Warhammer: Empire Reboot

The distance is shrinking rapidly.

Three hundred kilometers, two hundred kilometers, one hundred kilometers.

The plague warship finally realized the danger and pushed its engines to the limit in an attempt to accelerate away.

However, its engine has lost at least 30 percent of its efficiency due to subspace corrosion.

The Broken Bone Horn, like a silver arrow, has its jaws firmly on the prey's tail.

Fifty kilometers, thirty kilometers, fifteen kilometers.

They were so close that they could see the writhing, rotting flesh and sores on the other ship's hull through the porthole with the naked eye.

The plasma melt jets on the bow of the Broken Bone ship ignited at the same instant.

The 60,000-degree plasma jet, like an invisible giant sword, burst forth from the front of the ram at the bow, precisely slicing into the starboard engine armor of the Plague Warship.

Pure gold will soften at this temperature.

The Chaos Armor, which had become swollen and porous after being corroded by the subspace, was like a block of wax doused with hot water in front of 60,000 degrees Celsius.

The engine armor was burned through in two seconds, creating a hole forty meters in diameter.

Then the ram of the Broken Bones plunged in with a relative speed of 700 meters per second.

The entire warship trembled violently at that moment.

The four-layered adamantium composite ram, like a blunt knife, violently cut into the plague warship's engine compartment through the wound pre-softened by plasma.

Steel fragments, pipes, coolant, and crushed pieces of the mutated crew members exploded into a rain of metal around the point of impact.

The rammed head penetrated nearly eighty meters into the enemy ship's hull before coming to a stop.

The Broken Bone's thrust reversers ignited at full power instantly, and the entire warship jerked backward, the ram being pulled out of the Plague Warship's hull.

The high-pressure liquid at the wound site boiled and vaporized instantly upon encountering the vacuum, forming a rapidly expanding white steam cloud.

The plague warship's engines completely failed.

A warship without its engines is nothing more than an expensive pile of scrap metal in space.

It can still fire, but it can no longer change its course or speed, and can only drift slowly along its inertial trajectory, like a snake with its spine broken.

The Broken Bone calmly distanced itself, retreating beyond the effective range of the macro cannon.

The Plague Ship's gunners frantically unleashed their remaining two macro cannons and sporadic heavy laser cannons at the Broken Bone, but without the engine to correct the trajectory, the ship's fire control accuracy had deteriorated to an appalling degree.

The shells and beams traced skewed trajectories in the void, with the closest shot to the Broken Bone missing by a full two kilometers.

The swarm intelligence doesn't even bother to issue an evasion command.

The Broken Bones' last remaining cannon slowly turned, its muzzle aimed at the wound in the Plague Warship's engine room that had been rammed through.

Rumble!

The cannon shell pierced deep into the Plague Warship's ventral cavity through the wound and detonated in the engine reactor's cooling system.

The entire plague warship began to swell from the middle section.

The dark green, rotting sores on the ship's hull were torn apart, ripped apart, and blown away by the shockwave from the internal explosion.

The explosion in the engine room ignited the ammunition depot, which in turn ignited the fuel tanks, and the chain reaction engulfed the entire warship within three seconds.

A dark red fireball mixed with fragments of green pus burst open in space, expanding to a diameter of nearly three kilometers.

The fireball's edges scattered with countless swirling, burning fragments, like a torrential downpour of metal.

[Subspace Energy +18]

Klein-IV's low Earth orbit has been cleared.

The Broken Bone decelerated and entered low orbit, and the cargo doors on the port side popped open one by one.

Forty-seven landing capsules were ejected.

The landing capsule, trailing a long fiery tail, plummeted into the gray atmosphere of the Klein-IV, like forty-seven meteors.

Inside the cabin, five suicide soldiers were crammed into each landing bay.

Their only mission is to land alive and establish an anchor point.

The landing capsule deploys its drag parachute at an altitude of 30,000 meters, ignites its retro-rocket at an altitude of 8,000 meters, and unfolds its living metal shell like flower petals at the final 50 meters altitude, serving as a final cushioning layer.

boom! boom! boom!

Forty-seven landing sites are scattered across a vast farmland in the northern hemisphere of Klein-IV.

In the swarm intelligence model, the coordinates of Klein-IV lit up with green dots.

Anchor point established.

The Broken Bone did not linger in orbit. It didn't even slow down to its orbital speed. After dropping the landing pods, the engines reignited, and the warship accelerated outward along the trajectory of the Klein-IV's gravity slingshot, its bow already pointing towards its next target.

