Warhammer: Empire Reboot

He patted his black robe as if annoyed that his adjutant had dirtied it.

"He ignited a galactic-scale powder keg. In the coming months, Agrippina will become the most ferocious meat grinder in the entire galaxy. Even the main force of the Black Legion will be skinned alive if they go in."

Valerius pointed at Silas's nose.

"You want me dead? You want this black ship, along with its gene bank, to be buried with that warlord?"

Silas finally shut up.

The judge was suspicious, harsh, and biased.

Valerius possessed all three.

But he's not stupid.

Political repression is carried out from behind the scenes.

Faced with an absolute meat grinder of firepower, the Inquisition's emblem could not withstand the macro cannon, nor could it stop the claws of the devil.

"Sever all physical routes between this ship and the direction of Agrippina."

Valerius sat back in his command seat and adjusted his cloak.

"The contents of Lawson's announcement, his claim of overstepping his authority as the Dark Side Master, are all encrypted and archived."

He paused for a moment.

"Wait until the storm subsides. If he's still alive, we'll settle the score with him then."

The servants responded in unison.

Valerius looked at the planet on the star map that was becoming the eye of a storm.

"Now, let that madman and the devil bite each other."

……

Unlike the calculations of the Inquisition, Lawson's declaration resonated in a different way in the crumbling trenches, bridges, and ruins of the Empire's dark side.

Corax sector.

A certain defensive line of the Nest City, where the sun never shines.

On the position of the 813th Infantry Regiment of Kadian, mud and blood covered the tops of boots. In the unclaimed land ahead, the fourteenth wave of mutated cultists were charging, shouting incoherent praises and wearing still-wet human skin.

Behind the defensive line, a loudspeaker was broadcasting the political commissar's execution warning.

"Those who retreat—"

sizzle.

The frequency band has been cut off.

A strange man's voice rudely squeezed into the position.

“I have killed the most unclean and defiled ones.”

"Khorne's great demon was beaten to a pulp by me."

In the trench, a veteran named Kadian, who had lost his right arm, stopped changing a magazine.

The seventeen-year-old recruit next to him grabbed his sleeve, his hand trembling so much that he splashed mud and water all over his face.

"Sir...is this true?"

The veteran remained silent.

"Is there really anyone who can beat the Great Demon to a pulp?"

The veteran remained silent.

Then they heard the last sentence.

"Anyone who's not afraid of dying, get the hell over here!"

"I'll fuck all of you!"

The trenches fell silent.

Even the political commissar forgot to raise his pistol.

A few seconds later, someone chuckled.

Then, laughter echoed through the trenches. Some coughed with laughter, some cursed with laughter, and some, halfway through their laughter, quickly shoved their magazines back into their guns, their movements as swift as if they had just woken up.

Veteran Kadian used his remaining left hand to pull the bolt of the laser gun.

Something finally came out of that face that had been numb for months.

It doesn't really look like a smile.

It looks more like it's about to bite.

"No matter who he is."

He mounted his gun on a sandbag and aimed at the mutant charging towards him.

"This is the most courageous speech I've ever heard in my life."

The political commissar stood behind the bunker and slowly lowered the explosive pistol.

He looked at the soldiers who were about to be crushed by despair, and they seemed to have been injected with some filthy but incredibly effective medicine.

The firing rate has doubled.

Some even climbed onto the breastwork and threw molten metal bombs into the enemy ranks.

The political commissar looked at the loudspeaker.

The Dark Side Manipulator of the Empire?

He didn't know whether the title was legitimate.

But at least for this moment, the man named Lawson, in the most undignified way, stuffed a mouthful of fire into the mouths of these mortals waiting to die.

……

Another place in deep space.

A heavily damaged Black Templar Strike Cruiser drifts alone in the asteroid belt.

Inside the bridge, a technical sergeant was leading a team to repair the fire control array. Marshal Jian Ge stood at the tactical table, staring at the still-flashing coordinates of Agrippina.

After the broadcast ended, no one on the bridge spoke immediately.

The company commander spoke first.

"Report the coordinates and proactively request that all galactic adversaries gather to attack a single point."

He looked at the marshal.

"This is tactical suicide. No matter how fortified Agrippina is, it cannot withstand the siege of dozens of Chaos fleets. Even if the Primarch were to be resurrected, there would be no way to fight like this."

Marshal Jian Ge did not refute.

He looked at the enemy ship's course, which was turning on the star map.

"It was suicide."

The company commander frowned.

The marshal added, "It was also a sacrifice."

Several members of the Holy See on the bridge looked up.

“You see him leading the devil to himself.”

Marshal Jian Ge reached out and marked several red dots that were disappearing from the surrounding star sectors.

"But with just one sentence, he wiped out the chaotic guerrilla forces in four star sectors."

He turned to look at his soldiers.

"Hundreds of agricultural worlds and dozens of nesting worlds have finally caught their breath."

The company commander remained silent.

The Sword Pavilion Marshal removed his helmet and pounded his breastplate heavily in Agrippina's direction.

"This is the true Shield of the Empire."

He paused for a moment.

"I just don't know if that Master of the Seal has enough backbone."

……

The outer reaches of the San Caspar galaxy.

Holy Blood Angel Flagship.

The red warning light was half off.

On the holographic chart, the chaotic fleet lights that originally surrounded Saint Caspar like an iron curtain are changing.

The Dark Regent Dante rests his hands on the tactical table, the light behind him casting shadows on the mask of Saint Gillespie, obscuring his expression.

Prior to this, he was still communicating with Lawson.

He explained to Lawson that the Saint Caspar system was facing the annihilation of hundreds of billions of people and hoped that Lawson's mobile forces could provide support.

Lawson did not answer.

He immediately cut off the communication.

At that moment, Dante thought that Lawson had refused.

He didn't complain.

This is the dark side of empires.

Everyone is bleeding. No one is entitled to throw their elite troops into someone else's meat grinder.

Dante was already preparing to order the entire fleet to charge in.

Even if the casualties exceed 80%, we must fight for a chance of survival for San Caspar.

Then Lawson's radio came on.