Warhammer: Empire Reboot

These sub-threads can autonomously run basic combat logic without Lawson's active intervention, locking onto the nearest threat, selecting the optimal attack angle, and automatically turning to the next target after a kill.

"Group control mode," Lawson switched in his mind.

Thirty-six flying wheels shot out simultaneously, like a flock of silver raptors swooping in all directions.

Each of them locked onto a preset simulated target. The swarm intelligence marked the positions of thirty-six "virtual orcs" within a 300-meter radius. Each flywheel independently planned its route without interfering with the others.

0.8 seconds later, all thirty-six virtual targets were hit.

After hitting its target, the flywheel immediately changes direction, drawing dense arcs in the air like a swarm of bees, automatically searching for the next target.

Each flywheel makes independent judgments and kills independently, while Lawson only needs to provide general directional instructions such as "attack," "recover," and "transfer" at the macro level.

"Single control mode".

Lawson reclaimed autonomy over all the flywheels and concentrated his psionic consciousness onto one flywheel.

Under his precise control, the flywheel began to perform extreme maneuvers: sudden stops, sharp turns, vertical pull-ups, dives, and spiral cuts.

The remaining thirty-five flywheels hovered motionless around him, awaiting instructions.

The accuracy of single-control mode is much higher than that of group control, making it suitable for dealing with high-value single targets, such as Chaos Space Marines or Orc War Chiefs.

Lawson switched back to group control mode and then began testing tactical combinations.

"Storm Mode".

Thirty-six flywheels converge in front of him and then begin to revolve at high speed around him.

With a revolution radius of ten meters, each flywheel simultaneously maintains its own high-speed rotation.

Thirty-six silver trails wove together in the air to form a rotating sphere of death, and any matter that entered this sphere would be cut into fragments by the molecular-level blades.

Lawson maintained the storm mode for five seconds, then expanded the orbital radius to fifteen meters.

The psionic energy consumption has increased significantly, but it is still within a tolerable range.

"Chain ejection".

He drew a spool from Storm Mode and used psionic energy to precisely guide it to attack a row of scrap steel frames in the distance.

The flywheel cut into the first steel pillar at supersonic speed, penetrated it, and immediately changed direction under the pull of psionic energy, propelling it towards the second pillar, penetrating it, and then propelling it towards the third pillar...

After being launched eleven times in succession, the flywheel finally slowed down to subsonic speed due to the slight energy loss caused by each penetration.

Lawson recalled it and examined the cutting edge; the living metal had automatically repaired the microscopic damage caused during the penetration.

"Merged Giant Blade".

Thirty-six flying wheels instantly converged in front of him, liquefying, fusing, and reshaping the living metal. One second later, a giant war scythe with a diameter of two meters took shape.

The sickle blade is crescent-shaped, and the cutting edge is also at the molecular level in thickness. Lawson grips the handle with both hands and sweeps it horizontally with force.

The scythe emitted a low hum as its blade sliced ​​through the air—the sonic wave produced when the supersonic blade cut through air molecules. A three-meter-tall abandoned transformer box was severed at waist level, its upper half collapsing with a deafening crash.

Lawson released his grip, and the war scythe disintegrated back into thirty-six flying wheels, which floated back around him.

"Shadow Wheels," Lawson named them.

Thirty-six shadow wheels slowly rotated around him, silver arcs of light drawing cold geometric lines under the gray sky.

Lawson looked at them with satisfaction.

It's time for a real-world test.

The outskirts of the nest city.

Swarm mind has marked a large Orc gathering point, the abandoned ammunition depot W-22 area, with approximately seven thousand Orcs.

This is one of the few remaining large-scale orcish populations on the surface of Planet Three.

The reason why this group of orcs was able to gather to a size of seven thousand is because the swarm mind deliberately let go of a Waaagh resonance precursor three days ago, allowing a promising orc boy to advance to Norber.

The roar of this newly minted Norman attracted stragglers from a radius of twenty kilometers within a day, drawing them together to the W-22 area like a magnet attracting iron filings.

Lawson needs a large enough live firing range to test the Shadow Wheel's effectiveness in actual combat.

Scattered orcs are not enough; he needs a group of organized orcs charging in a frenzied frenzy.

Lawson stepped out of the armory space and landed on top of the ruins of a collapsed cooling tower on the north side of the W-22 area.

It is about forty meters high and offers a wide view.

