Chapter 382: The Latecomer Arrives First

The shells threw up the soil, and a lot of sticky and wet soil like raindrops flew up with the impact, and before it fell, it was lifted up again by the shock wave of the artillery fire, like a brown wave.

In the thick, gold-cast trenches, hundreds of heavy artillery continued to fire rhythmically, and soldiers continued to reload ammunition from one side to the other.

The accurate bombardment was the greatest artillery battalion of the Imperial Guard in this star zone. Those enemies of the Empire would suffer for their stupidity, his body would be torn into pieces, would turn into mud, would become inhuman, and enjoy the pain and shame that the flesh could not bear.

After that, those things that could prove his existence would also dissipate, and he and his compatriots who were bewitched by the gods would become fertilizer for the new farm of the Empire, and no one would pray, cry, or worry for them.

Lu Eiffel, the old artilleryman of the Empire, looked at the flames outside the battle line without any distress, but refreshed. He often enjoyed the way the enemy fell apart in his cannon fodder symphony, and on this western front, about 10 kilometers away from the fortress, he was confident that most of the enemies would be blown apart before reaching the fortress.

The hot wind brought by the shells was warming his body, relieving his joints that were tortured by dampness and coldness in the long trench experience. He wanted to apply gunpowder to his diseased parts, so only the heat from the bombardment could make him feel relieved, especially in such weather.

Gun smoke rose from the bombardment point thousands of meters away. The thick smoke and the dark clouds of death were rampant in the dark sky, connecting into a suffocating scroll. Nothing could be safe and sound under such an attack, even the Space Marines with the help of ancient technology such as the Word Spirit.

Under the firepower of tens of thousands, heavy Land Raiders or armored transport ships were also overturned. Fragile mortals could not help but curl up their cold bodies just by enduring the roar. With efficient round bombardment and sufficient firepower, even if there were Word Spirits consuming mortals and letting them fall one after another as materials to avoid the artillery fire, the Space Marines also suffered a good blow and delayed their progress.

And the biggest consumption in such bombardment was actually mortals. In addition to those poor people who were used as Word Spirit materials, there were also those who were suffocated or left behind by the shock waves and soil of the artillery roar. They were regarded as garbage and shields by the Space Marines. So far, even if those people suffered, as long as there were people in front of them singing the words that had been passed down from Terra to the present, the Space Marines would not save them.

At this point, the originally sufficient personnel also had problems. Oneus Praid overestimated those mortals. When his high-spirited companions died one by one for various reasons, the low morale could not sustain them to the front line, and the spellcaster must voluntarily take on the responsibility of driving, otherwise the effect will be greatly weakened.

However, he was tired of giving those mortals the so-called tenderness and tolerance. This period of time was long enough. Although according to his understanding of the Imperial Guard, such bombardment would last for two to three days before it would subside until they consumed most of the shells, because it confirmed that the enemy existed.

In other words, they needed to confirm the existence of the enemy, that is, to stop for a moment in the continuous bombardment to observe the enemy's situation. At the same time, the smoke and gunpowder that were extremely terrible for mortals were just simple fogs for Space Marines. Their helmets could let them see the starting point of the bombardment behind the smoke.

Land Raiders and Scimitar heavy tanks had already aimed at those positions. This was not surprising. They were seizing the information gap this time to solve the enemy's most threatening artillery fire at one time. Using the lives of countless believers and mortals in exchange for the Imperial Guard's artillery array was definitely a win.

As the artillery fire gradually became less and less, the Space Marines who were so humiliated and suppressed were actually ready. After three difficult hours, Lu Eiffel, like an old chef, judged the number of artillery fire needed to destroy the enemy based on his own experience.

His estimate was accurate and effective, but no one would guess that the enemy was not just well-trained Space Marines. When his artillery fire stopped, he picked up the observation mirror and saw a sharp white beam of light. He had followed his officer father into the battlefield since he was a child.

His favorite thing was the fragmented appearance of the enemy. At the same time, this idea also came from his fear, the deep-rooted fear he witnessed on the battlefield as a child. He had seen his father being killed by the enemy's artillery fire. So far, he held the arm of his flesh-like relative and devoted his entire life to killing the enemy faster than others.

