In the vastness of the void, war is quiet and inaudible.

The disappearance of the air means that the medium of communication no longer exists, and the extremely low temperatures and very little molecular activity make it impossible to lift the vibration frequencies such as sound waves.

Therefore, even the movement of those planetary orbits, the changes in the vortex of nebulae, the gravitational engulfment of huge black holes, or the rain of sparks caused by the collision of interstellar dust, are just silent mimes, and the vastness that no one cares about in the eternal cold.

But from another point of view, in the void, war is also noisy: it can not only be heard by all witnesses, but it is also thunderous and shocking.

The vast fleet of great fleets comes from several powerful Astarte legions, from Holy Terra and Avalon, from Caliban and Fenris, and the Iron Dynasty formed by them has long been able to accomplish the feat of literally covering the sky and the sun, and even the largest planets are nothing more than dust in their shadows, and they can only tremble to witness a catastrophe that can reverse the fate of the galaxy, and even every second of this catastrophe is more valuable than the billions of years of life in these rubble.

And metal frenzy like this is nothing more than a bargaining chip in a much greater war: they're not even a pawn to be taken seriously, decades of glorious resumes and tens of millions of loyal sailors are just low-level consumables like scrap metal.

Life is the currency of the Emperor: and here is the greatest printing house.

In the darkest darkness, the guns of the battleships were more brilliant than Wagner's operas, blood and sacrifice appeared at every moment, heroic actions were singing at every second, steel behemoths became dazzling fireworks every minute, and piles of casualties were reported, but the battleships withdrawn from the front line were very few: because all the captains preferred to crash directly into them for the final decisive assault, and even broke through the shackles of the cold void for the emperor's cry, echoing in everyone's ears.

The rare ships of warships flocked to the darkness of Namo in front of the battle line, but still no one knew what was there, because no one had yet returned alive: several battleship formations had all been killed, ten times as many battleship formations were fighting, and more steel giants were ready to join the battlefield at once.

And on those second-class, ongoing confrontation and purge follow-up fronts, large-scale jumping gang and anti-hopping gang operations are also going on non-stop, countless void vehicles and landing torpedo boats are either fighting, or colliding, lasers and missiles, and fragments of the losers are all over every inch of space as far as the eye can see, and even if the landing is successful, the lives of these pioneers will only be counted in hours or even minutes, because no cry for help will be heard: everyone is taking care of themselves, Togetherness has become the best tactic, the next gang fight is three minutes later, and the salvo of light spears against the same target is ten minutes later, and the emperor will bless the brave.

And on those fronts that have been short-handed, the Astarte warriors are disappearing on the scale of companies, countless glorious orders and ancient units are falling one after another, even the famous knight commanders and wolf lords are inevitably killed, and the fate of mortals can only be trapped in damp and dark passages, reduced to insignificant dust.

On the edge of the most anxious and pressing battlefields, the elders of the First Legion were debating whether or not to release some of the Ancient Beings of the Irregularities: if these things were released, even in their capacity as Terra veterans, they would definitely be accounted for by the Queen, but if they didn't, they and everyone behind them would not be able to wait for the day when they would be judged.

And debates like this tend to end quickly, because everyone knows the only truth of this war: that as long as it works, all means should be tried, and all evil deeds should be encouraged.

And so, with the blasphemous or ancient roars of hatred, the roots of the First Legion were unleashed in the unknown blood, and the entire galaxy took an absolute step towards purgatory on earth.

And at the end of this purgatory, in the deepest part of the entire front, the Glory Queens, who are as great as the Empire, are guarding their respective lords, fighting for their lives against those opponents who are evenly matched, no one knows what their results will be, everything can only rely on the nobility of courage and the protection of the emperor.

At this moment, fate lifted its veil and revealed its cruel and just face to all: no one can survive such a battlefield, not even the genetic prototype, and must gamble everything he can for the sake of his offspring, for what he cherishes, and even for himself.

They were greeted only by the wild laughter and roars of the evil gods in the High Heavens, and only the anxious and violent roars of countless demons and unborn on the other side of the veil: even the beings in subspace were angry and panicked about this war, and no one even knew what their panic was for.

Even Morgan didn't know: of course, she didn't have the heart to care about that.

As early as the beginning of the war, the Genoplasm of the Second Legion had already embarked on a journey to another dimension: in addition to the Alpha Legion, which maintained a high degree of mystery and independence, whether it was the Dawnbreaker, the Dark Angel, or the Space Wolf, all of their circumstances were thrown on the [Goddess of Dawn].

