When did things take a turn for the worse?

Yoel of the Fourth Company of the Eighth Legion didn't have an answer, he just knew he had to pull his sword out of the goddamn alien's face in front of him - he did, and then immediately slashed sideways, blood and a broken head flying high.

He turned, and with a trick he learned from Richtenar in the Eighth Company, he slashed the two xenomorphs who tried to sneak up on him in two.

The young battle brothers gripped the chainsaw swords in hatred, stepped over their corpses, and rushed towards another group of xenomorphs not far away. He spun like a dancer, slashing at one alien, grabbing another, crushing its head, and sawing the third in two from top to bottom.

The movement of the killing was not small, and the sound of the chainsaw sword was even more obvious. Some of the aliens quickly realized that the enemy they were looking for was in the rear.

Joel had expected this, and he immediately turned off the movement of the chainsaw sword, and like a shadow, it blew past the shattered corpse and floated in the other direction.

His heart was pounding, and the remodeling surgery and adrenaline gave him the power to duck between the crumbling ruins before their bullets could arrive.

And this is not the end, this is just the beginning.

Yoel gasped and turned sideways to take a look at the situation outside the ruins. They're still looking for him, and that's good.

So he started calling, over and over again, from the channel within the company to the common channel of the regiment. He looked forward to being answered. His brothers, his commanders, his company commanders—anyone, even if the original body and the instructor heard his embarrassed voice.

He didn't care anymore, he had to know about the others.

"This is Yoel of the Fourth Company." He said that his voice was soft, not just because he needed to be quiet.

"Can anyone hear me? Repetition, can anyone hear it? ”

There was a rustling in the channel, and their communications were somewhat disrupted. Yoel lowered his head angrily and began to flick the chainsaw sword, causing the scraps of minced meat stuck on it to fall.

He repeated the call three more times, and after almost no hope, he finally heard a reply in the public channel, and although it was a curse, something was better than nothing.

"Fuck." The guy in the channel said hoarsely. "Yoel of the 4th Company, I am Sergeant Dion Livas of the 2nd Company. Where are you? What about your company? ”

"I don't know, sir."

"You don't know what it means-wait, fuck-"

Dion Livas cursed, and the next second, there was a continuous, rhythmic burst of fire from his side. Half a minute later, Joel heard his voice again in his anxious waiting.

"—Is the ground cracked?" The sergeant of the second company asked gloomily. "And then they all fell in?"

"Yes, sir."

"Fucking bad luck, these damn scumbags who colluded with aliens, listen, Yoel, I'm as separated from the company as you are, and the damn communications system is going wrong, I guess it must have been because they blew up the Temporary Communications Department."

"But you can communicate with me, sir."

"That's because the two of us must not be far apart, so the server of Power Armor can get us in touch. Damn, don't you know about this kind of thing? ”

"I don't read much, sir, and I don't have a good relationship with the technical sergeants."

"It's okay not to read, the latter is quite unwise. Forget it, will your radar and tactical displays still work? ”

The young battle brother raised his eyes and glanced at the readings at the top of his eyepiece, half of which had turned into a chaotic stream of data.

After a few seconds, he replied to the grumpy sergeant: "Only tactical monitors will work." ”

"That's not bad."

The sergeant replied lightly, his voice already soft. This made Yoel realize something.

"I'll send you a coordinate, come to me, don't die, Yoel."

"Understood, sir."

"No, you don't understand - I mean don't die, understand? It's best if you can come, but you can't. In short, keep yourself alive. Damn it. I'm afraid we've had enough dead, these goddamn dog haggar aliens"

The sergeant cursed and hung up the communication, and a monotonous chime followed, and the coordinates had arrived.

Yoel took a deep breath, he knew that everything that followed would probably be up to him. He bent down, observing the movements of his enemies under the cover of ruins and masonry.

The aliens, who were about two meters tall, communicated with each other using an eerie grunt, and as a humanoid alien, they spoke in a disgusting voice. Yoel frowned, not just in disgust.

Now he has two choices.

The first is to kill them all and then leave, and the second is to take a detour and rush directly to join Sergeant Dion.

Without hesitation, he immediately chose the first option - when Yoel got up from the buried rubble, he saw the corpses of his brothers.

He was operating with seven brothers, and on the orders of the company commander, they entered the power plant. Everything went well, they killed quite a few Halkosus, and then

The sky fell, fell, fell—in pain, nearly fainted, and his brothers roared, and swaths of xenomorphs fired at them, their cursed weapons capable of piercing power armor

Then Yoel was left alone. He didn't know if it was luck or misfortune, but, aside from that, he couldn't even collect the bodies of his brothers, because these prepared aliens had already surrounded them.

