Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

"Listen carefully!"

"I'll emphasize this one last time."

As the Centurion's fists struck the transport's internal armor, the loud clang of steel would temporarily drown out the noise of the battlefield: and staunch their sweat.

The gates of hell are rising slowly beneath everyone's feet. Artillery fire roars, soldiers charge, and thousands of war engines and steel behemoths create layers of blood dances on the sandy white land, dotted with the white rose and red cross flag that symbolizes the primarch Morgan, fluttering in the wind.

This unknown banner is often a declaration that the Primarch is about to arrive on the battlefield, enough to set off a hearty attack frenzy: millions of mortal warriors march hand in hand to face the new enemies on the sea and under the smoke, spreading the enlightenment of the empire like their ancestors.

Looming over them was the Human Empire's proudest air death god: thousands of flying squadrons were dispatched from hundreds of idle air bases, and the roar of interceptors, gunboats and transport planes created layer upon layer of vortexes on the burning sand.

The sturdy and reliable Thunder heavy fighter pounces on the invading aircraft and destroys the opponent's minions in bloody dogfights, while the more elite Pramaris Lightning attack aircraft is responsible for surgical ground strikes to clear enough blockade areas for friendly forces.

In fact, with the high mobility of the latter, they should have been the main force to gain air superiority, but their air force is not really excellent: perhaps their home planet has been comfortable for too long and has never thought about the threat from the air, or perhaps the aliens' fragmented military theory cannot adapt to the current brutal total war.

Every landing of a Valkyrie advances the countdown to the overthrow of the Alien Empire, especially the Sky Claw and Ghost models: the former is responsible for carrying light armored vehicles that are crucial for early landing operations, while the latter will carry large groups of soldiers out of the cabin.

As an oversized derivative of the Valkyrie class, the Wraith-class armored transport sacrifices firepower in exchange for greater capacity and volume. The expanded cargo hold can accommodate two Centaurs and more additional cargo. With only a slight modification, half a century of the Mortal Auxiliary Army can be crammed inside.

Of course, the premise of doing so is to ignore many unnecessary conditions, such as the automatic cannon and heavy bombs that are idle throughout the whole process: the only two firepower points of the entire transport plane, and the four engines with no protection at all, are all placed in the most conspicuous places.

But the more important secret is that the dozens of soldiers crammed in will have to spend what may be the last stage of their lives in a rather uncomfortable posture: it takes some imagination to cram forty lively men and their life-saving tools into a space the size of a bedroom.

But it doesn't matter.

They weren’t people anyway: they were soldiers.

Hans had heard this old joke from his predecessors' predecessors: according to them, the joke was older than the Empire itself, dating back to the days when the Emperor wore open-crotch trousers.

"puff……"

The joke didn't make him laugh: but the last metaphor was quite vivid.

As Hans thought about this, he absentmindedly stroked the incendiary snake gun in his arms: this reliable old friend had accompanied him throughout his twelve years of military career, and its powerful thermal energy beam had never disappointed anyone.

Hans cherished his old friend very much, because he knew that once he lost it, it would not be easy to find another one: the production capacity of incendiary weapons has always been low, and after the Great Expedition expanded, they had long become a rare commodity in short supply.

By now, even the Astartes Legion and Terra's Solar Auxiliary Corps had begun to popularize the more practical bolter, and incendiary weapons had become a symbol of elite status: even in Avalon, this was no exception.

Only the most outstanding Queen's Guards can be issued incendiary weapons as standard equipment for their legions, just like the military power sword and the imperial tactical cloak: if Hans was not an elite under the Queen, he would definitely not be qualified to possess these weapons.

Similarly, he was not qualified to board this overcrowded transport plane, sweating and drying his tongue on the battlefield amidst artillery fire, watching his immediate superior with two Sky Eagle medals hanging on his chest spit at them.

Damn it, why does he have the modified light power armor?

Is it just because he had received praise from the Primarch Jonson himself on the battlefield?

This is too outrageous: not to mention that it happened decades ago, and even the old man himself couldn't clearly tell on which battlefield he received the primarch's praise. He was clearly a young man under 90 years old, but he could have completely forgotten the incident.

Hans licked his lips: his teeth and tongue were full of sour and bitter taste. The void armor that originally fit him perfectly now seemed tight. The heavy engine of the aircraft hit the deck right above his head, and the huge noise made his ears tremble.

But even so, the centurion's roar was enough to drown out the bombardment of the entire battlefield.

"remember!"

"Our target is Atoll 119."

"It's a horseshoe-shaped coral reef, with only black rocks and the nests that the aliens built for themselves. Our mission is to remove the artillery positions on the atoll and eliminate the threats above our heads for the friendly forces around us."

