Warhammer, from Gothic Fleet to Azur Lane

Grimaldus bowed his head in thanks.

"I will not be intimidated by a mortal," Amaras growled, but the murderous intent had left him. Yarrick - the thin, old Commissar - simply stared at the Astartes Captain.

After a moment, Amaras turned to look at the holographic image around the hive. Yarrick turned to face the gathered officers, his one physical eye exuding majesty, and the other electronic eye moved in his eye socket, slowly focusing on the map.

"Hades won't last a week," he repeated, shaking his head this time. "We must abandon this hive and disperse its forces to other fortresses to strengthen our military. This is not the last Armageddon War. There will be far more scum entering this planet than last time. The other hives must continue to strengthen their military forces." He took a moment to clear his throat, a cough that shook his whole body, dry and hoarse. When the coughing subsided, the old man smiled a humorless smile.

"Hades will burn. We must gain a foothold somewhere else."

Hearing this, General Kulov took a step forward with the data tablet.

"We will make tactical arrangements," he took a deep breath and took a step forward. "The greenskin fleet that is about to besiege Armageddon is too large. We cannot completely repel them."

There was a burst of laughter, but Kurov ignored them.

Grimaldus, Helbrecht and Bayard were the few who remained absolutely silent.

"Listen to me, my lords," Kurov sighed, "Listen to me clearly. If you say you don't regard this as a brutal war of attrition, you are deceiving yourselves. According to current estimates, we have deployed more than 50,000 Astartes in the Armageddon Sector, and more than 30 times that number of Imperial Guards, but it is still not enough to guarantee us a victory. According to our most optimistic current estimates, including the fortifications in orbit around Armageddon, we can at most hold off the attack of the greenskin fleet for nine days."

"So what's the worst-case scenario?" asked an Astartes Sergeant in white wolf fur and the grey battle armour of the Space Wolves. His body language betrayed his impatience, and he was almost pacing back and forth, like a beast in a cage.

"Four days." The old man said with a ferocious smile.

Silence fell again, and Kulov did not waste the opportunity.

"Admiral Parol of Armageddon has drawn up his plan and uploaded it to the tactical network for all commanders to review. Once the orbital defenses are lost, whether in four days or nine days, our fleet must withdraw. From that point on, Armageddon will be defenseless except on the ground. The greenskins can land wherever they please."

"Admiral Palor will command the remaining naval fleet to conduct repeated guerrilla attacks against the invaders in orbit."

"Then who will command the Astartes' ships?" Captain Amaras asked again.

There was another silence, and then Political Commissar Yarick nodded to the black-armored warriors across the table.

"Given Grand Admiral Helbrecht's credentials and the expertise of their Chapter, he will take overall command of the Astartes fleet."

There was another uproar as several Astartes commanders argued that the honor should belong to them, but several knights ignored the noise.

"Should we remain in orbit?" Grimaldus asked, approaching his commander.

The Grand Marshal did not take his eyes off Yarrick. "It was a wise choice that we were chosen to command the fleet of the Astartes in orbit."

The priest looked around the room. There were hundreds of leaders and officers from different forces.

I was wrong, he thought. I will not die in vain in this world. A wave of desire, heat and urgency washed over him, like bursts of adrenaline stimulating his two hearts.

"The Everlasting Crusade will spearhead the attack into the heart of the enemy fleet. Grand Admiral, we can slay the greenskins before they reach Armageddon."

As his priest spoke, Helbrecht turned his gaze from the old commissar to Grimaldus, a gleam in his deep eyes that shone through the priest's skull mask.

"I have spoken with the other Marshals, my brother. We must leave a force on the ground. I will command the defenses in orbit, and Amalric and Ricard will command the forces in the Ash Wastes. We will also need an expeditionary force to defend a hive that does not already have an Astartes stationed there."

Grimaldus shook his head. "That is not our duty, sir. Both Amalric and Ricard bear countless honors on their armor. Each of them has led greater expeditions alone. None of them would like to be exiled to this filthy forge hive while thousands of their brothers fight a glorious battle in the sky. You are humiliating them."

