Warhammer: Empire Reboot

"However..."

Dante drawled, “I just saw your troops, and they can even repair and reuse the Death Guard’s power armor, which is riddled with holes from the plague.”

"You must have a group of extremely skilled mechanical craftsmen under your command, right?"

Lawson understood immediately: "Your Highness has a good eye. My technicians can repair more than just a few sets of broken armor. As long as there are enough materials, I can even put a completely broken Titan back together for you."

Dante nodded in satisfaction.

"In the decades of bloody battles on the dark side, we have lost countless brothers. The power armor remains that were torn apart by the Zerg, melted by plasma weapons, and completely twisted by demonic power have been deemed beyond repair by the technical priests of the Mechanicus."

Dante looked at Lawson, "There are more than three thousand of these scrap metal remains. They've been piling up in the lower decks of the transport ship, ready to be transported back to the Bar system for reworking."

The regent in the shadows revealed a meaningful smile.

He decides how badly the armor is damaged to qualify as wreckage.

"The Code of Astartes stipulates the maximum number of armors that can be issued. But there is not a single provision in the entire code that says I cannot give you a pile of worthless industrial junk as a thank-you gift to our allies."

Seth listened in stunned silence.

Lawson immediately understood Dante's subtext, and he gripped Dante's hand tightly.

"Our Avengers Legion specializes in scrap metal recycling. You can dump these three thousand-plus pieces of scrap metal on my deck. It won't cause you any trouble with your audit books."

Three thousand damaged power armors.

With the previous spoils and the newly issued 600-plus suits, Lawson's White Tiger Heavy Armor Army will instantly swell to nearly 4,000 men.

The two looked at each other on the table and burst into laughter.

Subsequently, the three held extremely detailed discussions on the deployment location of the communication base station, the handover process between the two cruisers, and the details of moving the three thousand pieces of scrap metal.

Half an hour later——

The massive gate at the bottom of the transport ship slowly opened.

Lawson, Dante, and Seth walked out of the cabin side by side.

Beneath the dim, dark sky outside, tens of thousands of Imperial Space Marines were methodically cleaning up the battlefield and treating the wounded.

Dante stood on the high springboard, looking down at the land that had finally come back to life after a bitter struggle.

P.S.: Guys, I broke my promise today. I can only post 10,000 words. I've got it covered, I'll make it up to you as soon as possible!

Chapter 148 Mortal Flesh and Blood, Crushing the Emperor's Foolish Child

Lawson, Dante, and Seth walked out of the cabin.

A burst of frenzied shouting came from the assembly area on the west side of the fortress, interrupting the three of them.

That was a camp where the Astral Army and the Astartes were mixed together.

The heavy stomping of combat boots, the rough whistles, and the tremors caused by some enormous object crashing into the ground were all blending together into a primal wave of competitive heat.

Lawson slightly raised his chin, and Dante and Seth also turned their gazes towards him.

The three of them strode towards the densely populated area.

Rows of repaired inflatable tents were pitched along the edge of the makeshift camp. Outside the tents, braziers burned cheap promethium mixed with ether, the firelight casting flickering light on each rough face.

The veterans of the Astral Army waved their flasks and shouted wildly in various accents of Lowland Gothic.

Several veterans of the Holy Blood Angels removed their helmets, sweat beading on their dark purple temples, and stood with their arms crossed at the outermost edge of the human wall.

A 30-meter-diameter clearing was cleared in the center of the crowd.

At the edge of the arena, several Blood Angels and Flesh-Tearers, having removed their helmets, stood with their arms crossed, staring coldly into the arena.

Outside were hundreds or even thousands of veteran Astrakhan soldiers shouting at the top of their lungs.

A contest is underway on the field.

This is an absolute contrast in body size.

One of them is the Oglins, an auxiliary force of the Astral Army.

This humanoid behemoth is 3.1 meters tall and its body is as wide as a Lemanrus main battle tank standing upright.

He was shirtless, his muscles bulging like tangled old tree roots, his skin covered with rough calluses and old scars, and a crude servo implant interface remained on his left arm. He was clearly a "bone" that had survived countless meat grinder battles.

Around his neck hung a necklace of trophies made of Astartes terracotta fragments and orc fangs.

His opponent was one of Lawson's assassins.

Not one of the elite soldiers clad in White Tiger power armor, this assassin was merely wearing a black military vest soaked in sweat.

He stood 2.3 meters tall, his muscles sculpted like the most perfect ancient Terran sculpture. But compared to the 3.1-meter-tall Oglin behemoth, his 2.3-meter height seemed rather small.

As Lawson watched the Oglin man panting and exhaling white steam in the arena, his mind automatically swished through the Imperial database containing information about this subhuman species.

The Oglins are often jokingly referred to by commissars and Star Force officers as "the Emperor's silly kids".

This branch of humanity, mutated on a planet with extreme gravity, abandoned all intellectual evolution in exchange for a terrifying physical body that defies the laws of biology.

Their bone density is comparable to that of plastic steel, and the tensile strength of their muscle fibers allows them to pull out a chimera armored vehicle stuck in the poisonous swamp by hand without hydraulic assistance.

In boarding or trench warfare, an Oglin wielding a musket and riot shield is a biological bulldozer that requires no fuel.

