Without the slightest suspense, the two elite strike forces reached the Governor's Palace without suffering a single casualty. And the closer they got, the more obvious the evidence of Savrok's collusion with xenos and abhumans became.
More and more abhuman breeds of extremely dangerous appearance began showing up on the battlefield. There were even xenos species that should already have been recorded as exterminated.
Now these heretics were openly shouting that they fought for Savrok, launching fearless charges one after another.
Faced with this desperate last stand, the allied forces simply smashed them all to pieces—completely pulverized, without leaving even scraps of flesh behind.
Witnessing all this only deepened the Dark Angels' killing intent toward these traitorous heretics.
What in the warp had the Eighth Legion been doing?
A scandal of this scale, if it ever reached Holy Terra, might very well bring punishment down even on the primarch himself. To have tolerated such abominations within their own domain…
At last, the Dark Angels understood why Lion El'Jonson had chosen to intervene personally and assist the Night Lords.
With a dirty little secret like this involved, helping them cover it up was practically necessary. Otherwise, the Night Lords would never be able to report the matter cleanly, especially when civil war was involved.
But with another Legion stepping in, cooking the books became much easier. They could simply report that xenos forces had resurged, and that a number of weak-willed traitors had defected to them.
This was a righteous purge.
"Father, the internal defenses of the Governor's Palace have been cleared. We've discovered an armory of enormous scale," Sevatar's voice rang out over the comms, accompanied by the harsh rasp of lightning claws tearing through ceramite plate.
"At minimum, enough to equip two full companies."
The report made it clear that the elite force personally led by Sevatar had completed its task brilliantly. The outcome of this battle had all but been decided.
"Well done." Curze watched the enemy being kicked to death like mangy dogs, and was greatly pleased.
"Don't let that bastard Savrok escape."
She added the reminder through clenched teeth.
"Yes, Father."
Now and then, the allied advance did run into something with real bite—heavy vehicles and the like, the sort that could actually give Astartes trouble—but they still amounted to nothing more than targets that could take a few extra hits.
What was more, the 17th Grand Company, known as the Bleak Host, had now landed. One of the rarer mechanized armored formations within the Night Lords, their arrival dealt the rebels another brutal blow and completely secured control of the battlefield.
The Kratos heavy tank might have been considered obsolete in other Legions, but in an urban siege like this, it excelled at further shattering the enemy's morale—and their bodies.
The void war had been lost. Air superiority was gone. Their ground defenses had folded like paper. The rebels' defeat was no longer a possibility, but a certainty.
And that was with the Night Lords not even deploying their Titan forces. Had they done so, the rebels' end would have been even more catastrophic—and the planet itself would likely have been left a lifeless ruin.
"This is kind of boring…" Bruce muttered as he raised his bolter and picked off every hostile soldier in sight.
At first, he hadn't known how to fight at all. But after shadowing the others for a while, he made an astonishing discovery: even if he didn't consciously try to kill, his body would practically move on its own.
And because the primarch was so close, Bruce was receiving the strongest combat-performance boost of anyone present.
What should have been an ordinary bolter was somehow producing the effect of a precision weapon.
"You really came from Terra as a fresh recruit?" Curze asked, pressing a hand to her forehead.
Among the recent reinforcements from Holy Terra, he was the only one left—but weak, absurdly weak.
That shouldn't have been possible. Even a rookie shouldn't have been this bad. At worst, he ought to have been only slightly better than an auxiliary trooper. And yet this same weakling had somehow lasted two rounds against her.
Had he been pretending the whole time?
"Of course I did. My records are real. You can check my registration, can't you?" Bruce swapped magazines and continued advancing under the cover of the Black Guards.
With Terminator-class veterans opening the way, all he really had to do as acting commander was squeeze off a few shots now and then and help maintain the mood.
"And yet you're so… frail," Curze said, struggling to find the right word.
"Well, the recruitment pool is garbage. Isn't that obvious?"
"Hm?"
Seeing that Curze actually seemed interested, Bruce decided to tell her plainly. It was all the original Bruce Wayne's memories anyway. What did it have to do with him?
"Anyone sent to the Eighth Legion is either trash or a criminal. If they turned out well, that'd be the real surprise."
"Oh? So before you underwent the implantation surgeries, you were a criminal? On Holy Terra?" Curze perked up immediately.
So my favorite mount is actually a criminal? Excellent. This definitely calls for some proper correction.