"But I have made up my mind," Helbrecht said firmly, his expression serious and unwavering, "a commander must be left behind."

"No," the knight felt a chill running deep into his bones, "please don't do this."

“All the work arrangements are ready.”

"No," every hair on his body stood up, "Don't do this!"

"Now is not the time for such things. The decision has been made, Grimaldus. I know you as well as I know Mordred, and you will not refuse this honor."

"No!!!" Grimaldus said again, loud enough to attract all the other commanders.

Helbrecht said nothing, and Grimaldus approached him.

"I will personally crush the ambitions of my enemies and hurl their profane ships to burn upon the ground of Armageddon with holy fire. Do not leave me here, Helbrecht, and do not deny my honor."

"You will not refuse this honor," said the Grand Marshal, his voice as grim as his features.

Grimaldus didn't want to argue any more. Worse still, he knew there was no point in him staying here. He turned away from the holoprojector before they could have a tactical discussion about orbital defense.

"Wait, brother," Helbrecht's voice sounded like a request rather than an order, and it would have been easy to refuse.

So Grimaldus walked out of the room without saying a word.

Chapter 11 For the Four-Armed Emperor

Halsridge, Lower Nest

In the Lower Nest, each factory was abandoned for different reasons, but most of them ended up in the same way - becoming a lair for various evil spirits within the empire, which then hid in the shadows and devoured this behemoth.

The Draxion Steelworks, originally belonging to the Draxion family, was abandoned 60 years ago. This place, once purified by the flames of the Ministry of Justice, has once again become a den of filth and corruption. During the last expansion of the Four-Armed Emperor Cult, the steelworks was reactivated and turned into an indestructible fortress.

In the solid fortress half buried underground, a figure emerged from the shadows.

"Master, the intelligence reported by our brothers has now been verified. Not only is the Ministry of Justice mobilizing troops, but even an entire regiment of the Armageddon Iron Legion is being transferred here! We are really exposed." The strange being in the robe shouted in panic.

As he reported, the whole room fell into chaos, with dense psychic communications colliding back and forth in the room. With a thud, a terrifying existence fell heavily in front of him.

This is a terrifying giant, with two legs and four arms, and a body covered in a thick chitinous carapace. This level of heavy armor is enough to be immune to the attacks of grenade launchers. The terrifying body is 6 meters tall but does not look bloated, and has a strong sense of power and agility. The slender and sharp tail can even blow up an ordinary Astartes with one blow.

But what really established the reputation of this existence was more than that. The terrifying gathering of psychic energy lifted the poor Genestealer guard captain who came to report the situation directly into the air to read his memory, and the overflowing psychic energy fluctuations even twisted his limbs into a knot.

With a high-pitched scream, a pile of rotten meat fell heavily to the ground. The patriarch had read all the information from his brain. After confirming it again, the patriarch roared angrily. ——Ten years of accumulation were destroyed in an instant. The cult has been exposed. In order to survive, they must hide again.

This is the reason why the Genestealers, the Tyranid Vanguard, have such a terrifying success rate. They will never start a rebellion until the right time is right, and once exposed, they will immediately disperse and hide. They can never be killed or slain. They will always linger in the shadows of the hive, waiting for the opportunity.

But they never had that chance again. Genestealers were always easy to track, even for an elite soldier who was focused on intelligence work. Their extreme farsightedness made the scenery a few hundred meters away look like thick fog, and being able to see the jackal headhunters a kilometer away was their only long-range power.

The Death Cult assassins wanted to follow them, just like going on a picnic. The tail behind the Genestealer Guard Captain had already reported the location of their lair to Salmin.

But here lies the problem. Salmin, who had been going smoothly, seemed to have forgotten one of his own settings - for an untouchable to lurk near the psykers for a close-range reconnaissance was as ridiculous as a submarine surfacing to fight.

He realized the problem when he saw the Genestealers taking up their weapons and getting ready, and even driving out heavy vehicles.

