Warhammer: Empire Reboot

To be precise, they were eight traitorous stragglers who had been expelled from their respective warbands.

They banded together and joined Moran, serving as his henchmen and bodyguards.

The equipment consisted of cobbled-together old power armor, with the best set being a secondhand item from three hundred years ago.

Grizzi led his seven brothers to the port midsection, where the invasion was most intense.

He stopped at the corner of the corridor.

The corridor ahead had been turned into a one-way slaughterhouse.

A steel array composed of terracotta storm shields is advancing at a steady pace, while plasma firepower behind the shield wall pulverizes all the pirates who try to stop it.

Grizz is a Chaos Space Marine with three hundred years of combat experience.

He instantly assessed his opponent's strength.

"What the hell is this..." Grizz muttered under his breath.

He raised his grenades and led seven brothers in a charge.

Eight Chaos Space Marines against sixty White Tiger Death Knights.

remarkably brave!

The battle ended in twelve seconds.

The White Tiger Death Squad's melee combat database incorporates Valentine's millennia of experience and Kargos's World Eater combat techniques.

Grizz's chainsword was blocked by a storm shield.

Before he could retreat, a White Tiger assassin's power sword pierced through the gap in his armpit armor, one of the seventeen known structural weaknesses of the MK VII power armor.

The blade pierced his lung and shattered his second heart.

Grizz spat out a mouthful of black blood.

He looked down at the sword stuck in his chest, a hint of confusion flashing in his eyes, and then he fell to the ground.

The remaining seven Chaos Space Marines were dissected one by one over the next eight seconds.

The White Tiger assassins use a three-on-one formation to surround each opponent, using shields to restrict their movement, and then precisely attacking the gaps in their armor.

Moran saw the entire process of Griez falling on the monitor screen on the bridge.

His face completely lost its color.

"Jump...jump into subspace."

"Geller force field has one minute and thirty seconds remaining."

Fuck your mother.

One minute and thirty seconds is too long.

Twenty thousand combat soldiers poured into the warship through three anchor points, spreading like three torrents inside the hull.

They cleaned every deck, every corridor, and every cabin in company-sized units.

If resistance is encountered, use plasma and heavy explosives to flatten it; if a sealed hatch is encountered, use the miniature shaped charge cutter you carry to cut it open within thirty seconds.

The White Tiger assassins led the way as the spearhead, with the other Thunder assassins following closely behind to expand the controlled area.

In each cleared area, non-combat agents immediately arrive via teleportation points to take over the control console and key nodes.

The tentacles of swarm intelligence have reached into every nerve of the Blood Tide.

The computing power crushed the Blood Tide's chaotic operating system, which had been patched countless times.

The fire control lock was released, the engine thrust was reduced to zero, and all internal compartment doors were remotely controlled, allowing them to be opened or closed at will.

Moran discovered that he had lost control of the entire ship from the bridge.

The hatch was locked.

The lights went out.

Emergency lights came on, their stark white light illuminating the twenty-odd pirate officers and communications officers on the bridge, who were trembling with fear.

Moran's hand, gripping the chainsaw sword, was trembling.

He heard footsteps coming from outside the bridge gate.

boom……

The armored doors of the bridge were kicked open from the outside.

The White Tiger assassins stood in a square formation outside the door.

A tall figure in power armor walked out from the central passageway of the formation.

Lawson's gaze finally settled on Moran.

Moran's chainsaw slipped from his hand and fell to the ground with a clatter.

"You... are you?"

Lawson didn't answer, and instead chopped off his head.

Swarm intelligence has completed a scan of Moran's brain.

This fat guy doesn't have any valuable strategic intelligence in his head. He's just a third-rate pirate captain who makes a living on the outskirts of the Eye of Fear with a cruiser he picked up.

But the swarm mind, through cross-referencing his memories and the residual consciousness of other slain pirates, revealed an important piece of information.

Skragh's bounty.

The high-ranking Archmage Khorne issued a bounty across the entire subspace using his primal power: "Whoever brings back the head of that Astartes will be blessed with Ascension."

This bounty has been circulating in the Chaos World for at least a month.