"Not quite. I was innocent. I just almost ended up in lockup over some stupid mess."
Boom—
As soon as he finished speaking, the Dark Angels used melta charges to blast open the main gate of the Governor's Palace. The energy shockwave from the explosion made the ground tremble beneath their feet.
"Rejoice! For the Lord of Night!"
At once, Astartes and mortal soldiers alike let out battle cries, and wave after wave of assault teams poured into the palace interior, beginning the next bloody tug-of-war against the defenders still stubbornly holding the line.
Bruce moved with the rest of the force, firing continuously, the muzzle flash of his bolter illuminating his deep blue power armor streaked with lightning motifs in the darkness.
"What was it?" Curze raised one hand and conjured a barrage of blood-magic talismans, sweeping away the fodder ahead. Her patience was nearly exhausted.
"It was a beautiful day, if I remember right…"
Thunk.
Curze smashed a fist into Bruce's helmet. It made a satisfyingly heavy sound—definitely a solid head.
"Keep it short. Were you a criminal or not?"
"Of course not. I just had a misunderstanding with a beautiful lady. I think she had her eye on my family name and my money, so she wanted to sleep with me. I refused."
"And for that, you almost got thrown in jail?" Curze actually found it funny.
Was the judicial system on Holy Terra really so dark that refusing a woman's request could land you in a cell?
"More like 'almost,' because afterward she accused me of assaulting her."
At that moment, Astartes of the rebel 45th Company appeared. These Night Haunters lurking in the dark momentarily slowed the allied advance—but only for a moment.
Because the Dreadnoughts had already arrived. And even without those massive war machines, the Dark Angels' Deathwing Terminators could have cut them down with ease—let alone with the Night Lords fighting alongside them.
In both tactics and manpower, the allied forces were utterly dominant. The rebels, by contrast, were outmatched in both quantity and quality. Victory was impossible for them.
This had become little more than a one-sided massacre. Even when they tried to target Bruce and Curze, they had no chance of getting close.
Bang, bang, bang—
Bruce's bolter fire caught one fast-moving rebel Astartes. A split second later, a melta blast hit him in the face, vaporizing him on the spot and turning him into roast bat.
This rather flashy kill, however, earned Bruce a sharp rebuke from the Apothecary who arrived immediately afterward, demanding to know whether he intended to recover the gene-seed or not.
"Sigh."
After letting out a long breath, Bruce continued, "The unlucky part was that the lady's friends happened to be with the judicial administration. So the charge stuck."
"And then you entered the recruitment trials?" Curze immediately pieced it all together.
So you became an Astartes to avoid prison? You really are something else.
No wonder you make such a good mount. Even your starting point is interesting.
"Exactly. My scores were actually pretty good. I was planning to apply to the Imperial Fists. But because of the stain on my record, I got reassigned to the Night Lords instead." Bruce shrugged helplessly.
The battle line continued pushing forward. More and more dead rebel Astartes littered the route, most of them with huge holes blasted through their chests for easier gene-seed recovery by the Apothecaries.
Of course, some were simply reduced to pulp under the feet of berserk Dreadnoughts.
"Damn it, what are the recruiting officials even doing? Shoving every kind of refuse into my Legion," Curze cursed angrily.
The Eighth Legion was not some dumping ground that accepted every piece of trash. And yet they couldn't casually reject the recruits shipped over from Terra, because those transfers always carried political implications.
Boom—
A Dreadnought suddenly thundered past Bruce, its massive lightning claw smashing apart an automated heavy-gun nest before it followed up with a volley of plasma shots, erasing several traitor Astartes at the far end of the corridor.
"That, I couldn't tell you. But like you said—they're definitely weak, and there's not much to be done about it." Bruce kept moving with the others along the safest route of advance.
Terran-born recruits had never stopped being assigned to the Legions, but more often than not they served as political tokens. After all, you couldn't very well have an entire Legion made up solely of people from a primarch's homeworld. That was one of the little balancing tricks favored by the Council of Terra and Malcador.
Even though these Terran recruits were often marginalized, and just as often used as cannon fodder, they still had to be there.
Compared to many others, Bruce was actually lucky just to report to the Night Lords. Under normal sorting procedures, the Imperial Fists picked first, then the Sons of Horus and the Emperor's Children, followed by the Space Wolves, Death Guard, Iron Hands, and so on.
If the Night Lords recruiting officer hadn't quietly pulled a few strings for Bruce, he probably would have ended up with the Iron Warriors—and once you landed in the Fourth Legion, then you were truly blessed.
