The Ark of Omen's messy pipes and pathways had filled the orcs, their rough fingers tearing down the adamantite gold, the former heretical forts, or something more important, maintaining the abilities of the foundations of those things while plundering the few resources on the Ark.

This was Meroving's acquiescence, and its staggered body was now the only one to choose from, using all of its surplus energy and metal to forge a waaaagh position jump device for teleportation, while an orc warship would serve as a coordinate point to leave the sector in subspace and reach a place untouchable by the Empire, allowing orcs and the Ark of Omen to rest.

But cooperation will not be without contradictions, and at this moment, he looked at the energy panel in the control room, and his face was wrinkled. "You've been maintaining beacons for about half a year during this time?"

Meroving's emotionless voice replied to One-Eye, who was looking at the hologram panels, and One-Eye angrily smashed the whole panel of ordinary steel into a hollow with his fist, and the loud sound made the boys who worked here feel excited.

"You... You stupid machine, when you run out of power, you should cut off all energy and keep yourself alive! ”

"Not only do we need an extra week to use our spacecraft to collect heat around the star now, but I'm afraid the main force of the Red Pirates is also close to this sector!"

"Do you know how much trouble you've caused us for such stupidity?!" One-Eye was furious, after all, Merovingian was a drag now, not only could he not generate resources, but the orcs also had to find a way to move the entire huge Ark of Bad Omen, and the follow-up transformation work on it, etc.

"We've demolished most of the forts in this place, and you're completely defenseless all this time, you know? And you let us act for so long before you delivered... What are the permissions of the control panel? ”

To One-Eye's accusation, Merovingian could only answer instinctively. "This is the fulfillment of the contract I signed with the Red Pirates, and it is also the best chance that I will be rescued after calculation."

"And if it weren't for you helping the Imperial Guard, I wouldn't be like this."

"Secondly, I need a while to see if you really want to be inside me, rather than just using me as a prop." Meroving's calm answer made One-Eye even angrier, but his attitude was reasonable, and One-Eye held back his anger and let go of his green fist before he smashed the control room here.

"Adjutant, what's going on with the subspace storm?" He immediately asked for the most important information, and during this time the orcs were still closely monitoring fluctuations near Mandeville Point, even if such work was easily detected by the Imperial Navy, they had to know the road situation.

Orcs are not afraid of subspace invasions, but subspace storms can make things complicated by deflecting ships off course.

The adjutant replied. "Three days ago, we found that the subspace is gradually stabilizing, and it will be able to sail normally in half a month."

One-eyed chews on the day. "Half a month, there is still time, the engine is finished, and then our battleship comes..."

"No, we can't take risks, ask the boys to add the engine, during this time we will use the Merovingian speed to advance into the void at sub-light speed, remember to install the engine on the dark side, so that the Empire will not find out."

"Now this star sector is the world before Pandora's box is opened, when the subspace completely fades, those desperate will overflow, and this star sector will be completely pulled into the flames of war."

"We just need to flee, then recuperate, and lie dormant until the real war and waaagh come, taking only nutrients." One-Eyed replied calmly, and the other still alive bosses nodded their heads again and again, this little orc would be the first to look at One-Eyed Horse, because he had brought so many miracles and victories that they would not hesitate to carry out those seemingly crazy plans.

The rise of the orcs was in full swing, and the chaotic, twisted things were docked on the periphery of the star sector under the obstruction of the subspace storm, but the Imperial Guard knew nothing about such a situation.

They were preoccupied with how to deal with the heresy of this casting world, Pan Lan was too valuable to this star sector, and the behemoth of the Astral Army had to give up their insensitive sense of war in order to become more and more aligned, and all their resources were on the dispatch of the extermination order and internal pacification.

The Empire is like this, it is powerful, it is huge, it is terrifying, but it is inflated, sluggish, immobile, and it is also the only place and home for mankind, but at this moment, it can no longer catch up with this stormy world at the end of this dark fortieth millennium.

And the soldiers of the Empire looked at the brass-colored planet from the battleship, and the feeling of completely crushing the battle situation and the feeling of being high above made them a little fluttery, after all, it is easy for humans to confuse such power with their own true power when they control this huge war engine.

