Warhammer: Empire Reboot

The 301 armored soldiers of the White Tiger Squad remained at the ridgeline position, working with 30,000 Thunder Warrior-level suicide soldiers and 100,000 engineers to build a defensive line.

Quintus, that veteran, is very good at using the terrain. With him there to direct the defense, Lawson is at ease.

At this moment, there was only Lawson in the world.

Eighty-one shadow wheels surrounded him, arranged in three concentric circles.

The outermost 36 rings rotate at a low speed, acting as early warning radar. Any object entering the 500-meter range will be automatically intercepted by the shadow wheel.

The twenty-seven missiles in the center are in standby mode and can be instantly switched to any attack mode.

The inner ring of eighteen electrons spins rapidly against the surface of Lawson's body, forming the final layer of physical protection.

Psionic perception is fully activated.

Within a spherical region with a radius of twelve kilometers centered on Rosen, every bioelectric signal is labeled in real time within the swarm intelligence system.

The slow-moving, grayish-green heat sources on the ground were plague walkers, densely packed together.

Lawson's gaze swept across the ground; the Plague Walkers were hardly even roadblocks to him.

He's looking for elite organizations.

Three abnormal signals two kilometers ahead.

Three decaying flies, each about four meters long, buzzed with translucent wings, scattering decaying spores into the air.

Their compound eyes refracted a sickly green fluorescence in the dim light, and their abdomens were swollen and bulging, filled with fermenting plague ammunition.

The filthy aerial reconnaissance unit.

Lawson didn't even consider slowing down.

The three shadow wheels detached from the outer ring and cut into the forward path at four times the speed of sound.

The first bullet pierced the compound eye of the lead fly from the front, exiting from its tail with most of its head still attached. The second bullet sliced ​​horizontally, severing the second fly's wings and thorax in one swift motion. The third bullet traveled in an arc, circled behind the last fly, and cut vertically through its spine, splitting its entire body in two.

Three lumps of rotting flesh fell to the ground.

Lawson's flight path remained unchanged.

Over the next fifteen minutes, he advanced seventy kilometers south in a straight line.

Along the way, they encountered seven groups of aerial reconnaissance units, corrupted flies, spore gnats, and two plague bat demons with wingspans exceeding ten meters.

The Shadow Wheels intercepted the entire force 500 meters away. Before the pieces of flesh even hit the ground, Lawson had already been sent flying a kilometer away.

The density of plague walkers on the ground is gradually increasing, from three or four hundred per square kilometer near the ridgeline to two or three thousand per square kilometer.

Their direction of movement also changed, from wandering aimlessly to roughly gathering northward.

Something is driving them.

Lawson slowed down at the 70km mark.

The psychic senses detected a set of high-value signals nine kilometers ahead.

Plague Space Marines, a six-man squad, equipped with a Corruption Raider walking vehicle.

Elite unit.

Lawson did not launch a direct aerial attack.

While it's convenient to use a shadow wheel for long-range sniping at an altitude of 300 meters, it also means exposing your aerial position.

The Plague Legion's long-range firepower, including Corruption Cannons, Plague Projectors, and even the Plague Wizard's warp spells, can threaten targets in the air.

Lawson landed in the ruins of a farmland ravaged by artillery fire.

As his feet touched the frozen earth, his living metal wings folded and adhered to his carapace, compressing his silhouette to its smallest size.

Psychic perception confirmed that the target was still nine kilometers away and was moving north at walking speed.

Within the effective range of Shadow Wheel's attack.

Eighty-one shadow wheels rose from around him and swept southward at supersonic speed at a height of thirty meters.

Nine kilometers away.

Plague Space Marine Rotroot Craig is escorting a Corrupted Raider across a dried-up seaweed field with his five brothers.

Their power armor, once a deep green, is now covered in layers of rust, mold, and pus, obscuring its original color.

Craig hasn't taken a bath in five thousand years.

Nurgle's gift made his body one with decay; rust was his skin, and pus was his blood.

His abdominal cavity was infested with a swarm of filthy fly larvae, and occasionally a few would crawl out of his throat, which he would casually stuff back in, as if feeding pets.

"Lord Gurga said to advance north."

Craig whispered to his brother beside him, "The Imperial dogs have built a new defensive line in the north."

"The defense line has been repaired again."

His second-in-command, Bren the Pussy, muttered, scratching at his rotting left cheek beneath his helmet: "It doesn't matter what we fix. We'll walk over there, and they'll scatter."

