Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 986, page 08.985: 'The Time of Departure'

Combat Armory.

The air, thick with the rising steam, was filled with the scents of holy oil, metal, and gunpowder. This was the most luxurious armory of the "Swift Eagle," a place where sharp blades were honed.

"Boss, we're ready."

The sergeants from the Stormtroopers among the Hellfire Cavalry carefully fastened their red berets, symbols of elite status and honor, to the magnetic attachment points on their power armor. They knew this might be their last mission, and therefore, this symbol of honor had to be carried with them at all times.

If something untoward happens to him, then he will have died a worthy death.

With the help of the Cherubim servants, the other fully armed Hell Soldiers completed the equipment debugging.

With a series of hissing sounds from the hydraulic pistons, they all got up from the support frame.

Most of them carried Hellfire Guns on their shoulders, while some were equipped with adamantite high-penetration sniper rifles with large silencers, and others carried a range of heavy weapons that might be used in the mission, such as laser cannons, missile launchers, and plasma rifles. They were the Empire's sharpest blade, ready to deliver a fatal blow to the enemy's heart.

"Good luck. We'll be there soon."

On the command bridge.

Captain Archie Cuthbert Collingwood dared not relax for a moment. He stood on the holographic tactical platform in the center of the bridge, surrounded by a torrent of data that cascaded down like a green waterfall, reflecting on his focused and tense face.

"Shortwave communication debugging, 3, 2, 1. Debugging complete."

"This is Strike Ship E-99. My Shadow Field is most effective at a speed of 8 Void Knots. All ships, please coordinate and maintain a speed of 8 Void Knots, heading 278, phase ZL."

"Telegram to attack ships E-99 and E-103: My ship has reduced its speed, maintain relative heading, phase ZL. The distance between my ship and the two ships is... 1.5 kilometers."

"Maintain a safe distance. Estimated journey to target orbit: 20 minutes."

"Confirmed, estimated journey time 20 minutes. All ships are on Level 1 combat alert."

beep - beep -

A piercing alarm blared throughout the ship. Archie's Adam's apple bobbed as he picked up the internal sonic boom's intercom, his voice steady and clear:
"Level One Combat Alert! Level One Combat Alert! This is Captain. Our ship is stealthily approaching enemy-occupied airspace. All landing forces, prepare for armed engagement. Repeat! Our ship is stealthily approaching enemy-occupied airspace..."

"Hurry up!! Do you want to live forever?!"

On the massive aviation berth deck beneath the ship, Colonel Jadvig was shouting orders. Those selected for this operation were elite veterans from the 1st and 2nd Battalions of the 13th Dragoon Brigade.

She was not wearing a helmet, but had a bright red commander's belt around her waist.

On her head, she carefully selected a brand-new rhomboid four-cornered military cap, the shape of which was almost identical to the cap of the Ulan lancers in the ancient Terra legends.

Those long, horse-like ears stood erect on either side of the military cap, alertly watching every movement around them like radar.

Amidst the roaring engines of the Arion eight-wheeled heavy tanks, the dragoons, their faces covered by breathing masks, donned their carrying gear and, wielding brand-new laser rifles, surged onto the massive landing craft like a tidal wave.

Vehicles were parked on the first floor, while people flocked to the second floor.

After slamming themselves into their seats, the officers and soldiers skillfully hung their weapons on the nearby fasteners and then secured themselves to the zero-gravity safety locks. "Let's give it our all, lads! The operation has chosen you! What does this mean? It means we've earned the fleet's approval! We've lived up to all that tireless training and experience!"
You've had enough of the discrimination from those flintlock musketeers. Today, let's show everyone who the real warriors are!

The commander of the second brigade, Poniatovsky, looked around excitedly, encouraging the soldiers around him. He stubbornly carried his gold-plated power saber and wore a flashy cavalry jacket over his standard officer's armor.

"If not me, then who!" he shouted, raising his arms and reciting the slogan of the operation.

"Who else but us?!" the officers and soldiers shouted in unison, their morale soaring to unprecedented heights, the roar almost lifting the roof off the landing craft.

The Hell Soldiers, striding past the landing craft, turned their heads to look at the noisy, shouting landing craft, listening to the "Who else but us?" cries coming from inside.

(The real-life prototype of the 13th Dragoon Brigade is the French 13th Airborne Dragoon Regiment, an elite unit spanning three eras.)

"Sorry, rookies. We've secured the honor of being the first to charge." Valina sneered, her helmet tucked under one hand, as she led the Hell Vanguard past the dragon riders, who watched with a mixture of envy and reverence.

Thirty-five Hell Soldiers were divided into seven action groups, with five people in each group.

These 35 people will carry out infiltration, reconnaissance, and location tasks in the pre-operation phase.

Another 12-man task force will infiltrate the enemy's airport control tower from the other side.

Sergeant Major Valina will personally lead this twelve-man task force. Each of the other squads will be led by an experienced veteran sergeant major wearing a red beret.

This is the complete inventory of the first and second batches of Hell Soldiers.

If this operation fails, Horatio will lose all of his special operations forces, and the sharpest blade in his hand will be worn down.

"We will act alongside you, Sergeant Valina." Sister Arabella, fully armed and gleaming in silver armor, led a group of angels towards Valina and said, "The captain's mission for us is to preserve your lives as much as possible."

But if we can kill all the enemy, then the lives of the wounded will naturally be saved.

The clean angels behind her pulled the bolts of the Godwin-Diaz bolt pistols, producing a dense, teeth-grinding "click-click" sound.

"Hmph." Valina looked into Sister Arabella's eyes and sneered, "You've got a sharp tongue, little girl. I admire you. Ever since the Battle of the Celestial Maiden's Cathedral, I've felt you're a bit like me."

There are always rumors that the Holy Rosary Order is a bunch of glittering vases, lacking the fighting spirit expected of fighting nuns. Tell me, is that true?

“Rumors stop with the wise.” Arabella tilted her head slightly, her voice calm and firm. “We are indeed best at saving lives, but what we learned first is how to pull the trigger and kill the enemy of the God Emperor.”

"We will prove the honor of 'Goddess of the Heavens' through our actions."

“Then let me see if you can be as ruthless as you say when you kill the enemy. Don’t die, girls. I hope to see you all again at the victory celebration.” Valina smiled as she walked past Arabella.

"Hahahaha!" The Hell Soldiers let out a rough and unrestrained laugh, following their female officer as they passed by the nuns.

This is not a mocking laugh, but a kind of calm acceptance of death, a dark humor under immense pressure.

(End of this chapter)