Chapter 409: Warhammer: What Do You Mean You Conquered the Zerg

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Protagonist:

Lin En

Lena

Scarlet-gold holy flames roared and churned in the vacuum, tongues of fire licking the plague fleet covered in foul stench.

The second volley from the Brevis Expedition Fleet followed closely, dozens of tiberium combustion shells mixed with saint powder trailing pale blue tail flames.

Precisely smashing into the enemy ranks thrown into disarray by the fire.

"James Tong, Light Spear Array calibration complete, targeting enemy central formation!"

The observation officer's voice carried irrepressible excitement, breaking the heavy atmosphere on the bridge.

Dominic watched the plague fleet wrapped in holy flames on the main screen, a cold glint flashing in his eyes as he ordered in a deep voice:

"Fire!"

Three deep blue high-energy light pillars instantly tore through the dim space, like judgment nails lowered by the God Emperor, ruthlessly piercing into the enemy formation along the burning trajectory.

The two plague cruisers at the very front, already charred black, couldn't hold on for even half a second, the light spears easily piercing their fragile flesh-and-blood armor.

Ripping through the hull all the way, directly penetrating the corruption engine deep within.

Two muffled explosions bloomed silently in the vacuum, dark green corruption fluid and charred flesh fragments splashing everywhere.

But they could no longer heal by relying on their proliferation ability as before.

Holy flames clung to every piece of wreckage, burning all plague tissue they touched into ash, not leaving a single spore behind.

And that moon-class cruiser that had just defected and been absorbed into the Nurgle camp less than two hours ago met an even more miserable end.

Its hull hadn't had time to be completely transformed by plague power, flesh proliferation only covering the surface armor.

Deep metal structures and energy circuits still retained imperial standards, chaos blessings taking root extremely shallowly.

When a combustion shell from the Brevis Fleet exploded near the bridge, golden holy flames rushed into the interior through ventilation ducts, and the entire warship almost immediately lost control.

Proliferating blood vessels melted with a sizzle under high temperature, rusted barrels snapping one after another.

The pus moss on the hull surface wrinkled violently like skin splashed with hot oil.

Before the Nurgle demons on board could react, the James Tong's light spears arrived in succession, precisely hitting its power core.

Amidst a tremendous roar, this former imperial warship completely exploded into a magnificent fireball.

Along with countless crew and demons inside not yet fully corrupted, all turning into cosmic dust.

"Destruction confirmed! Four enemy ship signals disappeared!"

The observation officer's report was forceful, cheers rising from the deck.

The soldiers, who had been unable to breathe under the enemy's disgusting self-healing ability since the war began, finally tasted the sweet fruit of victory for the first time.

Dominic exhaled a turbid breath, his tense jawline relaxing slightly, but his brow did not fully unfurl.

He believed the Lord of Plagues' forces would by no means have only these methods.

Indeed, after a brief chaos, the Nurgle Fleet soon reacted.

The plague warships that had originally relied on flesh self-healing to charge forward like mad dogs all changed course.

They no longer ignored cannon fire to advance in a straight line, but began using smoke from explosions and friendly wreckage as cover.

Evading fire with irregular S-shaped trajectories, predicting the macro cannon's landing points like true naval veterans.

Occasionally firing a round of corruption shells in counterattack, precisely suppressing the Imperial Fleet's firepower points.

Advancement speed slowed, but hit rate and survivability greatly increased.

The originally not very dense combustion shell firepower net was half empty at once, most combustion shells missed, only exploding into useless golden fireballs in the vacuum.

"Major General Adult, the enemy has begun maneuvering to evade!" Deputy Colonel Karen furrowed her brow, pointing at the constantly changing enemy trajectories on the screen.

"They no longer hard-tank cannon fire, their positioning is very tricky, our hit rate has dropped by nearly sixty percent."

"At this speed, at least double the firepower is needed to compress their activity space."

Dominic stared at those slippery dark green ship shadows on the screen, instead hooking a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Fear, that's right.

Previously daring to charge straight ahead, nothing more than relying on flesh proliferation to be unkillable.

Now holy flames can break defense, can cut off their self-healing, this group of plague rats naturally shrank back.

"Good thing." His voice was calm, revealing no joy or anger.