Johnson and Riemann Ruth had already led their respective guards, roaring into the bloodiest and crazy meat grinders, and Morgan had no right to accuse them of risking their lives for their absence, because the front of the battle line was indeed pushing towards the ultimate goal because of the battle between the lion king and the wolf king.

As for the cost......

Morgan's gaze glanced at the [important casualty report] that she had left by her side and updated the latest data from time to time: whether it was the five hundred, Deathwing, Paladin, or Wolf Guard, they were all falling on their respective battlefields at a heartbreaking speed, the five Terra veteran squads that first followed Johnson's Jump Gang had all died in their duties, and the personal guards around Riemanrus had changed at least three rounds, six knights had lost their knight captains, and four wild wolves were electing new wolf lords in the chaos, As for the glorious veterans who impressed Morgan, they were like bullet casings rolling down to the ground, leaving only the flickering moment when they fought to the death.

By the thirtieth Terra standard hour of the beginning of the war, the anxiety and madness of the battle had risen to an unprecedented level: Morgan had stopped paying attention to the casualties of the Dawnbreaker Legion, and when the names she was familiar with appeared in the report, the Lord of Avalon, who could tell the story of each name clearly, could only wave his hand casually, and could not even give an extra glance to the company commanders, high-ranking officers, and Terra veterans among the Dawnbreakers.

Only the most important names could remain in her mind's mind: Bayar's company had already paid a third of the casualties, and the champion swordsman had suffered a rare wound, losing his former grace and poise.

Mistaking for an armored vehicle in one of the toughest assaults, Hecht was hit directly by a large-caliber shell and had to be dragged to the rear for surgery, leaving his company with only the most basic combat effectiveness.

Even the Old Guards, commanded by Lana, had left a minimal escort behind and reluctantly repulsed a suicidal landing on the Legion's flagship: a numerically impossible task, but the Praetorian Guard and his warriors were the last mobile force of the Legion.

As for the rest of the reserves: there are no reserves, all the Daybreaker companies have already been dispatched, and the original intended general reserve status has been torn apart as early as the moment they have just entered the battlefield, otherwise, the Empire's crusading army will not be able to withstand the current front, and it will not be able to fight those opponents who have fallen to the extreme.

【……】

In fact, Morgan didn't even want to call these things "opponents", they lacked all the elements of an adversary, and they were not a dignified army that fought with quality and courage: these [fleets] deployed by Primordial Eleventh on the final line of defense were just a bunch of indescribable biological cults, monsters fueled by steel, flesh, collective consciousness, and swarm thinking, unlike any opponent the Empire had encountered before.

From the outside, these hostile fleets can even be called [neat], they are nothing more than the legacy of the former Eleventh Legion and the various forces of the Empire, mixed with countless ships from other pocket empires and even aliens, and with some newly built fleets, the rabble: Morgan has already seen the chain warships of the Randan Empire, the green-skinned garbage ships, and even a spirit ark of a small model, which needs the [Indomitable Truth] and [Hrafinkel] The behemoth that can only be dealt with by joining hands is enough to consume one-third of the living force of the entire Dark Angel Legion just by fighting for it, including Johnson himself.

But in the cabins of these different forms of warships, there is a disturbing uniformity and consistency: almost every battleship casts a huge shadow in the subspace, and all kinds of murmurs are clearly visible in the mind of every psyker who tries to probe them, it is a mixture of hundreds of different languages of wails and sorrows, like the void engine of each battleship: and human words are only one of them.

Morgan even took a moment out to investigate one of the warships: the truth inside was that the Spider Empress, who had used the brutal videos of the Comoros as her daily pastime, almost vomited out, her soul even felt a real tremble, and her will was to hear the wrath of the Chaos gods in her ears.

Morgan roared, sending his orders into the minds of every primordial and astarte she could contact, ordering them with the most vicious curse that they must never delve into the truth about the ships: she didn't even care about the irreparable scars that this psionic storm would cause to the minds of the recipients.

And at the same time as she made these haggard acts, the whispers from the deepest part of the Supreme Heaven also appeared so clearly in Morgan's ears, all the four gods seemed to be crowded around her at this moment, and the surging subspace storm in the deepest part of the Dead Stars gave these super-sized beings a chance to descend on their own will, so they surrounded the Spider Queen, and with the most angry roar and the most seductive whispers, they issued a seemingly unbelievable order to her.