"Oh no, this time we really have to fight a siege. My good news is that we can declare the end of it as long as we rush in and behead them. There is no need to confront those tens of thousands of troops head-on." After realizing that it was all his fault for messing up, Salmin could only comfort himself in this way.

He wasn't too nervous, after all, to him, the enemies in the nest were nothing but chickens and dogs. He was like when he was playing a game, thinking he could pass the level without any damage, but he lost some blood for no reason. Depressed, annoyed.

Although there was an accident, Salmin knew that the most important thing in a raid was to kill the enemy quickly. If the Genestealer leader escaped, he would not have time to fight guerrilla warfare.

After briefly notifying the little nun who had not yet followed, Salmin jumped directly from the unfinished building, entered the factory area from the air, and went straight to one of the factory buildings - that was the entrance to the underground fortress that the captain of the guard had entered before!

Ort was a devout (four-armed) follower of the God-Emperor and a loyal PDF (ethnic) warrior. He was trembling all over. Not because of fear, but anger.

The captain said that the damned intruder might be a damned traitor who had betrayed the Emperor. That's right, the armor of the traitor of the Angel of Death was impenetrable to mortals. But today he would let the damned traitor who wantonly slaughtered his brothers and sisters witness the courage of mortals!

He hid behind the door with his biological brother. He held two melta bombs tightly in his hands. These horrible creations, just the two of them in his hand were enough to destroy a Malcador main battle tank. His biological brother, Oscar, who was even more favored by the God Emperor, was lying on the ground.

His brother's six limbs were stiff due to tension, so he had to use his free hands to constantly stroke his round head to comfort him. His brother also had four hot melt bombs tied to his body. They were all ready to sacrifice themselves for a better tomorrow and for the Emperor. Now they were just waiting for that damned traitor to open the door and welcome his hell!

Closer, closer. He heard the screams of his brothers gradually fade away, and the heavy footsteps gradually approached! His steel teeth were already creaking with anger. For the sake of the Emperor, he was still enduring.

Finally! He heard the sound of the door lock falling to the ground, and the door opened and quickly closed. It was useless! His four hands were more flexible than ever before, and he instantly pulled away the six bombs on him and his brother. The joy of revenge arose from his heart, and the brothers in the bunker behind him also watched all this with surprise.

"Bad luck!" Salmin kicked the heavy iron door and the two aliens behind it towards the barricade.

"What, what did you do?" Amidst the sudden roar and crash, Ort, who was almost unconscious, suddenly saw the faces of his companions behind him in a trance. But how could they be so close? Aren't they far away?

The light and heat instantly destroyed the barricades in the passage, but countless aliens swarmed in from behind.

"Revenge! For the Emperor! Long live mankind!" Although the sacrifice of the Ort brothers was ineffective, it inspired the remaining Genestealers who were guarding the passage. Hundreds of alien soldiers issued chaotic battle cries, but they rushed towards Salmin with high morale.

"Torch the Emperor's will, and destroy the monsters!" Salmin's charge alone was more powerful than that of hundreds of people. He drew out his duel pistol and pointed at a Genestealer mutant holding a multi-barreled melta, and dodged several ion guns.

He allowed the laser guns and automatic cannons to shred his clothes. In just a few seconds, Salmin had rushed to the middle of the alien group. The huge inertia brought by the high-speed charge made him almost break through the opposite square formation. Dozens of aliens turned into corpses and hit their compatriots in the face.

With the help of the alien swarm slowing down to a controllable range, Salmin lightly drew an arc and beheaded the last two pure-blooded chicken thieves. No matter how high the morale of those aliens was, it was impossible for them to penetrate his armor out of thin air. Fighting to the death, the most brutal massacre began.

After tearing the last alien who was shouting for the God-Emperor into two halves, Salmin tightened the last piece of cloth on his body, calculated the time, and rushed into the depths of the passage without stopping. "It's been five minutes since I was discovered. We must be faster."

