It took Johnson ten Terra standard hours to complete his plan.

The flames of war were kindled because of him.

The Lord of the Caliban himself led the army, followed closely by his Knights, an army protected by dozens of jumper torpedoes or landing airboats, flashing through the endless darkness of the cannon fire, drawing a faint and deadly golden speck, opening another hunt for the Caliban Behemoth and the final chapter of the Siege of Randan.

The Imperial Expedition from the Lord of the First Legion was like a clarion call that was too short, but no one could ignore it, allowing the army of the Human Empire to take the pace of a general attack ahead of schedule, and countless elaborate plans made way for the war sense of the genetic primordial, and the work of a certain Lord of Avalon behind the scenes was something that would be subconsciously ignored by everyone.

The Dark Angels consciously acted at the same time as their Primordials, and the Dawnbreakers soon received a temporary order from their Genetic Mother, and the mortal auxiliaries with these Primordial Bloodlines as the core also acted like hastily activated cogs.

Although the battle line against the home planet of Randan spanned the outer orbit of an entire planet, it maintained an astonishing coordination under the full control of the Spider Queen: five minutes after Johnson's pro-army departed, even the most marginal mortal army received specific orders, and countless armies were urged to ensure that the Calibans would not go too far alone.

Hundreds of battleships that have not had time to complete the arrangement have become the first pioneers, breaking through the outermost atmospheric defense system of the planet, and a third of them will be reduced to a mass of burning scrap metal under the attack of air mines and long-buried missiles under the surface, and the millions of lives on it will fall into the atmosphere, and the remaining warships will become the sharp wings of the human army, breaking through the last fleet of the Randan Empire, casting the shadow that covers the sky and the sun on the doomed world beneath their feet.

After the mortals had done all this, the battle between the Genetic Primordials and the Astartes began.

The battle began on the top of the low-Earth orbit ring of steel and ended on another ring of steel, the screams and the sound of weapons firing filled the thin atmosphere, like the light of the shadowy and deceitful stars in a foggy night.

Johnson's beast-like judgment remained as precise as ever, and his pro-army was like a dagger piercing flesh, choking the throat of the Randan line in one fell swoop, and a full ten Terra-standard hours of destruction, outflanking, and slaughter ensued, until the Lord of Caliban cleared the last opponent from his field of vision and began to expand his victory with gusto.

And outside of Johnson's field of vision, within these ten Terra standard hours, there were more than a hundred battles and conflicts alternating around the last high-altitude orbital defense system of the Alien Empire, whether it was the bloody sacrifice of three or five warriors, or the fighting and collision of millions of armies, day and night, spanning the eighth and ninth days of the war.

The Caliban's assault was like one of the most successful throat-slitting operations, effectively killing the last bit of resistance of the Randan Empire in the void, but it was far from a single assault to completely destroy the Randan army scattered in the three rings of steel.

It took blood, a lot of blood, until the walls of metal were dyed scarlet, until the unsettling brass horns echoed from the depths of the otherwise peaceful void.

The best of the Dark Angels and Daybreakers bled in the massive steel tomb, falling with thousands of times their opponents, and their deaths, along with the sound of the firefight that gradually subsided, plunged the dying Triple Ring of Steel into a dead silence and finally became a dead city of the Void where the lights were extinguished.

Steel is dying, the sky is burning: from above and from above.

And Leon-Johnson.

Nothing about that.

——————

"I want to ......"

"I need troops, supplies, a fleet...... There is also a new combat objective. ”

Johnson spoke the order in a tone that no one could hear, but there were no subordinates around him: the lion noticed this, but his words did not stop, only more subdued, like a whisper to himself.

A groan rang out at his feet, the last of the last guards in the fortress, an elite Randan Overlord, uttering the final twisted curse: the pathetic xenomorph fought against the original for three rounds before being mercilessly knocked to the ground, and before that, it had killed at least two Dark Angels.

The Dark Angel Legion's genetic prototype glanced at this opponent, and then swung the lion sword in his hand, cutting off the ugly head: this was the ninetieth Randan overlord he had killed in the past ten hours, and as the army of the Human Empire gradually besieged the last homeland of these aliens, the resistance they had to face was also unprecedented and crazy.