The sight beneath his feet made the corners of his mouth curl up slightly.

Seven thousand orcs turned the entire abandoned ammunition depot into a noisy temporary camp.

Campfires were everywhere, and the orcs were tearing apart metal scraps and charred insects they had somehow acquired.

The newly appointed Norber stood on a "throne" made of welded scrap iron in the center of the camp, waving a bent lamppost as a scepter and howling at the orc lads around him.

Waaagh energy condensed into a faint green mist above the camp.

The more excited the orcs became, the thicker the fog grew.

Lawson spread his silver wings.

The wings of living metal spread out behind him to a width of four meters, reflecting a dazzling metallic luster in the morning light.

The wind blew from the wasteland and supported his wings.

The beastmen noticed him.

The first to spot him were a group of orc lads squatting on the edge of the cooling tower ruins, gnawing on something.

They raised their heads and stared with their small red eyes at the humanoid creature with silver wings forty meters above them.

Then they got excited.

"WAAAGH!"

The first roar ignited the entire camp like a spark.

Seven thousand orcs turned their heads at the same time and saw Lawson.

In the orcs' understanding, anything with wings and a shiny appearance is a big guy worth fighting.

The newly crowned Norbert jumped off the throne, and the lamppost smashed into the ground, leaving a dent.

It looked up at Lawson.

"Big guy! I'm going to beat you up! WAAAGH!!"

Seven thousand orcs began their charge.

They swarmed toward the cooling tower where Lawson was located, like a green flood.

The ground trembled with their footsteps, Waaagh energy surged with their roars, and green mist billowed overhead.

Lawson took off from the top of the cooling tower.

Silver wings flapped through the air, propelling him to a height of eighty meters.

Then he released the shadow wheel.

Thirty-six silver flying wheels shot out from the circular track around his waist, like a flock of silver birds swooping down to the ground.

Group control mode activated.

The swarm intelligence assigns each Shadow Wheel an independent sub-consciousness thread and attack zone.

The thirty-six Shadow Wheels divided the seven thousand orcs beneath their feet into thirty-six sectors, with each Shadow Wheel responsible for all targets within its sector.

The first Shadow Wheel cut into the very front of the orcish charge.

The supersonic spinning molecular-level blade made contact with the first orc boy's neck.

The flywheel passed through the orc's neck as easily as passing through a thin sheet of paper.

The green head flew into the sky, and the headless body ran three more steps before crashing to the ground.

Without pausing, the flywheel, guided by psionic energy, adjusted its angle and launched itself toward the second target, severing another orc's waist with a single strike. The two halves flew off in different directions, and it continued to launch, the third, the fourth, and the fifth.

Thirty-six bloody passages were simultaneously torn open within the beastmen.

Limbs and internal organs flew into the sky.

Green blood gushed from the broken body like a fountain, turning into a blood mist in the morning light.

The orcs' roars turned from excitement to confusion; their brains couldn't process the information that "their companion had suddenly been split in two."

The first round of ejection has ended.

Each of the thirty-six Shadow Wheels completed four to six chain shots, killing a total of over one hundred and eighty orcs.

But for seven thousand orcs, one hundred and eighty is just a tiny fraction.

The newly recruited Norbert witnessed firsthand how the orc boy beside him was sliced ​​to pieces by a flash of silver light.

Its reaction was to swing the lamppost and hit the nearest sleigh.

The wind pressure from the lampposts distorted the air.

The flywheel pulled upwards three meters, avoiding the sweeping motion of the lamppost.

Then it swooped down and precisely cut into Norber's right wrist joint.

The molecular-level blade severed Norbert's wrist.

The lamppost, along with half of its green forearm, flew off.

Norber looked down at his severed wrist. Green blood gushed out like a bursting water pipe.

"Ha! Good chop! Let's do it again!"

It stretched out its left hand, trying to grab another shadow wheel that swept past it.

The thick, green finger was severed cleanly at the root the moment it touched the edge of the flywheel.

The Shadow Wheel remained in Norber's palm for less than 0.1 seconds before the living metal liquefied, flowing out of the cut, reforming in the air, and flying away.

Norber looked down at his left hand, where only his thumb remained.

“WAAAGH…”

The three shadow wheels simultaneously cut in from three directions.

One hand severed its left leg, another cut open its abdomen, its intestines trailing on the ground, and a third cleaved it straight down from the top of its head, splitting the three-meter-tall Norber in two from the top of his head to his groin.