However, the moment he saw the light and rushed out of the dim tunnel, he saw three Leman Rust tanks parked in the bright underground space, with their muzzles flashing in the shape of a finished product, surrounding the entrance of the tunnel!

"nest grass"

Chapter 12: Death of a Thief

Fortunately, these three are just the most common standard Leman Russ tanks in the Astra Militarum array. It is difficult to say about the Leman Russ Eradicator.

The fury of the giant battle cannons hit the void shields hard, and the heavy bolters and flamethrowers were not to be outdone. However, these weak attacks could only be used to hit ordinary armored targets, and these attacks that the alien tank soldiers had high hopes for only caused a few ripples on the void shields.

Rage made Salmin, who was almost killed by the door, even more deadly! When these main battle tanks were approached by various monsters, they found that the side turrets that were originally used to kill infantry were so ridiculous. Salmin completely ignored the raging flames and drew a zigzag. The shining power sword then split the fragile side turret, and the detonated ammunition depot turned the entire tank into a pile of scrap metal.

The battle tanks that they had managed to save with great difficulty and the nearly one hundred elite aliens that had been fighting together were destroyed in just a few seconds. Before the alien commander who was watching from a distance could feel distressed, he and his guards were cut into pieces by the shining sword light.

Once again, he pushed away the two purebloods that pounced on him from the shadows, and chopped them into four pieces by turning sideways. Salmin finally smiled.

Less than a thousand meters ahead, there was a huge statue, the blasphemous statue of the Four-Armed Divine Emperor. Under it stood a huge monster, and next to that monster were about two hundred smaller monsters. It was obvious that the remaining elite forces of the Four-Armed Divine Emperor were gathered together waiting for him, so there was no need to look for them everywhere.

Although he made a mistake himself, which led to the need to force a charge, thanks to the excellent matching mechanism of Warhammer 40k, the opposing Four Walls Divine Emperor even made two mistakes in tactics and strategy.

In the early stage, they wanted to concentrate their superior forces to annihilate them. However, they were killed one by one in the open area with his absolute speed advantage, and the pure-blooded chicken thieves' powerful street fighting and night fighting capabilities were not brought into play.

In the later stage, he mainly used skirmishers to delay the enemy, and he would cut them down when he rushed over before the enemy could react. He didn't delay the enemy at all. He only used the tank to kill him when he opened the door to show his power.

The last move was even more outrageous. His previous strategies were all for his own safe evacuation, but in the end he led the main force out of the city for a decisive battle. What a Ming Dynasty God of War.

It's just that Salmin doesn't have ship equipment now, otherwise I would have to give him a round of light spears to teach him a lesson.

But it doesn't matter now. Remember what I said before? Salmin's top speed can reach 1.1 Mach, but he can't control the steering at the top speed, so he doesn't use it, and the fastest speed is only more than half of the power.

Now we have a perfect target. No way to turn? It doesn't matter, the opponent is really blind and won't dodge at all.

Salmin sheathed his sword, raised his thumb and measured the angle. He protected his head with both hands like a shield. All right, let's charge!

"!" The rapidly weakening spiritual energy made the Genestealer leader alert. He tried his best to open his cloudy eyes, but only caught a vague black shadow. However, his body was faster than his thinking, and before he could react, it had already jumped away.

While he was still in mid-air, he only felt a series of strong impacts hitting his body. Then he felt the pain, and finally a huge roar and debris falling on him.

"What, what did you do?"

The Genestealer leader used his long, thin tail to sweep away the rubble and bounced off the ground. However, all he saw was a mess. The once majestic statue of the Four-Armed God-Emperor had been completely reduced to pieces.

He seemed to be the only one left standing among his brothers and sisters. Their psychic energy was rapidly weakening, and the three female bishops without shields were knocked to the ground by a sonic boom cloud. Then they could only watch the boulders fall in despair and pain. The same was true for their last guards. Some lucky ones who were not hit were still wailing underground. They were still alive, but they were dead. Their internal organs had been shattered into pieces, but the strong vitality brought by the sacred blood allowed them to continue suffering for a while.

