Sevita pulled his hand out of the abdomen of an orc.

The thing's body twitched at his movements, and he ignored its seemingly corpse-like actions, only crushing the thing's head with his foot. Then he began to fight with his left and right hands.

The twelve-hour battle instinctively tightened the muscles of the right hand. Each finger seemed to fit into the handle of the chainsaw, and he snapped his fingers and heard a faint, fine creak.

It was like my bones were rusty.

He was amused by the thought, a slightly cold smile echoing across the battlefield. However, not everyone liked to hear this laughter - a head flew from not far away and fell right at his feet.

Sevita looked down and saw an orc head missing jaws and half of its face.

He lifted his foot, crushed it, and shrugged, "Are you a naughty boy, Karen?" Throwing this kind of thing at me? ”

"Dear Captain, I'm not throwing it at you, I'm using its ugly, green head to remind you that it's time for us to go back." In the communication channel, a hoarse voice spoke. "Honestly, don't you think it looks a bit like you?"

"Verbally attacking the commander is punishable," Savitapi replied with a smile. "And, of course, I knew it was time for us to go back. You orc head. ”

Karen Orfion couldn't help but curse a nostramo swearing.

Two hours later, they returned to the so-called 'camp' in a truck. However, if given a choice, Sevita would rather stay on the battlefield for the night.

The feeling and comfort of sitting in a truck is completely uneventful, and everyone has to fold their knees and weapons and endure two hours of bumps in a comical sitting position to reach their destination.

Shaking her neck, Sevita jumped out of the truck. The car was provided by locals, and it had a slogan that the Resistance had graffiti on its body - "Kill the Orcs!" Green-skinned mongrels only deserve to eat Glocks shit! ”

Vulgar, but imaginative.

He smiled again and took off his helmet. A patrol of locals walked past him and saluted them.

A few children in the camp not far away were peeking in this direction, and Sevita grimaced at them, screaming in satisfaction. The children ran away, and he shook the tip of his nose and inadvertently smelled the aroma of food.

Overhead, the sun was setting and the sky was an ambiguous pink, with the last bits of orange-yellow light shining through the clouds. Sevita stared at the light, her lips moving slightly, and she silently said goodbye to the sun.

With his helmet between his grip and a chainsaw in his other, he stepped deep and shallow on the muddy ground and walked into the depths of the camp. Ticking instruments and cables were scattered all over the place, ringing non-stop in makeshift tents.

Uniformed auxiliaries busily shuttled from instrument to instrument with cans in their hands. They need to eat, but they also need to take care of these precious communication devices.

Sevita carefully avoided them and stepped into another tent. There aren't many instruments here, but they're quite large. In fact, they are surprisingly large compared to communication devices.

"Instructor—" Sevita raised her helmet and saluted with a perfunctory gesture. "—The orc clearance of the third position has been completed."

There are a lot of instructors in the Midnight Blade, and the new bloods can put this title on the back of their names for many people. However, if only this word is used, then it can only represent one person within the Nightedge.

Carlil Lohals.

The pale giant nodded lightly in response.

His skeletal armor was mottled with blood, white and black almost completely covered. Sevita glanced blankly at the pitch-black cloak behind the instructor, and it silently lifted its corner, as if to greet him.

"Don't look at it, Sevita." Carlil smiled. "It's a picky eater and doesn't eat orc blood. It's not the first day you know. ”

The corner of the cloak fell limply.

"Did you just come back?" Sevita asked, forcing herself to keep her eyes on the instruments - he didn't want to draw the cloak's attention anymore.

Compared to the others, he was often provoked by this cloak for no reason, and each time it was weird. Watching it express its emotions like a living thing, Sevita always felt an itch on her spine.

"It's pretty much the same, I'm ten minutes earlier than you came back." Carlil said. "But there's not much time left."

Sevita pouted.

The original is eight years old - no, three years have passed since the Eighth Legion officially joined the Great Expedition.

Three years was enough time to change a lot of things, it would allow the nascent Eighth Legion to rise to prominence in the Empire, and it would also raise the total number of the Legion to more than 56,000. It's not a huge number, but it's more than enough for the Nightblades.

