"What is the 101st Regiment doing?"
"It looks like... they're training?"
In front of the trench, under the stunned gazes of other PDF soldiers around them, the Astra Militarum supervising behind them, and even the distant rebels, Sith stood before the entire regiment, picking up his weapon and leading his soldiers in shooting and close-quarters combat practice.
"I have to say, the 101st Regiment is more elite than I imagined."
Watching the close-quarters combat moves become more proficient and the marksmanship more precise, the Political Commissar, who had been staring intently at Sith, constantly wary of him fleeing, quickly became engrossed by the soldiers' elite performance.
Although they still couldn't compare to the elite Astra Militarum, among the PDF, which was full of incompetents with extremely poor training and equipment, Sith's 101st Regiment could certainly be called elite.
After all, simply in terms of numbers, Sith's soldiers had practiced close-quarters combat tens of thousands of times and shooting tens of thousands of times within these short twenty minutes.
This speed wasn't fast, but seeing his soldiers' hungry and cold state, this was already the limit of what he could train them to do.
Another bugle call sounded from behind the trench. Sith exhaled a slight puff of white air and reloaded his magazine. Around him, the trenches were bustling with people as the bugle call sounded.
Large numbers of soldiers stood up under the shouts of the officers behind them. Their faces were filled with despair and panic. They subconsciously looked towards the rebel positions, then closed their eyes in fear at the countless corpses in front.
At this moment, only the crisp, continuous sounds of executions could firmly pin their bodies, trembling violently in the cold wind, to the position.
The sounds of executions were incessant. The Political Commissar patrolled the front line, but after a quick look around, his gaze ultimately fell back on Sith's side.
Because no matter how the supervising officers behind them walked around, not a single one of Sith's entire regiment showed any 'disloyal' behavior.
On the contrary, at this moment on the entire front line, Sith's soldiers had unbelievably high morale!
Sith glanced at the Political Commissar, who was staring in astonishment, and at the supervising officers behind him, who were looking at each other in confusion and doubt, and also sighed slightly:
"This 'Hundredfold' truly is a conceptual ability!"
"Even the morale of my soldiers has been multiplied a Hundredfold."
Although their morale was originally low, after being multiplied a Hundredfold, Sith's soldiers' will to fight already crushed that of many of their comrades.
"If their initial morale had been higher, after being multiplied a Hundredfold, wouldn't these people be clamoring to actively seek out a fight?"
He grumbled slightly, and the bugle call, which had originally sounded every five minutes, began to sound every minute.
The more frequent bugle calls spurred more soldiers out of the trenches.
The cold wind swept across the hard ground, passing through the crowd, but no longer made people feel cold.
Only countless eyes stared intently at the dense firing points in the distance, and the guns and cannons pointed at them from within.
No words, no hope, only hands gripping guns so tightly that their knuckles turned white.
Until the final bugle call, amidst the wailing of the cold wind, sounded on time...
"For the Emperor! For the Imperium of Man!!!"
The officer roared, pulling the trigger of his pistol towards the sky, followed by a clearly audible deep breath, and then a thunderous, surging charge!
Tides of people, barrages of bullets, roars of fury.
Machine guns unleashed long streaks of dark red light, sweeping down dense crowds like whips.
The unarmored PDF, facing the concentrated firepower spewing from the rebel firing points, had their entire bodies instantly explode into clumps of flesh and blood.
So much so that their comrades behind them had to brave the sky-high rain of blood and limbs to continue shouting and charging.
Their laser rifles were desperately firing, frantically unleashing ammunition towards the rebel positions.
Yet these lasers, fired with all their might, ultimately only left small charred spots in front of the rebel fire strongholds...
The same charge, the same death.
The supervising officers withdrew their gazes powerlessly. The Astra Militarum looked at each other, then finally turned their attention to the Commander.
The Commander's face was cold, and he was about to similarly withdraw his gaze, but as the smoke of the front line slightly dissipated, the scene before his eyes froze him in place.
The Commander's eyes instantly widened. Everyone around him who had been looking at him also paused, then followed his gaze.
Then, the scene in the distance made their eyes widen too!
"They... they charged up there???"
The crowd was shocked. Seeing the dense enemy tide that had finally charged onto the front line, forcing all the rebels to abandon their firing points and engage Sith in bloody combat in the trenches, the Commander, after a brief moment of stunned silence, suddenly looked at the messenger beside him:
"Quick! All artillery, regardless of friend or foe, fire all your shells!"
The Astra Militarum immediately acted, their faces showing no surprise, only a sense of course.
At this moment on the front line, Sith held a pistol in his left hand and a military saber in his right. Beneath his feet were layers of corpses, and around him, rebels huddled together, their faces filled with terror as they stared at Sith, not daring to approach even half a step.
Then, a heavy artillery shell landed in the midst of the chaotic crowd not far away.
Limbs and blood rained down from the sky. The enemy and friendly soldiers, who had been fighting desperately, were stunned by this shell.
Sith stood on the pile of corpses, shooting down a distant rebel who was attempting to sweep him with heavy firepower, then gritted his teeth and looked at the Astra Militarum behind him, who were launching an artillery barrage and standing ready.
This artillery strike indeed eliminated many enemies.
But it would have been even better if he could have run further away before the artillery barrage!
There was no time to curse. Sith raised his hand again, shooting down another persistent rebel next to the heavy weapon. Then, amidst the increasingly dense artillery fire around him, he faced his soldiers and pointed further ahead:
"Push forward! Keep pushing forward!"
"If you want to live, cut through these traitors!"
The soldiers who had survived until now had fierce eyes. Following Sith's command, they quickly dispatched their current opponents and continued charging towards the rebels with Sith.
The rebels, already dazed by the artillery fire, never expected a group of ruthless individuals to dare to directly cross the entire barrage, even cutting any obstructing enemies in half along the way.
Especially the officer at the very front, who seemed blessed by the Emperor, firing his pistol like a machine gun. Along the way, the obstructing firing points didn't even have time to pull their triggers.
And the Astra Militarum behind them also witnessed Sith's continued assault through the gaps in the artillery fire.
This scene of crossing a sea of fire and breaking through the entire rebel position under heavy artillery fire left even the most rigorous Political Commissar speechless with astonishment.
"I should have known not to send them to the front line..."
The Commander also couldn't help but feel a little regret. After all, he had thought he was just throwing away some cheap sand from the Emperor, but upon closer inspection, there was actually such a hard, glowing silver coin mixed in!
Gold coins are Astartes; to be acknowledged as a silver coin is already the highest praise for Mortal forces.
But the Commander's regret was only fleeting. As he witnessed Sith truly lead his men through the entire rebel defense line, the Commander looked at his map, at an isolated friendly force in the distance, surrounded by dense red dots.
After some thought, the Commander pointed at Sith:
"Send word to this unit, tell them to continue forward and support the besieged supply station."
The crowd looked on with slight apprehension. After all, venturing deep behind enemy lines without support to reinforce a stronghold that might have already fallen seemed like a suicide mission.
However, supplies were scarce now, and there was finally a unit that had broken through the enemy, so the Commander, treating a dead horse as if it were alive, assigned the task of reconnoitering supplies to Sith.
At this moment, smoke permeated the air. The rebels on the position had suffered heavy casualties from the artillery fire and dared not leave their fire strongholds again.
Only in the rear, far from the front line, Sith propped his military saber on the ground, sitting among the piles of corpses, gasping for breath and scrutinizing the soldiers under his command who had survived until now.
Looking at their seemingly reborn faces and the almost tangible killing intent in their eyes, Sith confirmed one thing.
In this damned galaxy, where it's all Waaagh this and Waaagh that, his future subordinates would start as nothing less than hundred-battle veterans!