Chapter 334: The Galaxy's Cruelest Test
"Kill!"
The Dark Angels force, centered around hundreds of Terminators, began to spread out. Led by Kay, they engaged the enemy in close-quarters combat. The Iron Warriors who had been the first to breach the wall crumbled instantly upon contact with these knights who also hailed from ten thousand years ago.
CLANG!!!
Steel wailed. An Iron Warrior fell to his knees, cleaved in two without hesitation by a sweeping blade.
The Dark Angels had arrived too suddenly. The Iron Warriors were still focused on clearing the various corridors. Seeing the enemy formation compressed by attacks from front and rear, Kay smiled bloodthirstily.
His cloak kicked up dust as he leaped meters into the air. Before him was a disciplined shield wall; to his left were siege specialists on the high wall, their plasma volleys vaporizing the inner defenders.
But more Dark Angels emerged from the teleportation flares, raising their blades.
Kay took the lead, his master-crafted blade, forged by the Lord of Knights, glowing with a blue energy field as he thrust forward.
CRUNCH!
The raised boarding shield was pierced, armor torn open. A gap was forcibly ripped in the dense defensive formation. More and more knights crashed through the breach.
Bang!
An Iron Warrior fell, blood spurting, quickly buried under rubble. Then, Deathwing Terminators arriving from the teleportation flares deployed into formation. The light of volkite and plasma weaponry flashed continuously, widening the breach.
Having pierced the formation, the Dark Angels force split in two, extending the breach along the ring wall to the left and right, cutting off the reinforcement routes for the enemy forces outside the bastion.
Arthur stood atop the battlements, surveying the surroundings, constantly communicating with Romulus.
They exchanged data on the position of the fleet hovering above the Antares Landing Zone, analyzing the projected impact zones of the Chaos debris, looking for an opportunity.
"Assault squad, withdraw immediately after placing the beacons."
Minutes later, Arthur issued the order.
"Received!"
The Blood Angels Assault Squad executed the order immediately, abandoning further penetration into enemy lines and decisively choosing to retreat.
Watching the assaulting Blood Angels return to the inner side of the ring wall, Arthur uploaded the coordinates he had calculated, then issued another command.
"Shutdown void shield generators. Initiate early heat venting cycle."
The eerie glow of the void shields dimmed as power was cut. A massive amount of fire that had been intercepted began to cover the shattered walls of the Pavo Bastion.
The sounds of artillery and clashing blades were everywhere.
Arthur watched these losses calmly, then finally gave the order.
"Apus Bastion, correct bombardment coordinates."
Anti-air cannons leveled.
A thunderous roar silenced all other sounds.
Some looked up, as if witnessing a meteor shower rare for centuries.
BOOM!
Massive bolts of plasma descended. Kilometers away, on the outer ring wall, the entire advancing steel torrent of the Iron Warriors vanished. Just vanished without a trace.
Only jagged concrete edges and twisted, broken rebar remained, glowing red with heat, immersed in a pool of molten slag, billowing thick smoke.
BOOM!
Another shell struck the ground hundreds of meters away. After an instant flash, a huge mushroom cloud rose, buffetting the air, more debris falling like rain.
And more—
Endless shells flew.
Including the artillery support units that had been pouring fire onto the bastion, all were submerged under a sea of explosive fire.
That was fire coverage from the Apus Bastion's anti-air artillery array.
Planetary gravity affects the trajectory of solid projectiles. Even anti-air cannons can provide surface fire support when necessary. Only in the past, these artillery arrays lacking Astartes and Tech-priest operation could rarely perform such complex calculations.
The four defensive bastions of the Antares Landing Zone were not arranged in a regular geometric pattern. Apus, as the most heavily fortified bastion, was also in the most exposed area. While most dangerous, it could also project its firepower over a larger area.
Arthur hadn't expected to defend it initially. He had to consider not only the frontline defense but also the unstable factors of the Four Gods.
