Chapter 209 Battle of Osiris (3)

+Rogal Dorn was not left alive. From steam aliens to manipulated humans, he's wiped out all his foes—except, of course, the harmless germs in the alien spacecraft, Malcador. +

+Yes, Macragge did have this culture. After birth, babies, regardless of gender, if they are not strong enough, are left to fend for themselves on the top of the mountain. +

+Given the catastrophic population size, the Inwit cherish their newborns, but the dead receive no more than a single bow. +

+Olympia? Olympia has a beautiful natural environment, a relaxed cultural atmosphere, high social welfare, and a wide livable area. This is why the number of our Iron Warriors is gradually approaching two hundred thousand. +

+ Nuceria? I have no idea. This depends on Angron's attitude. He is only one step away from deeply hating Nuceria's original culture. +

+I don't want to discuss whether their actions stem from a determination to kill the aliens, a kindness to bring relief to the controlled humans, or just pure ruthlessness, Malcador. I'm just objectively describing what I saw. +

+I emphasize culture? That must have been influenced by Robert Guilliman. He is the one who is so proud of Macragge that he talks about civilization's culture, legion's culture, and other such empty words every day. +

+Of course not, Chancellor of the Empire. But I think he just hasn’t thought about it yet. No, this is not an excuse for the Primarchs. I believe they just need a trigger point for thinking, a firing pin, and enough pressure to touch the sensitive spring. What? No, I will emphasize that I am in Osiris, so I don’t know anything. +

+I will be disappointed. certainly. But before that, let me believe him. +

Morse threw the golden pen holder back to the table and listened to the gadget, which combined psychic powers and the empire's cutting-edge technology, making a series of knocking sounds on the iron table.

Rogal Dorn and several company commanders and squadron captains who completed their missions returned to their battleships and continued to move in the direction of Sepetus XII. After the discovery of the first derelict Hourglass space station, the Imperial Expeditionary Forces gained a fuller understanding of Osiris' psychic xenos.

Dorn acted as the fastest scout in the vanguard. Robert Guilliman received the data sent back by Rogal Dorn and sent it to the "Iron Warrior Shipborne Analysis Model". Dantioch then sent the analysis results back to Robert. ·Guilliman, waiting for the Lord of the Ultramarines to make his decision.

The defensive barrier of the Osiris Cluster seems to have disappeared under the cooperation of several Primarchs, and their route planning and attack strategies can only be described as incredible miracles in the eyes of mortals and Space Marines.

"Through the combined efforts of our father, Primarch Robert Guilliman, and Primarch Rogal Dorn, the path to the core of the cluster has been cleared. Level by level, our forces have neutralized the Osiris xenos The loose defense system has been a great battle so far.”

Dantioch sat before the Thinker Nexus in the Agora Agora, issuing an open communion within the Iron Warriors' company.

At this time, everyone in the team knew that their genetic father was in Dantioch's battleship. Although they didn't quite understand it, everyone still tacitly kept this secret for their father - after all, Perturabo's decision was part of the decision. The inclusion of unsolved mysteries never diminishes, such as the craftsman Morse, whom they discuss privately in terms of "you know who."

"Next, we will enter the core defense circle of Osiris. Our enemies will no longer be the abandoned psychic race defeated at the hands of the greenskins, nor will they be the controlled orcs who pursue them without any plan. We will We are facing a battle full of unknowns, and we don’t have enough manpower.”

"After this battle, we will have richer experience in facing psychic enemies and more diverse methods. This is a battle given to his descendants by Robert Guilliman, and it is also given to us by the thirteenth Primarch. Grind.”

Dantioch felt someone tap on his shoulder. Perturabo's deep voice sounded behind him: "Let them save their lives."

"...However, in this battle, no commander wants you to waste your precious lives for no reason. You not only belong to yourself, your lives also belong to the Emperor's Sky Eagle and our genetic father. Soldiers, use it well."

"Next, I'm going to regroup the teams. First, Mesut Campos, following the Ultramarines."

The response from the Unification War veteran came over the communicator. He was once a comrade-in-arms of the late warsmith when he was at the base. Dantioch decided to let this most experienced warrior deal with the dangers that the Ultramarines would face on the main battlefield. At the same time, the newly returned Primarch The power of the Iron Warriors lies before you.

"Stanton Matthews, continue to follow the Iron Warriors fleet..."

After the task assignment was over, Dantioch looked back at his genetic father.

Perturabo sat behind him, without any armor, and his tall body was covered in a light-colored robe with golden decorative patterns in the local language of Olympia. For an instant, Dantioch thought that he had returned to Olympia a few years ago. .

At that time, Perturabo was rising to fame as a young upstart in Lokos. The country he ruled was aspirational to the citizens of half a planet, and his own portrait was circulated throughout Olympia. Then Dantioch silently denied his thoughts.

The current Gene Father is far more majestic and dignified than the black-haired boy in the portrait. Some factors that Dantioch could not explain are changing in him. He is becoming more silent and introverted, and his brows seem to be slightly frowned forever, but some spiritual power that really makes this Gene Primarch different from mortals has become more vigorous and powerful.

