Warhammer: Empire Reboot

"Blessed by the Emperor."

Day 47.

Today's rations are late.

The Plague Legion had a precise timetable for tormenting people, never making a mistake. Hungry crowds gathered in front of the ration stations, waiting anxiously.

Then they heard a sound.

Large-scale, dense, and continuous gunfire.

The crowd quieted down and began to listen intently.

The gunshots came from afar, then approached, and then receded.

Interspersed among them was a high-frequency metallic friction sound, as if something was spinning at high speed in the air, cutting everything in its path into pieces.

Even the wet footsteps of the Plague Walkers patrolling the city walls had disappeared.

"Boom."

A muffled thud came from the direction of the main gate of the East District.

"Thump. Thump."

The pounding grew louder and more frequent. Something was banging on the door from the outside.

"boom!"

The steel gate was torn off its hinges like cardboard.

It tumbled and crashed to the ground, the shockwave kicking up clouds of dust.

After the dust settled, two giants stood outside the doorway.

He was holding an Imperial-issue heavy explosive shotgun.

"Come out."

"You are saved."

Someone in the crowd took a step forward.

He was a middle-aged man who was so thin he was just skin and bones.

His eyes were sunken, and his clothes were so dirty that their original color was no longer discernible.

"I'm going to die anyway," he muttered, then strode towards the doorway.

The middle-aged man walked out the door.

He saw the scene outside.

The streets were littered with the corpses of plague victims.

Those terrifying figures that once patrolled the city walls are now piled up on both sides of the road.

Further away, soldiers wearing the same gray combat uniforms were systematically clearing the battlefield.

Then the middle-aged man raised his head.

He saw the figure in the sky.

A person is suspended two hundred meters above Harvest City.

The silver metallic wings refracted a cold arc of light under the sunlight.

The Empire's Angel of Death!!!

The middle-aged man's knees buckled, and he collapsed to his knees.

Tears welled up without warning, streaming down her grime-covered cheeks, forming a murky trickle on her chin, and dripping into the dust on the ground.

"Emperor...Emperor..."

"The Empire's Angel of Death...it's the Empire's Angel..."

His cries echoed behind the gate.

Then the crowd surged out like a flood bursting its banks.

They pushed, stumbled, and trampled as they rushed out of the torn steel cage.

Someone stumbled on the threshold, and the person behind them stepped right over them. Someone was squeezed into a corner, their ribs making an unsettling cracking sound.

They rushed out and saw the sky.

I saw that silver-winged figure hovering in the air.

I saw those gray soldiers cleaning up the battlefield.

I saw those once invincible plague monsters, now reduced to minced meat scattered all over the streets.

Everyone knelt down on the streets of the eastern part of Fengshou City, their cries forming a sea of ​​sobs.

Someone kowtowed, their forehead hitting the road and drawing blood.

Some people just knelt there, covering their faces with their hands, their shoulders twitching, without uttering a sound.

Lawson looked down at all of this from two hundred meters above.

Forty thousand years of darkness in Warhammer, the common people of the Empire never expected to be saved.

The scum at the bottom of the hive city only deserve to eat corpse starch, and the serfs in the agricultural world only deserve to work in the fields until they die.

When war broke out, they were among the first to be discarded as expendable resources.

So when someone actually broke down the door and told them, "You are saved," they cried harder than ever before.

Lawson extended his right hand and probed into the static force field.

Klein-IX, a field medical station behind the Arctic defense line.

Katarina is re-bandaging a Star Trek soldier who has broken three ribs.

In the next tent, Sera and Sena, the twin sisters, were using the purifying aura of the Living Saint to cleanse a group of wounded people infected by the plague.

They had been working for nine hours straight. After Vera was taken to Casablanca by Lawson, the entire purification work of Klein-IX fell on the shoulders of the three of them.

Just as Katarina was about to say something, her vision suddenly distorted.

Before she could even stand up, she was pulled away from her original position by an irresistible force.

The tents, the wounded, the smell of disinfectant—everything vanished in the blink of an eye.

When her vision returned, Katarina found herself standing in an unfamiliar sky.

This is another planet.

Sera and Sena appeared beside her, and the twins stumbled at the same time.

Sena cursed and was then poked in the ribs with her elbow by Sera.

Lawson hovered ten meters above them, his silver wings fully spread, and his shadow wheels arranged in neat arcs behind him.

"Klein-IV".

Lawson explained, “Harvest City, which has just been liberated, has 3.2 million civilians. They have been imprisoned in the Plague Legion’s cage for 47 days and need your reassurance.”

Katarina looked down.

The city streets were filled with kneeling people, and cries rose from the ground like some kind of primitive prayer ritual.

"understood."

Katarina spread her golden wings and swooped down.

Sera and Sena followed closely behind.

Three golden figures landed on the square in the eastern district of Harvest City.

The purifying halo spread out in all directions the moment it touched the ground.

A golden glimmer swept over each of the kneeling, weeping civilians, dispelling the fear and corruption that had clung to their souls for forty-seven days.

A woman holding a baby looked up and saw three holy maidens with golden wings spread out.

Her lips trembled a few times.

"A living saint..."

The cries of 3.2 million people grew even louder.

Lawson looked at it from high above for a few seconds, then turned and flew towards the western district of Harvest City.

There are still the last remaining plague warriors who are putting up a stubborn resistance and need to be wiped out.

The battle for Harvest City ended completely three hours later.

Lawson landed on the ruins of the altar in the western district of the city, sorting through the fragments of memories extracted from Vitrak's soul.

Through cross-referencing and verification using swarm intelligence, these memories were ultimately refined into several key pieces of information.

Lawson opened his eyes and frowned.

In the shadows of the empire, humanity's communication systems were already riddled with holes.

Interstellar astrological communication requires powerful psionic transmitters, and the communication infrastructure of the Klein system was destroyed in the first wave of the Nurgle invasion.

In theory, the demon princes scattered across seventeen planets should fight their own battles and not communicate with each other.

But the Plague Legion has its own communication network.

They use corrupted subspace currents as carriers to transmit information through psionic resonance between altars.

Its speed was about one-fifth that of Imperial Astrological Communications, and its accuracy was also limited, only able to convey brief concepts and emotional fluctuations.

What alarmed Lawson was that Vitrak knew about the existence of the "variable" before his death.

It knew that a human capable of completely erasing demonic souls had appeared in the Klein system.

It even knew that Vikrian, the demon prince of Klein-IX, had been killed.

This intelligence was transmitted to all nodes through the altar network in less than six hours after Vikrian's death.

Lordson only managed to kill two demon princes before the enemy's intelligence network began to respond.

Swarm intelligence has completed seventeen strategic simulations.