This is what the pilot said when the captain was away. "The Astral Army is the bone, the Imperial Navy is the bone, the Imperial Guard is the flesh, the commander-in-chief is the brain, and many other officers are the joints and organs, so what is the Ministry of Military Affairs?"

The officer next to him fiddled with his controller, then pressed the launch button, shot at the Mechon's combat barge, and replied. "Appendix."

The officer who asked the question replied. "Accurate!"

But the Imperial Navy did not know that when their massive warships came to low earth orbit, they were feared not only by the heretics of the Mechon, but also by the loyalists who fought the war, and when the honor of the Empire hung over their heads like the sword of Damocles, those warriors felt the sins that came out of their bodies for no reason.

The nightmare looming outside the atmosphere was clearly detected by the sage's prosthetic eye, the war had come to its hottest stage, and he did not know whether he could win or not, but he had completely controlled the entire force of the enemy's second largest branch.

He is not a famous general, but a scholar, and his victory is a road paved with countless blood, and he does this only because they need to survive.

There was so much at stake in this affair that one's own life, honor, future, and piety, and being branded as a heretic and dying by the extermination order was almost the greatest insult to those who believed in the emperor besides a direct trial.

Dignity and life, meaning and hatred drive this parched planet, and blood fills the world, wetting the gaps in the gears.

The sage used his skull to scout the distant core city and the signal transmitter on it, but he was more anxious to find his child, but the resistance in this area had raised the Void Shield, and the generators in the villa area roared incessantly.

The metal tower, which had been used to signal the nobles here, was surrounded by cathars, who had built many small ion shields or deflection shields on them, and large-caliber shell throwing weapons, that is, reinforced logging guns and depleted uranium flintlock muskets, were well prepared.

"It's really a TMD wall," the adjutant commented on the image conveyed by the skull, but the sage who had experienced the war replied. We have to get here as soon as possible, and we can't even prioritize helping the rebels in the residential area. ”

This sentence is very strange, obviously worried, but he chose the big situation, because if the extermination order falls, the lives here and the sacrifices caused by the war will be meaningless.

The sage became a war and regained his humanity, and now he has to let go of his humanity, but in any case, his position is not cold, but gentle like the light of the stars in spring.

But it was only a standpoint, and he gave a cruel final order to his men in an emotionless electromagnetic voice. "The large army is gathering, all the rebels of the main nest, we are going to end the war that belongs to us, let Pan Lan return to the empire, we need to communicate with the imperial navy, provide them with starports and assistance, topographic maps and manpower at the necessary time."

"As long as you take the area in front, except for the core of the Divine Calculation Tower, the nest has already been attributed to Ommesiah."

But no matter how exciting the sage's words were, and the long hours of continuous combat made the warriors tired, the combined legion of humans, servants, sages, or priests was on the verge of collapse.

This remnant army is no longer able to attack anywhere, and the sages know very well, so in this war, the sages will not join the command, but their goal is to use what they have learned all their lives to crack the permission of the radar communicator in the temporary communication room, so that the equipment can send a clear and good enough signal to the Imperial Guard that this world is still valuable.

The cost is that it takes tens of thousands of deaths in just a few minutes to attract the Director Hongzhi stationed here to strengthen the firewall system, and every microsecond of communication represents the dissipation of countless lives.

The dense firing ports and erections on the pitch-black communication tower were chilling, and after a short slogan, the adjutant began to charge with a firearm in hand. "For the Empire!"

"For the Empire!"

But in the communication room, it was a different place, quiet, even suffocating, with several inhuman-looking tech sages bowing their heads in front of countless pipes and complex communication devices, and those mechanical arms swaying, making movements that were impossible for mortals.

"The piston pulls once, and the bell rings."

"Give me the repeater."

"Alternate once, pass on once, get on the repeater, press the fuse."

Click, pull rod downward, methodical as in the middle of a factory.

"Pull the lever once, and the big bell rings twice."

"Wire me the line."

"Inherit twice, alternate twice, weld the silk thread, press the button."

