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Lieutenant Andrews, belonging to the [Sun Eaters Chapter], wrapped himself in a grey-black cloak. Through the overly narrow field of vision of his MKIII power armor, he observed the Ran-Dan army's attack.
As always, he first saw the endless waves of slave armies. They were like an ant's nest that had been blown open, gathering into dense, bewildered legions, advancing desperately in fear and panic, then falling in droves under the more concentrated firepower, bombs, landmines, and barbed wire.
These mortals, perhaps they did not possess the courage to confront three-meter-tall Ran-Dan soldiers directly, nor the strength to wield blades and cut off thousands of alien heads. But to have them stay in cold trenches, to have them fire every bullet in their hands and every shell at their feet as accurately as possible, was achievable.
For a time, thousands of gun barrels roared, thousands of explosions erupted. Every inch of Lieutenant Andrews's vision was filled with the acrid gunpowder and raging flames. He watched the fire-yellow steel barrages continuously spitting out from every trench and every fortress, forming an impenetrable rain of death.
Like mechanical blades harvesting ripe wheat fields, they instantly brought hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of deaths and massacres. These cries of death poured mercilessly onto the Ran-Dan's slave armies, causing bloodshed, roars, and crisp crackling sounds.
This disorganized symphony traveled for tens of kilometers. Even the medical units at the very rear of the front line could hear it clearly.
Andrews silently watched all this, watching thousands of alien slaves being devoured alive by the human defenders' frantic firepower.
Or, even more tragically: some unfortunate individuals merely had their limbs broken, falling to the ground, their deaths destined to be trampled alive by thousands upon thousands of successive comers.
But similarly, some unexpected things would appear. Andrews could see the outstanding ones among the slave cannon fodder. If they were particularly lucky, or possessed immense strength and physique,
these terrifying monsters could charge headfirst into the defenders' trenches, using claws, anger, and irrational bloodthirsty frenzy to wreak havoc. When thousands of various aliens fell on the path of the charge, hundreds of incomplete human corpses were also left behind in the trenches.
But for the attacking and defending armies, all this was irrelevant and insignificant. Like droplets of water scattering when two huge waves clash, thousands of lives on the battlefield were merely cheap objects less valuable than a pile of dirt, merely the most inconspicuous small flags on a sand table,
merely a transaction with no benefit to either side: the human army curbed the Ran-Dan's offensive, but their first defensive line was already crumbling. And just as the captains and lieutenants on the front line were arguing about retreating or holding their ground, with the second strange horn blowing, the Ran-Dan's second offensive gave almost no one a chance to breathe.
This time, Andrews saw many familiar faces. He saw the Hrud, enslaved and mind-controlled by the Ran-Dan. The Human Empire had contemptuously called these filthy, despicable, cunning, and cruel monsters, which seemed impossible to eradicate, "Space Rats."
These aliens, keen on digging tunnels, still wore their tattered cloaks. Their necks and upper limbs, protected by silicate scales, were now encircled by the nerve-control collars that made one's teeth ache, stimulating these cunning creatures to rampage and kill like bloodthirsty butchers.
Behind swarms of "Space Rats" were the Oriedians, tortured until they had completely fallen into madness. They had slender, multi-jointed limbs, thick leather carapaces, and spider-like compound eyes, taller than two Astartes combined, like gigantic four-legged insects that aroused disgust.
Despite this, Andrews knew that these abominable aliens were actually rare pacifists in the galaxy, living by scavenging. But this did not prevent the Imperium from continuously destroying their scattered nomadic fleets.
And now, it seemed, compared to the methods of the Ran-Dan Empire, the Imperium's slaughter was actually a form of [mercy]. And those even taller and more terrifying than the Oriedian insectoids were the notorious [Basmek Maniacs].
These aliens possessed beast-like bodies and metallic exoskeletons, capable of withstanding the most frantic hail of gunfire, annihilating entire companies and platoons of mortal soldiers before their lives were extinguished.
However, the homeworld of these powerful aliens unfortunately existed near the controlled territory of the Ran-Dan Empire. Thus, the sight of these hideous, terrifying monsters, bound and tortured by collars, forced to fight to the death on the battlefield, was common in any Ran-Dan slave army.
Watching these twisted and ferocious heads surge in his vision, Andrews even felt a long-lost sense of familiarity. Everything was too familiar to him. That was thirty Terra standard years ago.
At that time, Andrews was a Dark Angel, part of a fifty-thousand-strong army of vengeance, fighting alongside the then Chapter Master against the Ran-Dan's southward advance in the Scythia-Morse system.
That was a war that would never be declassified or disclosed. And even within the Dark Angels' own ranks, it was a battle rarely spoken of. Former comrades might mourn the ten thousand battle-brothers who died in the Scythia-Morse system, cunning officers might lament the sinking of over fifty capital ships,
and everyone in the Chapter kept silent about the fall of the [Abomination Exemplar], that glorious flagship, which was critically wounded by Ran-Dan drones and then overloaded its reactor, perishing with countless boarding Ran-Dan troops.
But even with such a sacrifice, the meat grinder of Morse continued for several Terra standard months, until the Ran-Dan general was decapitated, and the bloody war ended with the aliens' defeat and destruction. Andrews also participated in that battle.
He fulfilled his duties on at least six different battlefields, bathed in blood. At that time, he was a member of twenty-two Chapters or Knightly Orders, but after the battle, that number dropped to eight. Andrews would never forget the Ran-Dan's offensive:
the attrition of the slave armies could even last for several days and nights, while the Ran-Dan's main forces would either appear directly before them under artillery cover, engaging in duels, or launch surprise attacks from the heart of shadows and light.
And the most feared were the elite legions wielding psychic powers or forbidden technology. The bloodshed they caused was so vast that it was enough to make any Dark Angel never forget.
Enough... The bitter memory revolved in the Dark Angel veteran's mind for less than a second, making him refocus on the current reality. Around and behind these [old faces], at least a hundred different alien creatures swarmed.
Most of them would be unknown to the Imperium's populace, and even other Astartes Chapters would not recognize these terrifying monsters. But Andrews was different. As a Dark Angel, he could easily identify each one. But each time he identified one, his expression darkened a fraction.
Until this brutal army tore through the human defenders' first line of defense, letting the sound of rending flesh and flowing blood accompany the fierce wind, magnified infinitely, the Ran-Dan warriors' formation finally arrived late.
Like sharp bayonets, they burst out from the chaotic battle lines, straight into the core fortress area of the front line. Accompanying them were the Ran-Dan main army's signature radioactive electromagnetic individual weapons. Just one volley was enough to dissolve an entire permanent fortress into a dark stream of energy.
The energy flow, like a night glow, resonated with the deep penetration of the Ran-Dan vanguard. In the blink of an eye, it enveloped the entire forward defense line in continuous shadows and gloom.
Moments later, these foam-like phantoms shattered one after another, but in their former place, nothing could be seen: whether it was the fortresses watching over each other, or the thousands of defenders stationed within, they had all vanished into thin air, without a single drop of blood shed.
The ceaseless winds over the Sabis River swept in again with unprecedented ferocity, as if an enraged deity was roaring in fury. And Andrews finally picked up the instrument in his hand. After a while, a hoarse, heavy breathing sound appeared beside his ear.
"Andrews?" The inquiry came from the other end of the communicator.
"It's me. There's a major Ran-Dan legion here at the bridge. The proportion of their warriors and electromagnetic individual weapons meets the standard, even exceeding it significantly. It's very likely that an [Upper Overlord] is leading them." The other end of the communicator was silent for a moment. "Do you need reinforcements?"
Andrews did not answer immediately. His gaze and thoughts moved together, sweeping across countless burning trenches and positions, across the horizon covered by dense Ran-Dan follow-up troops,
across the huge carcass of a Basmek Maniac torn to shreds by thousands of bullets and six shells. Finally, he spoke. "One standard hour." "If, after one Terra standard hour, I have not sent back a report, send someone to take over our position." "Understood."
There was often no lengthy dialogue or honorifics between veterans of the First Legion. After receiving the answer he wanted, Andrews directly cut the communication and turned to contact the other members. The first one he contacted was the Techmarine, the only one not on the front line at the moment.
"How much longer for the Stormbird?"
"If it's to restore flight capability and a portion of combat capability, another fifteen to twenty minutes."
"Speed it up. You know the combat power of the Ran-Dan drone swarm."
"Understood."
"What about the [alpha]'s situation?"
"Always in the Stormbird, no abnormalities. Six minutes ago, she suggested participating in combat. Should we activate her?"
"No, the situation is not that bad yet. Ensure her safety. The defensive mission at [Fortress] is quite heavy; it cannot provide us with support."
"I will." Andrews cut the communication. Then, he connected to several new communications.
"Destroy, burn, annihilate, kill. Let no alien pass our defensive line."
"Let them die."
"Let them die!"
