Warhammer: Empire Reboot

The four wing-mounted multi-barreled rapid-fire cannons are arranged in a fan shape, providing near-complete fire coverage in the front hemisphere.

The aircraft has an internal weapons bay that carries 24 guided munitions. The guidance logic of the Golden Age makes these missiles three times more accurate than the Empire's current missiles under the same interference conditions.

The elite pilots needed by the Raptors can also be mass-produced by Lawson.

The Empire's fighter pilots have extremely high requirements, and it takes several years or even more than a decade to train a qualified Thunder fighter pilot.

The Raptor's cockpit was redesigned by the T-001, eliminating the interface reserved for artificial intelligence in the original STC from the Golden Age and replacing it with direct control via swarm intelligence.

A cornerstone assassin sits in the cockpit and integrates with the Raptor's avionics system via a living metal neural interface. The swarm computing power is responsible for real-time calculation of aerodynamic parameters, weapon targeting, threat avoidance, and formation coordination.

Swarm intelligence can process real-time data streams from thousands of birds of prey simultaneously, allowing them to weave a web of death in the sky like a flock of birds of prey with a single brain.

Total production over four years: 8,000 units.

The twelve main war zones, located in the shadows of the empire, are responsible for air superiority, ground attack, anti-orbital, and strategic reconnaissance missions.

A recent real-world battle has definitively demonstrated the dominance of raptors.

On the edge of the Gorgas star system, a recruited world was attacked by the orcs WAAAGH.

More than three thousand orc flying machines, Dhaka jets, orc bombers, and all sorts of haphazardly welded aerial junk swarmed towards the hive defenses.

The Empire only sent thirty Raptors into the air to intercept them.

Thirty against three thousand.

The raptors formed a formation at an altitude of 12,000 meters.

This altitude far exceeds the service ceiling of orcish flying machines; the greenskins' dilapidated engines limit their practical service ceiling to between seven and eight thousand meters.

Even the orcs' anti-aircraft guns couldn't reach that height; the shells lost their kinetic energy below 10,000 meters and fell back to the ground like rain.

Thirty Raptors calmly surveyed the densely packed green aircraft below before commencing operations.

Twenty-four guided missiles were ejected sequentially from the bomb bay inside each Raptor.

Seven hundred and twenty missiles swooped down, leaving white trails, achieving a hit rate of 97% thanks to real-time corrections from swarm intelligence.

In the first salvo, more than 600 orc flying machines were reduced to fragments and fireballs in mid-air.

The orc swarm was in an uproar.

The Dhaka pilots struggled to climb, trying to get closer to the Raptor's altitude, but the engines screamed and spewed black smoke as they climbed to 8,000 meters and could go no higher.

Raptors flew leisurely two thousand meters above their heads, while wing-mounted rapid-fire cannons poured fire downwards, smashing the orcish flying machines with their necks raised into pieces like spraying ants with a shower.

Some of the Orc bomber pilots were quick-witted; they abandoned the pursuit of the Raptors and turned to attack the hive.

The Raptor formation immediately dispatched six high-speed dive bombers to intercept them. Their speed of Mach 4.5 allowed them to drop from 12,000 meters to 3,000 meters in a few seconds. The laser turrets on their backs fired continuously during the dive, scattering the bomber formation.

twenty minutes.

Thirty Raptors, zero losses, annihilated more than three thousand Orc flying machines.

The orc warlord on the ground looked up at the clean blue sky above, where not a single wreckage remained, veins bulging on his thick, green forehead.

WAAAGH won't come up!

Immediately afterwards, a heavy engine roar came from low altitude.

Three hundred Flying Bear heavy assault motorcycles came from both flanks.

Xiong Da drove the lead vehicle and rammed it directly into the orc warlord's command chariot.

Birds of prey cleared the area from high altitudes, while flying bears were beheaded from low altitudes.

The orcs' offensive was completely thwarted within forty minutes.

The Raptor fills the last gap in the mid-to-high altitude capabilities of the Rosen military system.

But air power is only one piece of the puzzle.

On the ground, another force transformed from an "experiment" to a "main force" in four years.

Another new unit in Lawson's army is the Hurricane Motorized Unit.

The Saim-Han Ark provides a stable monthly supply of the spirit cores needed for 80,000 motorcycles. Agrippina's forging world integrates these cores with Imperial-standard armor and weapon systems, and thousands of brand-new jet motorcycles roll off the assembly line every day.

The Cornerstone Death Knights, with their swarm-like collaborative thinking, achieve a level of driving skill that Eldar elite riders take thirteen years to reach, but the Cornerstone Death Knights can do in just three hours by sharing experience with the swarm.

A total of three million vehicles have been put into service over four years.

A mobile force of three million Eldar jet motorcycles covered all major war zones on the Imperium's dark side.

