69novels Chapter 71 Rescue
Chapter 71 Rescue
Wardmaker pressed himself against the low city wall, his knuckles, hidden beneath his gauntlets, gently tapping the stone surface as he waited quietly, tugging at the wolf skin covering his body.
This is not Fenris; compared to that deadly, icy world, it is the complete opposite.
A giant Fenris wolf howled beside him, its extremely piercing green eyes fixed on the cultists who were advancing fanatically under the swirling dust.
"Cult members," Wardmaker repeated.
Then his wild, rough face twisted into a ferocious grimace, and he let out a low growl like a wolf's howl.
The giant wolf behind him howled hoarsely toward the sky in accompaniment to his roar.
"Damn wizard!"
"The front line has fallen," a voice came through the communicator.
Wardmaker recognized the voice; it belonged to a bard who had traveled with the expeditionary fleet. He was from Terra Cairo and his name was Finn Baker.
When the Space Wolves were ambushed and suffered heavy losses, the bard was the first to put down his pen and paper and take up arms.
He resolutely joined this battle that even Astartes trembled over, and luckily survived.
Wardmaker was convinced it was true.
but----
"We must hold this place until reinforcements arrive," Wardmaker replied. "You may go first, warrior. You are of no use, and you have never been a warrior, not even a Bloodclaw of the Legion."
"I have no intention of arguing with you, sir," Finn Baker said calmly. "I am proud to have had the privilege of witnessing and personally participating in this glorious battle."
"I am delighted to be able to help the warriors of the Empire and to fight for the Empire."
"Of course, if I survive, perhaps my name will be on the list for the next Cairo Rising Star Award. After all, how can those fabricated things compare to the real thing?"
Wardmaker listened quietly until the trembling, fearful mortal finished speaking, then said, "You've been hogging the communication channel for too long, Finn Baker. It's unrealistic, but I'll defend you..."
Before Wardmaker could finish speaking, Finn Baker's channel crackled with his master's shouts and battle cries for the Emperor.
Wardmaker listened quietly, followed by a blasphemous and screaming frenzy, which, mixed with the crackling of electricity, became the last sound on the channel.
Finn Baker's fate was sealed; as he himself said, the defense had already crumbled.
"I will defend you, bard." The rune priest placed the communicator to his chest and mourned for the loyal soul.
His hands clenched into fists.
"Ammunition is running low."
The chainsaw axe roared, emitting a buzzing sound as it cut into flesh.
"We simply cannot break their will. I've probably killed three hundred already," roared a Space Wolf sergeant.
"Keep killing!"
"Our squad has killed at least a thousand people! Damn it, if Hector is willing to eat their filthy bones and blood, he could probably live for a year in Fenris!"
"Hactor won't eat it!"
Wardmaker listened, annoyed and angry.
He mistakenly believed the lies of those damned wizards and underestimated the fanaticism and fearlessness of these cultists when it came to their faith.
He naively believed that the other party was willing to submit to the empire.
The sandstorm, triggered by witchcraft and rituals, was so thick it blotted out the sky, burying the enemy troops who were advancing toward the positions and city walls.
Even Wardmaker was half-blind in the face of this situation, let alone his fellow fighters.
They could only shoot into the sandstorm where no one could see them.
He then gripped his booming melee weapon tightly, ready to strike.
Wardmaker chopped off the head of a fish that had climbed onto the city wall, listening to the curses and mutterings coming through the communicator.
Wardmaker began to chant.
Every Rune Priest and Stormbringer uses this technique.
This was a power from nature. As he chanted, the runes on Wardmaker's chest and arms activated, and the faint light acted as a protective shield, protecting him from the sand carrying unknown power.
But he understood that without help, his efforts would be nothing more than a drop in the ocean, destined to be in vain.
The fall of this position was only a matter of time.
Wardmaker was unwilling to accept this.
He raised his head and looked up.
There should have been a beautiful sea of stars there. This planet was not like Iron Seven, a mining world shrouded in dust and steel all day long, destined to decay.
But now, all that remained was a cloud of smoke and sand that blotted out the sky, and Wardmaker seemed to be able to hear the dying cries, the frenzied madness and the fanatical prayers within.
Those wizards who used the power of the warp without restraint made pacts with the monsters of the Sea of Spirits using their own bodies.
He bit his lip until blood stained his fangs and moistened his throat, and then Wardmaker regained his senses.
He picked up his weapon again as the group refocused their attention on the battlefield.
Through the thick curtain and the sandstorm that blotted out the sky, he vaguely glimpsed something moving back and forth within it, emitting bursts of roaring sounds.
The sound of the swooping descent was all too familiar to the rune priest.
An incredibly exciting idea popped into his skull.
It's a Stormbird!
The answer was as all the surviving space wolves had hoped for: when the Stormbird's massive fuselage swept through the dust, revealing its beautiful, silvery-white body, a symbol of the dawn.
Hope was given to the warriors who fought for the empire, while death and the roar of machine guns became the elegy for these cultists.
As the Stormbirds swooped down, six Terror Strike missiles under their wings tore apart the fanatical cultists behind them, creating a symphony of flesh and steel.
They hovered in mid-air like star fortresses on orbit, with three twin-barreled heavy explosive shells mounted on their turrets firing continuously. After thirty seconds of continuous fire, the hatch opened.
Hundreds of Dawnbringers, clad in ivory-white power armor and wearing jetpacks, plummeted straight down from a height of ten meters.
The moment they landed, they activated their chainsaw swords and chainsaw axes, silently and seamlessly joining the battle.
"For Ruth and for the whole Father!"
The arrival of the Dawnbringer was undoubtedly a shot in the arm.
The sons of Ruth are known for their wildness and recklessness, but that does not mean these warriors are foolish or arrogant.
On the contrary, they were more shrewd and cunning than anyone thought; in Fenris's harsh environment, only wildness and recklessness could not survive.
They must learn to cooperate, and they must learn to be more cunning and shrewd than the sea monsters they are hunting.
If they are exhausted, they will ask the Dawnbringers charging ahead for explosives; if they still have the strength, they will fight alongside their brothers, one for close-quarters defense and the other for ranged attacks using the shared vision of the Stormbirds.
Hunt down the remaining cultists who survived the Stormbirds' firepower.
With the combined efforts of the two legions and the Stormbirds' unparalleled firepower on this ground, much like a star fortress on orbit, they easily pushed the battle lines back.
The sandstorm that had blotted out the sky began to recede, and a Dawnbringer was covered in blood. His ivory-white power armor was almost completely soaked in blood, and it looked like a hideous scarlet.
A Dawnbringer grabbed a cultist by the head and lifted him up. The cultist struggled desperately, his arms and legs flailing wildly, his hands clawing at the Dawnbringer's helmet.
The Dawnbringer, realizing he had no chance of gleaning any useful information from the frenzy, consulted with the squad commander, then raised his other hand and slowly and forcefully smashed the head with the gauntlet on his forearm.