"When you're fighting, remember to watch your feet. The lagoon in the center of the atoll is deep and inconspicuous. If you're not careful, your heavy, indestructible carapace will sink you to the bottom like a rock. And who knows if those finned aliens will crawl out of the water and steal your ass: always keep your gun pointed at the sea!"

Before the transport plane was about to land, their Centurion repeated the same words in front of everyone for the third or fourth time: his voice was hoarse and unpleasant, and most of the audience would probably prefer to listen to the howling of the aliens.

But even so, no fool would be distracted at this moment: behind every word the centurion said, there may be thousands of lives. God knows how many people have died for these simplest truths, which resulted in the roar of those who came later.

Hans was the latecomer, and he listened more carefully than anyone else: although he was a veteran with more than fifteen years of service, when it came to fighting in the ocean world and marching on the soaked beaches, he was no different from those green-haired recruits.

"The photos and aerial views of the battlefield were sent out two hours ago. Don't tell me you haven't taken them in yet. Remember, stay within the planned area. Otherwise, if you get blown up by your own artillery, you won't have anywhere to cry."

"Those knights who were transported up with great difficulty are holding back their energy. They don't care whether they will bomb a kid like you. The same is true for the fighter planes overhead. Don't gamble your life on their accuracy."

The centurion's voice still echoed, but there were always more distractions: some people were drinking water, some were smoking, and some were planning to pray or vomit, but no one would speak.

The wings cut through the storm, the power causing them to sway left and right. Sporadic anti-aircraft fire from the ground continued to sound, and the whistling outside the wall was occasionally mixed with the echoes of aircraft explosions and dying wails, which would be swallowed up by the even stronger wind in the next second.

The final period before the battle was sickeningly dull.

Only the centurion was still shouting.

"Also, remember this: Although the divination instrument shows that there are not many alien bastards stationed on the atoll, none of you should think of confronting them head-on. Shoot if you can. The ammunition is on the next transport plane. Close combat with swords is the job of the Dawnbreakers. Your broken pieces of iron cannot chop off their four hands."

"Finally, everyone, once the hatch opens, run out immediately. Don't block the springboard. Spread out to the left and right. Remember not to spread out your formation too much this time. After all, those assassins can interfere with our communication signals. So, make sure you stay within your teammates' sight. If you get shot, someone can drag you back in time."

"Did you understand everything?"

Hans' mouth opened wide: he was not sure whether he shouted out loud with the others.

"very good!"

The Chief put on his gas mask: everyone followed suit.

“Avoid the craters.”

"Put on your gas mask."

"Don't let sand block the muzzle of the gun!"

"Landing in thirty seconds, gentlemen."

He was silent for a moment.

"See you on the beach."

"Good luck to you."

"For the Queen and Avalon!"

This time, the crowd's voices were noticeably louder. More than forty rough hands clenched into fists and raised high, until the pilot in front lifted the barrier and loudly informed them of the impending landing.

“Get ready!”

The centurion was still shouting, but Hans could no longer hear what he was saying. The sound of dozens of people moving at the same time was enough to drown out the individual shouts: he was among them, making the same preparatory movements as his comrades.

Lower your center of gravity, hold onto the wall, check your weapons one last time, take a sip of water or kiss the cross while there's still time: these things have long become muscle memory, and there's an interesting numbness on everyone's face.

"Bang--"

The shaking feeling: so intimate.

In an instant, it seemed as if all the sounds had disappeared, and the only sound in his ears was the vibration of the transport plane's hard landing and the sweat of his comrades in front as they rushed to open the hatch: Hans had just trembled due to his unstable center of gravity, and several colleagues in the front had already rushed out.

“Clatter…”

The sound of combat boots rubbing against the cabin door and sand pierced his eardrums. The tall and strong shadows disappeared one by one in front of him, and in the blink of an eye, Hans was pushed to the position of the cabin door: the cabin door did not really fall to the ground until then.

In an instant, as if a wild beast had finally rushed out of a cage, all the light and sound pounced on his senses hungrily. Hans subconsciously squinted his eyes, and before he realized what was in front of him, his body had already followed the team and rushed to the land.

The sand under my feet was soft, and I could hardly stand steadily at first. I could only stumble forward with the force of gravity. The air was filled with the smell of blood and the smoke of burning steel, like the best of old friends. My ears were filled with the sound of distant artillery and nearby roars, and sparse exchanges of fire came from another island.

Hans finally opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was the glittering coral wall not far away, which had been eaten away and was riddled with holes. The red sea was full of ruins, with fierce warships overturned in them, and their corpses and crystal armor piled on the beach.