And Perturabo was indeed Perturabo. Having personally experienced the cruelest battlefield tempering of the Great Crusade, his field command was top-tier in this universe.
Before bleeding the Chaos forces dry, they were constantly under pressure that could crush them at any moment.
The war was tense. Choosing a qualified commander from within was difficult. On such a chaotic battlefield, everyone had their own post, everyone had responsibilities to fulfill wholeheartedly.
Resources should be inputted to those who could utilize them. A Legion is not fodder for validating one's command talent.
So Arthur didn't plan to tilt many resources to a bastion that was easy to attack but hard to defend.
Then he noticed an old man who had been shoved into the second-line support troops in Azrael's report.
Amidst the thick smoke, Arthur took a final look at the still-roaring Apus Bastion in the distance, then left with peace of mind.
He chose correctly.
"Recalibrate firing data. Maintain anti-air barrage."
"2nd, 7th, 8th Battalions push up to the N-72 defense line. Dispatch a company of Astartes for support."
"12th, 13th Battalions to reinforce the S-23 line. Tell Orlando not to get bogged down. Advance along the ruins of the second ring wall, then assault north."
In the Apus Command Center, assisted by several Astartes, Commissar Alexei Cain was flushed with vigor.
The Astartes constantly supplemented data details for him, and he only needed to make judgments based on these results.
No need to consider the post-war situation, pensions, or how the soldiers would be treated after losing him.
He only needed to focus on the battlefield.
People came and went, data exchanged. Details on the battlefield were summarized and processed, finally converging on one person in the center.
His battlefield.
The two sides went back and forth.
The hammer of war composed of Astra Militarum and Astartes met in a million strikes, converging into an earth-shaking roar. The unstoppable force boasted by the Iron Warriors was forcibly stopped; the immovable object was smashed to pieces.
Tides of siege armor and wave attacks clashed with layered defensive lines.
Both sides were trading pieces, continuously sending troops into the meat grinder.
Astra Militarum, Dark Mechanicum Skitarii, cultist hordes, even Astartes vanished without a trace like stones dropped into water.
"Apus Defense Zone outer ring disabled area reaches 57%. Cadian Shock Troops 72nd, 98th, 43rd Armored Regiments annihilated. Blood Angels 4th, 5th Companies annihilated. Black Templars 13th Crusade 3rd Company annihilated. Defense perimeter gradually retracting to the inner ring. Preliminary estimate of mortal casualty ratio is 40 to 1. Astartes casualties are still being tallied due to special factors within each Chapter."
Alexei didn't care about those casualties. His gaze fell on the final result of the report.
"Apus Bastion remains impregnable. Defenders conservatively estimated to maintain resistance for more than a month. Anti-air array maintains maximum efficiency. Interception rates in eastern and southern sectors are 90% and 80% respectively, far exceeding the overall average."
Alexei smiled.
This proved the sacrifice was worth it.
Orderly and clear results outlined the most precise situation on the battlefield in his mind, and then he would make judgments.
Three hundred years of experience allowed him to have seen every emergency situation described or undescribed in the Munitorum manual.
Thirty years of change allowed him to clearly recognize what kind of army he commanded and what kind of nation he served.
Combining the two, plus the talent to survive countless battles for three hundred years, when a Commissar who had proven himself through countless eras devoted himself wholeheartedly to battlefield affairs, he would endow a unit with unprecedented vitality.
The battlefield is the place that best verifies a commander's ability.
Battle lines and casualties do not lie.
They coldly scroll numbers, exposing the gap between the two sides.
Only war. Just war.
The galaxy's cruelest test. Either glorious victory or shameful defeat.
Alexei put down the summary, then straightened up, took the report, and devoted all his energy and high enthusiasm to the next matter.
Bang!
In the void, aboard the World Eaters' Gloriana-class battleship Conqueror, a fist filled with rage slammed onto the edge of the blood-pool. The entire bridge trembled under its master's anger.
Humiliated rage.
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