"They want to attrition, we'll attrition with them, order all ships, maintain formation and advance steadily, don't give them opportunities, don't rush for success."

He knew better than anyone in his heart that the enemy's maneuvering delay, seemingly taking advantage, actually bought the most precious time for the Main Fleet's ammunition refit.

Time passed second by second, cannon fire on the space battlefield still roaring without cease, but falling into a strange stalemate.

The Nurgle Fleet relied on flexible positioning to weave through the Brevis Fleet's firepower net, occasionally biting at the Imperial Fleet's outer areas.

The Imperial Fleet always maintained distance, using numerical advantage to slowly wear down the Nurgle Fleet, no one able to immediately achieve decisive results.

Until the Mechanical Priest's communication accessed the bridge, a metallic voice hiding a trace of imperceptible urgency:

"Major General Adult, refit complete! The Main Ship's macro cannons and torpedo launchers have all been loaded with purification incendiary shells mixed with saint ash."

A gleam flashed in Dominic's eyes, he fiercely raised his hand:

"All lines press forward, crossfire net deployed, trap them in the central area for me!"

The moment the order was issued, the entire Imperial Fleet like an awakened giant beast, fully bared its fangs.

Nearly sixty warships simultaneously adjusted course, slowly encircling from left, center, right three directions.

The macro cannon firelight connected into a continuous band of light, covering the entire airspace under the cover of holy flames.

The fourfold numerical disparity was fully manifested in firepower density.

The Plague Fleet, which had originally been able to maneuver with ease, instantly found itself hard-pressed on all sides.

Golden flames and blue light spears came from all directions; dodge the cannon fire on the left, and you couldn't evade the torpedoes on the right.

Just as they circled past the light spears ahead, macro cannon shells slammed into the stern from behind.

They were like fat sheep driven into a dead end by a wolf pack, charging left and right in the dense firepower net, fleeing in panic, with none of the arrogant, step-by-step pressure they had displayed before.

Warships were constantly ignited by Holy Flame, spinning out of control in space trailing blazing golden fire, ultimately turning into clusters of exploding fireballs.

And at the very rear of all the warships, that Pale Rose which had always stayed aloof, like a bystander, was finally also included in the concentrated fire range.

Gus's Brevis Expedition Fleet bit down hard on its flank.

This young Brigadier General remembered Lin En's admonition, deeply understood the principle of capturing the ringleader first to capture the bandits, and had locked his gaze on this Plague Flagship from the very start of the battle.

He specially drew out the purest batch of incendiary rounds from the ammunition depot.

They were compounded from the ashes of generations of Archbishops of the Brevis State Religion dioceses mixed with Holy Oil.

The purest flavor!

"All ship torpedoes salvo, target, enemy flagship hull midsection!"

Over a dozen torpedoes trailing golden tail traces launched simultaneously, like over a dozen holy arrows shot at a giant troll.

At the moment the Pale Rose attempted to turn and evade, they precisely struck its hull midsection.

"Boom!"

Golden flames more dazzling than any previous eruption suddenly surged up, flames several meters high spreading along the hull surface.

Unlike ordinary Plague Warships, the Pale Rose's outer areas were perpetually shrouded in a layer of rich dark green Corruption Domain.

It was an extension of Plague Power, able to corrode shields and dissolve energy.

But the moment the golden Holy Flame contacted the domain, that seemingly eternal dark green mist actually began to rapidly melt away.

Sizzling burning sounds seemed to transmit through the vacuum into the ears, thick mold and proliferation layers on the hull surface constantly shedding, revealing the badly rusted metal skeleton beneath.

The originally smoothly sailing hull fiercely staggered, the corruption dense mist sprayed by the thrusters instantly weakening by more than half.

Speed abruptly slowed, like a rotting giant beast burned through its fat, twitching in pain in space.

Deep within the Pale Rose, Phelps let out a pained and furious roar.

He shared a symbiotic bond with the entire warship; the pain of the Holy Flame burning the hull fed back onto him a hundredfold.

Golden flames like a gangrene attached to the bone, following the flesh connection all the way into the gaps of his Power Armor, scorching his already rotting body.

Even the Plague Power of the Grace of the Father couldn't suppress such agony.

"Impossible, how could this kind of mundane fire possibly break the Father's grace..."