Warhammer: Empire Reboot

The genetic remodeling of the assassins does not require an exploration process that breaks through the human framework. The leap of Lawson has already paved the way, and they only need to replicate along the existing blueprint.

The bones heal again from the fractures using a densely packed hexagonal structure.

Muscle fibers proliferate and re-weave rapidly under the skin.

The accessory nerve cords on both sides of the spine connect with the cerebral cortex.

One minute later, the light faded.

Sixteen brand-new platoon leader-level suicide soldiers stood in place.

Each of them looked noticeably bigger than they had five minutes ago, but their proportions remained harmonious.

“Get used to it. Put on the armor in ten minutes,” Lawson said.

The sixteen platoon leaders turned and walked toward their respective powered armor.

The living metal, upon contact with their skin, automatically climbs and covers like mercury, seamlessly connecting with the newly enhanced nerve endings.

All sixteen suits of armor were distributed to the assassins.

Lawson himself wasn't wearing it.

Lawson needs a commander-level, larger, and better-built power armor.

And he knew where such a suit of armor was.

It was worn by Valentine, the Lord of the Night.

During this period, Lawson's troops were reaping huge profits on the outer perimeter of the deep deck, taking advantage of the chaos of the four-way battle.

But the Chaos Space Marine squad that occupied deck 148 was like a poisonous thorn stuck in his side.

After the previous raid and the losses on the deep deck, the Chaos squad, which originally had more than twenty men, is now reduced to only nineteen Space Marines.

With overflowing firepower and a strong and well-equipped army, they were well-strengthened.

It's time to pull out this thorn.

"Target: Deck 148, Chaos Outpost."

Lawson personally led the team.

He wasn't wearing power armor, but rather a heavy combat vest reinforced with living metal.

He had the Fang of Katachon and a power sword hanging at his waist.

The left forearm was covered with a thin, silvery, living metal film.

Sixteen White Tiger powered armored vehicles were lined up in two columns behind him.

Behind them were six hundred fully armed suicide soldiers.

As the swarm intelligence advanced, it continuously updated the defensive posture of the Chaos Outpost. With the reconnaissance data from Team Ding and the continuous remote monitoring, the layout of the outpost had been largely figured out.

Three entrances, surrounded on three sides, there was nowhere to escape.

As the six hundred suicide soldiers completed their deployment outside the three entrances, the heavy bases of the multi-barreled rapid-fire cannons were driven into the ground, their dark muzzles locking onto each door.

Six hundred bomb guns can weave together an impenetrable net of fire in the dark.

Sixteen White Tiger Power Armored Vehicles stood in a row at the very front of the main entrance.

Lawson stood in the very center of the sixteenth platform.

Without armor, he stood out conspicuously among the sixteen steel giants, like an unarmored warhorse standing among a group of fully armored knights.

Lawson's psychic powers released an information pulse into the stronghold thirty seconds ago:

“I’m outside, you’re surrounded.”

"boom."

The alloy door, half a meter thick, opens from the inside.

Nineteen Chaos Space Marines, clad in midnight blue and brass armor, stepped out.

Leading the way was Valentine, the Lord of the Night.

His power armor was far superior to that of the other Chaos Warriors, with a more robust frame and the curvature of his shoulder and chest armor suggesting the incorporation of adamantite.

Dark gold runes flowed across the surface of the carapace, a top-quality relic passed down from the Great Expedition era.

The mask was already broken, revealing a gray face.

Valentine's gaze swept past the six hundred gun barrels and fixed on the sixteen power armor suits painted with tiger stripes at the very front.

His steps faltered for a moment.

“The curvature of these ceramic steels…” Valentine’s voice came from behind the damaged visor: “The weld marks on the edge of the left shoulder armor…”

His gaze shifted from the power armor and swept across the entire encirclement.

Then he laughed.

It's a mocking smile that only a veteran who has lived for tens of thousands of years would show after seeing through everything.

"It's you guys, not the green-skinned ones."

