Warhammer: Empire Reboot

The wrench struck a mortal slave squarely on the head.

The poor wretch's head exploded instantly, like a rotten watermelon struck by a hammer.

Brain matter, blood, and shattered bone fragments splattered all over the surrounding slaves.

The headless corpse staggered forward two steps and fell heavily onto the metal deck.

A suppressed, short gasp erupted from the crowd, and then the slaves pushed the cart forward even more frantically, fearing they would become the next target.

Hearing the muffled thud of bones breaking and the oppressive fear emanating from the surroundings, the blind old soldier spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva and muttered something listlessly.

"Boring dead flesh, even its cries for mercy are so weak."

He turned his head and continued to stare at the carnage in the pool of blood, completely disregarding the life he had just killed. To them, there was no need for a reason to crush an ant.

However, in places unseen by these veterans, tormented by the butcher's nails and reduced to nothing but killing, lies...

A quiet change is taking place among those who consider themselves dead flesh, mute, or cannon fodder with their nerves removed.

Large numbers of slaves, low-level repairmen, and even people disguised as reinforcements through various channels are seeping into this 5.5-kilometer-long behemoth in a quiet, eerie order, like mercury seeping into the ground.

These people were the non-combatant assassins under Lawson's command.

At the bottom of the bridge is the power core area.

This is a forbidden zone of the Dark Mechanicus, filled with deadly radiation and high temperatures.

Dozens of assassins carrying high-pressure plasma cutters, following the orders of the Dark Mechanic, navigated through a maze of pipes toward the Geller force field generator at the bottom of the warship.

On the surface, they were diligently welding the damaged armor plates, sparks flying, their movements practiced and skillful.

In reality, their fingers moved with dazzling micro-manipulation speed, precisely attaching miniature logic disruptors—only the size of coins—from the arsenal to the most lethal energy loops that dominate the reactor cycle system.

The assassins' eyes showed no emotion, and their actions required no communication.

The placement of each explosive is an absolute weakness calculated through millions of iterations of swarm intelligence.

With just a thought from Lawson on Planet Three, these inconspicuous destroyers would detonate simultaneously, instantly paralyzing the warship's internal defense network and energy shield within 0.1 seconds.

The main gun array area in the cargo hold of the abyss.

Hundreds of non-combatant suicide soldiers disguised as transport workers are using anti-gravity trailers to transport heavy solid shot from macro cannons weighing hundreds of tons.

This job is extremely dangerous; a slight mistake could result in being crushed into mincemeat by munitions.

"Click..."

The moment a cannonball was dropped, the assassins naturally shifted their positions.

One of the tools in one of the men got stuck in the suspension gear of the anti-gravity trailer, triggering a brief mechanical malfunction alarm.

"Damn it! Fix it now!" the foreman roared, brandishing his whip in the distance.

"Troubleshooting in progress, sir."

In that short period of time, using the excuse of malfunction and stalling for time, the bodies of these suicide soldiers acted as a weak subspace signal amplifier, serving as a physical medium.

The static field/arsenal, located billions of kilometers away, established a stable teleportation anchor point through them.

Once the battle to seize the ship begins, fully armed White Tiger power armor suicide soldiers will instantly parachute from this anchor point to the core area of ​​the main gun array.

In addition to the critical power and weapons areas, a large number of disguised suicide soldiers were deployed to various living quarters, water supply systems, ventilation duct hubs, and buffer decks of the warship.

They were like an invisible, dense, and cold net, spreading transmission nodes and intelligence tentacles to every corner of the warship.

All panic and selfishness are filtered to zero by swarm intelligence, and no assassin will be exposed out of fear.

They are perfect cogs, dismantling this chaotic warship bit by bit from the inside.

at the same time.

On the distant planet Number Three, inside the command center atop the tower of the Obolos hive.

Lawson sat in the large command chair, his eyes slightly closed, his consciousness completely immersed in the vast network of swarm intelligence.

In his view, there was neither the gloom of the capital nor the clamor of the common people.

There was only one massive, breathtaking 3D diagram of a warship, flashing wildly with hundreds of millions of data streams.

This starship hologram is so detailed that it shows every single rivet and every single cable.

The eyes of the assassins are like Lawson's high-precision scanner.

As the tens of thousands of assassins who had infiltrated the warship moved about, the thickness of the surrounding armor, the width of the passageways, the location of the sentries, and even the temperature and breathing frequency of the veteran World Devourers' gathering places were all transformed into massive amounts of binary data and transmitted back to the swarm's thinking at zero latency.

Based on the real-time information it acquires, the swarm intelligence system frantically corrects and adjusts the previous exercise plan in real time.

"Warning, data fusion complete. Cross-scanning of the field of view from assassins A-774 to A-791 confirms that the actual width of the fourth deck passage of the Tyrant-class cruiser is 2.14 meters narrower than the original structural drawings from the Great Expedition era."

"Two additional twin-mounted heavy explosive machine guns have been added to the target area, with a firing range coverage of 98%."

In Lawson's view, the area representing the fourth deck instantly turned red.

"Tactical assessment: The original breakthrough plan has failed. If executed as originally planned, suicide squads 4 to 9 are expected to suffer a 74% casualty rate during the frontal assault."

"Instruction issued: The original plan for a frontal breakthrough must be revised immediately."

"New tactic generated: Cancel the frontal assault mission of suicide squads 4 to 9. Change the attack route to the upper D-3 ventilation duct. In the third-to-last second before the order to seize the ship is issued, use high-energy meltdown bombs for vertical pinpoint demolition, directly melting through the armor plate above the machine gunner's head, and carrying out a point-blank decapitation."