Whether it is the Randan overlord who can confront the Terra veterans, or the wizard who activates the psionic energy as a disposable bomb in disorder, or those powerful and extremely unstable experimental weapons, they have all been pushed to the battlefield against humanity by the Randan Empire, and when these violent and unintelligent forces are stacked up with millions or even more numbers, they are enough to threaten the entire Knights of the Dark Angels.

Johnson knew this, but it wasn't enough to stop him, and with his sleepless and leading example, the core node in Randan's defense network was finally broken, and the follow-up forces of the Human Empire were able to rush in and begin to ravage the alien home planet itself.

The Lord of the Caliban has captured a giant Void Fortress comparable to a satellite, two asteroid space stations dotted with missile platforms, killed three Ran Dan Warlords who could barely fight the Genetic Prototype, and slaughtered at least 40 million Alien Elites armed to the teeth, as well as a hundred times the number of motley troops: such a record even shocked another Genetic Prototype entrenched on the Indomitable Truth.

And as for the cost......

Johnson raised his head, and through the huge, twisted, blood-soaked portholes of the alien fortress, he could see clearly what was happening in the void: the last Randan battleship was ruthlessly torn apart after losing the protection of the orbital defense system, and the temporary rampant air defense vitality on the alien home planet gradually disappeared in front of the human army that arrived one after another.

The Lord of Avalon's dispatching abilities are always worth the highest expectation: in the blink of an eye, more than a thousand human warships have entered battle positions in an orderly manner, completely encircling the entire planet, casting shadows that cover the sky and the sun, but also cast equally terrifying cannonballs and flames.

This is exactly what Johnson feats: if it weren't for the Gene Prototype and the Dark Angel's keen grasp of the fighters, and the ten-hour fierce battle that followed, the human fleet would not have been able to break through Ran Dan's air defense system so easily and burn the flames of war to the alien homeland.

Once again, the savage sense of smell from the Caliban rewrote the course of the war.

Johnson was even proud of it: fleeting pride.

Because in the next second, he heard the footsteps of his own son: it was an unclear, even sticky footstep, which naturally reminded people of the swamp of blood that was all over the floor, gradually drying and cold, hardening, and being trampled on constantly, and finally like a foul mud pool, and the steel boots that stepped on it, and involuntarily slipped.

As the boots moved, their soles, which were covered with skin and intestines, rubbed against the ground and eventually creaked and creaked: a normal sight in this war, even under Johnson's feet.

The Genotype's mind trembled for a second at the sight of this too vivid imagination, and he frowned, turned away, and looked at the approaching warrior with the eyes of an emotionless lion: it was a warrior he was somewhat unfamiliar with, but the various coats and decorations on his body illustrated his importance, so the Lord of Caliban gestured to his five hundred people to let the inexplicable knight in.

"What's the matter?"

Primordial opening.

"This fortress has been cleared, Lord Primordial, I and Knight Captain Aleide have just counted the losses and reorganized our troops, and now we are waiting for your next order."

The knight's voice was unfamiliar, which made the genomorph take a closer look at the armor and coat of arms of the comer, to discern which knight's position he belonged to, or which mysterious order's agent.

This is Johnson's prerogative: after the Lord of Caliban simplified and transformed the original complex system of the First Legion, he is the only one who can master the entire Dark Angel Legion, although the Lion King is not familiar with the face of every Dark Angel, but he can identify which organization and which class in the Legion standing in front of him through the most subtle differences in armor and heraldry, so as to dominate the entire First Legion and master all the secrets of the Dark Angel.

This is something that only the Lord of Caliban can do, neither the Emperor nor Morgan can do: although the Lord of Humanity can make the entire First Legion die at any time, he has never been interested in understanding these complex systems that have been passed down for hundreds of years, and although the Spider Empress can temporarily dispatch the entire Dark Angel Legion for Johnson, the biggest foundation for this mutual trust and co-governance is that Morgan will never find out the real secrets of the First Legion.