The veterans of the Astronautical Army called them "Big Guys" with a mixture of awe and affection. One Oglin was worth more than an entire squad of flamethrowers; in the jungles of the Dead World, the sewers teeming with demons, and the narrow corridors of spaceships, these biological bulldozers were irreplaceable.

However, their intellectual deficiencies are equally fatal. In the Astral Army, an Oglin who can count from one to five will be respectfully called "Great Intelligence" by his comrades and will naturally become a squad commander.

There's even a famous hellish joke circulating within the military: even if the Lord of All Changes, known for his scheming and intrigue, personally intervened and implanted ten thousand meme viruses into the minds of the Oglins, he still couldn't teach an Oglin to count to nine.

"Roar!"

The Oglin behemoth let out a deafening roar, its thick legs slamming into the ground.

The hard rocky ground cracked instantly beneath his boots, and his massive body slammed into the assassin like a cannonball.

The Oglins attempted to break their opponent's spine with a primal bear hug.

The impact of this blow was enough to crush a veteran of the Astragalus Army, wearing heavy bulletproof armor, into a bloody pulp.

The surrounding Space Marines erupted in thunderous cheers, while the few Space Marines watching narrowed their eyes slightly.

Faced with the overwhelming force of the attack, the assassin, who was only wearing a vest, did not retreat.

The assassin's right foot slid half a step to the side and back, the edge of his boot carving a deep furrow in the rock.

His center of gravity dropped instantly, with slow-twitch muscle fibers providing absolute support, while fast-twitch muscle fibers exploded upon contact.

"boom!"

The dull thud of flesh colliding was like a warhammer striking leather.

The assassin's hands precisely locked onto the Oglin's wrist joint in a blind spot.

At the moment of contact, the assassin's body leaned backward using Oglin's momentum, and the sole of his right boot pressed directly against Oglin's broad abdomen.

The physical prowess of four times that of the elite junglers of Katachán shattered reality at this moment.

The Catachans are monsters capable of fighting carnivorous dinosaurs bare-handed in the world of the dead. Their bodies, four times larger than theirs, give this 2.3-meter-tall physique absolute strength comparable to that of a Space Marine, as well as muscle density surpassing that of a Space Marine.

The assassin suddenly exerted force from his waist and abdomen, combined with the kicking motion of his legs, to form a perfect lever.

The Oglin behemoth, weighing over a ton and a half, instantly lifted its feet off the ground.

Its massive body traced a heavy arc in mid-air before being slammed onto the rocky ground three meters away with a deafening roar.

The earth trembled violently, raising clouds of dust.

A roar and whistles that shook the heavens erupted from the crowd of onlookers.

"damn it!"

"Is this guy really a mortal? I'd rather believe he's hiding a human skin mask!"

For a mortal soldier not from the Astartes to be able to take down a charging Oglin head-on without wearing power armor is an absolute miracle in the history of the Astragalus Army that they can boast about for a lifetime.

This is a real man, a man tough to the core.

The Oglin was somewhat dazed by the fall. He shook his enormous bald head, trying to understand why this small man, who was a size smaller than him, could throw him so high.

This is the third time.

His brain couldn't process the complex physical lever principle, and his intellectual confusion quickly turned into purer anger.

I'll crush you!

With a roar, the giant Oglin scrambled to his feet on all fours and charged at the assassins like a mad rhinoceros.

This time he was smarter. Instead of giving him a bear hug, he lowered his head and pressed his bald head, as hard as a heavy warhammer, directly against the assassin's chest.

The Oglin's headbutt is their ultimate killing move, and there are records of an enraged Oglin using its headbutt to pierce the front armor of a light Titan.

The assassin did not take the blow head-on.

The assassin's body sank and slid sideways at a very low angle, like a swimming black deep-sea fish. Oglin's massive head brushed past his shoulder and slammed into a granite boulder behind him.

"Boom..."

A spiderweb-like crack appeared on the rock, and the Oglin was so shaken by his own inertia that his vision went black and he spat out a small mouthful of blood.

The assassin spun around, his left hand flashing like lightning to the back of Oglin's thick, barrel-like neck, locking it firmly in a cold, gripping motion. At the same time, his right leg hooked around the back of Oglin's knee.

This was a simple military grappling technique. But with the 2.3-meter-tall assassin's muscle density comparable to that of a Space Marine, even though the Oglin's neck had a 10-centimeter-thick layer of keratinous muscle, this grappling still left a deep indentation.

The massive body of the Oglinman collapsed to the ground like a slaughtered bull, his limbs convulsing violently, his face turning from red to purple.

The crowd erupted in a second, even more frenzied cheer.

Oglin's combat characteristics are on full display.

Lacking any skill, abandoning defense, driven by instinct to bite, headbutt, and brute force – that's all the Oglins are capable of. On a normal battlefield, that's enough to crush any organized civilian enemy force.

But against assassins, such an attack seemed too crude.

This was a one-sided crushing defeat, with the opponent's physique completely superior to Oglin's and his fighting skills displaying an absolute dimensional advantage.

The assassin released the chokehold, took two steps back, and gave the "big guy" a little time to catch his breath.

It's like an adult playing with a child, unwilling to completely crush the child.

On the outskirts of the crowd, Dante, the Dark Regent, and Seth, the leader of the Fleshbreakers, watched this scene unfold.