Emperor's Bane

Chapter 94 Duran Farce ([-])

This is the last one.

Jolin—Bloodhowl's power armor was full of ammunition, ping-pong in the narrow passage, he held his bolter in one hand, and clutched the oversized handle with the other. The power ax and the gray-white MKII helmet were casually hung on his waist, and they dangled around with the wolf lord's frenzied rush.

He breathed violently, feverishly, and happily, and a large wave of hot air surrounded his too old face, but it still couldn't hide the most primitive hunting desire, he was eager to chop off the heads of every Duran , or simply snap their throats and tear their ridiculous power armor to sheer shreds, it makes no difference.

This is the last, last Duran's stronghold.

This shitty war is finally coming to an end.

Howling and cheering, he ran unscrupulously in the narrow and dark passage, like a real wolf, sending out chaotic and chaotic long howls. This barbaric cry is not alone, just in the sound The moment they landed, there were at least fifty chaotic howls of ghosts and wolves one after another, echoing their leader wolf.

The corridor was dark and long, but the full speed of the Astartes quickly conquered it, and Jorin almost threw himself into the light at the end: it was the only place in the orbital fortress that had not yet surrendered. In the corner of the empire is the last piece left by this battle.

He rushed in, the glaring light replaced the darkness of the last second in an instant, Jolin's amber pupils flashed bursts of light, and he could see the situation in the room clearly in the next instant, and the reaction of his body Even faster.

A team of Duran professional soldiers called [Fache] is stationed there, there are about 100 people, these mortal opponents locked themselves in the same tall power armor as the Astartes, in the room The other end formed a formation most suitable for salvo, waiting for the army of the wolf.

Those clumsy armors were noticed by Jorin: Compared with the vigorous Astartes, the armor of the Durans was extremely thick and clumsy, and every movement was slow to make people laugh, but these round heads and round brains It's not without its headaches: every, every fache soldier's armor is impenetrably wrapped in a faint energy shield, making any long-distance hunting method a A kind of futility.

Those weapons called jammers fired the first row of bullets in unison the moment the Space Wolves rushed in, whistling harshly, and the air vibrating, those sons of Russ who had no time to dodge could not help but utter pain Roaring, on their bodies, scattered armor fragments and melted flesh mixed together, like disgusting abscesses, the special bullets unique to the Durans are reorganizing the things it bites at the molecular level Arranged, those soldiers who were hit in the chest and thigh couldn't help staggering, while those who were hit in the helmet fell silently.

Jolin knew he had to do something.

Commanding the No.13 Dalian of the Space Wolves Legion, the wolf lord had just evaded the first round of attacks, and raised his power ax high.

"For Ruth and the whole father!"

Roaring and shouting, he was the first to charge towards the formation of the Durans, and all the warriors who could still move responded to his call with roars and roars. Dozens of space wolves formed a gray mass. The hurricane swept in front of the Duran people in the blink of an eye.

This was not a reckless pig attack. In fact, the battle had been going on for nine months, and the Wolf Lord had personally chopped off the heads of no less than a hundred Duran warriors. He knew a lot about how to fight these stubborn enemies.

For example, although the armor of the Durans has a jaw-dropping defense, once these bulky guys are knocked to the ground, it is impossible to get up on their own.

For another example, although the weapons of the Durans can truly threaten the lives of Astartes, these narrow guns cannot be fired continuously at all: they have to be reloaded honestly every time a bullet is fired.

For another example, the shields that the Durans are proud of, especially the individual shields they use to protect elite fighters, can't withstand the powerful impact of the Astartes at all, or they are swung hard. Swords and axes.

(Don't ask me what's going on with these sb settings, that's how gw wrote it, yes, Duran, a magical country that can kill Astartes with one shot, but has to use single-shot weapons)

The second round, the third round, and the Duran people are not a group of brainless fools. They form the oldest three-stage strike array, ensuring that all bullets can be fired in the shortest time, accompanied by gunshots. , a few more Space Wolves fell on the way to the charge, but the sacrifice was worth it, and Yorin and his warriors had already rushed to the front of the Duranites.

The slaughter began.

Dozens of Space Wolves pierced through the formation of the Durans like a huge hailstone, and the huge swords found their best stage. All the sons of Russ were trying their best to hold their weapons tightly, ruthlessly Swinging down fiercely, the huge force broke through the psionic shield in an instant, and sent the deadly blade into the Duran's chest and throat.

The sons of Leman Russ kept roaring, tearing, punching and kicking, waves of attacks and counterattacks came alternately, the entire hall was filled with bloody killings and life-and-death violence, messy armor parts and stumps The severed arm rolled around in the room, and blood flowed wantonly, polluting the Duran dragon flags sewn with dark red and black silk threads.

After 40 seconds, it's over.

Yolin raised the ax high and chopped off the head of the enemy under him. This stubborn guy was thrown to the ground by him in the fight just now, but he still unceremoniously swung three heavy strikes. The fist made the wolf lord feel a kind of belated pain.

The owner of No.13 Dalian began to look around the battlefield that had been completely turned into ruins, counting his soldiers: he brought [-] people to clean up this last stronghold, and lost three of them forever in this small room. indivual.

This kind of sacrifice is not uncommon, Jolin just watched the pharmacist carry out his job with some sadness, but fortunately, none of the wounded companions were hurt, they just need to rest for a while.

The wolf lord took a deep breath of cold air accompanied by the smell of blood and corpses, and let out a long mouthful of foul-smelling hot air.

Finally, fuck it, it's over.

A whole few months of hide-and-seek, chasing and fighting around almost the entire star area, knocking down the Duran fortress over and over again, strangling the same opponents stationed on it time and time again, and losing A few comrades in arms.