The pain in his internal organs was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. All the last loyal troops were dead. The three bishops he trusted the most were now just a pile of rags embedded in the rocks. The holy place of the past was where he had gathered the last troops a second ago. And then everything was gone.

It let out a silent hoarse sound, and its bloodshot eyes locked onto the only figure standing a few dozen meters away. That was the enemy, he was sure of it. That was the enemy, the enemy who had destroyed everything for him!

Having completely lost his spiritual power, he was weaker than ever before. But, did he have to decide whether to strike his enemy with a sword based on his own strength?

The hoarse sound turned into a hissing sound, and finally into a violent roar!

The light of the Decomposition Field shone on his claws. The giant creature, six meters tall and weighing tens of tons, didn't care about his own damage and charged forward with all his strength. Although he had no psychic energy, his anger gave him greater strength. He believed that this attack was enough to rival the Zerg Tyrant, and no creature could survive!

The flame of revenge burned fiercely in his heart, and his four sharp claws blocked all paths. He seemed to have seen the corpses of his enemies blooming before his eyes.

Yes, that's it. A headless corpse, but why does it look so familiar?

Oh, it's me. He recalled the bright sword light, and his eyes fell into darkness. The dream of the Great Devourer was shattered.

"How much have you drunk? You have no psychic power and can't even stand steadily, yet you dare to fight me with a sword." Salmin just bent sideways and rushed past him, then jumped onto his back in two steps and chopped off the hideous head with a sword.

"Invite me, behead me, or take me in as a dog." Salmin hummed meaningless sentences briskly, obviously in a good mood.

Old Haman was not in a good mood. He was an ordinary worker in the Lower Nest. He worked hard for 16 hours a day and earned only enough food to fill his stomach from the greedy nobles. But he had a happy family.

His wife, a temporary worker, would come home one or two hours earlier than him every day. She would always prepare meals early so that he could have a mouthful of hot porridge when he got home. On a good day, he could even have half a bottle of the second best!

The most important thing is his son. He and his wife are both devout believers of the Four-Armed God Emperor. This child is the treasure bestowed upon them by the God Emperor, so charming, healthy, strong, and intelligent (what blessing from the Four Gods).

And just now, his son, his treasure, turned into a terrifying monster right in front of him! The huge, alien-shaped head was as thick as his waist! The skin was dark purple with a strong shell-like feel! The chubby little hand he was holding turned into sharp claws!

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!” He screamed and shook off the sharp claws as if he had touched a soldering iron.

The child turned his head and looked at him in confusion. The huge alien head was slightly tilted, and its bloody mouth was wide open. A thin, purple, twisted tongue like a tentacle licked its face tentatively.

"Ah, quack..." The excessive stimulation made it unable to speak, and it fell to the ground, pointing at the alien. But suddenly it found something wrong, why is my skin also dark purple? It stuck out its tongue and licked its eyes in confusion.

The noise outside gradually calmed down, and suddenly, its shabby door was kicked open. Two shields and exposed laser guns blocked the door tightly, and the alien that seemed to want to eat it jumped in front of him for some reason, stood up and blocked all the lasers.

Before it could ask, the moment the shield was retracted to the sides, a silver figure rushed over, and the sacred chainsaw sword chopped off the alien's head. Before it could even cry out in joy, it also chopped off its alien's head.

Battleship patch: (The author only realized after writing this that this data is 63 trillion square kilometers! Even GW doesn't dare to write this. Hurry up and make a patch)

新星炮的原伤害范围过大：3000^2*149600^2*pi=63,2784,1161,7142,0458平方千米。约为六百五十九亿一千五百零一万两千一百零一个中国的大小。63兆实在太大了，除个一万亿先，更新为伤害半径0.003个单位，0.003^2*149600^2*pi=632784.12平方千米，合0.066个中国的大小.0.0025^2*149600^2*pi=439433.41平方千米

Since the damage range has been greatly reduced, the damage of the Nova Cannon has been increased: