War is a kind of .

What is it?

Sevita pondered its answer, but the movements of her hands were only fast and not slow. He wielded his chainsaw and easily cut off several ugly heads. The veterans of the 1st Company followed him, shooting in silence.

Every blast or plasma kills one or more orcs, and fire suppression is one of the classic battlefield answers that will never go out of style. Three minutes and twenty-one seconds, they cleared the hallway, and then began to plant molten bombs.

The attack was launched at night, according to Dantiok, and to be more accurate, it was three o'clock in the morning local time on Planet 5132.

As the Iron Warriors and their heavy loaders ran over the orcs' corpses and blasted at the fortress, the Nightblades found their way into the fortress itself.

Sevita and his first company detachment were parachuted in through a bombed gap, and Nightblade and the Raven Guards often worked together to learn from each other. At the very least, Sevita has learned a lot about alternative uses of jetpacks.

He leaned against the wall and slung the chainsaw on his shoulder. Don't get me wrong, he didn't do it because a technical sergeant was on his team.

"Sergeant." He was approached by his seventy-three-year-old combat brother, Mulundevian, dressed in a MK2 power armor that is now a rarity in the Nightblade, and his hands painted scarlet.

"What's the matter, brother?" Sevita responded with surprising mildness.

Mullendevian gestured, wordlessly indicating that the molten bomb had been planted.

Sevita nodded, intending to give the order to withdraw and detonate, but the tremors from the ground stopped the sound - he quickly grabbed his chainsaw halberd and ran in the direction of the vibration on the other side of the hallway, agile as a beast.

Mulendvian and the others had already raised their guns, and a few seconds later, the flames of the bombs and the blue of the plasma suddenly illuminated the dark and narrow interior of the fortress.

They illuminated a massive orc, with a hideous steel jaw and a body so strong that it seemed to be another interpretation of the word muscle. It roared, swinging its crude chainsaw sword instead of two hands and lunging at the Nightblades.

Behind it were more other smaller orcs, as well as a few green-skinned gnomes wielding ridiculous tools. The thing slashed haphazardly, and its running stances were even more clumsy, but it was just right to fend off or dodge every bullet that came at it.

Sevita frowned, and the hands that had intended to wield the chainsaw halberd took a different plan at this moment. A third of a second later, three frag grenades were cleverly thrown by him.

The gunfire ceased abruptly at this moment, and the Nightblades turned, without hesitation, and began to run at a rapid pace towards where they had come. Five seconds later, Sevita, who was facing away from the orcs, heard a series of loud thuds.

The corners of his mouth twitched again under his helmet, and the smile flickered, and the flames swept in.

At 5:25 a.m., they took the fortress, and at 7:31 a.m., all the green skins on the planet were completely removed.

Efficiency is always important.

——

Holding a bowl of nutritious porridge, Sevita returned to his room.

It doesn't take much land and the décor is simple. The walls were a gloomy pale white, and in the corner to the left of the entrance were many letters, some from Alastor Rorschach of the Raven Guard, some from Terra, with some commendations for him.

Sevita barely looked at the objects, but he didn't choose to throw them around, he piled them up, ready to find a time to look at them all—or burn them all.

In the corner on the right are stacked with two metal dummies, a habit he had developed over the course of eighteen years. During that time, Karil Lohals completely disappeared from the training ground, and Sevita simply got two training dummies in his room.

After all, apart from occasionally bullying a new blood or beating up other brothers who provoked him, he had little incentive to go to the training ground again. Although their instructors have returned now, habits have been formed, and Sevita hasn't removed them.

In addition to these, the room is equipped with a pair of tables and chairs, and a bed. It simply doesn't look like a sergeant's room at all. It was also very different from the dormitory he had lived in, just like the Tridesia .

Over the years, the Tridesia has changed, she is still beautiful, but her armor and firepower are more than twice as strong. The old captain jokingly called it a betrayal of her type, while Sevita preferred to call it an 'upgrade' in a simple and straightforward manner.

It's just a generation, nothing unusual.

He came to his iron table and began to eat the nutritious porridge with the flavor of meat porridge without emotion, rattling between chews. He had already taken off his power armor, but his outfit at the moment was somewhat inconsistent with the identity of the Astartes.

