulder and landing on the azure sky tinged with a yellowish hue by the sand, as if searching for the warship named “Swift Eagle” on its orbit.

But soon, severe blood loss caused him to lose even his last vestiges of sight. "Tell me, I'm listening," Horatio said, gripping his still-intact hand tightly.

"Please...please take my medals...and officer's uniform...to my father..."

His voice grew softer and softer until Horatio could no longer hear it at all.

Di-

The life detection equipment emitted a sharp, long beep.

A scarlet slogan popped out from the tactical armplate on his arm armor:
"Command system offline. Command will be automatically transferred. Information formatting will begin in 10 seconds."

"The Imperial Navy thanks you for your service and sacrifice! May your soul rest in peace on the Golden Throne!"

Five seconds later, the light on the screen went out, leaving only complete darkness.

That was the Hellscream power armor's built-in post-death information formatting setting from the very beginning of its design, along with a final blessing—may the souls of those who have diligently performed their duties return to the Golden Throne.

When personnel deaths are detected, especially the deaths of officers, the system will automatically erase all classified files and information from the device to prevent the leakage of tactical orders.

Arabella's blood-stained hands froze in mid-air, still tightly gripping a bone saw.

A brief, suffocating silence fell over the entire room.

The soldiers bowed their heads in unison, mourning silently.

Human physiology has its limits; even potent adrenaline is not a panacea for prolonging life.

As time went on, and with the severity of blood loss, his bodily functions eventually failed. He died as the effects of the hormones wore off completely.

Rather, it's a miracle that he was able to hold on for so long, and even manage to say a few words during his final moments of lucidity.

His eyes were still fixed on the sky, on the direction of the warship he could never return to, his lips slightly parted as if he had something left to say.

As an Imperial Navy officer, he did not perish in the void's cannon fire, but fell forever on the yellow sands of this alien planet.

After a brief moment of stiffness, Sister Arabella began to skillfully pack away her medical equipment.

She had seen this scene countless times, and it had become so commonplace that it was almost like a daily occurrence for her.

But for some reason, even though she had become accustomed to it, she still felt waves of sadness in her heart.

However, her tear ducts seemed to have become numb, and she would no longer unconsciously shed tears in such situations.

Horatio knelt on one knee, reached out a trembling hand, and gently touched the deceased's eyes that had not yet closed.

Four angels stepped forward, took out a clean white cloth, and covered the body of the victim.

“He’s a good officer. There are few officers as competent as him in the entire Sintila army.” Battalion Commander Poniatovsky stepped forward, patted Horatio heavily on the shoulder, and comforted him in his rough manner.

Although oblivious to the fact that he seemed unaware of how presumptuous his actions were, Horatio didn't seem to care either.

“Thank you.” Horatio stood up, his voice low. “I must now get my men back to my ship. Afterwards, I’ll need your cooperation with the nun in continuing the search for my other captain.”

"Don't worry, as long as he's still in this area, we'll dig three feet into the ground to find him," Poniatovsky assured him, patting his chest.

After collecting the remains and survivors of all 12 Hell Vanguard soldiers to the best of their ability, and after a brief thank you and farewell, Horatio and Arabella, along with a medical nun and two cleansing angels, took the wounded and the dead to the Valkyrie.

The transport plane roared into the air and then soared into the sky, piercing through the sandstorm and heading towards its orbit.

Although they died on the ground, the heroic souls of the Imperial Navy must be buried in the void.

(End of this chapter)