Warhammer, from Gothic Fleet to Azur Lane

However, just when everyone thought victory was within reach, the orcs also taught humans a lesson: do not underestimate the bloodiness of any opponent. The entire orc fleet accelerated again, using the broadside to ram the humans, who were already unable to accelerate and could not dodge at all, into the bloodiest boarding battle!

By the time Salmin reacted, the starboard side of the Ascetic battleship had already been firmly embedded in the port side of the Orc battleship. The damage alone would take at least three months to repair. If the interior of the Light Spear array was destroyed, it might take five to ten years to repair. Now they had to give it to the Ascetic warship.

Salmin took the time to look back. As expected, the Eternal Crusade was being approached by the Bone Crusher's flagship. However, it was much stronger than the Ascetic. It was not a broadside to broadside battle, but the bow of the Eternal Crusade had penetrated the body of the Bone Crusher's flagship.

He couldn't help but smacked his lips. He was indeed a veteran. He had learned how to react in battle. He was close enough. He would kill most of the orcs on this broken ship and then go over to see if he could kill the Bone Crusher.

You don't know until you see it, and you'll be shocked. The two ships are really close. Looking through the French windows of the bridge, the bridge of the Orc warship is less than a thousand meters away. Then he didn't pretend, and directly pulled an extinction machine from the side, pointed it at the opposite bridge and bombed it!

As for what to do if there is no oxygen after the French window is broken? Look at this captain's room, only Salmin does not have an oxygen supply device, but the problem is that Salmin does not need oxygen.

In short, Salmin's execution and communication were really fast. In the third second after the collision, he directly blew up the opposite bridge with the Extinction Relic, which stunned the Astartes of the Ascetic Regiment next to him.

"Wait", what are you doing? Why are you smashing the French window? Then they saw a scene that refreshed their understanding of the robot's firepower. Throne, he swore that the last time he saw such firepower was the roar of a Warlord-class Titan.

Just one salvo was enough to destroy the bridge of the nearby Ork warship, just like a child tearing off a piece of plasticine with his hands. If the robots of the Mechanicus have this kind of firepower, why do we need Titans?

"Let's go, brother." Salmin said to the captain of the first company of the Ascetic Chapter. "The orcs who have lost their leader are not to be feared. The remaining Astartes and naval forces can deal with them. Let's go to the Eternal Crusade. The Grand Marshal has assigned too many warriors to other places."

The captain and the veteran soldier wearing a dog-head Terminator looked at each other, and then Salmin heard a slight click, which should be a communication through the shared communication channel. In just a dozen seconds, he saw the captain nod to him.

"We will go with you, follow us, and before I fall, death will be with you!"

"God Emperor, this will be our honor."

Next Chapter——Angel Descends to Me (40k Special)

Chapter 30: Battle of Armageddon (VII)

Greenskins, greenskins everywhere. Whether it was servitors, armed laborers, naval combatants, or even the Emperor's Angel of Death, they were all caught up in the endless green tide. We fought in the corridors, we fought in the cabins, we fought around the corners! The entire battleship was burning in flames.

The battle was fierce, but not tragic at all. For some reason, the number of bosses and heavy armored bosses in the green tide was pitifully small. Not to mention the orc war bosses or war lords who should have appeared at the forefront of the green tide. (Salmin: Ha, I'm in heaven)

"Hey, Dick, time to get to work." The team member's voice interrupted his daydreaming.

Lor, his observer, was now acting as a heavy fireman. He used the double-linked heavy-duty felling machine gun fixed on the barricade to continuously fire at the green tide in front of him. With three barricades and nine double-linked heavy-duty felling machines, he firmly blocked the only main road leading to the upper deck.

Dick was not being lazy, he was the anti-heavy infantry sniper in the squad. He was carrying a 20-pound ion rifle and was responsible for clearing out all the monsters that came boarding the ship. Even a Terminator would have to pray that his shield would work if he was hit by one of his shots.