He was invincible and had superb skills, so much so that he forgot that war was dangerous and changeable. Facing many enemies and countless changes, his skills were also powerless and pathetic. When the light faded, he did not fall apart as he feared, but disappeared completely, without a single molecule existing.

He was a real war maniac, and it was this terrible universe that made him like this. However, the people he killed were not sins, but things that the empire had to do if it wanted to survive, so much so that he forgot that his original intention was to make soldiers and comrades different from his father.

There was no need to cross dangerous trenches, no need to run through crazy artillery areas, no need to worry about living today and dying tomorrow, but from the perspective of his life, Lou Eiffel did a great job in his life and was worthy of praise. He used his skills and the death of his enemies to loyally praise the Emperor again and again.

And his complex life, a full 95 years, was condensed into one sentence. "Colonel Lou Eiffel is dead!"

Yes, this is the sentence. On the complex and chaotic front, this sentence is everything a person has. His orderlies and guards stretched out their hands, trying to find a part of their master's body where it was plowed by volcanic cannons, but they could only To be able to come home empty-handed, not even with anything to bury.

Death comes suddenly, and the heavy artillery of the Land Raiders will follow. The heavy artillery fire streaks across the sky and hits the earthquake cannons one by one. More than half of the Imperial Guard's core artillery regiment is lost in an instant, even if there are enough bunkers. and projectile, after the Scimitar tank's Volcano cannon tore through the thick wall, relying on its huge bullet hole, the men were caught off guard.

Fire again? But the old colonel is dead. No one can monopolize power, no one can command correctly, and no one can inherit his strength and specialness. The battle line is in chaos. Scimitar-class heavy tanks bombard one after another, tearing open the gaps in the artillery trenches. Then artillery fire poured in.

The Imperial Guard soldiers who witnessed all this in the frontline trenches were unable to resist. They were just mortals, without firepower or weapons. When suppressing each other's firepower at a range of nearly a kilometer, the instruments in their hands could not take care of any enemy.

The lieutenant colonel of the infantry regiment witnessed everything. He grinned in hatred, but he could only powerlessly turn on the radio and ask the communications troops to report to the rear and request support. The subsequent Space Marine counterattack lasted for a short time, about half an hour.

Compared to the Imperial Guard, they are more deadly, fast, and accurate. The heavy vehicles turned the entire artillery trench into a hell on earth at an extremely fast speed. The scattered limbs and remains, and the craters on the ground severely expanded the place. Now this place It's more than three times bigger than it was at the beginning.

However, the escape area was placed in the artillery trench in advance. Dozens of ground-shaking cannons and more Scorpion missile vehicles and basilisk self-propelled artillery were evacuated by relying on their integrated mobile design, leaving a foundation of heavy firepower for the Imperial Guard.

For the Space Marines and the Red Corsairs, this time was a complete victory. Onius Praid was laughing wildly on his mount. Although those mortals were completely consumed in this war, their armor arrays were torn apart. A battle line was opened.

The tracks of the heavy vehicles passed through the soft soil very quickly, and those red things were approaching. In the trenches, the infantrymen barely stood on the spot with courage. They were burdened with the responsibility to continue the empire. They fired at this point. , it can be said that it is because of fear and anger.

It's just that they witnessed the convoy that seemed to be intact after hours of bombing, moving forward at an extremely fast speed. Now the choice before them was only to become martyrs forward, or to become cowards backward, but they died in the interstellar The difference between a soldier's attack and his death from the empire's machine gun and the company's staff's explosive bomb was just that.

There is no choice in this. It is better to shoot than to be spurned by others. Death has become inevitable. If they can kill a renegade Space Marine, then his family and his soul will also be blessed. In front of the Golden Throne, He would have the right to kiss the soil at the Emperor's feet.

Such an opportunity comes once in a lifetime. They have dealt with many enemies, and they are not considered cowards. They have defeated many enemies, and they are not considered weak. When the enemy approaches the trench, the anti-tank squad fires, but before the weapon is fired, a burst of fire breaks out from the enemy array. Those The man fell to the ground.

