Chapter 434: Warhammer: What Do You Mean You Conquered the Zerg

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Protagonist:

Lin En

Lena

Phelps did not chase after the scattered fleeing stragglers; he walked straight toward the cargo hold deep in the position, toward the heavy machinery still being slowly transformed by the Rust Plague.

His palm pressed against the shoulder armor of a Castellane Combat Robot, and Plague Power surged and poured in from his palm.

Dark brown rust stains covered the entire robot like a tide.

Beneath the metal armor, dense flesh-and-blood pustules bulged out; twisted bone growths sprouted at the joints; the originally cold optical lenses became cloudy, yellow eyeballs; the machine soul completely became a slave to the plague.

Six combat robots completed the corruption one after another.

Sticky plague toxin seeped from the barrels of three Wild Donkey Walkers, and the ammunition racks of the Plague Iron Knight Crossbows grew full of abscesses.

The tank tracks of ten Leman Russ tanks were entwined with flesh tissue, and when activated they would spray gray mist carrying plague spores.

Also, over a hundred out-of-control servitors and combat servitors had all completed conversion, gaining new life in rusted mechanical prosthetics and rotting flesh.

At the same time, large numbers of plague zombies stood up from the ground, staggering and gathering around the plague machinery, their number quickly exceeding one thousand.

When the two naval regiments at the main gate position finally finished off the feint-attack zombies, sensed something was wrong, and hurried over to reinforce.

What awaited them was just such a hellish scene.

Two thousand friendly troops had not a bone left, and the ground was covered with shattered flesh and rusted metal.

Twenty-two plague warriors stood at the center of the position; behind them stood the fully arrayed Plague Machine Legion, and before them were dense, ever-increasing plague zombies.

Counting the two arriving regiments, the Imperial Navy had committed nearly eight thousand people here in total.

Yet in everyone's heart, they all believed their side had no chance of victory.

After all, the other side was a warrior existing in legends......

"Open fire!!"

The commanding Navy Colonel shouted hoarsely, and all weapons simultaneously spat fire tongues; explosive shells, lasers, and cannon shells rained down on the plague formation opposite.

But what responded to them was even more ferocious firepower.

Three Plague Iron Knight Crossbows opened fire first, firing not regular armor-piercing shells, but corrupted warheads wrapped in plague toxin.

The warheads exploded before the Imperial lines, poison mist and scrap metal sheets flying everywhere; touching them caused rot, contact caused infection.

The multiple composite weapons mounted on the Plague Wild Donkey Walkers also erupted madly; twisted beams carrying corrosive energy easily burned through the soldiers' bulletproof vests.

Six Castellane Combat Robots advanced with heavy steps; the warhammers on their shoulders poured down madly, and the plague zombie tide under their feet surged toward the Imperial lines like a black tide.

The plague zombies charged at the very front, using their rotting bodies to absorb bullets and cannon fire; one batch fell and another surged up, with no end in sight.

And in the gaps of the zombie tide, twenty-two Death Guard advanced steadily like twenty-two sharp blades.

The moment the two sides came to close quarters, the slaughter was enacted once more.

Plague spores spread wildly with the close-quarters skirmishing, and various symptoms quickly broke down the soldiers' will and bodies.

Some collapsed headfirst while fighting and could never get up again; or they swung their bayonets with all their might but could not even touch the other side's power armor.

Every swing of the Death Guard could take several lives.

They charged back and forth through the eight-thousand-strong line, as if in No Man's Land.

From contact to collapse, the line took less than three minutes.

Adding the previous mixed force, three Imperial support forces, nearly eight thousand people, from first exchange of fire to complete defeat, took no more than five minutes in total.

Corpses covered the ground, and lamentations were everywhere.

Phelps stepped on thick corpses and walked to a surveillance camera still barely working in the corner of the position.

He raised his head; cloudy yellow eyeballs stared straight at the camera through a rusted mask.

In that gaze there was no anger, no excitement, only an indifference like looking at dead things, and a cruelty like a cat playing with a mouse.

As if through the screen, saying to everyone on the bridge—wait obediently, don't run around, death is approaching step by step.

The next second, the camera was completely eroded by the Rust Plague; the image suddenly went black, and the signal was completely interrupted.

On the bridge of the James Tong, deathly silence.

Most officers froze in place; some had pale faces, and the hands holding documents trembled slightly.

Chaos Space Marines were not something they had never encountered.

But before this, the ones they had met were scattered, disorganized traitors.

At most, individual combat strength was somewhat stronger; relying on the ship's guard unit combined with heavy firepower, they could always deal with them.

But this time was different.

A full twenty-two organized, tactical Death Guard carrying special plague, like a sharp blade quenched with deadly poison, silently stabbed into the heart of the warship.

They could corrupt machinery, create zombies, excel at ambush, favor close combat, and grew stronger every minute.

If no countermeasure was thought of soon, the entire warship would be slowly gnawed clean by them.

Dominic stood with hands behind his back before the main screen, his uniform crisp, his expression stern, showing not too much emotion.

But the slightly tightened jawline exposed that his inner heart at this moment was not calm.

Three forces, eight thousand people, annihilated in five minutes.

The cost was heavy, but not without value.

At least from the surveillance footage just now, he had already gauged several details of the enemy.

"The enemy excels at concealed ambush, does not primarily engage in ranged fire, and extremely favors close combat."

His voice was steady, especially clear in the deathly silence of the bridge.

"The Rust Plague can quickly paralyze mechanical units and corrupt them into turning against their own side."

"After close-contact infection, the plague spreads rapidly through air and contact, weakening soldiers' combat power within a short time."

He paused, his gaze falling on the position of the Machine Temple on the hull structure diagram, and said in a tone as decisive as cutting iron and mud:

"Their target must be the Machine Temple."

Only by seizing the Machine Temple and contaminating the warship's core Ice Cold Soul can one fully control the whole Retribution-class Battleship and turn the James Tong into a new Plague Fortress.

This must be the Death Guard's only choice, and also his ultimate purpose.

"Pass the order down."

Dominic turned around, issuing orders clearly and crisply:

"First, all Guard Forces contract toward the Machine Temple, focus defenses on the Core Area, and abandon non-essential Slum compartments."

"Second, Machine Cult Apologist Army units temporarily avoid frontal close combat, rely on Defensive Fortifications to provide fire support, and do not engage in close-quarters entanglement with plague warriors."

"Third, every Combat Detachment must be assigned at least one State Religion Pastor, prioritizing the safety of Army Priests."

The Power of Faith is the most effective means of suppressing the plague; under no circumstances can a Pastor be lost."

Orders were swiftly relayed, and the Guard Forces of the whole warship began to be redeployed.

Everyone knew that the real hard battle had only just begun.