They undertake reconnaissance, encirclement, pursuit, harassment and rapid response missions, can reach subsonic speeds, are highly adaptable to terrain, and can advance at full speed from deserts to jungles to ruins of nest cities.

The sight of hundreds of thousands of motorcycles being mobilized simultaneously has only occurred in a few large-scale battles.

The eyewitness described the scene using only one word:

Like a storm!!!

……

The situation on the dark side of the empire has always been a matter of ebb and flow.

For empires and chaos, it is always the East Wind prevailing over the West Wind, or vice versa.

Over the past four years, Dongfeng has left the Chaos camp utterly defeated.

Since the Great Maelstrom was looted by Lawson and the Red Pirate King Blackheart Huron led his remaining troops to surrender to Abaddon, the pirates in the Empire's shadowy sphere have been reduced to mere bandits.

Pirate gangs of all sizes lost the Great Vortex as their safe haven and scattered to the outskirts of the star system, barely surviving.

Previously, they relied on information asymmetry to plunder transport ships, finding out their routes in advance and waiting to ambush them on their inevitable routes.

The pirates had barely shown their faces when, within seven minutes, death angels clad in power armor descended from the sky.

After several daring pirate groups tried it three or four times, the survivors came to the same conclusion: it was not worth the risk.

So the pirates started robbing each other.

The pirate ecosystem on the dark side of the empire has degenerated from plundering the empire's supply lines to pirates robbing pirates, living a life even worse than rats in their nests.

The Chaos War Gang is in no better shape.

Deep in subspace, at the core forging furnace.

Vashtor's four mechanical arms simultaneously operated a demon engine core that was taking shape.

Everything is normal.

Then a battle report was transmitted to its consciousness core from the subspace channel.

The 37th Expeditionary Squadron, Herax Sector, ambushes the flagship "Rusty Crown" Ominous Ark, which is boarded and captured.

Vashtor's four robotic arms came to a stop.

Another ship lost.

Then this mechanical demon demigod, who had never shown any disordered emotions since its birth, activated its sound wave generator.

"That damned worm Lawson, he bastard stole my ship again!"

Dozens of Dark Mechanic followers inside the forge simultaneously looked up, staring in disbelief at their creator.

Some of these believers have followed Vashtor for over three thousand years.

For three thousand years, they had never heard the Creator utter a single swear word.

Wastor's language is a rational, mathematically beautiful mechanical code.

When the word "flesh worm" came out of its mouth, the cognitive systems of the three believers immediately overloaded and restarted.

As Vashtor moved, its four robotic arms swung, and a sound generator output low-Gothic profanities at a frequency of three sentences per second.

"Seven ships! Seven ships lost in four years! It takes me three months to build one Ark, but he can steal one in just fifteen minutes. What kind of bullshit symmetrical game theory is this?!"

A believer cautiously reminded him: "Your Majesty, there is no equivalent to the word 'bullshit' in the mechanical code..."

"Low Gothic swear words are a million times more effective than that binary nonsense!"

Vashtor continued to curse.

It discovered something amazing: after the outburst, its core computing power did indeed become smoother.

The disordered data accumulated in the core of consciousness seemed to have found an outlet, and was released in the form of low Gothic profanity.

From a purely information theory perspective, this is equivalent to an unconventional cache cleanup.

Waschtor annotated this finding in the database: emotional language expression has the function of assisting in computing power optimization.

It is recommended to run this program periodically under high-pressure computing scenarios.

Vashtor understood somewhat: From now on, when you're annoyed, just curse; your brain will work better afterward.

After venting his anger, Vashtor regained his composure.

Four years!!!

Its partnership with Abaddon has lasted for four years.

Four years' report card: only a few more key fragments were obtained, and the number of Ominous Ark ships shrank from sixty to only twenty-seven that were still combat-ready.

The cracks within the Black Legion are widening.

Several vassal warbands have already been secretly contacting other Chaos forces, and the Terminator elites' confidence in their war commander, who has lost two sacred artifacts, is wavering.

Vashtor recalled its computational assessment when it chose Abaddon: this man was the best executor for the Chaos Alliance, possessing sufficient military power and political influence to advance the collection of the key fragments.

Four years later, it had to update its assessment.

Wastor's computing power model gives Abaddon a 3% probability of defeating Lawson.

This number made the mechanical demigod want to curse again.

It began to seriously consider an alternative that had been running in the background with low priority for a long time.

Change partners!

However, within the Chaos faction, there are very few individuals who can rival Lawson on the front lines.

Primarchs are mostly confined to their own territories.

Angron had long been torn to pieces by Lawson.

Mortarion was holed up in Nurgle Gardens raising maggots, his attitude toward the Empire's darker wars reaching an appalling level.