One conch-shell-like tower after another reached the sky, burning brightly, while powerful knights and Titans wandered around these torches, looking for their next target: Hans saw with his own eyes how a divine machine destroyed the black tower in the distance with a single shot, and after the alien, blasphemous building rolled into the water, its dying cry reached his ears belatedly.

That is a dog whistle of war.

It woke him up immediately.

Hans moved immediately, sprinting towards the ruins like a rabbit. Bullets whizzed past him and the shadows of his teammates covered his footsteps. He ran and observed, and before the alien soldiers could aim at him, he dived into the thick rock ruins.

It was not a good position, but it was a life-saving place: Hans witnessed how the strange green light melted a narrow wall while running, and he had to bend down as much as possible and wait.

Waiting for the piercing sound of fighter planes taking off from the direction of the Valkyrie, the Iron Cavalry put down their burdens, and the automatic cannons and heavy bombs started roaring again, instantly silencing the rain of bullets flying across the sky.

Hans seized the opportunity, rushed out from his hiding place, and ran towards the output point he had already set his eyes on when he landed: he did not lower his head, but observed his surroundings while running, planning his route while observing the movements of the troops.

He and six of his comrades simultaneously plunged into the makeshift trench, with a solidified, smelly alien corpse beside them. After a glance at each other, they had already completed the division of labor: the two youngest recruits guarded the coastline behind, while Hans and the attacker beside him rolled back and forth, giving him a better output position.

"How about it?"

“That’s pretty bad.”

The attacker puffed out a puff of smoke, and his voice had the earthy flavor of Salamas.

"It's not difficult to deal with a few small fortresses. The problem is that the turrets with protective force fields activated are out of reach with what we have. If we want to get close, we have to pass through a section of bombed ruins. God knows how many aliens are hiding inside. We definitely don't have enough people."

"Then knock it down first."

Hans stuck his head out and quickly observed the situation ahead: the Valkyrie gunboat had just finished unloading its firepower and turned back to the ship in low-Earth orbit, and the soldiers on the ground did not waste this time.

A portable assault missile, with a long tail of smoke, accurately hit the muzzle of the small fortress in front of it. The disturbing screams came to an abrupt end, replaced by the sound of propellers when the two combat teams at the rear released several armed drones.

And... huh?

Hans noticed something was wrong: the water behind him shouldn't make that sound.

Not only him, but several other veterans of the team also reacted quickly. They threw themselves backwards and fell into the murder holes that had been chosen earlier: the alarm of the recruits and the tall figure of the stabbing alien warrior rose from under the sea almost at the same time.

Those prickly creatures are so bizarre that you will never forget their strange appearance after just one look. They have shiny compound eyes and protruding jaws on their bulbous heads. Their mouths are as small as a pinhole, but they can open in all directions like a cut wound, revealing sharp and terrifying long teeth.

The ones who launched the raid were far from the most elite warriors of their race, but they were much taller than human soldiers. Their trembling upper bodies were wrapped in silver armor, and their lower bodies were like pythons, gliding on the ground at an astonishing speed.

As soon as it appeared, the alien raised its two lower arms and fired deadly green energy arrows at the mortal warriors, but the sudden attack had already been noticed by the veterans, and each of them hid in a suitable position, and the alien's sudden attack only melted a few stones.

Seeing that the attack failed, the stabbing aliens raised high the power blades surrounded by flash points, and the roar illuminated their faces: behind the three or four suicide pioneers, the figures of dozens of stabbing aliens were looming under the sea.

Hans did not panic: although the aliens were surrounding them and there were many of them, he knew that all he needed to do was to hold his weapon tightly, aim at his opponent, and then fully trust the power behind him.

Trust in his comrades.

Trust in his courage.

Trust will be responsible for protecting their squad behind them and the drones overhead.

The trusted centurion sent a request for help to the nearest Dawnbreaker detachment while cursing.

Trust that they will win this battle.

Humanity will also win this war.

"As always, invincible."

Whispering the slogan of the legion, Hans pulled the trigger, and the explosive snake gun roared with deadly heat energy rays, aiming at a stabbing soldier lurking in front of them: the alien's unprotected head just stretched out from under the sea and melted into a pleasing ruin.

"A perfect shot."

At this moment, his whole life seemed to become clear, his eyes and breath were more refreshing than ever, and the slight fatigue in his limbs disappeared: when the arrogance rushed into his mind, Hans noticed that his face was already full of smiles.

He didn't care, just watched with satisfaction as his opponent fell down in a daze, his black blood dyeing the sea water at his feet red, and then he quickly turned to the other side to clear the imminent threat for his comrade.

One, one, and another...