They didn't care where you came from, what your talents were, or what ambitions you held. Grab a shovel and start building fortifications. Perturabo wanted laboring beasts, not university students with opinions.
So compared to that, the Night Lords were practically paradise.
Especially the Night Lords now—with a cute little primarch mother and equally adorable company commanders. They were all top-tier good girls.
Tiny little things, the kind who could become your mother.
"It doesn't matter anymore. There won't be any more Terran-born recruits after this," Curze said, looking at the corpses of her traitorous sons strewn along the path.
For some reason, a wave of sadness washed over her. She knew they were rebels, yet she could not help feeling pity for them.
May their souls find the right path.
What exactly has changed me so much? Is it really just because I became female?
Tch. What a tiresome weakness.
"Acting Commander! Up ahead is the enemy's final fortress position! Awaiting orders!"
By now, both Night Lords and Dark Angels stood in neat formation before a defensive gate forged from adamantium. Beyond it waited not only the target of this purge, but the final organized resistance on the planet.
At the same time, other squads continued sending in reports. Massive stores of arms, armored vehicles, and food confirmed that Savrok had turned this place into a true eternal fortress capable of enduring a prolonged siege.
Unfortunately for him, his enemies were the combined assault of two Legions. Under normal circumstances, cracking this bastion would have been far from easy.
Bruce swept his gaze over the battle-brothers now looking to him.
He understood that he had to say something—not just to raise morale, but to sound the horn for the final assault.
"Acting Commander!"
A Dreadwing Dark Angel stepped forward and presented the detonator.
Within the Dark Angels, the Dreadwing specialized in extermination orders and esoteric weapons, but when needed, they were also highly capable engineers, more than able to breach enemy fortifications.
"I'll keep this brief."
Bruce raised the detonator high. His thumb came to rest over the trigger.
"I hereby promise this: every soldier who took part in this assault will receive one limited-edition holographic badge—either the Remilia Scissorhands badge or the Lion El'Jonson Resting Expression badge! Special operation edition! Individually numbered!"
The breathing of everyone present caught at once.
You mean to say that just for showing up, we get a limited-edition release?
They desperately wanted to start cheering for Acting Commander Bruce's greatness—but since he clearly had more to say, they held it in.
"And then—let us slay the heretics!"
"For the Emperor!"
Click.
Bruce pressed the trigger.
In the next instant, the great gate was blown apart. Whatever miraculous tool the Deathwing engineers had used, the breach was exactly large enough for a Dreadnought to stride through.
"Slay the heretics!"
"For the Emperor!"
Mortals and Astartes alike roared as they charged through the gap, where they were met by dense fire and heavy weapons. But no one retreated. They simply pushed forward through the storm of fire.
"Not bad. You really do have some talent," Curze remarked as she leapt down from Bruce's shoulders and landed lightly.
Blood gathered in her hand, forming into a crimson spear. Her wings beat once, and she slowly rose into the air.
"I suppose it's finally my turn."
"Let's end this farce."
Amid the dense lines of enemy fire, Curze's glowing scarlet eyes shone with eerie brilliance. The rebel forces sensed danger and redirected their fire entirely onto her.
But whether physical shells or energy bolts, nothing could reach the terrifying figure radiating dread in midair.
With the slightest lift of her hand, a swarm of black bats surged forward to intercept the incoming fire. Then rings of crimson danmaku began to spin, the bats scattered apart, and a purple-black mist spread through the confined battlefield.
These innocent-looking balls of light became instant death the moment they touched anything. Astartes and xenos alike exploded into blood mist, unable even to scream.
"L-Librarian unit!"
"Quick! Counter that little runt!"
One of the enemy commanders shouted behind him the moment he saw what was happening, demanding that their own psykers stall the opposing "Librarian."
Otherwise, in a space like this, no amount of defenders would be enough for her to slaughter alone.
"Hm?!"
"L-little runt?!"
The aristocratic contempt on Curze's face vanished instantly. Enraged, she hurled the blood-red spear in her hand—and it locked onto its target unerringly.
"Gungnir—"
Insolent worm.
Die.
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 175)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 115)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League (Chapter 126)
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter105)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter100)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter82)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter134)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 65
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 70
From Junkman to Wasteland 66
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 87
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 79
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass 64
The Way the Umamusume Look at 68
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 73
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 45
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 49
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 45
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 45
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