But to be precise, the heavy explosive shell tore his body apart instantly. The aftermath of the shell alone tore apart the rest of the team members. It looked like a cannonball fell into it. One person suddenly exploded, and the other three were torn apart instantly. crack.

"The tank crew is down! Emperor!" the guard shouted, but such words were repeated throughout the entire battle line. Mortals were born with such trenches and great obstacles to Space Marines.

Among them, those who are dangerous to heavy vehicles, whether it is melta or anti-tank grenades, will be easily handled by the Space Marine tactical team surrounding the vehicle crew, while the slightly more stubborn mortal veterans planned the famous use of bayonet blades distributed above to insert the Space Marines joints.

This infantry team had planned it. One man would hold a melta grenade to attract attention, and the brother in ambush would assassinate him. There was no problem with their plan. After the bayonet blade embedded in the Space Marine's joint, the brother holding the melta bomb would probably die. But he got a chance to kill a Space Marine in exchange.

A team of five veterans divided up the work. The captain held the crucial bomb, while the others lurked in the tarpaulin of the trench, while the tracks of the heavy vehicle, that is, the body of the Land Raider, slowly The sound of passing by was like squeezing their souls.

The sound is getting closer and closer. Watching the nearby comrades fall one by one and being blown to pieces by explosive bombs, heartache and helplessness gather...

He felt that his soul was suffering, but when the heavy Land Raider's tires passed over his head, he realized that the opportunity had come, his only revenge, his only chance, his only possibility.

He took a deep breath, pulled the melta bomb away, and shouted at the top of his lungs. "For the Emperor!"

He stood up and charged towards the enemy. The Space Marines on the side of the vehicle crew were unable to reach him. However, even so, the soldier quickly took out his bolt pistol and fired a headshot. The entire head of the veteran captain instantly turned into blood and dissipated. , the body knelt on the ground like a powerless puppet.

His melta bomb exploded, and the violent light and screeching sound clouded the Space Marine's judgment, preventing him from noticing four mortals charging in with bayonets in hand.

The Space Marine looked at the mortal in front of him, feeling a little puzzled. He admired the man's courage, and didn't understand the use of such a suicide attack, until he felt a pain in his shoulder, blood flowed from his limbs, and the bayonet stuck in his joints, but he was not afraid, watching those soldiers take out the hot melt bombs, looking like they were going to die with him.

When those resentful, hostile, and disgusting eyes looked at him, the Space Marine laughed, and the steel ring on his head expressed his identity, and he shouted. "Oneus Praid, my brother, the mortals here have some backbone, just like the White Shield I killed before!"

"Look, these four are brave, but." He suddenly shouted, the strong sound waves were visible to the naked eye, and the bayonet did imprison his body, but in essence, the Space Marines were covered with weapons, and the strong sound waves pierced the warriors' eardrums, but those brave men still pulled out their weapons and pulled the bombs, but the eardrums bleed, and the body was hesitant by the sound waves. The next moment, the bayonet was broken by the huge force.

The champion forced himself to regain his mobility at the risk of tearing his wounds, and a lot of blood flowed from his joints. He slapped away the flying hot melt bombs, and those things fell on the wilderness, flashing fierce light.

Instead of killing those mortals, he spoke. "Well done, not even the Astartes could make me so embarrassed. The four of you, and the dead one, are all powerful, and I will reward you."

He raised the chainsaw sword and sawed off the heads of those mortals before they could come to their senses. Cutting them in two, clean and neat.

Then he caught the heads before they fell to the ground, wiped his armor with the spilled blood, and picked up the wooden boards that were everywhere in the trenches of the Imperial Guard and cut them into sharp spearheads with a dagger.

"Blood sacrifice to the blood god..." The champion chanted, and Oneus Praid watched the man complete the ritual. He didn't believe in the gods, but he still spoke. "Will their souls return to the Lord of Wrath?"

The champion replied. "Of course, it's much better than them returning to the corpse king."