Once again, the incendiary weapon proved why it was so popular, the deadly stream of energy piercing through the alien's flesh and armor, creating a holy inferno on the beach: all Hans had to do was aim and pull the trigger, and each attack was more skillful than the last.

And more perfect.

Intoxicating perfection.

At least Hans: he didn't hate it.

——————

"There's just something wrong with it."

When Morgan decided to summon a teleportation array that belonged only to her, her [father] was still whispering similar words: It started half an hour ago, but the key next sentence was nowhere to be seen.

【Ah...ah...of course.】

Even the Spider Queen, who had been in a state of high tension and alert since entering the Larlan galaxy, was a little impatient with this warning: Did she think she couldn't see it?

【We all know it, tacitly. 】

Morgan waved her hand, and the divination device rolled obediently in her palm.

[Even the mortal commanders saw the problem with the Assassin's military deployment: they had stockpiled a large number of elite troops near the Great Temple in the center of the capital, allowing those remote but important strategic nodes to be captured one after another by my army.]

[Once we have established stable outposts on these atolls, the subsequent arrival of reinforcements and ammunition supplies will be enough to overwhelm the heavy forces of the Assassins near the capital: they have chosen a combat strategy of simply waiting to die.]

"It's so obvious."

Lucy nodded.

"If it's your brothers, they might be curious about this situation and want to see for themselves what treasures are enshrined in the central temple that the Assassins are trying their best to protect. If the Dark Prince wants to corrupt other legions, this arrangement is enough."

"But you're different."

She frowned and tickled her fingers, counting the ways the Dark Prince had moved here.

"The treasures of a temple, and the corruption of Slaanesh that roams the planet, are not fatal to you, worthy of sacrificing a civilization loyal to him: the gods may not care for such sacrifices, but Slaanesh is sure to care more about you than Khorne is about Angron."

"That's all? I don't believe it."

[I don’t believe it either.]

Morgan shook his head.

[But this is not the reason why I have been hiding on the Aurora. ]

"indeed."

Lucy was a little absent-minded, and he seemed to vaguely sense something.

"etc……"

【What's wrong?】

"Your son: the one who led the fleet in your place..."

[You mean Rana? ]

【He is down there.】

"Have you seen him before: since you started this Larran invasion?"

【Not yet. 】

[Someone has to be in charge of the front line.]

"When you go down, remember to see him: I will go with you."

[Do you think he has a problem?]

"……intuition."

When the Emperor blurted out these two words, the Spider Queen didn't ask any more questions.

【Rana is easy to deal with.】

[He's just as likely to betray me as Waldo is to betray you.]

The Primarch smiled. She had wanted to use the Imperial Guards as an example, but when she thought of Lana's position in her office, she changed her mind and mentioned the name of Valdor, the Grand Admiral of the Imperial Guards: an Emperor's arm as famous as Malcador.

But unexpectedly, his genetic father just nodded seriously.

"In other words: it's not impossible?"

【……ah?】

Morgan's confusion

【I am talking about Waldo? 】

"What's wrong?"

【No... nothing. 】

The Primarch opened her mouth: But she felt it was better for her to know less.

[Let's not talk about this: How are you going to help me deal with the Slaanesh corruption in this world? My soldiers can't keep fighting against the warp corruption, right? It's okay for a short time, but the assassins are obviously not opponents that can be dealt with in a day or two. ]

"That's easy."

The Emperor's clone thought for a moment.

“Just one problem to solve.”

What's the problem?

“…”

Lucy: The doppelganger that Morgan's dear old father had placed here with her raised his head and looked at his daughter seriously.

"Morgan."

【Um?】

"Your soldiers..."

"Do they know I call you mom?"

【……】

Morgan was silent. She squinted her eyes and glanced at her father coldly.

[What? Do you need me to hold you and feed you in front of them? ]

"That's not necessary..."

[Tsk! It’s your fault…]

"But you do have to carry me down."

【……】

【What do you mean?】

"Well, if you want to fight against the gods, you have to make some noise."

“I always have to convince them that the light I shine on them is beneficial.”

“And the credibility comes from you.”

Lucy covered her forehead with her hands. Although she hadn't said anything yet, the long time they had spent together and the father-daughter genes made Morgan understand what he meant: the Spider Queen wasted no time and began to summon a magic circle specifically to teleport the two of them, giving the Emperor's clone enough time to think.

When the blue light suddenly appeared, Morgan looked at Lucy who was standing next to her.

【Tell me, what do you want me to do? 】

Lucy did not reply, but the Primarch received a message in his mind.

It was a picture: it looked like an anime movie from the days of Ancient Terra.

【What's this?】

"A movie: Simba the Lion King."

"What we need to do is to repeat the classic clips in it."