Warhammer: Empire Reboot

Calga raised an eyebrow.

"By the way, Grand Inquisitor, Your Excellency the Archbishop."

"What were you saying when you stormed in all that way? Whose skin were you going to peel off? Whose head were you going to send to the stake?"

Vashem felt a chill run down his spine.

His political acumen was on full display at that moment.

He suddenly realized that if Lawson were sitting in the hall right now, he would probably already be chopped up and fed to the dogs.

Calga interrupted him just now to save his life!

"No...no! Absolutely no one wants to be burned at the stake!"

Vashem managed to control his facial expression in an instant.

He shoved aside the stunned stormtrooper in front of him, raised his rosary high, and with all his might, hurled a passionate praise at the ceiling of the hall:

"What we want to say is... the Lord of the Seal is incomparably powerful and invincible!"

The Grand Inquisitor used almost all the words he had in his life:

"This is the highest glory of the Empire! The Marker has actually trampled those arrogant aliens underfoot, making them stepping stones for the Emperor's great cause! Praise be to the Marker! Making aliens bleed for humanity is a heretical example that the Inquisition could never have dreamed of!"

The high archbishop also realized what was happening and waved his scepter, echoing, "Yes! The brilliance of the Seal Bearer shines through the ages! Those blue-skinned creatures were able to take bullets for the human empire; it was a blessing for their entire race! The Holy See will hold a Mass of Thanksgiving for the Seal Bearer in Terra, proclaiming this immortal achievement of territorial expansion!"

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Chapter 284 Lawson's Primitive-Level Guards

Calga crossed his thick arms and sneered, "Weren't you just going to tie Commissar Arek to the stake?"

Grand Inquisitor Vahashim seemed oblivious to the sarcasm in the words.

He said seriously, "Sir Calgary, I must correct your misunderstanding."

"The duty of the Tribunal is to find the faintest noise in the darkness of chaos. Commissar Arek's use of the alien army is itself a major procedural flaw. We, as the Emperor's eyes and ears, raise questions precisely to ensure that the purity of the Empire remains untainted."

Then, changing the subject without changing his expression, he said, "But we never expected that this was actually a scheme orchestrated by Lord Lawson, the Seal Bearer of the Empire! This is due to the limitations of our vision, not the fault of the Political Commissar. To turn the minions of the aliens into the shield of the Empire—such a tactic could only be performed by a chosen one! We question the actions of mortals, but the Seal Bearer's plan has already entered the realm of strategic sanctity!"

The Archbishop immediately understood: "The Emperor's will is like a vast sea of ​​stars; we mortals can only glimpse a corner of it. The Marksman has turned the tide in the shadows of the Empire, personally slaying the rebellious Primarch and reclaiming countless worlds. This is yet another manifestation of the Emperor's divine might in the world! My previous words were out of vigilance against the Xenomorph, but I failed to grasp the Marksman's profound meaning of fighting poison with poison. I am ashamed and will offer my sincerest repentance to the Emperor and the Marksman!"

As Karga watched the two representatives of the imperial power system sing in unison, he managed to turn a political accusation that almost escalated into a bloody battle into a distant praise of Lawson.

He was too lazy to waste any more words on these politicians, so he just snorted and turned his attention back to the tactical sand table.

Seeing that the Ultramarines Chapter Master was no longer pursuing the matter, Vahashim and Serax immediately shamelessly approached Arrek.

Their faces were beaming with warm smiles, as if the two men who had just tried the old political commissar for treason had never existed.

"Commissar Arek."

Vahashim spoke with the warmth of an old friend he hadn't seen in years: "The situation at Armageddon is far more dire than the reports we received in Terra. Please allow me, on behalf of the Inquisition, to pay my respects to you and all the soldiers fighting here."

Arek was not Calgar, after all; he knew the rules of dealing with these power-hungry animals.

He simply nodded slightly, which was taken as acceptance of the other party's gesture of goodwill.

"Hamagidon has been able to hold out until today thanks to the blood of countless soldiers, and now it is even more reliant on the support of the Seal Master."

"You two have come from afar and brought us strategic supplies. On behalf of all the soldiers and civilians of Armageddon, I would like to express my gratitude. Please come this way. I will now brief you on the current battle situation."

Arek led the two toward the main display screen of the tactical sand table.

On the display screen, the green icon representing the orcs is constantly clashing with the gold and blue icons representing the Imperial defenses.

Vahashim and Serax's attention was quickly drawn to it.

"Those are the Seal Master's direct troops?"

On the screen, a cornerstone warrior dodged the slash of an orc battle axe and cleaved a Gough orc nearly twice his size in two.

Immediately afterwards, he turned around and kicked away another greenskin that was trying to sneak up on him. His shoulder-mounted explosive gun spewed fire, blasting the orc boy a dozen meters away into a bloody mist.

Looking into the distance, hundreds of thousands of such soldiers form an iron dam, anchored to the defensive line.

They advanced forward, forming small squads that provided cover for each other, facing a green-skinned horde several times their size.