"You wear the knightly coat of arms of the Fourteenth Knights, but you're not him."

The lion king looked the heir standing in front of him up and down, his brow furrowed.

"I remember that the Knight Commander of the Fourteenth Knights was Slade, one of the earliest members of the Legion I knew, and I personally appointed him as the Knight Master of the Fourteenth Knights: what about others?"

"It's been sacrificed, my lord, just five hours ago, in the battle for the C144 hall, he died in the self-detonation of the alien wizard."

The original body's brow did not stretch.

"Alas, Slade is one of the best Terra warriors I know: but I remember that if Slade Knight Captain dies in battle, Narmota, Kreif, and Theomodo will succeed him: where are they now?"

The words of the original genome pointed to a terrible result, and standing in front of him, the current Knight Captain of the Fourteenth Knights, lowered his head slightly, and an unspeakable sadness was wandering in his brow.

"My lord, for the past eight Terra standard hours, the Fourteenth Knights have relied on your orders to carry out a cleansing operation against the second ring of steel of the aliens, aiming to eliminate the elite armored forces deployed there by Randan."

Johnson nodded.

"Yes, it is indeed my order, and I remember that just half an hour ago you reported to me that you had completed it once and for all."

"We did it, my lord: but it also cost a lot of casualties, in order to fight against the experimental weapons of the Randan alien, Knight Captain Slade led a commando team composed of officers and elites of the Knights, and launched a decapitation operation against the enemy headquarters, although the battle was successful, but the casualties were heavy."

"How much?"

Johnson swept the orbital bombardment outside the porthole again, and there was a faint indifference in his emerald pupils.

The Temporary Knight Captain lowered his head.

"All."

"Captain Sred, High Knights Narmota, Crane and Theomodo, and one hundred and forty-four Terra-Warriors and Gramaille warriors have all died in this operation: forgive us for the great price we have paid, my lord, but this is the best way we can accomplish our goal."

"After this great sacrifice, we were able to strangle all the xenomorph mobile forces in the second ring of steel, destroy their oxygen supply devices, and wipe out tens of millions of xenomorph defenders at once, and according to the rules you have set, after arranging them in order, I will temporarily assume the position of Knight Captain of the Fourteenth Knights."

“……”

Johnson was silent for a moment, and he finally spat out a very simple reply.

"You've accomplished your mission."

"That's good."

“…… What is your name? ”

"Gabriel, sir."

Genogen nodded, and he recognized the name: it was a very popular name in a certain area of Caliban, and there were no less than twenty Caliban knights he knew who wore the same name.

"You're Caliban?"

"Yes, my lord, more than half of the warriors of the Fourteenth Knights were originally from the Holy Terra, but they have all died in this operation and the previous series of wars, and now only the Caliban."

“……”

These short words caused the genomorph to fall into a moment of silence, and he recalled in his mind the information about the Fourteenth Knights, but only caught a pitiful few words: the fragments that appeared in his mind in the last ten years or so of the Fourteenth Knights were strikingly consistent: nothing more than the fact that he had mobilized elites from this Order again and again in many special operations.

If he remembered correctly, the order originally consisted of Terra-descendant warriors and a handful of warriors from Gramaye, and the Caliban's recruits were supplemented by the Caliban's gradual entry after each huge battle loss: unexpectedly, one of the main knights in this legion was the Caliban.

As the genetic father of all Dark Angel warriors, in Johnson's heart, he doesn't think there is any essential difference between Terrans and Caliban, but out of practical considerations, Johnson also issued an order: as long as there are Terra warriors, then the command position will be held by Terrans by default.

“……”

The genogen was silent for two seconds, an emotion similar to [sigh], flashed through his heart, leaving not even the slightest trace, and when his eyes were focused on Gabriel's body again, there was only the coldness needed for war.

"Well done the Fourteenth Knights, Gabriel, you serve as Knight Commander for the time being, reassemble your troops, receive supplies, and get back to battle: how many warriors do you still have?"

"Compared with the pre-war period, there are still thirty percent."

"Take it all with you."

The genogen waved his hand.

