Chapter 113

In fact, when Alvin walked out of the artillery barrage zone unscathed, every soldier on the entire frontline stared at him in shock, their faces as if they’d seen a ghost!

After all, in the normal person’s understanding,

anyone who walked out of such an intense artillery barrage was unlikely to be human—there was surely some taint of the ‘Dark God’ about them.

“Don’t… don’t come closer!”

Some soldiers raised their rifles in terror, aiming at him.

“Put down your weapons!”

At that moment, Commissar Gray suddenly climbed onto a high point, pointed at Alvin, who looked utterly bewildered, and declared: “This is a miracle! It is the Emperor’s miracle!”

Wait, you’re really going to drag the Emperor into this?

Alvin stared in disbelief as Commissar Gray, like a fanatical believer, raised his arms and passionately expounded on the miracle of Alvin surviving the artillery barrage, the Emperor’s wrath Bijiang annihilating heretics, and how they would surely triumph—endless, stirring rhetoric flooding the air!

No wonder you’re a commissar!

Watching the once-fearful defense troops regain their morale under Gray’s inspiration, he couldn’t help but sigh.

“You kid…”

Gray examined Alvin with the gaze of someone staring at a rare creature, his intense, burning curiosity so strong he almost wanted to dissect him and see what kind of structure lay inside.

Surviving an intense firepower zone unscathed—what else could this possibly be but a miracle?

“Commissar… your eyes scare me.”

Alvin’s lip twitched; if not for Gray’s rank, he’d have kicked him already—had it not been for the Navigator System, he’d have been dead moments ago!

Gray remained silent, circling him, his fiery gaze making Alvin wonder if the man had some kind of perverse fetish.

Gray grew more fond by the moment—not because of Alvin’s command ability, but because of that ‘miracle’ just now.

The Chaos God Khorne’s Chosen had shattered the defense troops’ morale; now, with Alvin’s ‘miracle’ appearing just in time, a little propaganda would quickly revive their flagging spirits!

After all, a man blessed by the Emperor would inject fresh vigor into morale teetering on collapse!

This isn’t Cadia!

Planetary Defense Forces aren’t the Imperial Guard—they lack the iron will and courage to grip their rifles after facing demons. As a commissar, Gray knew better than anyone how vital morale was!

“Good. I declare you a member of the Planetary Defense Forces!” Gray cut off any chance for Alvin to object, speaking with finality: “Sergeant Alvin, you are assigned to the 3rd Company, 185th Regiment, temporarily assuming command of the company!”

What the hell?

Wasn’t he the temporary company commander of the 177th? How had he suddenly become company commander of the 185th Regiment’s 3rd Company?

“Me? You’re serious?”

Alvin pointed at himself—he’d leapt from a slum scavenger in the hive city to company commander of the defense forces in a single day!

No matter how you looked at it… it was utterly absurd!

“Sergeant Alvin, I must remind you—in battle, you must address your superiors by their rank!”

Gray spat in his face, roaring: “I swear by the Emperor, next time you dare address me like that, I’ll shove my boot up your ass!”

So brutal.

Alvin snapped to attention, saluted, and shouted: “Yes, Commissar Gray. I do not believe I am fit for the role of company commander. Please reconsider.”

“No. You’re perfect for it.”

Gray stroked his beard and grinned: “I’ve never seen a human survive that much artillery fire and walk out unharmed. Just for that… you’re perfect. Do you understand what I mean?”

Alvin understood the hidden meaning in Commissar Gray’s words.

He didn’t care how Alvin had survived the artillery barrage—nor did he care whether it was truly the Emperor’s miracle.

But whether it was real or not, Alvin must insist it was… the Emperor’s miracle.

Whether true or false, it didn’t matter.

What mattered was that the defense forces—the last military force of the hive city—must not lose their faith or courage, or all would be lost!

“I understand your meaning, Commissar Gray.”

After grasping the truth, Alvin reluctantly nodded: “I survived that horrific battlefield—without doubt, it was the Emperor’s protection. We shall triumph over the heretics!”

“Excellent. We shall… triumph over the heretics.”

Gray, the seemingly bravest of men, opened his arms and embraced Alvin tightly, whispering in a voice only the two could hear: “Thank you… thank you…”

The voice was so soft Alvin thought he’d misheard—until he saw the exhaustion and deep despair in the iron-willed man’s eyes.

He froze.

His heart ached, as if a thousand words had gathered in his throat, yet he couldn’t speak a single one.

Yes, Commissar Gray knew… they couldn’t win.

Even if every defense soldier was thrown into battle, they still couldn’t win this war. Their only hope lay in reinforcements from nearby Imperial Guard regiments or Adeptus Astartes chapters.

But how long could they hold out before those reinforcements arrived?

Even the most optimistic estimate gave them no more than fifteen days—if the Khorne Chosen was excluded. If he was included… they’d last three days at best.

All of this was the most optimistic scenario.

Therefore, Gray—the one who knew the truth—was the one who suffered most, the one most utterly desperate.

He knew they couldn’t win.

Yet he couldn’t retreat, because the lives of countless civilians and the honor of the Empire depended on them.

So… what could he do?

Not merely to survive for himself—but for those soldiers who knew they would die yet still held firm in defense of the Empire, for those civilians who would be slaughtered by heretics.

Suddenly, Alvin found himself trapped in an agonizing dilemma, lost, unsure what to do.

Gray released Alvin, turned, and instantly resumed his defiant, confident demeanor: “Brothers! The Emperor watches over us! For the Empire, crush these damned heretics!”

“For the Empire, crush the heretics!”

“For the Empire, crush the heretics!”

“For the Empire, crush the heretics!”

Deafening, like a tidal wave.

Soaring into the sky, morale soaring, every soldier’s face lit with fanaticism and a willingness to die!

Alvin lowered his head, staring at his wristband, his expression clouded with confusion: “Emperor, if you can hear me… can you tell me what I should do?”

Ding dong~

Suddenly, the rose charm fell from his pocket to the ground.

Gazing at the glowing, pure skull, the expression of Winnie’s final, resolute sacrifice once again surfaced in his mind!

Sacrifice is the foundation of the Empire!

Life is the Emperor’s currency!

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