The only problem is that as a Ratling, he feels tired even for a short while, not to mention holding the gun for a long time. As for why he stood at the back and shot instead of standing on the barricade? God Emperor, he wouldn't dare to do that even if you dared. A bullet from this fragile ion rifle is not as simple as a misfire.

After receiving the position reported by the observer, Dick raised his rifle and took aim. The head of a heavy-armored boss charging 300 meters away suddenly turned into a pool of ashes. Done, job done.

Once again free, he turned his head and said, "Boss, how long will this fight take? Seven or eight thousand greenskins will die on this road alone. How many greenskins are there in the ship?"

After a while, the captain threw his empty laser rifle aside and replaced it with a new one, and told him casually, "When we were in Zhongsi Academy, the instructor told us that there were usually about 100 million greenskins on the greenskin battleship. Now there must be at least or of them who can board the ship."

Then, the company commander looked around at the troops, whose numbers had been reduced by nearly one-third, and added, "It's enough for us to fight to death."

It was such a dull joke. But Dick had no time to feel the humor or sadness, because another orc boss rushed up. The green tide seemed to have no boundaries, always surging, always rushing forward. The battle would never end.

"Dick, here," the captain shouted reflexively, pointing at the orc leader who was charging towards them. Then he realized that Dick was no longer there.

Three minutes ago, the barricade was finally lost, but Dick didn't leave. His entire right hand had been knocked off by the psychic boy who came out of nowhere.

Dick screamed in pain but did not leave during the evacuation. He held the gun with his only remaining left hand as if he was holding a long sword. "I am already a useless man, let me leave here with honor!" When the entire barricade behind him was engulfed by the surging ion flames, he understood everything - it was the roar of the ion rifle exploding.

What should they do now? That heavy armored boss, none of their current weapons can deal with it. He leaned against the wall and smiled bitterly. There is already an answer, isn't there? He tightly grasped the hot melt bomb in his hand. In the last moments of his life, he closed his eyes, slowly breathing heavily, listening to the heavy footsteps getting closer and closer.

He carefully distinguished the heavy footsteps of the orc boss from the chaotic battlefield. Suddenly, he opened his eyes wide again - he heard the crisp, dense sound of steel boots stepping on the deck, the sound of chain saws turning and the sound of explosives!

That was the prelude to the charge of the God-Emperor's Angel of Death!

Sure enough, a battle cry sounded. He put the hot melt back into his belt and raised the laser gun probe again.

The God-Emperor's Angels of Death descended upon us. These superhuman warriors cut through the waves of Orks like a hot knife through butter.

Seeing this scene, a strong impulse and sense of pride surged in their hearts. The dawn of victory dispelled the fear in the hearts of the only 11 people left in the company. Almost in an instant, they were trembling with excitement, shouting the name of the Emperor and joining the battle again.

Fighting? No, this is a slaughter. Artemis, the captain of the Ascetic Chapter, has never felt that mortals can be as useful as in today's battle. Yes, very useful. It's just a little too useful, as if they are the mortal soldiers who feel that they are standing in front of the Space Marine shooters to resist damage.

Before the battle, he had always thought that these 200 people were just private guards in full armor. After all, their paint was not like any known regiment, but it seemed very recognizable. And there was no Imperial Sky Eagle logo on their bodies, instead there was a single-headed eagle logo composed of a spear, a circle, and wings.

These strange warriors shouted "Kinos Charge" and "The Name of the Emperor". I don't know what weapons they used, but no matter if they were a kid or a boss, they would turn into a pool of ashes if they were hit by a bullet. Even the most heavily armored boss couldn't stop a bullet.

You know, the armor of those heavy armored bosses, which looked tattered, could even withstand the shooting of grenade launchers, but they were easily penetrated by weapons in the hands of mortals. This really refreshed his cognition. If these guns were not expensive, he would also like to buy two. It looks like human style, not alien equipment. I don’t know if the Mechanicus can make it?

If the mortal troops only made them look sideways, then these two robots were terrifying. They were really like miniature Titans. They destroyed countless greenskins just by walking. In his opinion, as long as they protected these two small Titans, no matter how many cannon fodders there were, they would only have to face the orc leaders.

As the green tide collapsed in the massacre, Artemis noticed the four remaining marines saluting him. He walked up to the group of mortals and bowed his head slowly. "Well, how is the battle going up ahead?"

"Report to the commander. The only main road leading to the upper deck is ahead. My company and the other two companies were ordered to guard the barricade, but now they have all been lost. There are only four of us left out of the three companies..."

He reached out and interrupted the captain's report. "To the next line of defense. The Emperor is with you, soldier."

"Yes, sir." The captain stepped aside with an excited look on his face. Perhaps for ordinary soldiers of the empire, being blessed by the God-Emperor's Angel of Death was enough to brag about for the rest of their lives.

"Since we can't reach the Everlasting Crusade by teleporting, we now need to go to the boarding boat hangar on the port side of the third deck and use the boarding boat to reach the Everlasting Crusade." Salmin opened the map and gestured to him. "Go forward along this road to the lower level, then turn left to the elevator room, destroy the elevator and then rappel down to the boarding boat hangar. This should be the fastest and safest route."

Chapter 31: Battle of Armageddon (VIII)

"Rail rappel?"

"Yes, rappel. Whether the elevator is lost or not, it is not safe to use the elevator rashly. Since we don't carry heavy weapons, it is safer and faster to rappel directly." Salmin turned his head and looked at the extinction machine. "As for this, he can fly."

Yes, he can fly. No matter when. Flying is a high-level ability. You can see that Sanguinius's combat power has increased suddenly because of his flying skill. He even became the most convenient one among the brothers to dismantle Titans. Of course, if the magic pony goes all out, he is not slower than him.

Of course, the Salmin can also fly, but only in the Ship Girl form. Now this half-baked weapon form can't do such advanced operations. From this point of view, not only are all the Ship Girls untouchables, but they can also fly and have void shields. They are really a noble race with three in one.

At the supply point, they replenished some explosive grenades for the ascetics, and the group continued to move towards the elevator while clearing out the orcs. As for Salmin and his men, Salmin himself played dumb the entire time and didn't fire a single shot. The A-demon army was using subspace ammunition and didn't need any supplies.

The battle process was even more mediocre, 1A second, what can I say. With this configuration, even if Salmin is removed, they can be used to fight the beast war. The terrifying weapons of the two extinction machines are enough to send Uncle Black to the beast; if Salmin is added, Uncle Black will not have to die, and he will kill the beasts that are ripened by psychic energy.

The orcs without war bosses and warlords could not cause casualties, let alone the scattered bosses and cannon fodder could not even slow down their pace. The Astartes monks, who had not encountered the various monsters of 40k for a long time, were finally no longer heavy infantry, revealing the ferocious power of their heavy armored units.

Accurate explosive shells were not like the incendiary rifles equipped by the Old Centuriae that could turn the entire body into ashes with just one shot, but the Space Marines' extraordinary shooting skills won them more kills - the fully armor-piercing explosive shells accurately exploded the heads of the orcs in the front row, and then blew the unlucky guys in the back into two pieces.

Each flower has its own beauty. Without mentioning the mediocre massacre on the Salmin side, Grimaldus did a big job.

The Black Templars of the entire city looked up at the sky. The red peepholes on their helmets seemed to be able to penetrate the clouds and look directly at the holy war above their heads. Above the red clouds, more than a thousand of their battle brothers were fighting bloody battles with endless greenskins, carving out their glory with steel and blood, and leaving them here.

They had never been so envious of the ten lucky warriors and battle brothers who escorted the traitor to the starry sky. God Emperor, how long will they have to endure this pain?

Until their dying nights, the warriors of the Helsreich Expedition bore their grief and anger with due dignity. Grimaldus was angry with pain. Rage burned behind his eyes, and the will to fight pulsed in his veins.

But he controlled it, it was his duty, he sat at the table with the mortal commanders, agreed or disagreed with their plans, nodded, or argued.

"We should give the orders," Saren said quietly, and the officers murmured in agreement.

Grimaldus turned to the communicator he had spoken to earlier. This time, he glanced at the man's rank. The officer saw the hermit-master nod at him.

"Lieutenant," said the Knight.

"What are your instructions, Master Yin?"

"Issue orders to all Imperial forces throughout Halsridge. Martial law is effective immediately." His throat felt dry as he spoke these heavy words.

"Lose the city."

Four thousand anti-aircraft turrets atop the hive's towering walls stood ready, their multiple barrels pointed skyward.

So too were secondary laser weapon defense arrays on countless spires and factory rooftops.

Modified hangars and warehouses and short concrete runways were also prepared for use by the naval and army squadrons. Armed men in grey uniforms patrolled the perimeter of their base, cordoning off their grounds and operating almost independently from the rest of the hive.

Throughout the city, makeshift road checkpoints were transformed into barricades and defensive outposts, ready to fend off the enemy once the walls fell. Thousands of buildings that once served as barracks for the Imperial Guard and militia were sealed with bulletproof panels and reinforced with quick-drying cement…

Announcements from the communications towers ordered hive residents not engaged in important industrial production to remain in their homes and wait to be signaled or escorted to underground shelters by the Guards.

The Helsreich highway, the lifeline of the hive, was fortified with guard checkpoints, cleared of all civilian traffic to make way for the columns of tanks and foot sentries, a rattling parade march stretching for hundreds of kilometers. Swarms of war machines spread out across the hive.

Halsridge was blockaded, its defenders gripping their weapons and staring up at the bleak sky.

There was no one to be seen within the city, and the ninety-five knights—separated, far apart, but united by the blood of Dorne that flowed through their veins—knelt in silent prayer.

Eighteen minutes after the sirens began to sound, the first serious problem with the military deployment arose. A representative of the Overwatch Corps requested to speak with the commander of the hive.

Forty-two minutes later, out of sheer panic, the first civilian riot broke out.

Saren brought me, Grimaldus, some bad news.

"Three days," he said.

The Overwatchers needed three days. Three days to complete their deployment in the city, as well as to repair and inspect the Titans and arm them. Three days ago, they could have passed through the huge gates on the Hive's indestructible walls and stationed themselves in various areas of the city as planned.

Then Saren made it worse.

"In three days they will decide whether to come to our aid or to deploy with the rest of the corps along the Hemlock River."

After a brief silence, I calmed down my anger. "Is it possible that they won't come to support us?"

"It seems so," Saren nodded.

“It was estimated before the war that the enemy would breach the orbital defenses within four to nine days,” another Iron Legion colonel—his name was Hargus—said across the table. “So we have to get them what they need as quickly as possible.”

None of us were sitting down now. The hum of the sirens had subsided to a level that made verbal conversation possible again for mortal officers without enhanced senses.

"I'm going to the Watchtower," I told them. "I want to deal with this myself. Is Modrati Primus still in the hive?

"Yes, Master Hidden."

"Tell him to meet me there." He paused as he strode out of the room, looking back into the room. "Be polite, but don't ask. Just let him know."

Chapter 32: Battle of Armageddon (IX)

Co-pilot Primus William Kasomir, the unlucky guy who was blocked by two explosive shells by Salmin at the reception, scratched the black stubble on his chin. His time is limited, and he has made it clear.

"Master Hermit, I don't want to die here. My captain is still hesitating whether to send the Guard Corps to Halsridge."

The knight walked to the railing, his armor joints humming with gentle movements. The observation deck is a small platform on the central spire of the command fortress. Grimaldus spends most of the night here, carefully watching this hive city that is ready to erupt in war.

Above the distant walls, the disappearing skyline, his genetically enhanced vision allowed him to make out every detail of the Titans in the distance. There, in the wasteland, the engines of the Overwatch Legion were already warming up. The fully loaded landing craft were back in orbit as part of the final phase of the Imperial deployment. Soon, in a few days, nothing would be deployed to the planet anymore.

"This is the greatest port city of Armageddon. We are about to be invaded by the largest green-skinned aliens in the history of the human empire." The Astartes did not turn to the Titan's pilot for help. He looked at the huge war machine, his vision blurred by the sand and fog of the sandstorm in the distance. "We must have a Titan, Kasomir."

Kasomir stepped up to Astarte, his bionic eyes - both with faceted emerald lenses set in bronze mounts - whirring as the knight's gaze took in the city and beyond.

"I understand you need us."

"My needs? These are the needs of the hive. The needs of Armageddon." "As you said, the hive needs. But I am not the captain. I need to report to her on the defense of the hive, and the decision is in her hands. The Overwatch has received more urgent applications from other cities and other forces.

Grimaldus closed his eyes in thought, but his skull helmet did not blink and continued to stare at the Titan in the distance.

"I have to talk to her."

"I am her eyes, ears, and voice, Sr. Hermite. She knows what I know, and I say what she says. If you wish, I can, perhaps, arrange a voice call. But I am here now, and you know that I am a person of high rank myself - to show that the Watch speaks to you with the utmost respect."

Grimaldus was silent for a few seconds.

"I appreciate that. I am not blind to your position. Tell me, First Officer, may I speak to your Captain in person?"

"No, Hermit. It would go against the tradition of the Watch Corps."

Grimaldus's brown eyes opened again, taking in the details of the war machine's fuselage on the horizon.

"Your objections were received by me," said the Knight, "and duly ignored."

"What?" Casomire said, not sure if he had heard correctly.

Grimaldus did not answer. He was already speaking into the communicator.

"Attarion, get the Land Raiders ready. We're heading to the wasteland."

Four hours later, Grimaldus and his brothers stood in the shadow of the Titan.

A light sandstorm rustled their armor, but they paid no heed, just as Grimaldus had ignored Kasomir's protests against the offensive nature of the mission.

A group of servitors worked on the ground. Although they had their brains removed, they could still feel any physical discomfort. The abrasive sand in the wasteland was eroding their exposed skin and rubbing against the mechanical parts on their bodies.

The Titans stood in full force guarding the wasteland - 19 in total, ranging from the smaller 12 Warhounds to the larger Reavers and Warlords. Unstoppable like Colossi, the Titans were undergoing a ritual of awakening with the help of the Mecha-Priests and Servo-Skulls on the ground.

Although they were asleep, it was not silent. The deafening mechanical hum of the internal plasma reactor started up, awakening the human beings' primitive fear of giants, and the roar shook the ground beneath their feet and spread to the whole world.

As hundreds of robed mechanical priests chanted and prayed to the God of Machines and the Machine Spirits of these sleeping war giants, Grimaldus and his brothers walked in the shadow of a Warlord-class Titan. The violent friction of metal on metal turned into a loud thunderclap, breaking the air like a sonic boom. Hot air gushed out of the Titan's fuselage, and around the Titan, thousands of people instantly knelt in the sand, kneeling in worship of the Titan, expressing their reverence in the afterglow of its awakening.

The alarm was like the cry of a newborn Titan. A sound somewhere between pure mechanical sound and organic joy. As loud as a hundred factories running at full capacity, and as terrible as the wrath of a newborn god.

It moved. Very slowly, like a man who hadn't moved a muscle in months. An outstretched claw, big enough to crush a Land Raider, rose several meters from the ground. After a moment, it fell back to the ground, sending up dust in all directions.

"The Sacrosanct has revived!" the voices shouted over hundreds of loudspeakers.

"The Sacred walks the earth once again!"

The Titan responded to the devout cries of the faithful below it. It roared again, its trumpet shouting a hoarse cry that echoed across the wasteland.

Impressive as the sight was, that was not why Grimaldus had brought his men here. Their goal was much greater, dwarfing even these mighty warlords, who stood or moved about without paying any attention to them.