Chapter 128: Tyranid Assault
"Hans, did you know Marco used to be a butcher?"
"Scrap! Is that true?!"
The veteran, looking at the whispering rookies, cursed at them, "Stop your damn gossiping and keep your eyes on the front! What do you care what Marco used to be? Just know that he can save your little lives now. Do you want to lie on the lap of a Sororitas Hospitaller and have them treat you? Do you worthless scum deserve it?!"
"Heh heh, if the Sister agrees, I have no objection."
"Me too."
"Scrap it, stop your joking. If it were the old me, if you little brats dared to joke in front of me, I would have ripped your tongues out." The veteran gave his subordinates his old signature expression.
The Astra Militarum sergeant's cruel smile made the rookies shrink back and shut up, turning their attention to the misty front. The roars that came from the mist from time to time indicated that the bugs were now hiding in it.
"Why are the bugs so smart today?" the sergeant said, puzzled. His years in a hive gang had given him an unusual intuition for danger. He quickly ordered his subordinates, "Keep your eyes peeled! Something's not right!"
The person lying next to the sergeant couldn't help but ask, "Boss, did you find something?"
The former gang leader, now an Astra Militarum sergeant, with a grave expression, stared at the mist and shook his head. "No. But I trust my gut. Back in the hive, it was my gut that saved me from a few assassination attempts by rival gangs."
"Sergeant, you used to be in a gang? How did you end up joining the army?"
A hint of reminiscence flashed in the veteran's eyes. He said with a sigh, "I got a little greedy. I thought I had a lot of brothers and wanted to pay a little less tribute to the noble lords. The next day, the enforcers kicked down my door, pointed a gun at my head, and asked, 'Do you want to be a soldier, or do you want to be shot?'"
Before he could finish, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and his heart suddenly stopped. As a reflex, he pulled his body, which had been peeking out from behind the cover, back.
Thwip!
A chitinous barb, so fast it was invisible to the naked eye, passed through the spot where his body had just been.
Boom!
The barb, having missed its target, hit a rock further away and exploded.
The Astra Militarum sergeant, who had ducked back into the cover, knew that his intuition had saved his life once again. While feeling relieved, he did not forget to shout, "Artillery! Take cover!" But more chitinous barbs tore through the mist and smashed into the human defensive line, exploding and sending out serrated shrapnel that pierced everything around.
Thwip, thwip, boom, boom!
"Ah! I'm hit! I'm going to die!" an Astra Militarum soldier, unlucky enough to be hit by the shrapnel, cried out.
"Stop your damn shouting! Stay down! If you can shout that loud, you're not going to die! Crawl back and find Marco yourself! Everyone else, the moment the artillery stops, fire back! I don't care if you see the bugs or not! Just shoot! Do you understand?!"
"Understood!"
The veteran's judgment was correct. A large number of Hormagaunts and Termagants, under the cover of the artillery and the mist, charged the defensive line like a tide. But what the veteran hadn't expected was that the Tyranids never considered "casualties." Even as the Hormagaunts charged into the trenches, the Tyranid artillery did not stop for a moment. This time, his intuition could not save him.
The same scene was also happening on all the defensive lines of the humans and the T'au. Gorgon's large-scale attack, launched under the cover of the weather, had made the first defensive line, which had been set up, become precarious in a very short time. The soldiers, who had lost their terrain advantage and the protection of their cover, had to engage in a bloody melee with the Tyranid creatures.
"Die! Die!" The soldier, whose comrades had all become mangled pieces of flesh, his eyes red and his face a mask of terror, kept pulling the trigger on the already-dead Hormagaunt on the ground. He had no other thoughts in his mind. He only knew that pulling the trigger meant he was still alive. Pulling the trigger on a bug meant he could stay alive. This was what the sergeant had told him before he had been torn apart by a bug. He had done as he was told, and he had survived. As for what to do next, he didn't know. The person who could tell him was already dead.
But reality would not stop just because he didn't know. Another bug appeared before his eyes. The soldier frantically turned his gun and pulled the trigger on the Termagant, but this time, no laser shot out from the barrel. "Shoot! Shoot! Scrap! Scrap!"
The imminent danger brought the soldier back to his senses. He quickly threw away the lasgun, which had long since run out of power, and scrambled on all fours towards his comrade's mangled corpse, searching for his weapon. Found it! I can live! The elation in his mind was cut short by a sharp pain. The Tyranids did not give an unarmed human a fair duel. The Termagant's bio-weapon was fired the moment the soldier touched the weapon. The flesh-eating beetles that lived in the fleshborer were awakened by the bio-electric shock caused by the fleshborer's firing. Using their flea-like legs, they jumped out of the barrel at an extremely high speed and burrowed into the human's body.
"Ah! Ah! Ah!"