"Father, should I continue to lead the team?" Dantioch asked, responding to the inquiry in Perturabo's eyes.

"It depends on the situation." Perturabo replied, "If Rogal Dorn's offensive power is insufficient, you go and listen to his command. The rest of the team will be left to me."

——

Caspion returned to the command room. It was not easy to see that Valentus was not working, but now his captain was indeed standing by the window, watching the large number of light spears passing through the air without saying a word.

Since a week ago, the reconnaissance mission has basically ended. Valentus's ships are wandering in the circle of the Sepetus system, the closest to the core block of the Osiris star cluster, and they are slightly farther away from the main force than the range of the Imperial ships' macro-cannons, completing some necessary firepower replenishment while monitoring the target.

These mortal warships enslaved by the aliens are retreating step by step under the direct command of the Space Marines and the Primarchs, and the golden and blue terrifying psychic energy emitted from the Iron Warriors flagship from time to time is an unknown and terrible threat, which greatly hits the faith and power of the psychic species.

Robert Guilliman's notice has come, and within this week, they will be able to encircle the largest hourglass space station among the Osiris psychic aliens.

"I remember we also encountered these shiny weapons," Caspian leaned close to Valentus, shoulder armors colliding with each other, "the sky was full of anti-aircraft guns, rushing towards our Stormbirds. We almost lost our lives that day."

"That was a meaningless resistance of a technological empire. And this is Mesut of the Iron Warriors."

Valentus stared at the orc ships in the sky that were shot down by the Iron Warriors' long-range firepower. Each of their attacks showed calculated beauty, and no laser was wasted. While attacking, they never left any room for the enemy to counterattack.

"Although they are attacking, I always feel like I'm seeing a group of masters of defense." Caspian commented, curling his lips secretly, "I think we can fight more beautifully."

"Discipline. Vice Captain Varus. Primarch Robert Guilliman is showing us his discipline. You shouldn't pursue achievements that don't belong to us at this time."

"Captain Doro! Just tell me, how did I offend you recently?"

Valentus ignored Caspian. He picked up the communication array, "Reconnaissance Team No. 3. Go ahead."

"Yes." He hung up the communication and turned to look at Caspian, "You have a job. The Primarch asked us all to join the encirclement and prepare to board with him."

Caspien put the helmet on his head. Because all the locks had not been fixed yet, the built-in electronic equipment of the helmet was not activated. His voice went through the layers of metal and sounded dully: "Are you going or am I going?"

"I'll go to the captain's room to command." Valentus said.

Caspien struggled to make a clear gesture with his clumsy fingers wearing gauntlets, and his attempt was not very successful. "Then your Stormbird belongs to me, sir. Don't worry, I will bring this big guy back safely to thank you for letting me fight alongside my father."

"This is not my Stormbird, it is the property of the Legion."

"Understand, I will throw your coffee cup out of the window in ten minutes."

"Asshole." Valentus said.

"What?" Caspian stopped.

"Don't throw it, you bastard."

Caspien laughed, ran back in two big steps, and gave Valentus a too heavy hug for an armored Space Marine.

——

He is getting irritable as the war progresses. Robert Guilliman thought.

As more artillery fire echoed silently in the silent depths of the universe, he remembered the nights when Konor accompanied him to play with Macragge's copper coins and watch the stars. The stars in his memory began to burn, exploded in the brilliant spears of light and the huge muzzles, and turned into dry powder under the squeeze of the alien hourglass space station and the extraction of the imperial fleet, and were broken from the inside out.

The pace of destruction sounded in the same beat as his heartbeat, driving his hot blood to flow through his body, entering the air through the airflow of his breath, leaving a burning touch above his lips.

He recalled the teachings that Euden had given him, and the look of sincere appreciation and relief that Lady Euden gave him after he peacefully conquered Illyrium. The endless fighting spirit in his mind gradually subsided, and the cool reason returned to his body, and he found peace again.

In Sepetus XII and the largest hourglass space station of the aliens, after discussion, Rogal Dorn and he agreed that the hourglass space station should be jumped first.

On the one hand, without using extermination weapons, it would obviously take a lot of time to wipe out the rebels in the entire hive. On the other hand, only by solving the core of the rebellion can more imperial humans be prevented from being enslaved under the control of the alien command center and replenish the alien troops.

This also means that they will face the greatest danger in the Osiris Cluster: forcing into the alien power center in several watch hourglasses that are mutually caring and cannot be dismantled one by one. Thirty-three thousand Astartes, the limited offensive force must be concentrated, and boarding is the only option.

The last barrier between the alien space station and the Ultramarines fleet is about to be broken. The large-scale stagnation caused by the alien's deflection gravity field is scrapped under the endless high-intensity heavy firepower attacks of the Imperial Fists and the Iron Warriors, and several defensive space stations in front are torn apart. This also means that the two auxiliary fleets that have replaced almost all their weapons with special strategic bombings are about to withdraw from the battlefield, leaving the field to the main force of the Battle of Osiris.

Robert Guilliman raised his hand forward. Under his command, the Goliath-class battleship crashed into the alien space station exposed to the Ultramarines' route.