In those three years, they have reclaimed planet after planet at a rate that has made officials of the Ministry of Government and the Ministry of Military Affairs lose their hair like crazy.

The Nightblades don't have to think too much, they don't crave complete recovery like the Ultramarines, nor do they pursue battle-to-loss ratios like the altered Iron Warriors. They just need efficiency.

Coincidentally, the Nightblades' best tactics are inseparable from efficiency, and no planet can resist their terrifying style.

Today, the entire legion has been divided into three expeditionary fleets.

One is led by Carlil Lohals, and consists of recruits or solo hunting squads.

One is led by the original itself, the members are all veterans, and the weapons and equipment are the best, and they are responsible for some of the more difficult bones.

The last one was led by a company commander, Van Cleef, with half veteran and half new recruits, and the company was mixed with the hunting squad, often fighting alongside the other regiments. According to the grapevine, Van Cleef has recently been working on a book detailing his experience working with various legions.

War takes many forms, and sometimes, it is counterinsurgency. Sometimes, it's a swarm invasion, artificially creating nightmares to terrorize some of the world's biggest names. And now, it's fighting orcs on a planet that has sent a distress signal.

The planet, called Brasius 1, is located in the Taiping Star Field, which was once an agricultural world and is now a base camp for orcs to revel.

By the time the Nightblades picked up a distress call and spotted it, it was devastated. Despite this, the locals did not give up their resistance, and they have always resisted stubbornly.

It's rare, and it makes Sevita have a lot of respect for these people - yes, he does it by scaring the local children.

But of course, they are not the only ones who can receive the distress signal.

"Don't put on that face." Carlil shook his head amusedly. "Our strength is not fighting aliens, and it is naturally impossible for a force of 13,000 men to completely wipe them out. Passing this over to a legion that is better at frontal combat would be a benefit for both of us. ”

"I just feel like we've been running around like this, coming and going, going and going. It's a very weird feeling. Sevita couldn't help but grumble. Is that what the Great Expedition is all about? Get on the boat, get off the boat, go from one planet to another? ”

"Or else?" Suddenly, a hoarse sound came from between the massive instruments, almost like two pieces of broken glass rubbing against each other.

"Yago Sevitalyon, otherwise what do you think the Great Expedition is?"

Sevita cautiously remained silent and looked at their instructor. The latter's expression at the moment was somewhat helpless: "Angrun, I didn't introduce him to you in advance to let you scare him. ”

"I don't think he's been scared by me." The voice laughed, and immediately after, a figure lit up between the instruments, consisting of faint blue dots of light.

Despite the abstract description, his own images are superhumanly clear. Every detail was so real that Sevita struggled to suppress her shock so that her voice could be calmed.

He bowed his head to the holographic projection, bowed his head, and greeted, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Angeland. ”

“.”

The hologram was silent for a moment, then he turned his head, steel braids dancing in the air. The giant of giants looked at Carlil with a complaining look, "Haven't you introduced me to him yet?" ”

Carlil smiled and shook his head.

"Okay. Hey, look at it, Yago Sevitaleone. ”

Sevita did as she was told, and the giant looked at him gravely and nodded his finger at him. It's a little vulgar and rude, but there's a weird affinity.

"I don't like people calling me an adult, or having any kind of honorific title attached to my name. Keep that in mind, okay? I hope that our cooperation will go smoothly. ”

Cooperate?

Sevita's face quickly turned strange, and he looked at Carlil again, only to find that the cloak had begun to greet him again—this time, in a way that surged like a wave.

The corners of the first squad leader's mouth twitched, and his instructor sighed.

"Yes, Midnight Blade's Second Expedition will be working with the War Hounds."

Carlil shook his head as he tapped his fingers on his shoulder to silence the cloak.

"But in terms of form, it's not a common type of cooperation, and the specific situation will be left to after the arrival of the war dogs."

"I heard that you fought to a draw with Sigismund of the Fist of the Empire, Yago Sevitalyon." The hologram looked at Sevita and smiled with interest. "I have someone here who is interested in you."

For some reason, Sevita suddenly felt a chill.

There is one more chapter.

(End of chapter)