"It seems like a new unit has arrived this time."

Another plague fighter said, "I heard from the Third Battalion that all the reconnaissance flies at the front have lost contact."

Craig shrugged indifferently. "Who cares who comes? Nurgle's children aren't afraid..."

That sentence was left unfinished.

A streak of silver light fell straight down from the sky, so fast that Craig's enhanced vision could only catch a blurry line.

As the silver light passed through his skull, it sliced ​​the terracotta helmet, skull, brain, and cervical vertebrae into uniform thin slices.

The system intercepted Craig's soul in an instant and drained the remaining subspace energy.

The other five Plague Space Marines reacted relatively quickly; after all, they were enhanced humans, and they had already raised their weapons before Craig's body even fell to the ground.

But they were pointing their guns at the sky because the attack was coming from above.

This is precisely the wrong choice.

The second round of shadow wheels did not come from the sky.

The twelve shadow wheels swept across the ground, cutting horizontally at supersonic speed along the surface of the frozen soil.

In the fractions of a second that the Plague Warriors’ attention was drawn to the sky, the Shadow Wheel swept across their ankles, severing all of their feet.

Five Plague Space Marines simultaneously lost their balance and fell forward.

Their power armor slammed into the frozen ground with a dull thud.

Losing their legs wasn't a serious injury for them. Bren even propped himself up on his elbows and raised the Corrupted Bomb Gun.

But Shadow Wheel didn't give them that chance.

Twenty-four shadow wheels swooped down from four directions simultaneously, cutting the five fallen bodies into pieces no larger than a fist.

The ceramic steel armor, bones, muscles, and internal organs were all shredded into minced meat and metal fragments by the molecular-level blade.

The corrupted raider's machine spirit seemed to sense the guard's demise, clumsily turning its turret and aiming the plague cannon at the sky.

But before it could complete its turn, six shadow wheels had already slipped into the gaps in its armor.

The Shadow Wheels ejected, cut, and shredded inside the Raiders.

Three seconds later, the walking armored vehicle sprayed out pieces of flesh and parts from every seam of its armor before disintegrating with a bang.

Nine kilometers away, Lawson withdrew his shadow wheel and continued south.

The swarm intelligence has locked onto the next target: an 11-kilometer south-southwest location, a Plague Space Marine platoon unit consisting of twelve men and two Corruption vehicles.

The same process: landing, releasing the shadow wheel, strangulation, retrieval, and transfer.

Lawson repeated this nine times over the next forty minutes.

Nine landings, nine releases of Shadow Wheel, and nine complete annihilation of elite units within three to five seconds.

The swarm intelligence precisely selects the landing location for each mission, staying away from areas with high concentrations of plague walkers, known artillery positions, and any landmarks that could expose its location.

They kill and leave immediately, never lingering in battle.

Rosen advanced 120 kilometers south.

Behind them were nine piles of the remains of plague elites, shredded to pieces, and the battle results tallied by the swarm mind.

Sixty-seven Plague Space Marines, eleven Corruption Vehicles, and two Demon Engines.

Subspace energy income: considerable.

But the real goal is still ahead.

Plague Lord Gul'ga and two wizards by his side.

The relative positions of the three signals perfectly match Quintus's description that "Gulgar never leaves the wizard's protection zone".

Lawson slowed down and lowered the altitude to fifty meters.

The psionic senses were fully focused on the target area, pushing the precision to its limit.

Gurga is located in the ruins of a farm that has been converted into a temporary command post.

Within a radius of 100 square kilometers, at least 800,000 to 1 million plague walkers have gathered.

From a psionic perspective, it looks like a giant greenish-gray festering sore spread across the earth. The density of plague walkers is so high that it is impossible to pass through the ground.

But Lawson had no intention of crossing it from the ground.

He needs a place to stay.

The swarm mind scanned the terrain around the target and finally selected a location six kilometers northwest of Gurga, an open area between two collapsed granaries where the density of plague walkers was relatively low and the terrain provided cover, making it difficult for distant artillery to observe.

Six kilometers, within the precise strike range of the Shadow Wheel.

The static force field was activated the moment Lawson landed.

Er Gou and San Gou were released.

Two Dogs wield a Hellfire Brass Power Axe in their left hand and a Storm Shield in their right. Three Dogs, on the other hand, hold a Brass Power Axe in each hand.

“Get to work,” Lawson said.

"Alright." Er Gou's voice came from inside the Terminator helmet, deep and muffled.