He turned to his comrades behind him: "Brothers, we've been tricked! I felt the scene was too clean. Greens don't clean bullet casings. It was these scum who killed our brothers!"

Valentine turned back to Lawson, his dark gold eyes scrutinizing the human who wasn't wearing power armor.

"You're the leader?"

"Losen".

Valentine repeated the name: "Standing at the front without armor. Either you're an idiot, or you're harder to kill than these tin cans behind you."

"You can try which one it is."

Valentine did not respond.

His gaze swept over the encirclement again: three multi-barreled rapid-fire cannons, six hundred explosive guns, and sixteen power armor suits.

He finished the arithmetic problem in his mind.

"What a grand display."

“Mortals have learned to wear iron shells, but you have no chapter insignia, and you do not belong to any faction I have ever heard of.”

Valentine tilted his head, a twisted smile appearing beneath his tattered visor: "A bunch of bastards who appeared out of nowhere, stole the Empire's armor, killed the Empire's enemies. Do you think the Corpse King sitting on the Golden Throne will show you any mercy?"

“Its court will hunt you down just as it hunts us down.”

Valentine took a step forward.

The eighteen Chaos Warriors behind him simultaneously assumed battle stance.

"Your six hundred heavy weapons could indeed riddle us with bullets, but I don't think you'll do that."

"Because you want my nail."

Valentine patted his breastplate, the dark gold runes shimmering slightly beneath his palm: "Commander's armor from the Great Crusade era. You won't find another like it in the entire Dark Side of the Empire."

He was right.

Lawson was truly reluctant to part with it.

Chapter 72 A Mortal Takes on the Chaos Commander

"So I'll give you a better solution."

Lawson calmly proposed, "Your nineteen men versus my sixteen suits of armor. Cold weapons. The survivors take everything."

"What about you?"

Valentine stared at the combat vest that Lawson was wearing, which was clearly not power armor: "You're planning to fight me in these pajamas?"

"Even if you're wearing pajamas, I can still pull you out of that suit of armor."

There was a two-second silence.

Then Valentine burst out laughing.

"Good! Good! Good!"

He drew his master-level power sword from his waist.

A demon's eye was embedded in the hilt, and the physical forging quality of the blade was still the best Lawson had ever seen.

"I have lived for twelve thousand years, killed seventeen chapter commanders of the Imperial Chapters, annihilated three planets, bathed in the blood pool of Khorne, and walked through the labyrinth of metamorphosis ninety-nine times."

Valentine pointed his power sword at Lawson: "Are you sure you want to fight me?"

Lawson took a step back: "Your resume is impressive, but how long has it been since you got beaten up? Warm up first."

Sixteen White Tiger power armored vehicles crossed Lawson and launched a fierce attack.

Thirty-five steel behemoths violently collided in the narrow deck passageway.

Sixteen against nineteen.

A Chaos Warrior wielding a chainsaw axe roared as he leaped toward Armor 2. The remaining warp burn marks on the axe blade left an arc in the air as it brought down with the force of a thousand pounds, enough to cleave a tank in two.

In the Chaos Warriors' ten thousand years of combat experience, when faced with such a head-on slash, opponents either raise their shields to block it or roll away to dodge.

Jia Er neither retreated nor blocked.

The swarm intelligence calculates the trajectory before the axe blade falls.

Jia Er's entire body shifted five centimeters to the right in an extremely counterintuitive and minute manner.

The chainsaw axe cleaved past the shoulder armor, slamming into the floor and sending sparks flying.

One-tenth of a second when old forces have been exhausted and new forces have not yet emerged.

Jia Er's high-frequency vibrating blade, like a venomous snake spitting its tongue, pierced through the mere two-centimeter-wide gap between the Chaos Warrior's helmet and neck armor.

It shredded the trachea and pierced the spinal cord.

One blow kills.

This is the significance of swarm intelligence and less reaction delay in close combat.

The experience of the Chaos veterans told them that there is a 0.1-second recovery window after the axe strikes and misses, a window that no mortal has ever managed to seize in ten thousand years of battle.