He was naked, and the junction of the black carapace glowed dullly. However, there are other scars that may be more conspicuous than them.

It took a few minutes for Sevita to finish the steaming bowl of nutritious porridge, and he glanced at the special spoon, and ate it without choosing to waste it.

The rich taste of the nutritious porridge mixed with the slightly hard, bone-like taste of the spoon converged in his mouth, and finally, he leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh of satisfaction.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on his door.

Sevita moved her neck and shoulders and slowly stood up. He opened the door and, unsurprisingly, saw the narrator, Bellos von Sharp.

The gray-haired, middle-aged man had spent nearly fifty years with the Nightblades, and he was visibly aging, but not dramatically. Maybe it's life-prolonging surgery, maybe it's something else - in short, Sevita doesn't care much.

Bellos von Sharp was one of the few narrators who could hang out with the Nightblades, and that alone didn't make him ask much questions.

What's more.

"Good evening, Sergeant Sevitalion!" The narrator strode past Sevita and into his room. "Look what I've brought you!"

He waved his right hand, and a heavy book wrapped in brass and gray metal glittered in his hand. Sevita pressed the close button to close the door, and ripped a training shirt from the metal training dummy next to her.

He casually asked, "What is it?" ”

"My sixth collection of accounts has also been published!" The narrator laughed. "Look at this binding! I made it myself, how? ”

"Who are you going to beat with it or what?" Sevita glanced at him, rubbed the back of her neck, and fell back, leaning against the metal dummy.

It struggled to bear his weight, letting out an awkward hiss where it joined the ground.

"It's so thick, you can still pick it up with one hand," Sevita sneered and shook her head. "Ordinary narrator, huh?"

"It's always lighter than a sword." Bellos shrugged. "Do you want to see it?"

"No, I don't want to, thank you for your offer." Sevita shook her head neatly. "Also, I hope not many people buy your collection of accounts."

Bellos frowned, "How can you say such a thing, Captain Sevitalyon?" I was supposed to have you as the main character! ”

"Really? Haha, thank you so much. Why else do you think I'd say such a thing? ”

Sevita chuckled twice without emotion, her expression not being ugly, but not being friendly.

"You wrote a lot of what Sigismund had to say about me at the end of your last account, and do you know how long those words made me laugh at them?" Sevita asked unceremoniously.

"Laugh?!" Bellos was shocked. "But the ones I wrote—"

"—'A respectable opponent', 'The sword intersects, and I am advanced and sublimated. Every second of my battle with him gives me a glimpse of the higher gates'. ”

"So you did read my last book?" The narrator smiled happily, and in the blink of an eye he put his emotions aside. However, he soon began to correct Sevita's words, which caused the latter to roll his eyes involuntarily.

"Well, Sergeant, I'm not much of an honest man, but I'm not going to put lies into my account. Remember the seven months I left you? ”

Sevita nodded expressionlessly, a bad premonition flashing in her mind.

"It was during those seven months that I went to the fleet of the Imperial Fists and interviewed Company Commander Sigismund himself. He's such a nice guy that told me the details of your battle. Oh, by the way, Sergeant Sevitalyon, he wants to fight you again. ”

The corners of Sevita's mouth twitched, and he was silent for a few seconds before leaving the dummy. It shook and hissed, and the metallic displeasure was as palpable as the sergeant of the First Company was sinister at the moment.

"Well, well, thank you for the reminder, if it weren't for you saying I didn't know he wanted to fight me again, thank you so much."

"You're welcome, Sergeant Severtalion." Bellos bowed seemingly sincerely, and left Sevita's room consciously, leaving the metal-clad book on his desk.

Sevita glanced at it and decided not to look at it for at least two weeks, he had time anyway.

The journey back to Nostramo was always a pleasant one for him, not to mention that this time it was with the Iron Warriors.

Their home planet, Olympia, is located just east of the Extreme Field, quite close to the Ghoul Field. Therefore, you can definitely say that the two expeditionary fleets went back together along the way, and Sevita actually had other considerations.

He thought that if Bellos gave the book to the others, he would at least be able to get out of the way on the Iron Warriors' ship. It is impossible for Bellos's account to be popular among their cousins, right?

- Of course, this is a situation where there are no surprises along the way.

Probably another chapter? Eat first.

(End of chapter)