These Dulan idiots even set up exactly the same troops to defend the fortress, nine fucking battalions every time.

"Tell our genetic father that the last stronghold has also been taken by us."

Yue Lin called his confidant, and simply entrusted him.

"We have already captured the last stronghold. If the deciphering code of those oil guys is correct, starting from the Mandeville point here, the next galaxy is Duran. Our final destination, that bastard Duras is hiding in Somewhere in the galaxy, waiting for our genetic father to pick his head off."

"We have to hurry, as soon as possible, the ghost knows where those dark angels are advancing now..."

He was still giving orders, babbling a bit, but the voice from Bravier on the communicator interrupted him roughly.

"Jorin! You must come and see!"

Lord Wolf frowned, like a twisted glacier.

"what happened again?!"

Bravier paused, and Jolin could hear sharp shouts and the most savage howls of pure beasts from his part.

His comrades were clearly holding back something, preventing something that could destroy the Legion from completely spiraling out of control.

Jolin didn't notice, his voice began to tremble.

"here we go again?"

"...Yes, it's Harald's situation again, and this time it's two."

"...fuck it."

Ruth, Whole Father, what the hell is going on.

When faced with endless death and blood, when asked about the stinking wreckage and carrion, Jolin never frowned even once, but now, his eyebrows are like knots. .

He thought of Harald, poor Harald, what a young and lovely warrior, no one disliked him, he was such a good example of a Legionnaire, Jorin even considered promoting him out of the ordinary.

But that was in the past, and Harald's life had been taken by Mokai, stuck forever two weeks ago, when Jorin himself ordered his execution, giving him the last mercy in a time of endless pain.

(Mokai: The deity related to death in the local mythology of Fenris, which seems to be a giant wolf)
Yolin still remembered Harald's last appearance: he was no longer a human being, his armor was torn apart by his swollen body, covered with bloody viscera and pieces of meat, messy hair from his body His limbs grew wildly, even covering his once handsome face, his hands and feet were turning into pure sharp claws, he squatted on the ground like a wild beast, and there was no more in his pupils. Lost even the slightest bit of light as a human being and a warrior.

Jorin had tried to placate him, to control him, to awaken the human part of him with words and glory.

But he failed.

The best new blood in the Legion fell under the guns of his own people. He didn't even die as a pure human being. At the last moment of his life, he looked up to the sky and howled like a real beast. There was only pure desire to hunt and kill in the eyes of his comrades, until the flames of the bolter smashed him into a rotten flesh.

...fuck it.

What a terrible way to die.

Jorin's heart roared, but there was nothing he could do.

"Should we notify father?"

Bravier's already hoarse voice was transmitted through the harsh signal of the communicator, and it became even harsher.

"This is not the first time or two, Yolin, this happens in almost every battle, and this is obviously not a problem that can be ignored..."

"Don't worry about it."

Jorin could hear his own canine teeth snapping at each other.

"War is the most important thing, as long as they have died as our battle brothers, don't let this kind of thing disturb our gene father before you smash Duran, and, you know, there are still outsiders in this star sector now .”

Bravier nodded.

"I see, I'll take care of it."

Jolin didn't speak any more, he remained silent, listening to everything on the other end of the communicator: vain attempts to stop and persuade, uncontrolled roars, and sudden gunshots.

……

fuck it.

They have to take down Duran early and fix this shit without anyone knowing, they have to be careful not to let anyone else know, especially the Dark Angels...

Don't know where they went.

------

"This is Duran, my lord."

The vanguard of the Space Wolves was not even a shadow when the first sword-and-wing-painted battleship passed Mandeville Point in the Duran system.

The most trusted heir of the Lion King was standing beside him, and Coswayne softly reported the names of the first batch of warships put into battle: [Flame of Redemption], [Sword of Numark], [No Compassion Purification Number]...

These most powerful legion battleships drove more escort ships, and as the vanguard of Jonson's will, they rushed to the last fleet of the Duran people. The full-scale confrontation between the fighter groups was the first to start. This small galaxy It was soon covered by all kinds of laser rays: explosion flames and metal fragments were crowded, and the random floating debris even obscured the vision on the [Indomitable Truth].

Through the divination box, the Primarch of the First Legion can clearly observe everything he wants to know, whether it is the specific situation of the slightly dim Duran star, or the position and status of each battleship under his command, they all have The existence and data were all recorded by Johnson in his mind, as a footnote to a perfect battle.

In fact, Jonson didn't really care about the feats related to this Duran kingdom. He never cared about these small fights involving only one galaxy or world, but this didn't mean that he would treat all of them with a rash attitude.

In the final stage, his fleet almost swaggered towards the Duranian galaxy. If his brother he had never met was so stupid that he couldn't even seize this opportunity, then he deserved to miss the essence of this war.

Thinking of this, a sarcastic smile appeared on the corner of Jonson's mouth, but then he realized that now is not the time to think about these things, he needs to do his best to face the war in his eyes: just like he did before like that.

The interstellar fight was shown in the pupils of the Primarch. He witnessed his fleet knocking down the first space defense line of the Duran people little by little. Haven't been really hit yet.

He needs something safe, powerful and efficient, even as a candidate.

Thinking of this, Jonson turned his head and looked at Coswayne at the side.

[Go and call Morgan. 】

Coswayne nodded yes, but just as he turned to leave, Jonson seemed to remember something.

【By the way, tell her...】

[You should dress more formally. 】

[I remember that there is a set of power armor specially made for mortal women in the Forge Order, tell her to wear that. 】

(End of this chapter)