Chapter 433: Warhammer 40,000: What Do You Mean You Conquered the Zerg

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Protagonist:

Lin En

Lena

"Frontal feint."

Phelps's hoarse voice was transmitted directly into every believer's mind through Warp Whisper.

"Drive all the Waa'gh to charge the front gate, make as big a scene as possible, and draw the attention of those two Naval Regiments."

The moment the order was given, roars rose one after another from deep within H4 District.

Over a thousand Plague Zombies, driven by Chaos Believers, surged toward the front gate passage, staggering.

Their rotting feet slapped against the Metal Floor, producing a dense "papapa" sound.

They charged without formation, rushing toward the heavy firepower about to be set up, falling in batches only to be replaced by more, like an endless tide of rotten flesh.

Gunfire at the front gate Position instantly became dense, the booms of Bomb Guns and the searing sounds of lasers merging into one.

The soldiers' roars and the Waa'gh's laments mixed together, successfully drawing everyone's attention.

The commander of the Mixed Force, a Mechanical Priest in red robes, even deliberately raised the front surveillance screen and said to the Navy Lieutenant beside him:

"The pressure at the front isn't great; these Waa'gh can't break through the Defensive Line. We'll guard the sides and rear to prevent the enemy from flanking."

He had just finished speaking when faint rust-cracking sounds came from the ventilation pipes above their heads.

No one noticed this insignificant sound, or rather, had no time to react.

Because dozens of dark green poison gas grenades had already slipped through the Vent grilles, falling neatly onto the metal Ground inside the Position, and exploded with a boom.

"Boom, boom, boom, boom!"

Muffled sounds rang out in succession, thick dark green mist surged from the grenade bodies, instantly swallowing more than half of the Position.

Visible rust particles churned in the mist, carrying the unique rot of Nurgle Plague, seeping into every crevice and every interface without omission.

The first to lose control were the mechanical units in the Position.

The Intelligent Control Servitor transporting Ammunition froze on the spot, its Optical Lens instantly turning cloudy and dim.

Rust grew on the line interfaces at a visible speed, and pink Flesh Growth bulged at the joints.

Their originally orderly movements became distorted and chaotic; some spun in place, others turned their Gun Mouths toward the Human Soldiers beside them.

Servo arms clattered, and sticky Corruption Flesh continuously seeped from beneath their metal casings.

The Combat Servitors crouched at the front reacted even more violently; their Power Cores immediately became disordered after being invaded by Rust Plague.

The Armor Plates on their chests bulged outward, Flesh Tissue spreading through the seams; the originally sharp chain blades were covered in abscesses but still retained lethal killing power.

They roared as they pounced on the nearest Inquisition Army soldiers, completely out of control.

The Vehicles deeper inside did not escape either.

The hydraulic pipes of the Wild Donkey Walkers began to rust and leak, the aiming scopes of the Iron Rider Crossbows completely failed, and the Power Furnaces of the Castellane Combat Robots emitted an ominous humming.

Rust spread across the Armor Plates like a plague; wherever it passed, metal became brittle, Flesh Growth emerged, and machine souls were twisted, contaminated, and gradually became slaves of the plague amidst painful screams.

"It's Rust Plague! Shut down the ventilation system, activate the Purification devices!"

The Mechanical Priest also shouted in a mixed voice, binary Prayer Words rushing out of his voice emitter in haste, trying to soothe the out-of-control machine souls.

But the plague's spread speed far exceeded his imagination; in just over ten seconds, seventy percent of the Servitors and Combat Servitors in the Position had completely lost control, instead becoming accomplices to the enemy.

The Inquisition Army soldiers inside the Position also did not escape.

Their mechanical modification ratio was extremely high; prosthetic limbs, reinforced bones, built-in life support systems—all became carriers for the invasion of Rust Plague.

Dark brown rust marks spread from the interface between implants and flesh, drilling deeper along Blood Vessels and Nerves, bringing heart-piercing pain and numbness.

But they were Inquisition Army, believers of the God of All Machines.

Steel-like will supported them so they did not fall immediately; many even directly severed the neural links of infected prosthetic limbs, continuing to fire with their remaining flesh bodies.

Taser Arcs and Light Beams penetrated the mist, attempting to counterattack the invisible enemy.

But without Intelligent Control system calibration, lacking Ammunition supply from Servitors and frontline suppression from Combat Servitors.

Relying solely on flesh bodies to fight against the approaching Death Guard was nothing but a fool's dream.

When the mist concentration reached its peak, the Vent grilles completely rusted and fell off.

Twenty-two burly figures leaped from the pipes, heavily smashing onto the Metal Floor with a dull loud sound.

The Death Guard didn't even bother to open fire.

For the children of the Father of Plagues, long-range shooting was far less satisfying than close combat tearing.

They enjoyed the sensation of rotten flesh cracking under Warhammers, enjoyed the sight of enemies screaming in pain from plague, enjoyed the temperature of warm blood splashing onto Rust Power Armor.

That was the best sacrifice for the Father of Plagues.

Phelps led the charge, his Rust Warhammer smashing into the Inquisition Army's line with a whistling wind sound.

The heavy hammerhead easily shattered an Inquisition Army soldier's chest; steel and flesh burst simultaneously, and dark green Plague Power surged wildly into the opponent's body through the Wound.

That Inquisition Army soldier couldn't even utter a Shriek; his whole body turned black and swollen at a visible speed, and after a few seconds he softly collapsed, soon to become one of the Waa'gh.

The spread of plague was faster than killing.

Plague germs permeating the air entered soldiers' bodies through respiratory passages, through tiny skin wounds and every exposed mucous membrane.

Over a hundred Nurgle Plagues erupted simultaneously within human bodies.

High fever, weakness, severe diarrhea, uncontrollable muscle cramps.

Various symptoms overwhelmed the vast majority of soldiers within just one Minute.

Someone's hand holding the Bomb Gun trembled incessantly, unable to even steady the Gun Mouth.

Someone hunched over vomiting violently, unable to even stand steady, while others collapsed directly on the ground twitching, spewing black-red foam from their mouths, pupils rapidly dilating.

The battle line collapsed in an instant.

The Plague Warriors were like harvesters charging into a wheat field, Power Axes, Rust Power Hammers, Plague Power Claws swinging out one deathly critical strike after another.

Every swing brought a rain of blood and flesh, every step forward saw more than one corpse fall.

The Inquisition Army's counterattacks struck their rusted Power Armor, only sparking scattered sparks, unable to pierce even the surface layer of corrupted flesh.

The Mechanical Priest attempted to counter with a Mechanical God Staff, a type of gear staff resembling a poleaxe and equipped with a Heat Melt Ray.

But he had barely raised the staff when Phelps's Warhammer 40,000 was already smashing down in front of him.

With a "clang", the staff shattered together with his upper body.

Black machine oil and dark red blood, turbid corruption flesh mixed together, splattered across the ground.

The entire battle from start to finish lasted only two minutes.

A two-thousand-strong Mixed Force, nearly wiped out to the last man.