"Kill them! Kill them! Let them fall under our gun barrels!"
"For the Emperor!" Sparse shouts responded to the officer's roars. Latobis was among them. He was stationed towards the rear of the middle section of the entire trench fortress. From here, the steel cables on the bridge were clearly visible.
There were approximately twenty-five thousand human defenders stationed near the bridge. By the Dark Angels' command, they were all stationed at one end of the bridge. Perhaps in the war across the stars, twenty thousand was not a huge number, but on the ground battlefield,
this number represented an boundless expanse that a mortal's vision could not cover. The defenders had dug countless trenches and poured countless fortresses,
extending several kilometers from the bridge to the bridgehead. When the first stage of the defensive line, consisting of trenches and fortresses, had been trampled beyond recognition by the Ran-Dan army, the soldiers stationed at the bridgehead could only vaguely see flickering flames.
But once the first breach was opened, everything might be unstoppable. The Ran-Dan slave army spent about half a standard hour charging into the first defensive line, tearing apart or devouring at least a thousand defenders. Then, Ran-Dan soldiers charged into the trenches and tunnels.
The intertwining of steel and blood quickly transformed into the sheer wailing of humans. Twenty minutes later, the second defensive line fell. The Imperial army left behind three thousand corpses. Another fifteen minutes passed, and the third defensive line broke.
Another loss of over two thousand men. Latobis squatted in the fourth defensive line, listening to thousands of chilling sounds continuously approaching. All he could do was squat in the trench, constantly reloading his rifle as much as possible with ammunition.
Rustling sounds continuously echoed around him. More and more soldiers were sent into this tunnel. Some were drenched in sweat, large drops of perspiration continuously falling from their jaws. Some were silent like corpses, only their constantly trembling fingers revealing a hint of life.
Others were continuously muttering something in low voices, or even silently, their eyes tightly shut, as if praying. This trench had never been so crowded. Even faint breaths formed large clouds of hot air, invisibly burning in the cold air. This trench had never been so quiet. Thousands of lives were silent like crowded corpses. Even the cries and wails carried by the wind easily slipped into everyone's ears.
As if a midnight bell, the wailing brought by the wind gradually disappeared, becoming silent. Only the low growls of frenzied beasts, and the wild laughter of Ran-Dan warriors immersed in blood, grew closer step by step. Closer, even closer.
The wind grew more violent, sharper. It lashed at cloth and pebbles, emitting a strange laughter. Latobis could hear the stomping on the ground. It was not a sound that humans could make. He looked up, slowly extending himself from the cover. In countless places, countless people were doing the same.
The main body of the third trench, which had already fallen, was several hundred meters ahead of them. More than a dozen blazing fortresses stood there. Faintly, Latobis could see some tall figures emerging from the air, twisted by high temperatures and flames.
"So this is the Ran-Dan..." he murmured softly. In the sergeant's eyes, creatures that only existed in the most absurd nightmares emerged from the flames, like man-eating demons appearing in legends: these monsters were tall, very tall.
Their bodies and armor were completely distorted, covered with strange spikes, scars, and flails. Whether it was their skin or armor, they were all encased in a disgusting black, as if scorched, making it impossible to distinguish between torso and armor. These monsters carried huge weapons, or clutched sharp blades and swords.
A vaguely visible shield surrounded them. Beneath the flickering of the shields and the cover of smoke, their faces were unclear. But just from the glimpse of the iceberg, one could imagine how terrifying and ugly they were.
The iron boots, studded with sharp spikes, were covered in blood, broken bones, and minced flesh. They walked over the burning ground as if oblivious, advancing towards yet another front line.
"Open fire!" No one knew who gave the order. The entire trench fell silent for a second due to this roar. The next moment, guns and cannons roared in unison. Countless bullets, shells, and grenades poured out, accompanied by the frantic, fearful shouts of the defenders.
Everyone was roaring, everyone was shouting, everyone was using their most desperate firing to cover the fear in their hearts. Tens of thousands of steel kisses struck the slowly advancing Ran-Dan front line.
In this theoretically inescapable barrage, Ran-Dan warriors occasionally fell to the ground, as if wounded, but most simply continued their slow advance. Ripples constantly spread around them, as if thousands of pebbles were being thrown into the sea one by one.
The air fell silent again. The first wave of gunfire and firepower had ceased, but the Ran-Dan army was completely unaffected. They continued to advance, slowly and ironically. Closer. Even closer.
Latobis could hear sobbing, and the hesitant, stumbling footsteps on the ground. Some people seemed to have gone mad, continuously muttering illogical words, softly, even silently, eyes tightly shut, as if praying.
