Warhammer: Empire Reboot

[Subspace Energy +3000]

Plague Lord Gul'ga, who lived for seven thousand years, died today.

Six kilometers away, Lawson breathed a sigh of relief.

About 15 percent of the psionic energy was consumed, which was more than expected.

Gul'ga's corrupted flesh was indeed troublesome; if we hadn't switched to Storm Mode, it would probably have taken even longer.

The swarm intelligence scanned the area around the Gurga command post.

After all three high-value targets disappeared, the surrounding plague walkers fell into brief chaos.

The Plague Space Marines reacted a little faster, with several squads beginning to move toward the command post in an attempt to ascertain the situation.

But this has nothing to do with Lawson anymore.

"Fall back."

Two Dogs and Three Dogs cut down the last seven Plague Walkers that rushed into the defensive circle in three seconds, and then retreated into the stasis field with the eighteen White Tiger Warriors.

Lawson retracted the Shadow Wheel around himself and stepped into the Stasis Field to leave.

They left twelve seconds later.

Six plague shells streaked across the sky, leaving green trails, and crashed into the spot where Lawson had just been standing.

The corrosive plague venom splattered outwards from the epicenter, blasting the open space between the two collapsed granaries into a crater forty meters in diameter and three meters deep.

Green toxic fumes billowed from the pit walls, and the soil was corroded into a sticky black sludge.

Lawson returned to the prism position.

One hundred thousand engineering troops have completed the construction of the main defensive fortifications. The trenches extend three kilometers to each side of the ridgeline, and the density of firing points reaches one per hundred meters. The anti-armor trenches are filled with the purified corpses of plague walkers at the bottom and covered with metal plates and permafrost camouflage layers.

The quadruple rapid-fire guns and heavy explosive shells are evenly distributed along the ridgeline, with overlapping firing arcs and no blind spots.

Quintus stood in the command bunker, in front of a temporary holographic map constructed from data panels.

Lawson landed behind him.

Quintus turned around, somewhat surprised: "It's over so quickly?"

Lawson dusted off his hands: "Gulga and the two wizards, all three of them are out of commission."

Quintus was somewhat shocked.

Before he left, he said, "I'm going to twist the head off," and when he came back, he actually did.

"How is it going?" Quintus asked. He didn't press for details; details weren't important, only the result mattered.

“Gurga’s command chain has broken.” Lawson walked to the holographic map and drew a circle on it with his finger: “The Plague Space Marines in this area have lost unified command and will not launch a large-scale attack in the short term. A number of elite squads along the way have also been cleared out.”

"That is to say..."

"Your defenses have at least a three-day safety window."

Lawson held up three fingers: "Maybe longer. Nurgle's forces aren't like Khorne's lunatics. Khorne's dogs will keep biting even if they lose their master. Nurgle values ​​order and discipline. Their Plague Walkers can only maintain an organized offensive when driven by the warp radiation of high-ranking units. Now those walkers will degenerate into scattered soldiers, wandering around aimlessly but without any impact."

Quintus nodded slowly.

During the past 147 days in hell, he never dreamed he would have three days without being attacked by Nurgle.

“Three days is enough,” he said. “I can extend the defensive line five kilometers in depth, set up crossfire networks and reserve positions. Your engineers are incredibly efficient.”

"That's what they do."

Lawson handed over the defenses in the command bunker to Quintus and then came out.

He stood at the highest point of the ridgeline, his gaze fixed on the north.

Eighty kilometers behind lies Casablanca, the last human settlement in the northern hemisphere of Klein-IX, home to twenty-eight million civilians.

Most of them have been living in fear for the past five months that the Plague Legion could break through their defenses at any moment.

Lawson said to Katarina beside him, "I'm going to check on the rear. There are 28 million people in the city; I need to get a feel for things. Food, water, and disease prevention are more important than the front lines."

Katarina nodded: "Should I go with you, or stay here?"

"You, Sera, and Sena stay here. Your purification auras are the soul shield of this defensive line. If any wounded soldiers need treatment, prioritize treating the Imperial soldiers."

"Vera, come with me!" Lawson spread his wings, took Vera with him, and flew north.

three days later.

The Southern Plains.

The collapse of the Plague Legion continues.

After losing Gul'ga and two wizards, more than 800,000 plague walkers degenerated into aimless hordes of corpses, roaming the plains.

The surviving Plague Space Marines attempt to rebuild the chain of command, but their internal conflicts quickly erupt after the loss of their lord.

Three platoon-level units fought a fierce battle over an ammunition depot, which lasted all day, resulting in the deaths of eleven men.