The human screamed and rolled in the bloody water on the ground. It was too painful, too terrifying. He saw his own body melting at the wound. He heard the sound of the bugs burrowing and gnawing in his body. "Kill me! Kill me! I can't take it! Don't torture me! Kill me! Emperor, give me death! Give me a merciful death!"
The Tyranids have no mercy, no joy, only hunger. The Termagant, seeing that its target had lost the ability to resist and to move, turned and left. All that was left was the still-wailing human. A captured food was not worth wasting its precious biomass on.
"Woof! Woof! Woof!" The mechanical hound roared and charged at the Tyranid Hormagaunt. The Hormagaunt, upon discovering the hound, also immediately pulled out the rending claws that were stuck in the human body on the ground and swung at the hound that had already charged up to it. Just as the huge, chitinous claws were about to hit the mechanical hound, the hound suddenly changed direction, dodged the attack, and then quickly retreated a few steps. The Tyranid Hormagaunt, which did not know the meaning of fear, seeing its opponent retreat, roared and chased after the retreating hound. The hound, seeing the Tyranid chasing it, which had originally been retreating step by step, immediately turned and fled.
The Hormagaunt's thighs tensed, and it burst out with its maximum speed. Just as its claws were raised again, a sudden change occurred. In a flash, two hounds, who had been ambushing from the side, charged at the Tyranid from the left and right. The caught-off-guard Hormagaunt wanted to slow down, but it was too late. The inertia from its full-speed burst made it unable to change its posture. It could only raise its claws and aim at the new opponents, wanting to take them down with it. But it had forgotten that there was another opponent. The hound that had been fleeing had once again turned around and was charging at it again. The extremely short distance between them meant that the hound's speed after turning was not fast, but it was enough for it to knock the Hormagaunt over.
"Well done, Steel-jaw 1, 2, and 3," the young soldier said, patting the head of the mechanical hound that had come back with the prey's head in its mouth, and praised it happily. Not far from him, a group of wounded soldiers were holding their weapons, warily aiming at any direction a bug might appear from. Seeing the little guy in the company commanding three hounds to not only kill a Tyranid, but also to drag back a comrade who was still breathing, they all felt it was incredible.
"Where did you pick him up, Captain?"
"On the road," the captain, who had lost an arm, said with a tone of pride.
"Sigh, now I'll be too embarrassed to tease little John anymore." The people near him, hearing his words, also nodded. After all, they had all been saved by little John, one by one, with his dogs, and had been dragged here. They all owed the little guy a life.
"Will the one who was just saved make it?" the captain asked.
"I estimate he'll be waking up soon. Fortunately, we found the medical device. Otherwise, none of us would have survived. But Captain, what do we do next?"
"Fight!"
"With just us?"
"With just us. I don't know if we'll be shot by the Commissar if we retreat, but those bugs will definitely not let go of such a large piece of meat. Don't worry, as long as the high command hasn't given up on this place, there will be support!"
Boom, boom, boom...
The Astra Militarum, hiding in the fortress, all heard the distant roar and tremor. This lifted everyone's spirits. This was the sound of large-caliber artillery bombarding the ground. This meant that they had not been abandoned. It also meant that support from the rear was on the way.
The regimental commanders on the front lines, when the Tyranids had attacked the defensive line, had immediately reported the situation to the command and had organized the soldiers who were resting in the rear to reinforce the front line. Their defensive lines might be crumbling, but they were not livestock waiting to be slaughtered. They were not without the ability to fight back.
To command a Tyranid of this scale, there must be Tyranid synapse creatures. How to deal with them was the key to whether they could achieve victory. The commanders were well aware of this, and they had already prepared a killer for these synapse creatures.
"Scrap it. It's really not small," the Astra Militarum Colonel cursed, observing the Tyranid Warrior through his telescope. After cursing, he turned back to look at the cog-head behind him, who was kowtowing to a mechanical hound to "consecrate" it. The Colonel was very anxious. For every second he was late, the casualties of the soldiers who were responsible for holding back the Tyranid Warrior would increase. These soldiers were the elites of his regiment, good men who had rolled in the sea of blood. To lose one was a great loss. But now, no matter how anxious he was, he did not dare to rush the cog-head before him. If the Machine Spirit was displeased, then all their previous efforts would be in vain, and the people who had already been sacrificed would have died in vain.
"Praise the Omnissiah! Holy Machine Spirit, please help us to destroy the enemies of the Machine God!"
"Woof!"
"Is it done?" the Colonel asked impatiently.
"Hmm."
Hearing the cog-head's answer, which sounded like his own father had died, the Colonel said nothing. He could also understand the cog-head's current mood. If he were to send his own precious mount to do the same thing, his own expression would be much the same. "You took a picture of them, right? They will be the heroes of our regiment in the future."
"I did."
"Good. Then let's begin."