He wasn't sure if the weeping, timid, frenzied one was himself. He just emptied his mind, mechanically loading bullets, even though they seemed useless.
The aliens' footsteps grew closer. Latobis could even see the ecstatic smiles on their indescribably ugly faces. He heard laughter again.
It wasn't the Ran-Dan's. It was the laughter of the wind, a suppressed, expectant laughter, like spectators awaiting the next act. As he was still bewildered by this laughter, he heard another sound of footsteps. A different sound.
The sound came. It was a huge, steady, undeniable sound of iron boots stepping on the ground. He was approaching. Uneasy whines rose from the Ran-Dan battle line. The youngest Ran-Dan warriors were eager,
craving the blood of strong opponents, while those who seemed more seasoned and vicious remained silent and watchful. The sound continued to approach. It was not a sound that mortals could make, nor did it belong to those terrifying Ran-Dan aliens. Latobis could feel his neck stiffening. He tried to look back,
but he didn't succeed until the sound passed by his body. In that instant, he felt as if the sun had been completely obscured. An immeasurably colossal, incredibly powerful, immensely steady, and utterly trustworthy and reassuring presence passed by him. He finally stopped on the rugged ground before the trench, standing tall. That was a Death Angel.
Latobis stared at that figure. He stared intently. A few seconds felt like ten thousand years. That was a black-armored warrior. His helmet was enclosed in a hood. He looked as tall as those Ran-Dan monsters, or even taller. His right hand rested on a huge greatsword.
His left hand held a weapon they had never seen before. It looked like a cannon, which he propped on the ground with one hand, emitting an unsettling mixture of crimson and black light. He just stood there, on that ground,
like a lonely general. His tattered cloak flapped fiercely in the violent evening wind. Under the gaze of thousands of eyes, he stood there silently. The weapon in his hand was also accumulating a chilling power.
Just like that, for an unknown duration, until a hoarse, strange cry tore through the dead silence of the sky. From the Ran-Dan battle line, a monster charged out. Its grotesque face held a pair of blood-red eyes. Its long, slender arms tightly gripped a purple long blade.
With a loud battle cry that no human could understand, but only feel instinctive revulsion, it rushed forward like a savage beast. Its black figure kicked up a dark whirlwind on the ground.
The silent Death Angel looked up. The next moment, the Ran-Dan's head flew high. No one saw what happened. Only that greatsword, at some unknown moment, was tightly clutched in the Death Angel's hand.
The battle began. The death of their comrade perhaps enraged these savage alien warriors, or perhaps they were simply excited by a powerful opponent. In the blink of an eye, with several tall shadows weaving through the Ran-Dan's ranks, several more Ran-Dan warriors stepped forward.
They wielded swords, or carried weapons capable of inflicting damage from hundreds of meters away, clearly having no intention of a fair duel. As soon as they stood still, they charged forward in unison, their excited roars intertwining into the most blasphemous symphony. Even the wind played along, raging, as if the god of war was angered by this despicable ambush.
No one could see what happened. At least mortals like Latobis couldn't. They could only observe a black whirlwind revolving around the weapon embedded in the ground: the screeching of clashing swords, the precise hits of gunfire,
and the incomprehensible, yet clearly astonishing and horrifying, death screams of the Ran-Dan aliens intertwined, filling every inch of the air. A few more seconds passed, and everything ended again. Ran-Dan warriors' corpses lay scattered across the ground.
Their strange black blood sizzled between pebbles and dust. Broken swords and severed firearms lay like scattered autumn leaves, utterly mangled. And the Death Angel still stood there. He stood before hundreds of Ran-Dan warriors, like a seasoned hunter facing a hungry pack of wolves hesitating on a snow-covered ground.
This clearly enraged some of them. A never-before-heard shriek rang out from the Ran-Dan battle line. Accompanied by the furious roar of this majestic voice, hundreds of gun barrels simultaneously pointed at the Death Angel. But his speed was faster. And his weapon was finally ready.
Latobis only saw a pure black beam of light shoot out from where the Death Angel stood. It was also wrapped in crimson lightning. This beam, like a burst iron balloon, instantly exploded outwards, expanding into thousands of tentacles in all directions.
It was like a foraging octopus, or a hungry deep-sea beast opening its gaping maw. This pure black curtain instantly covered the sky. Before any Ran-Dan warrior could react, it had already devoured everything before it.