Chaos, internal strife, stagnation.

This should have been an excellent window for a counterattack.

But on the evening of the third day of chaos, a new figure appeared on the southern horizon.

Seven transport pods fell from subspace and crashed onto a plain forty kilometers south of Gurga's former command post.

The shockwave upon landing shattered the permafrost within a radius of hundreds of meters, sending thousands of plague walkers wandering nearby flying.

The hatch opened.

The power armor that came out was different from Gul'ga's group.

The plague warriors of Gulgar wore all sorts of armor, some plundered from various Imperial warbands, others salvaged from piles of corpses, with varying degrees of rust and decay.

Their organization was loose and their tactics crude; they were essentially just a bunch of stragglers brought together by the forces of the Nurgle.

The soldiers who emerged from the transport capsule were completely different.

Their power armor is the standardized MK III "Iron Armor".

Each suit of armor was covered with the same grayish-white paint, with corrosion and verdigris distributed on the surface in a strange pattern, like a carefully maintained weathering process.

The same emblem was branded on the left shoulder armor: a skull surrounded by three flies.

The chapter insignia of the Deathguard.

The leader was nearly three meters tall, the Plague Company Commander, Fectus.

Pectus walked to the pool of pus where Gulga had once stood and looked down at the debris on the ground.

Three days of decay and fermentation allowed the fragments to regrow mycelium, but they could never be pieced back together as a complete Plague Lord.

Pyctus crouched down and picked up a palm-sized piece of armor—a shoulder plate from the Gurga power armor. The cut surface of the fragment was extremely smooth, displaying a mirror-like metallic luster.

He held the broken armor fragments up to his face and examined the cut surfaces carefully.

"Molecular-level cutting".

"All the fragments have the same precision in their cross-section. A single, continuous physical cutting force. A kind of high-speed rotating blade."

His adjutant, "Iron Scabbard" Tasser, stepped forward and also squatted down to examine several pieces of debris.

“Both wizards died in the same way,” Tasser said. “Not even a trace of their psionic energy could be detected.”

“Soul annihilation.” Pyctus set down his shattered armor and stood up. “You know what that means.”

"The variable that Lord Mortalion reported."

"Yes. Mortals who can intercept and erase souls."

Pfictus tilted his helmet slightly as he glanced at the plague walkers wandering aimlessly around him: "That stupid pig Gulgar. He was beheaded and didn't even know how he died."

He began to walk through the ruins, examining each trace of the battlefield.

"Gulgar's deployment is a pile of crap." Fectus's assessment was merciless: "The command post has no outer perimeter security network, and the wizard's psionic warning range is no more than one kilometer. His plague walkers are piled up around the command post as a human wall, but they are useless against high-speed aerial targets. Two wizards stand right next to him, and a single decapitation strike can wipe out three high-value targets."

He turned to face the thirty-six Death Guards he had brought with him.

“Gulgar made a mistake that the Death Guard would never make. He thought the Dark Side of the Empire consisted only of the Astronauts and a few remaining Astartes. He thought that numerical superiority could overwhelm everything. He didn’t even consider that the enemy had air strike capabilities.”

“Fool.” Tasser spat out those two words.

"He was eager to take the northern line before the Death Guard arrived, so he could curry favor with the Father of the Plague. In the end, he gave his head to the Father."

Pectus' helmet speaker emitted a short, snickering sound: "Lord Mortarion said that impatience is a fault of Khorne, not ours."

"From now on, this war zone is under the command of the Death Guard. All those stragglers from Gulgar are to be incorporated. That mortal... or whatever he may be."

Pectus plunged his power sword into the ground, resting his hands on the hilt: "He won't stop after killing Gulga. He came to this system for a reason."

"Should we request reinforcements from Lord Mortarion?"

Pectus pondered for a moment.

"No need. Gul'ga lost because he was stupid. Death Guard is not stupid."

He turned and walked toward the transport bay, his power armor boots crushing the pieces of flesh on the ground.

"Complete the reorganization within three days. Then launch the attack."

"Target?"

"The northern defense line."

Pyctus's voice came from inside the helmet: "But this time, we won't send Plague Walkers to their deaths."

He stopped in front of the transport capsule and glanced back at the spot where Gulgar had died.

“I’ll show that mortal that killing a stupid pig and defeating the Death Guard are two different things.”

Chapter 138 The Demon Prince Who Died of Frustration

Casablanca is not a capital city.

The empire's nests are vertical nightmares cast in steel and concrete.

The honeycomb towers, tens of kilometers high, compress billions of people into metal coffins from which they will never see the sky.

Casablanca is completely different.