Of the seventeen planets, he had already personally captured the first one, which belonged to the Demon Prince.

The second anchor point has just been built.

Fifteen remain.

"Speed ​​up, speed up everything!"

His orders were transmitted synchronously to every soldier on the warship through swarm intelligence.

In the starry sky, three silver blades simultaneously ignited their engine exhaust flames, propelling them at full speed toward their respective targets.

Southern battlefield.

Fectus, the company commander of the Death Guard, rebuilt the mess left by Gulga into a fighting army.

This in itself is a creepy thing.

Gurga relied on brute force and numbers.

Millions of plague walkers surged forward in an overwhelming manner; tactics were practically nonexistent.

Pectus realized that Gulga was a fool.

He held four companies of Plague Space Marines, twelve Daemon Engines, and an army of Walkers large enough to overwhelm a hive city, yet he was shredded to dust by a mere mortal.

That fool has utterly disgraced Nurtle.

But Fectus is no fool.

Death Guard is never in a hurry.

Over three days, Pectus reorganized the remaining Plague Space Marines into three battle groups, deployed in a staggered formation two kilometers apart.

Two days ago, he had the Demon Engine continuously launch biological and chemical gas bombs at the northern ridgeline positions from eight kilometers away.

After those dark green warheads explode in front of the position, they release an extremely disgusting gray-green fog, the breath of the vile father.

This toxic fumes do not kill immediately, but rather slowly penetrate the respiratory tract, corrode the skin, and erode metals.

The Imperial Star Forces' standard gas masks can only last two to three hours against this stuff before the filter gets corroded and perforated.

Once your gas masks are all used up, once your soldiers start vomiting and their skin ulcers fester, once your willpower has been pushed to its limit, then he will push his men over to reap the harvest.

This is the classic way to play Death Guard.

No rush, take your time. Time is on Naggle's side.

At least, that's what Pectus thinks.

On the ridgeline, Quintus stood atop the command bunker, using enhanced goggles to observe the arc of the Demon Engine spraying poison gas eight kilometers to the south.

Quintus is an Ultramariner. Ultramariners are second to none in the entire galaxy when it comes to defending their positions; no one dares to claim the top spot.

One hundred thousand engineers transformed the ridgeline position into a fortress in three days.

The trench system extended five kilometers from the central ridge to both flanks, forming an arc-shaped steel enclosure.

A heavy firepower support point is set up every 300 meters, equipped with a quadruple-mounted heavy explosive cannon or a plasma rapid-fire cannon.

The connecting passages between the trenches all adopt a Z-shaped zigzag design to ensure that even if the enemy breaks into the trenches, they cannot form a straight firing corridor.

The engineers dug three anti-armor trenches, each six meters wide and four meters deep, two kilometers in front of the position.

From a distance, it looks no different from the surrounding tundra.

Once the tracks of the Demon Engine roll over it, the metal plates will collapse instantly under the pressure. The cushioning force provided by those shriveled corpses will make the tracks sink in so deeply that they cannot get out. The front half will be stuck in the pit, while the back half will stick out, making them perfect targets for all the heavy weapons on the position.

The only regret is the lack of large heavy artillery.

The largest caliber weapon on the position was a quadruple-mounted heavy explosive cannon.

In other words: the enemy can hit him, but he can't hit the enemy.

This is also the source of Fectus's confidence to slowly wear down his opponent with poison gas.

But Pectus overlooked one thing.

Quintus has no shortage of ammunition.

Feeling that the time was right, Pectus finally ordered a general offensive.

He sat on the command platform surrounded by seven Terminator-level Death Guards.

This crawler was nearly twice the size of the standard model, with six rusted metal limbs deeply embedded in the frozen ground, and a plague lava cannon with a diameter of over one meter hanging from its abdomen.

The first wave of 120,000 Plague Walkers began their advance northward.

The scene resembled a gray-green tsunami.

The Demon Engine provides suppressive fire from the rear.

Poison gas bombs, plague lava bombs, corrosive jets—all sorts of long-range weapons were unleashed upon the ridgeline positions.

Poisonous fog clears the way, the Walkers consume ammunition, Plague Warriors launch a surprise attack amidst the chaos, and the Demon Engine provides long-range suppression.

With four layers stacked on top of each other, we have always been steady and reliable, and have never made a mistake.

Based on the density of the defenders' firepower that he had observed over the past three days, Fectus estimated that the enemy's ammunition reserves could only support four to five hours of high-intensity firing at most.

What followed was close combat.

In melee combat, Nurgle's Plague Space Marines are absolute kings.

The plan is perfect.