Whether it was hundreds of Ran-Dan warriors, or everything in the trenches behind them, they only had time to randomly fire a few fatal bullets and flames before the disaster struck,
creating endless smoke in the sand, and small scars on the Death Angel's armor. But this was not without gains. Scattered bullets flew around the trenches. Some unlucky soldiers were directly hit, their heads exploding like rags, red and white liquids flowing everywhere.
It wasn't until then that the mortal soldiers, astonished by this duel, awoke as if from a dream. They immediately threw themselves into the trenches, calling for medics.
Latobis was luckier: a bullet struck in front of him, and the exploding stones shot into him like sharp arrows. One of them deeply embedded itself in Latobis's right arm, exposing his pale bones and tendons to the air.
When the sergeant reacted, he had already fallen onto the muddy ground of the trench, rolling in pain. A medic rushed over, looked at his wound, then dragged him away. Meanwhile, the curtain fell, undeniably covering the Ran-Dan's forces.
It gently fell to the ground as if it were nothing, disappearing like mist. Everything vanished. Hundreds of Ran-Dan warriors, and at least ten times that number of slave armies, under the shroud of this black blade that reached the sky, their only cries were a few frantic shrapnel, hitting the heads or limbs of a dozen mortal soldiers.
The moment Latobis and the other wounded were helped away from the trench, the Death Angel's command reached their ears, though it was not directed at them, the wounded.
"Everyone, advance, retake the front line."
"Hold the line, slaughter, annihilate."
"The war is not over."
But just as Latobis and a group of wounded soldiers passed two trenches, gradually approaching the temporary medical station at the bridgehead, he heard a kind of piercing, sharp sound. Everyone heard it. Everyone, whether soldiers, doctors, or constantly groaning wounded, simultaneously raised their heads.
Driven by humanity's most primal curiosity, they searched for the excessively loud sound. It had already enveloped the entire human defenders' position. Then, they saw a black cloud, a black mist condensed into a solid form, a terrifying entity that continuously gathered destructive power. Before anyone could react, this destructive force unhesitatingly descended from the sky, striking the ground before any warrior could shout.
"Boom————!!!"
Accompanied by this earth-shaking strike, the entire earth trembled, the entire front line shook, and even the thousand-meter-long steel bridge behind them groaned under the strain. Tens of thousands of warriors stumbled and fell from the faint aftershocks of this heavy strike, twisting and painfully rolling in the trenches, expressing the sorrow of mortals in this battle where demons and monsters fought each other. Some of them were simply too close and never got up again.
The wind swept, roared, playing a joyous, almost crying, symphony, expressing the heartfelt admiration of the gods above the clouds for such a magnificent weapon of destruction. Sergeant Latobis's ears were bleeding, bleeding uncontrollably.
He unconsciously touched them, only to see half of his palm stained red. For a moment, he couldn't distinguish between the blood staining his ears and the blood from the sharp stones that had cut his skin. He tried to get up, but he found that he truly, truly, had no strength left. He squeezed his last bit of strength, tried once, then tried again...
Until the fifth time, he desperately grabbed the motionless, silent bodies of the medics beside him. Using their shoulders and arms as leverage, he slowly stood up, only to find that around him was only a thick, earthy-yellow fog that seemed to never dissipate.
What he wanted to see, what he wanted to discover, what he wanted to know what it was, he might be walking, or he might not be going anywhere. He might be crying, or he might just be standing there numbly.
But eventually, when his consciousness cleared slightly, when he could finally realize what he was seeing, he finally found it. It wasn't difficult, because it was simply too big. Latobis looked up, only seeing the gigantic shadow that enveloped the entire front line, shrouding him, shrouding the entire position, shrouding everything. That was a mushroom cloud.
He lost a warrior. Perhaps two. Andrews stood in his position, looking at the giant, black mushroom cloud, quietly hovering over the entire position. He knew that it was not a nuclear weapon, at least not the kind known to humans. It was another mysterious, powerful, terrifying,
and blasphemous technology from the Ran-Dan Empire's corrupt technology, superior to that of the Human Empire. Andrews closed his eyes. He must have lost a warrior: the warrior who went to the fourth trench, responsible for stabilizing the front line, had now, along with the relic weapon in his hand, become the newest addition to the countless sacrifices of the Dark Angels.
Finally, he picked up his communicator.
"How are the Stormbirds being repaired?"
"They can now perform short-distance flights again, but they still cannot reach [Fortress]."
"What about combat functions?"
"Some have been restored."