A general who can lead the army in front of the battle will have an inspiring effect on the soldiers, which will equal the risk of the general being exposed to the enemy in certain circumstances. He thought. What's more, he is a Primarch, a commander who promised victory to the soldiers.

He left the ship and entered the scorching energy aura of the psychic race and the strange building, moving forward in the burning flames and smoke. The Space Marines could not keep up with his full-speed run. A commander who left the team was definitely not good for the battle formation. He controlled his pace and raised the grenade launcher. When the bullet flew out of the barrel, it was like falling directly from his palm into the enemy's body.

In order to achieve real-time command, he wore a helmet to use the built-in communicator in the helmet to guide the Ultramarines to attack in a theoretical direction.

The aliens and their equipment made sharp noises during the Ultramarines' attack. Their resistance was fierce enough, but it did not exceed the theoretical upper limit estimated by Robert Guilliman.

Some ammunition was exploding, and the heat wave of destruction exploded in the tortuous and narrow maze, destroying the decorative clocks and gorgeous mechanical structures that were the symbol of this alien civilization. The aliens kept wailing because of this, just like hot water that reached a critical point and screamed shrilly.

Guilliman took the dagger from the magnetic buckle belt, and the blade cut through the half-steam and half-solid shell of the alien, and the wind and flames formed a raging air wave. Sharp explosions were erupting in all directions. Robert Guilliman distinguished the internal structure of the alien space station and matched it with the alien architectural features summarized for him by the Iron Warriors. As if someone was guiding the way, he accurately found the shortest path again and again in the roar of the engine and the whistling and oil smoke of many war machines.

All the troop functions of the Ultramarines were used in the carefully planned team. The collected alien weakness information theory was fully used in this battle without retreat and mercy. Their killing efficiency was even close to the years when they used extinction weapons, and all of this was due to the information and data they obtained when the intensity was lower in the early stage of the war.

Explosives and chainsaw swords became a rhythmic piece of music, and the only meaning in the music and shouts was destruction. Language and runes were not worth mentioning in front of heavy grenade guns. The rapid-fire training of the Space Marines efficiently destroyed all transparent crystals and the delicate lighting devices hidden in the furnishings. The blue light of the power weapons and the burning bodies of the aliens lit up the darkness.

He was destroying the alien civilization. Guilliman suddenly realized this when his blade harvested the next life. Not conquest, not revenge, all he needed from the beginning, the gift he would give to his army, was to destroy the alien civilization.

He raised his head and looked into the distance. The destroyed power system made everything inside the space station extremely dim, but a clear map and the analysis equipment built into the helmet had outlined all the war information he needed in his brain. This alien had seriously misjudged their advancement speed. They were not fast enough to rush from the turret to the core of the space station, even though they did show some kind of unity of will, concentration and cooperation.

The Ultramarines advanced too quickly and their goals were too clear. In addition, the Iron Warriors team cut into the battlefield along the road they opened after reorganizing their army, providing them with protection in the rear, which greatly reduced the worries of the Ultramarines in advancing forward.

The command room was not far from them. If the leader of the aliens was really in this largest space station, then its ears must have been filled with merciless artillery fire.

Yes, when they killed humans, enslaved human bodies, and collected human wealth and skulls, the aliens should have considered this day. This is conquest, revenge, and destruction, all in one word.

The conflict in front of the last protective door was very brief. The Ultramarines had expended less blood than Robouti Guilliman had expected, and although this sounded intolerant, the current sacrifice was indeed within his acceptable range: in fact, the exchange ratio on both sides was enough to make any general smile, and the Primarch would not be proud of it. This is their duty.

Guilliman maintained a psychological state between the passion for destruction and the calmness of reason, watching the explosives mixed with the steam corpses of the aliens blast through the door, his warriors cleared the way for him, and Guilliman followed the warriors into the last house.

What appeared before him was a monster much larger than any alien he had encountered before. Its overly tall body curled up after touching the ceiling, its strange head drooped, and hundreds of shocking limbs extended from every part of the steam monster's body, as if it was an ultimate collection of all the characteristics of the entire psychic race. It had no weapons, could not speak, and seemed to have no ability to attack actively.

But the next moment Robert Guilliman immediately knew that he was wrong. It was indeed a collection of this race, or perhaps more accurately, this monster was the alien race itself. Those limbs fell from it and formed new individuals in the process of landing. Each part was involved in other parts, and each part was part of the whole.

His warriors were engaged in a battle. These new psychic species were still weak. They were not enough to destroy these warriors, until an extremely powerful psychic force exploded in this house like a star, burning the blazing pain and the hot white edge on everyone's nerves that had almost no resistance to psychic energy. The tangible violence caused by the surging storm overturned the Primarch, the warriors, and the psychic species themselves against the wall.

The nightmarish mental vortex burned the air in the room in despair. The stinging pain caused by the terrible psychic energy pierced his brain like a long needle. Guilliman heard two extremely painful screams, one from the depths of the will of the alien collective, and the other from his own. This was the first time he faced the offensive mental energy directly. Everything was moving away from him, and he fell into a pale and hot sea of ​​​​mind.