He can only be forced into the darkness as the last survivor.

Now, he won't let go of this opportunity for revenge.

Joel scurried out of the ruins, the dangerous hum of the chainsaw sword reappeared, and the Xenomorphs fired in his direction. Yoel did not regret his recklessness - on what basis did he regret it?

When the monomolecular saw blade sliced into the chest of the first enemy, slicing its ugly flesh and bones to shreds, Yoel felt nothing but pleasure. He doesn't know what that means yet, but he will know soon.

"For the Eighth Legion!"

He roared and grabbed the lower half of the alien's body, making it a half-shield against his shoulder armor.

His speed and a little luck saved him from being hit by these aliens' dangerous weapons, and three seconds later, he killed the sixth alien and broke out of the encirclement again.

But this time it was different, he had gone into the darkness with an alien, and the thing screamed under his torment.

Yoel poked at one of its eighteen eyes with his cold fingers, and a sneer spread across his face - yes, that's it, fear, wail, you have only one way to die.

The young battle brother didn't know that the strength and speed of his burst at the moment was not just the result of the transformation surgery and adrenaline. He will know, but not now.

——

Carlil stood calmly in the darkness, the hallway behind him as miserable as if it had been swept by a storm. The metal walls and ceilings were destroyed, the words were gone, and the floor was frosty and shockingly heavy.

"Instructor, this is not right." Enrique Barbatos said anxiously in the communication channel. "Something is wrong with this tower, this tower."

"Has it come back to life?" Carlil asked softly, turning to stare at the dust in the air, and a vague sigh came from under the skull's visor.

"What?"

"Is it alive, Enric?"

"No—I mean, its internals are changing, instructor." The voice of the eighth company commander sounded extremely confused. "Is this some kind of trap? How many floors are you on now? ”

"Yes, that's part of a trap. I'm on the fiftieth floor. ”

Carlil lowered his head and peered through the walls of the minaret to see the soldiers of the Eighth Company fighting within. They're not fighting the Harkosus, they're not fighting the Xenomorphs. In fact, they are fighting the minaret itself.

It is alive.

It's confusing them.

"Soldiers of the Eighth Company, this is Caryl Lohals." He spoke in a delighted tone. "Next, no matter what happens, stay calm and sane."

"Instructor?!" Enric blurted out a call, and a sense of unease rose in the heart of the Eighth Company Commander. "What are you going to do?!"

"Do my job."

Carlil hung up and denied all subsequent requests for communication.

He sneered.

What a simple ploy, so simple that it's even a little stupid—the way to crack it couldn't be more obvious, isn't it?

The demon even took the initiative to say the solution.

Stopping the reconquest of Harkosus by the Eighth Legion would bring the ritual to a halt.

The minaret itself was unfortified, and he saw it in its entirety after the fog shrouded in it was ripped away by the monsters behind the veil. The minaret is indeed a medium.

In the past, it was worshipped by the Harcosus as a dwelling place for the gods, and the xenomorphs who were located underground were also aware of the tower, and they worshipped it as the abode of the gods.

Which god is worshipped?

The god of fire - the god of revenge and hatred.

The first name is nothing more than a crude trick, it is the revenge and hatred of the Harkosus, a language that no one can speak in Harkosus today, but it is old because it is not a natural language at all.

Words are powerful.

The older it is, the more powerful it is.

Now, as soon as the minaret is activated, it is able to fully perform its function as a medium.

The number of sacrifices on Harcosus I wasn't enough for him to ascend to the gods, but enough for the Veil to notice him again.

The last time he crossed the universe in the form of a corpse, he would have been back behind the Veil without the Emperor's help.

And this time, the emperor couldn't do anything either. No matter how aggressive he is, he's still a human after all.

But

He is the master of authority.

Is revenge and hatred the only people of Harkosus? He knew what was going on outside, and the minaret reported back to him.

He closed his eyes, and the minaret submissively accepted his control. The terrifyingly sturdy structure began to shake, squirming almost as if it were alive - it broke through the ground, broke through the layers of metal, and slammed into a vast subterranean world.

+ Go and kill. +

Carlil opened his eyes and spoke to the warriors of the Eighth Legion with psionic energy.

The first war was over, and now, the beginning of an even longer war.

Today, I don't have a pinch, my hands hurt, and I can't write 10,000 anymore

(Pondering)

In addition, there have been a lot of stickers recently, are you raising books?

(End of chapter)