The sadomasochism descends into a real rage, Nurgle throws away his kindness, Tzeentch's voice sounds even sincere, and Slaanesh is calm as an Ultramarine: the unconventional gods are united, as if they were brothers of the same blood, and together they roar at Morgan, commanding her to kill the brother who went astray, to destroy the hidden being in the deepest part of the galaxy, to find him, to kill him, to eat him: if Morgan could do it, They will not skimp on the greatest bounty of the stars.

The roar of the gods set off a monstrous wave in the subspace, and the endless storm directly submerged the galaxy, building a high wall that no one could escape, and those warships that were too close were even directly involved in it, and tens of thousands of warriors and [enemies] were thrown into the flow of time that Morgan could not guess, and they were never seen again.

And such a tragedy is only a negligible loss in the war, just as Morgan can shield the gods from the storm in her ears at this moment: after all, it is just pure anger, panic and jealousy, and not the carefully constructed whispers and traps of the past, which are too easy to deal with.

The Lord of Avalon could even make a bold assumption that this time, the four gods were serious, they were really afraid of something that the Eleventh Primordial had done in the middle of the galaxy, they were really hoping that the Empire's crusading forces would win the battle, their roars echoed in the halls of the High Heaven for a long time, and in response to them, in addition to the raging storm, there seemed to be an endless moan of the demon legions hungry for blood and killing.

This seemed to point to an unpredictable end, a friendship that could come to the aid of the Empire: but Morgan had no time to think about it, because if she stopped for even a second, the endless number of documents and reports would completely overwhelm her, and she could only fight eternally with these cold, blood-soaked numbers, and watch the bloody front advance little by little.

It was as if it were a game, a slow, cold grid game whose speed no one could change, and the flow of blood and the fall of the great ship were only the slightest turning point in it, almost useless except to mark the passage of time.

The Spider Empress couldn't even lament the fact that even under the combined onslaught of the Lion King, the Wolf King, and even Alpha and Conrad, the greatest orc junk ships, Ran Dan's Chain Battleship, and Spirit Ark had turned into a brilliant spark, but new opponents were constantly emerging in the shadows, endless, with no end in sight.

It seemed that behind every step of the tide was the bleak planet that they regarded as their ultimate goal, but they would never be able to get there, just like the ancient Terrans looked up at the moon from afar, close at hand, but they could only sigh in vain.

But now, the genoplasm didn't even have time to sigh, because it was a new report, with its own highest-level authority, directly smashed into the face of the Spider Queen, it was a message from Johnson, the voice was cold and old, and people could immediately think of the deep appearance of the Caliban.

"I found it! The ship! The Queen of Glory, the Glory Queen-class battleship that was once considered the flagship of the Legion by that madman and his legion! It's right there, with a whole bunch of equally blasphemous ships! ”

"They're not attacking us, they're stationed there: I can see the moon they're at the center of the line, and I can see their planet: I can assure you, Morgan, this is his last line of defense!"

"Mobilize all the forces you can muster, Morgan, I need them, help me contact the Alfaris brother who doesn't know what to call him, I need his strength now, Riemanrus doesn't need to contact him, he and his warriors are by my side."

Then, beyond Johnson's dry and cold voice, an excited wolf howl sounded as evidence of the Lion King's words: Riemanrus seemed to be completely undisturbed by this bloody war, and even through the vast void, the vitality and optimism in his voice made a long-lost smile appear on Morgan's face, but such a smile quickly disappeared at the same speed, because Morgan did not hear Conrad's voice.

You know, in the previous communications, Midnight Ghost had always been fighting Johnson for communicators: of course, it was only after all the emergency information had been notified that the cold joke would ring in Morgan's ears.

"Conrad ......"

Speaking of this brother, the lion of the Caliban seems to spit on the ground.

"Don't worry, he's still alive, and he's killed more than anyone else, and the wolf cubs of Riemanrus have even begun to admire him: remember to leave a commendation for Conrad, Morgan, who was the first to board the Spirit Ark."

[Understood, Johnson, is there anything else?] 】

Morgan took a deep breath, and she felt a tingling sensation in her spine that she hadn't felt in a long time.

"Not for the time being, hurry up and get the things I told you done, as quickly as possible. I don't want to continue fighting this damn war for a moment, let it all end. ”

[That's right, Johnson.] 】

[Let this all be over: Don't jump the gang with your team yet, and leave the Queen of Glory to me.] 】

"Do what?"

[Too much blood has been shed in this war between me and my legion. 】

Morgan licked the corner of his mouth.

[And this great warship should be regarded as a small interest charged by me.] 】

[Remember, Johnson: From this moment on, that ship is already mine.] 】

(End of chapter)