"Commissar Arek, how many of these soldiers does the Lord Sealholder have?"

"When the Lord of the Seal arrived, he immediately mobilized one million to stabilize the collapsing battle line."

“One million…” The archbishop gasped.

However, Vashem caught a key word.

"Commissar, you just said... one million was transferred immediately?"

Arek finally smiled slightly: "Because it's three and a half million now."

"what?"

The two of them screamed at the same time, then immediately covered their mouths tightly.

"Look at you, so unsophisticated."

Calgar chimed in disdain, "If the Marksman didn't possess such power, why do you think the Tau Empire would submit to him? And why would he have Abaddon and the entire Chaos Legion trapped within the Eye of Terror?"

Karga's words were like a bolt of lightning, cleaving through the fog in the minds of Vahashim and Serax.

Lawson's image in their minds quickly transformed into that of a behemoth capable of redefining the power structure of the empire.

If such a figure were to actually arrive in Terra, what would the Highlords Council be worth?

What about the intricate factions within the courts and the state religion?

What do so-called political balance and millennia-old traditions amount to in the face of absolute power?

A thought arose in both of their minds at the same time: right now, immediately, they had to cling to this powerful figure!

By the time those old foxes in Terra realize what's happening, they probably won't even be qualified to sit at the poker table.

"Political Commissar! Lord Calgary!"

Vahashim eagerly grasped Arek's arm. "The situation in Armageddon is far more critical than we imagined. The Marksman is carrying too heavy a burden! I will use all the authority of the Grand Inquisitor to mobilize all available strategic resources, shipyards, and foundry production capacity around the Sun Starfield to support this place at any cost!"

Archbishop Serax eagerly echoed, "I will issue a supreme decree in the name of the Church of England, calling upon all loyal subjects to donate to Armageddon! The Church of England's Guard and the Combat Sisters will also assemble here! We have only one request!"

The two said in unison, "Please be sure to tell the Lord of the Seal that we are absolutely loyal to him!"

"We're leaving now! Don't try to stop us!"

After saying this, the two high-ranking imperial officials turned and left hastily, without even waiting for Arek's reply.

Calga spat dismissively: "The Empire's opportunists, they bend whichever way the wind blows."

Arek was clearly used to it. He sighed, "Lord Calgar, this is the norm in the Imperial bureaucracy."

"Hmph! I'm a warrior, I don't understand these complicated rules. I only know how to kill enemies for the emperor, and I'm still doing just fine, aren't I?"

"That's because you are the Chapter Master of the Ultramarines, and the most trusted and beloved general of Regent Guilliman."

"With this status, who in the entire empire would dare to easily provoke you? It's a different story for those of us without any connections."

Calga remained silent for a moment.

Arek is right; he is able to be so pure because his position allows him to ignore those dirty rules.

"I really hope the Seal Master goes to Terra soon and gets rid of these parasites!"

Calgar scratched his head: "Where did the Marker go? I need to talk to him to resign and go to another war zone!"

Arek glanced at him: "I don't know, maybe it's in the Eye of Fear! Why don't you call it via instant messaging?"

"Then forget it..."

…………

The exit of the Eye of Fear has been sealed off by the Seventh Blackrock Fortress for a long time.

Abaddon's fleet is bleeding every day.

No one keeps track of the losses of the demon units; once they're dead, they're dead.

These losses yielded no results; Blackrock Fortress remained standing.

The prestige of the Chaos Warlord was being burned away bit by bit by the flames of those explosions.

On this day, a warship sailed out of the subspace rift.

Peturabo's flagship, Ironblood, was eleven times larger than Abaddon's current provisional flagship.

This fact alone says it all.

Peturabo landed on Abaddon's bridge.

The Black Legion's generals made way, and the veterans who had followed Abaddon for ten thousand years in battle also involuntarily retreated to the sides.

The Lord of Steel walked straight across the bridge to the tactical screen, without even glancing at Abaddon sitting on the command throne.

He stared at the fortress on the screen and the flowing data, offering his unvarnished comments.

"A pathetic waste."

"Thousands of warships, hundreds of demon legions. You used them to play a game of catapults with absolutely no skill involved."

"Horus's choice of you was the second biggest mistake of his life."

Abaddon's claws tightened on the armrests of the throne, the armor plates making a metallic cracking sound.

He suppressed his anger; he needed Peturabo now.

“Then, Lord of Steel,” Abaddon spat out the words through gritted teeth, “what are your thoughts?”

"I have no brilliant ideas."

Peturab finally turned his head: "I only have calculation, logic, and the right way of war."

Peturabo accepted this task, which had nothing to do with the gods.

In the past ten thousand years, he has never encountered a single target that is worth his time and effort.

In his eyes, the fortresses of ordinary people were exercises, and the defenses of the empire were nothing more than a collection of wrong answers.

The fortress before him was an ancient creation, a system left behind by a race 40 million years older than humanity, which he still could not fully model.