Lawson's consciousness, like that of a supreme deity, manipulated the fate of this warship.

This Tyrant-class cruiser was only part of Lord Lawson's ambitions.

Four Sword-class frigates, each 1.5 kilometers long, are also moored outside the brass rail dock.

"In a ship-seizing battle, we must not give the enemy any breathing room or space to initiate self-destruct procedures. It must be completed synchronously across the entire matrix." Lawson issued this absolute ironclad rule in the consciousness network.

On those four Sword-class corvettes, the same "silent infiltration" was unfolding. Thousands of suicide soldiers were already in position, holding explosives, standing beside the reactors; they were hidden in the shadows, targeting the commander on the bridge.

They are waiting.

All the assassins are waiting.

It's like a pack of wolves lurking in absolute darkness, holding their breath.

Countless eyes were fixed on the countdown, without the slightest hint of impatience.

Upon receiving data about the Chaos Space Marines on the warships clad in brass and crimson-painted power armor, Lawson's knowledge base, forged from millennia of Chaos Lord combat experience, instantly matched the data.

"The World Devourer Chapter..."

A cold smile curled at the corner of Lawson's lips.

He knew these lunatics all too well. They were absolute experts in close combat, synonymous with strength and brutality, but at the same time, Butcher's Nails had also robbed them of their reason and ability to coordinate formations.

The swarm intelligence mechanism immediately began to operate.

"Enemy unit confirmed: World Eater Chaos Space Marine".

"Threat assessment: Extremely dangerous in close-quarters combat."

The swarm intelligence instantly retrieved massive amounts of combat style data, including the weaknesses of the World Eater armor, attack animation, and frequency of Butcher's Nails, and shared it with all the White Tiger Armored Death Soldier and Company Commander-level Death Soldier who were about to participate in the battle within 0.01 seconds.

Obolus-I.

The Pinnacle, the Governor's Residence.

This luxurious command center is suspended thousands of meters in the air.

The floor is made of a single piece of polished obsidian, and countless brass spikes hang upside down from the ceiling.

Each spike was pierced by a dried-out skull. These were the remains of rebels from across the First Star.

Governor Krause stood in front of the huge blast-proof floor-to-ceiling window.

He was physically strong, bald, shirtless, and his skin was covered with dark red Khorne runes.

Several thick nutrient tubing was inserted directly into his spine, pumping high concentrations of purified synthetic steroids into his bloodstream.

He was holding a brass goblet filled with a viscous liquid.

The glass contained a mixture of virgin blood and high-end amasec.

On the holographic projection screen outside the floor-to-ceiling window, images of the orbital starport are being played in real time.

The massive Tyrant-class cruiser remained silently anchored in its mechanical grips.

The audio analyzer at the edge of the screen pulsed wildly, capturing the faint roars emanating from inside the warship.

"That idiot Kargos is smashing things again."

Krauser drank the blood wine in his glass and casually tossed the glass onto the obsidian floor.

The communications officer standing behind him bowed. “Sir, the World Eater's company commander is dissatisfied with the withdrawal order. He threatened to set sail in five hours to destroy Planet Three. He also said…”

"They said they wanted to use my skull to fill the reactor. The same old excuse."

Krauser sneered, walked to the command console, pressed a few rune buttons, and turned off the audio input.

"A bunch of rubbish whose brains have been wrecked by the Butcher's Nails. They just hack and slash irrationally. Khorne wants blood, but do the gods care how much blood you bleed? I have established a global arena, and I have set death quotas. Every day, 30,000 defeated warriors bleed dry under the cuts of legal procedures. I have established a stable, efficient, and sustainable faith production line for the Blood God."

Krauser turned around, his gaze sweeping over the six enormous figures hidden in the shadows on either side of the hall.

“I am the one who truly works for the gods. Calgos is just a mad dog used to bite. Just ignore the barking of a mad dog.”

The shadows at the edge of the hall shifted. Accompanied by the heavy, dry hum of a servo motor, a steel giant nearly two and a half meters tall stepped into the light.

He wore an extremely heavy Mark III power armor suit, covered in rivets and weld marks. The shoulder armor was painted with striking black and yellow danger warning stripes.

This power armor has no fancy decorations whatsoever, only naked pragmatism and heavy firepower add-on interfaces.

This is Voltis, a bodyguard hired by the governor, a veteran of the Iron Warriors Chapter, and a squad commander.

"Dogs bite, Governor."

Voltis's voice came through the grille of his helmet. "As long as he can kill, the gods will bless him. You despise him, and he despises you just as much."

Krauser stared directly at the Chaos Space Marine.

“Voltis, I hired you at a high price. The Dark Mechanicus’s ‘Burning Iron Forging Company’ is equipping your power armor with the latest deflector shield generators, and I’ve also given you priority access to ammunition from three armories. I need your sanity, I need your understanding of defense and tactics.”

"The deal is fair. We take the resources, and we protect you."

Walters raised the heavy bomb gun in his hand and checked the ejection port.

“But that doesn’t mean we’ll get involved in your war of words with the World Eaters. That warlord who suddenly appeared on Planet Three, who managed to get Skragag to issue a divine decree to withdraw his troops, he’s got some skills. He’s dead meat, Calgos will slice him into pieces. Billions of people on the entire planet will become sacrifices. At that time, the favor of the gods will fall on Calgos. You’re jealous of that.”

"envy?"