"The next landing operation also needs your participation, waiting for my orders."

"Understood, sir."

The Acting Knight Captain lowered his head, his voice became as cold as his Father of Genes, so cold that no one could hear any more emotion, and as the Caliban warrior stepped back, the Genetron's gaze briefly shifted to the hall, looking at the five hundred people who had been silent all along, cleaning up the battlefield.

……

No, it should be called three hundred.

The Lion of Caliban looked at the warriors who guarded him, these dark angels were the first Terra veterans to set foot on Caliban's land and recognize their genetic prototypes, and Johnson was used to stepping into battle with these original warriors.

In fact, long after the battle of Taks, which has been forgotten by everyone, the so-called five hundred people have already lived up to the name, but the Calibans have become accustomed to calling his battlefield guards as such, and the genetic protogens have not thought of restoring their formation, but the ensuing pursuit and extermination campaign lasted a full ten Terra standard years, and seamlessly continued with this tragic slaughter: when Johnson looked at his five hundred again, he had lost a small half of them.

The myriad of silent faces that seemed familiar to him were gone, and he couldn't even remember which battle they had died in, or which star, and the only sign of the warriors' existence, the coat of arms that symbolized their duty and glory, was now placed on the surviving five hundred, waiting for the day when it would be opened again.

“……”

Johnson lowered his eyebrows, and at this second, in those pair of jade-colored pupils, there was a light that no one could see clearly, it was a light that had never appeared before, it was looming, fleeting, but it left a real trace in the heart of the genetic prototype.

Even Johnson himself did not realize that in that light there was an aura from a certain Spider Empress, an aura that moved even the most savage beasts by the tragedy before them: though it was only for a brief moment.

The next moment, he was back to normal.

Johnson is still Johnson, the lord of the cold and ruthless dark angels, he knows what he needs to do, and he knows what he will pay for it: he doesn't care.

At the very least, when he reopened personal contact with his Avalon blood relatives, all that remained in his mind was the fanaticism and bloodlust for the war in front of him.

"I've got it done here, Morgan."

[That's good, Johnson.] 】

On the other side of the communication, the Spider Empress smiled for the first time in a long time, it was a real smile.

[Now that it's settled, I think you'd better hurry back to the Indomitable Truth: we've seized all the air supremacy, the landing operation is about to begin, and as the commander-in-chief of this war, you must not be absent.] 】

"I know, I'll be back right away."

Even through the void, the Calibans could still feel the truest joy from Avalon, so he ordered his sons to gather and prepare to return to his flagship, and kept his head down and continued to keep in touch with Morgan.

"What's wrong with the landing?"

[It won't go too well anyway.] 】

Morgan's voice was a little low, and she was staring closely at the image projected by the holographic bird servant in front of her, which was the scarlet reflection of the mother planet of Randan, telling the power of the capital of this alien empire.

[Their defenses are stronger than we expected, and at least so far, I have not seen any weak points: the palace, in particular, has some kind of inexplicable position, and my psionic strikes have no obvious effect on it. 】

"What about the Void Shield?"

[All over the world, brother, layer after layer, I don't know how many years it has accumulated, it is more complex and bloated than the bureaucratic network of the Ministry of Internal Affairs on Holy Terra, at least, with these warships we have at hand, it may take a long time to smash them to pieces. 】

"You mean, the scale of the landing battle is bigger than we thought."

[Yes: I suggest that it would be safer for us to wait until Riemannus and Luthor arrive, and the four fleets converge, and then conduct a landing operation.] 】

"It's too late."

The lord of the Caliban did not hesitate in the slightest.

"Our operation is already a blitzkrieg, and if we delay it here for a day, there will be more variables and uncertainties: Morgan, you gather all my heirs, and use the instructions I gave you to order them all to assemble."

"I'm going to do a temporary reorder of them, and then immediately start the landing operation on this world: we can't give the aliens more time to prepare, you go and urge Ruth to hurry up, I'll attack first."

【……】

[It's going to cost a lot, Johnson.] 】

“……”

"I know."

"But it's my duty."

"It is also the duty of the dark angels."

(End of chapter)