Countless fringe warlords, pirate fleets, and traitorous warlords smelled the blood.

Moran's ragtag fleet of fifteen ships was just one of them.

According to his memory, at least a dozen larger chaos fleets were heading towards the Obulus system.

A few small fish are nothing to worry about!

Lawson glanced back at the bridge of the Bloodtide.

Through the armored portholes, one can see the cruiser's five-kilometer-long hull stretching to the horizon.

The control system needs to be rewritten, and the weapon array needs to be calibrated.

But these are all just a matter of time.

"Teleportation technology team."

After the order was given, tens of thousands of non-combatant suicide soldiers arrived instantly from Planet Three via the stasis field.

Tech-savvy warriors flooded the engine room, fire control room, navigation center, and ammunition depot, taking over every system of the warship with swarm-like efficiency.

Fifty mechanical assassins were also teleported over.

The T-series' three-meter-tall body moved through the corridor, with eight servo robotic arms on its back simultaneously deploying to quickly repair damaged areas of the hull.

The missing parts—high-purity conduits, plasma confinement rings, and replacement modules for the Geller force field generator—were all transferred in real-time from the factory warehouses on both planets via the armory space.

This warship will be refitted in the shortest possible time and become Lawson's new flagship.

Lawson stared at the coordinates of the Klein Galaxy on the star map.

Those chaotic forces that wanted to cut off his head were easy to deal with.

The Tyrant-class heavy cruiser, along with two escort frigates, has sufficient orbital firepower to deal with small-scale pirate invasions, and can return to provide support at any time if needed.

His target is the Plague Legion, one of the seventeen agricultural worlds in the Klein system.

There is also an endless supply of subspace energy.

"Jump straight to Klein."

The outer edge of the subspace jump point in the Klein Galaxy.

This area was once one of the busiest shipping lanes in the Agrippina Sector.

The seventeen agricultural worlds produce enough food each year to feed thirty percent of the entire sector's population.

Imperial transport fleets crisscrossed this route, laden with grain, livestock, and seaweed powder, heading to hive worlds and military bases throughout the sector.

Now, that waterway is dead.

The last Imperial transport fleet was sunk by Plague Legion cruisers eight months ago.

Since then, not a single Imperial ship has ever sailed out of the Klein system.

The outer shipping lanes of the galaxy were littered with wreckage: fragments of Imperial warships, broken hulls of transport ships, and debris from lifeboats.

Of the seventeen agricultural worlds in the Klein system, eight have already completely fallen.

Those planets that once covered golden wheat fields and emerald seaweed are now a rotting hell. Nurgle's plague walkers stagger through the mud, spreading corruption to every inch of land.

One of the worlds is under siege.

The remaining Imperial Defense Forces fought desperately on these planets, but their lines of defense were slowly retreating.

With supplies cut off and no hope of reinforcements, positions were breached every day, and soldiers fell every day, never to rise again.

The remaining four worlds are relatively safe for the time being, as the Plague Legion's forces have not yet extended there.

But everyone knows that it's only a matter of time.

Klein-IX, the Ninth Agricultural World, Arctic Continent.

Reaper Fortress.

The fortress was formerly the largest grain harvesting center in Klein-IX, an industrialized farm complex covering forty square kilometers.

Seven months ago, when the Plague Legion's vanguard landed on the southern continent, the Imperial Astral Engineer Battalion spent three days and three nights transforming the farm into a frontline fortress using concrete, steel beams, and the wreckage of harvesters.

The metal frame of the harvesting station was filled with cement and turned into a three-meter-thick defensive wall.

The granaries were converted into ammunition depots. The drying workshops became wounded soldiers' shelters. The conveyor belts from the grain sorting line were dismantled and welded into firing platforms for the city walls.

Seven months later, the walls of Reaper's Fortress are riddled with craters and acid erosion marks.

A third of the wall had already been sheared off at the top by the Plague Legion's artillery fire. The tower in the southwest corner had been blasted down by a Plague Dreadnought's plasma cannon during last week's offensive, and two Imperial soldiers' bodies lay buried in the rubble, with no one having the strength to dig them out.