Knock, red light flashing, communicator low chirping, buzzing, in exchange for the lives of thousands of people.

"Press the button, and the bell rings three times."

"Transmit data to me, praise be to Ohm Messiah, praise to the God of all machines."

"Praise to our thousands of sacrificial compatriots, praise the beauty of the vast knowledge of the void, praise the complex mystery of data in algebra..."

"Transmit data, turn on the device, start the source force, drive promethium."

"For the sake of pure gold and sacrifice, do not forget, Zam Messiah."

The sages of the Mechanic Sect muttered. "Zaom Messiah."

Communicators were dialed, data was transmitted, and maps of the current distribution of enemies on the ground began to appear in the Imperial Command, specific civil unrest, lists of loyalists, and calls for exculpation and support made by the sages.

But those things can't be sent instantly, the director whispered. "Five minutes..."

"It is expected that it will be wiped out..."

Silence, for the sages here knew that the Governor had done the right thing, that the automaton roared on the surface, that flesh was broken by bullet casings, that a lumberjack was like a ball of moving butter against an unarmoured living man, and that a uranium-flintlock musket could pass through the core of the servants.

Troops without the command of the sage lost very quickly, and they approached the tower one after another, and in order to gain enough attention from the opposing sage, they were even willing to rely on death to buy time.

After all, the extermination order is also death, and there is no need to hesitate to choose between dying without dignity and letting the world continue to survive.

On the battlefield, the sage's lieutenant hid behind the wall bunker formed by the corpses of the servants, counted his equipment, and then raised his laser gun to kill a cheap servant with three or four shots, and then skillfully dodged the strafing shots and fell into the "accidental trench" next to the grenade.

But humans can't be faster than bullets, he is almost habitual to dodge, more like gambling than dodging, and the lieutenant is used to it, he takes off his helmet, takes out a small bag of transparent things from it, and gulps it down.

"It has to be Amset...", he lay in the trench, watching his comrades keep falling, that's what it feels like in the Imperial Guard, the feeling that the individual doesn't matter anymore, even if he fights well?

He took out the Ranger smokeless cigarette in his tactical belt and tried to take a puff, only to find that he couldn't find his lighter.

"." He fumbled for a large pile of corpses or something, and finally found a ball of flame at the location of the servant's fuel tank that had been ignited by uranium.

With radiation, strong and strong.

He crossed Erlang's legs, listened to the roaring artillery fire, skillfully waited for the gap, then raised his weapon, shot, killed a person, dodged, reloaded, and took a puff of cigarette.

He would undoubtedly survive, no matter what, the Mechanics were no scarier than the Xenomorphs, and he spat out a puff of smoke rings. "Will that guy be able to find his child?" the adjutant muttered, and looked at the nearby recruits hiding in the trenches in fear, and couldn't help but think about what he would be like.

They shoot almost blindly, and they raise their heads from time to time, two people, not very old, probably family members of the Mechon, who would have become priests or gear boys in the future, and the projectiles they are shooting at the moment are useless, it's really sad...

Useless soldier, he was about to open his mouth to point, but a standard mechanical heavy machine servant grenade landed here.

"Oops." He instinctively wanted to leave the trench, but saw that the two recruits next to him had not yet reacted.

"Damn, you guys me out of here!" He pushed the two recruits out of the ass before they could react, and the adjutant didn't know why he did it, but he felt that the empire needed scholars more than veterans.

He looked at the pitch-black thing on the ground, spat out a smoke ring, and looked up at the two foolish recruits looking at him from outside the trenches, hugging their heads in the rain of bullets.

He gestured with a middle finger, and then, the flames burst out, and the two soldiers were completely frozen, while the adjutant, only his terracotta steel body armor and dog tags were still intact.

The shreds of his clothes were scattered and fell on the battlefield in a corner where no one cared about him, and the name of this man was written on his chest, but no one in this world knew who he was, what he did, whether he was a successful person, whether he was a loyal person.

Only the roaring projectiles and endless death are ever-present, whistling to welcome Mr. Pain into this universe.

(End of chapter)