"Very good..." Andrews paused. "I need you to go to the rear of the Ran-Dan army. They must have set up a long-range artillery position, capable of completely destroying our combat forces from outside our line of sight. I currently have no manpower..."
"I understand." The Techmarine was silent for a moment, only for a moment.
"What about the [alpha]?"
"Escort her to the bridge. Someone will take over her."
"Understood." Then, the Techmarine ended the communication. Andrews wanted to say something more, but he ultimately said nothing. He could only do one thing. Picking up his weapon, he walked into the trench. Now, what was needed here was a warrior.
"What a formidable new weapon, isn't it?" The aide's sincere exclamation sounded beside [Overlord Carman]. He lazily raised his eyelids, following his subordinate's gaze. It was a Ran-Dan artillery position, some distance away from them. A group of Ran-Dan soldiers were personally operating the cannons within. And that gigantic [God of War] cannon,
even by Ran-Dan standards, was overly massive, slow, and not very mobile. However, given its immense power, these trivial issues were naturally ignored. After all, one of the Ran-Dan's most mature military technologies was the use of endless drone swarms to scout and defend.
The researchers in the rear naturally couldn't imagine anything capable of tearing through the walls formed by endless drones. "New applications of electromagnetic technology, from the very beginning, ship-mounted weapons that were extremely difficult to load and repair, to now, detachable ones that can accompany the army.
It is said that the Academy of Sciences is researching further miniaturizing its power and simplifying its structure to create individual weapons. Now, all that's needed is sufficient battlefield data..."
The aide's voice was chattering, without the slightest impatience. And those foolish [Overlords] were also pleased by the powerful new weapon, listening with great joy. Only Carman felt irritated. Damn it, it wants to kill something, anything. It craved battle.
An unspeakable impulse and desire continuously roared in Carman's chest, like a carnivorous beast, whose bloodlust had been completely ignited, frantically trying to break free from its restraints due to hunger. It was trying its best to control it, doing its utmost.
The instincts of a warrior and martial artist told it that if it truly let this beast take over its chest, it would not be a pleasant thing. But when it heard the continuous, seemingly endless narration of the aide beside it, it felt as if it couldn't control its anger.
[War...]
[It's right ahead... war...] War was breaking out nearby, a grand, great war was erupting so close to him, yet he had not joined in yet. Those Dark Angels, those great opponents, if they didn't hurry, it would be too late.
"Next, we just need..."
"Enough!" [Overlord Carman] waved his hand, dismissing the aide's continued explanation. "Can we not achieve victory by relying on swords and martial prowess?" His voice echoed across the empty hillside.
After a while, excited responses came from the [Overlords]. "Tell them to prepare for [teleportation]. I can't wait to kill something. The time for science and lectures is over. Now is the time for war, for slaughter, for blood."
"Then... who wants to come with me?" Hoarse cheers rose one after another. Ten blades were raised high, unleashing their loyalty of slaughter towards [Overlord Carman]'s grand declaration.
"I have shot down twelve enemy aircraft."
"And at least thirty are still surrounding me." The Techmarine's voice came through the communicator, accompanied by the sound of the Stormbird traversing the Ran-Dan's hail of gunfire.
Thousands of rounds either grazed its wings or left painful scars on its fuselage. The Techmarine reported briefly, and Andrews listened quietly.
Neither spoke. Some questions the Techmarine didn't ask, and Andrews naturally didn't answer. Until a real explosion sounded on the other end of the communicator, even Andrews could tell that this was no minor skirmish.
"My right wing has been hit, half destroyed." Even so, the Techmarine's voice showed no hint of panic, like every Dark Angel who had come from Terra and lived until now. His voice was only calm and indifferent.
"Can you hold on?"
"No, I can't precisely control the direction now... Wait, I think I've found that position."
"There are more drones than I imagined, Andrews. There are at least a hundred of them."
"I can't return." He spoke quietly. Andrews remained silent. After a while, as the sound of bullets grew more frequent, as the trembling of the hull and wings could be heard clearly even through the communicator, until the Techmarine, after an almost imperceptible sigh, reported his last words.
"Only one cannon, Andrews. My ammunition is depleted. I'm going to crash."
"See you later."
"...See you later." Andrews replied in a low voice.
Then, he heard a loud bang. Although separated by kilometers of front lines, by hills and accumulated desert terrain, by tens of thousands of Ran-Dan and human defenders' battle cries, he could still clearly hear it. It was the song born from the simultaneous disintegration of the Stormbird and the explosion of a strange weapon. The song of death and sacrifice.
Just like that... He lost another warrior.
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