Warhammer: Empire Reboot

The group of fart-loving people below suddenly caused a commotion.

The corpses of the two fart devils have been discovered.

"Boss! Boss! Look here!"

"There's dead shrimp droppings! They've been killed!"

This idiot's IQ is clearly higher than those two morons from before.

It moved closer to the corpse of the fart demon, whose throat had been pierced by Lawson's knife, and its sharp nose twitched twice.

"This is a shrimp knife! There are some live, strong shrimp nearby! They're really good fighters!"

The Greenskins' genes allow them to smell the oil from Space Marine bomb guns hundreds of meters away, and to judge the cruelty of an enemy from the wounds on a corpse.

"Waaagh! You noisy slug!"

The orc boy in front kicked the clever little brat who was issuing the warning hard.

The bastard only had time to let out half a scream before crashing into the metal bulkhead a dozen meters away, turning into a shapeless mass of green and red flesh.

The surrounding bastards trembled with fear.

"Two useless pieces of trash!"

The orc boy picked his nose: "I'm here to fight those big guys in iron shells! Not to play hide-and-seek!"

"I heard more gunshots ahead! Those cowards are definitely looting the good stuff! Let's go! Waaagh!"

"Waaagh!"

The two orc boys walked towards the other end of the passage.

The orcs' illogical thought process gave Lawson an opportunity.

The perverts continued searching through the wreckage.

The group was spread out, scattered in twos and threes in various corners.

Three bastards were shoving and jostling over a piece of damaged shoulder armor bearing the Imperial Eagle insignia, and happened to walk right under the ventilation duct grille where Lawson was.

Right now, Lawson leaps from the pipe opening.

He held the Fang of Katachon in his hand, reversed.

"Pfft!"

Just before it hit the ground, the blade pierced precisely into the skull of the far left guy.

The green brain matter and blood didn't even have time to spray out.

Lawson smoothly executed a forward roll, dissipating most of the impact.

The second farting devil only managed to utter a distorted "squeak...".

Lawson's knife hilt slammed hard into its cheek.

Half of the fart's face collapsed, and his eyeballs were squeezed out of their sockets by the immense pressure.

At this moment, the third fart-wisp finally realized what was happening.

With a flick of his wrist, Lawson unleashed a vicious upward slash from the bottom of the Katachon Fang.

The broad, serrated blade sliced ​​directly into the third asshole from between his legs, ripping him open and cutting all the way down to his chest cavity.

From the moment he descended from the sky to the triple kill, the entire process took less than three seconds.

[Life Points +1]

[Life Points +1]

[Life Points +1]

The first assassin in Chapter 3 has appeared!

The fart demon, who was not far away, finally snapped out of his shock.

"Fire! Smash him!"

A dozen or so thugs, each wielding a ranged weapon, raised their guns.

"Bang! Bang bang! Sizzle..."

Gunfire erupted in the cramped cabin.

Red, low-quality laser beams, underpowered bullets, and rusty iron pieces rained down on Lawson.

Using the terrain and the blind spots where the spies were blindly shooting, Lawson charged into the spies' ranks.

Horizontal slash, vertical chop, thrust, reverse sweep.

Lawson perfectly utilized the essence of biomechanics and the Katachán fighting style to inflict the most lethal damage with minimal movement.

Blood, severed limbs, and bits of flesh flew through the air.

Lawson's knife strikes became faster and faster.

[Life Points +1]

……

[Life Points +1]

When the last, distorted scream abruptly ceased, the wreckage area on deck 77 returned to deathly silence.

In this one-sided massacre that lasted less than a minute, he single-handedly slaughtered the entire group of scoundrels.

Current Life Points: 41

"Still more than halfway done..."

Those gunshots or the commotion he made would soon attract more greenskins, or even those two orc lads who had just left.

Lawson began searching through the corpses scattered on the ground.

He first picked up the automatic gun used by the guy who had fired the most fire earlier.

When he held the weapon in his hand, the corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily.

This is what they call a gun?

It was basically a piece of iron pipe that had been sawed off from some reactor exhaust pipe and tied to a wooden gunstock with a few rusty wires.

There was no trigger guard, no front sight, and even the feeding system was just a tube stuffed with inferior gunpowder and scrap metal.

Under normal physical laws, if this thing is lit, it will explode one hundred percent of the time, blowing the user's hand and half of their head off.

But this thing can make a sound in the hands of the green-skinned people, and can even kill them.

Lawson tossed the "gun" aside; he wasn't about to gamble his life on whether he could unleash the Greenskins' psionic powers.

He continued searching.

Beneath the slightly larger corpse of a fart demon, he saw an unusual metallic sheen.

Inside the tattered sack that the scoundrel was carrying, a section of a gun barrel covered in scratches was clearly visible.

On the side of the gun barrel, a white skull insignia of the Astragalus Army, half of which had been scratched, was faintly visible.

"Praise the Emperor..."

A Lockheed-type bomb gun. A model designed specifically for elite veterans and political commissars of the Astragalus Army. Its caliber is slightly smaller than the standard Astartes model, but it still fires .75 caliber reactive rounds. The recoil is astonishing, making it difficult for ordinary Astragalus soldiers to use alone.

But it's just right for the muscles of the Catachan people.

"Those damn aliens, how could they waste such good stuff?"

Lawson quickly checked the condition of the firearm; the mechanical structure remained intact.

"Ammunition, I need ammunition."

Lawson searched the other thirty-odd corpses of farts.

After searching through more than a dozen corpses, he found what he was looking for in two crude ammunition pouches made of human skin.

Twelve scattered, bright yellow .75 caliber explosive rounds, and two curved magazines still full of ammunition!

There were fewer than fifty bullets in total.

"Click".

Lawson slammed a fully loaded magazine into the feed port of the grenades and pulled the heavy charging handle.

With long-range firepower in place, the next step is to address the issue of system resources.

He scavenged for metal in the wreckage area. A section of hydraulic landing gear buffer column, a crane gear, a piece of alloy access door—anything he could lift, he absorbed. Ten minutes later, his steel reserves reached 1.2 cubic meters.

Fine steel is enough.

He needs to collect the remaining life points through a killing spree.

The Catachans are not just killing machines; they are the most skilled jungle trap masters in the entire galaxy.

This intricate area of ​​space wreckage is not fundamentally different from the perilous Katachán jungle.

He chose the narrow bottleneck where the wreckage area connected to another main passage.

He took out the 20-meter-long monofilament rope.

At a height of about thirty centimeters above the ground, the rope was stretched across the pass into three intricate tripwires, with both ends firmly fixed to a heavy metal base.

Next, he fixed the two booby traps to the metal pipes in the blind spots on both sides of the pass, and then connected the safety pins of the booby traps to the single-strand tripwire on the ground.

To maximize the killing effect, Lawson dragged over several corpses of fart demons, forming a small roadblock.

He stuffed several pieces of extremely sharp iron into the gaps between the pile of corpses.

It has just been set up.

"Waaagh!"

The battle cry came from the direction where the two orc boys had just left.

A huge swarm of farts, like a green tide, rushed over.

Behind the horde of fart spirits, six orc boys appeared!