As of now, the war that suddenly befell Terra has been eight hours underway.

The pillar of light that rose from the palace heralded its beginning, but unfortunately, few people realized what the pillar of light that pierced the clouds meant.

This small group of people was unfortunate compared to the majority of the people and soldiers who heard the Emperor's speech and knew that a war had befallen Terra.

They know the whole story.

They know when this war began, why it began, and what kind of hardships they are about to face – they know so much, so why would they be unfortunate?

The answer is simple, because they don't know when it's going to end.

Undoubtedly, this has brought more, greater suffering.

However, as one of the painful people, Fogham couldn't help but smile as he stared at the pillar of light.

At this moment, he stood on a towering wall, the cold wind was bitter, the snow was dancing wildly, and the light of the searchlight was still struggling to stay bright, but the light had been swallowed up for the most part.

His appearance loomed in the darkness, but this did not detract from the beauty of the smile, and people couldn't help but raise their heads and start to look up. They wanted something out of Phoenix's smile at the moment, but not for support or strength.

They were firm enough, otherwise they wouldn't be standing here at this moment, with light guns in hand. Men or women, old people or young children – everyone except those who really can't fight, has a weapon in their hands.

They have all heard the words of the Lord of Mankind, and they are standing here for this, soldiers and civilians, shoulder to shoulder.

Behind them, there was a heavily fortified line, heavily guarded at every step.

The bright yellow armor of the Imperial Fist was clearly visible in the wind and snow. Beyond them was the cold iron gray of the Iron Hand Legion, where the duties and glory of the guards shone fearlessly in the extreme cold.

Spread down the line, you can see streets red with blood and corpses, broken nests, artillery and tanks roaring everywhere, and countless soldiers fighting through bridges and ruins.

The loyalists are colliding head-on with the tide.

Ferus Manus withdrew his distant gaze and glanced down. He saw a crowd of black, dense crowds, even occupying the entire wide square in front of the fortress.

You know, there are enough four legions here, and it seems to be full at the moment - however, this does not affect the source of troops behind the fortress to support the nest capital below.

Roger Dorn's designs have always been so reliable.

He has set up a special passage in the underground of the fortress, through which the warriors can freely and stealthily run directly to the battlefield of the hive, or return from it to recuperate.

Thinking of this, Iron Hand couldn't help but turn his head to look at the stone, and as he expected, his brother was still frowning, and he was tapping back and forth on a data tablet with his head down—this was certainly not preparation for a speech.

At the moment, he was just checking the data board to see if the communication was restored. Ferus shook his head, he understood what kind of burden his brother was carrying on his shoulders.

And he knew better that Roger Dorn in no way needed any pity or sympathy.

He turned his head to look at Fogham again, Phoenix's smile was very different from before, but that didn't stop him from attracting the most attention, and most people were looking at him.

Ferus has no problem with this - people have different personalities, and their talents naturally vary. He's a good general, and quite possibly the best in the galaxy.

But when it comes to diplomacy or speeches, Ferus thinks he is far inferior to Vogram.

His innate gloom and majesty as a conqueror would inspire awe in most people, and most of his reputation and reputation within the empire were related to warfare.

Vogrim is different, but it's not a gaudy look or a desire for beauty. People respected him, loved him, and longed to follow him—as it was before, and it hasn't changed in the slightest.

Ferrus accepted this.

He strives for perfection, but he is by no means unable to accept his shortcomings. Thinking of this, he couldn't help but think of the past Fogham.

Unlike him, the Chemus was at one point extremely disgusted with his own failures, never talking to anyone about minor shortcomings, and even seemed irritable.

Interestingly, this changed when they followed the emperor back from Nostramo.

Vogrim reverted back to his original form, an open-minded seeker who did what he could to perfection within his means, rather than pursuing unattainable vain things, such as winning a war without shedding a drop of blood

Ferus didn't think any longer, forcing himself to interrupt his thoughts. He could hear Roger Dorn sling the datapad back to his belt.

Looking at the armed belt, Iron Hand actually smiled rarely, and the magnitude was insignificant, but it still immediately attracted Fogham's attention.

"What are you laughing at?" Phoenix asked softly.

"Just thinking of some interesting contrasts." Ferrus replied with a deep groan. "Knights and warriors as far back as the Middle Ages also used armed belts to carry their weapons with them, and it seems that people have been in need of having their weapons with them at all times for a long time."

"And in essence." Dorne answered, his short hair dancing in the wind. "Our belts are no different from what they have, except for the special materials and the weapons they carry."

"Is this a question worth pondering?" Fogham scoffed mildly. In the darkness, his right hand quietly pressed a button, and a noise that represented the beginning of the speech began to spread across the square.

"Of course it's worth it."

Ferus replied helplessly. He's still serious, or he's trying to be as serious as he can. In such an expression, his helplessness quickly faded away.

Roger Dorn glanced at them and said nothing. Ferrus spoke again.

"This means that we have been with weapons since ancient times, and we need weapons, so we have to find ways to carry them with us. This means that humanity has been under various threats since ancient times. Bows and arrows, leather armor, longswords - blasters, power armor, chainsaw swords. ”

Ferus paused for half a second, accentuating his tone with a strong gesture.

"And our ancestors survived, through every calamity, every crisis that could have led to their demise, or we wouldn't be standing here."

He stretched out his hands, grasped the walls of the wall, and gazed majestically at the soldiers and people in the square, no one disturbed him, and everyone held their breath and waited for Gorgon's next words.

"We have inherited the blood and fighting spirit of our ancestors, and it continues to this day. Think about it, people of the Empire, how is the situation similar to our history now? The same belt of arms, the same existential crisis——! ”

"We, like our ancestors, are on the brink of destruction."

He reached out and lifted the Furnace Breaker. In the darkness, the furnace breaker let out a slight hum, and the arc of Mori Blue began to wrap around the hammerhead, illuminating Ferus Manus's face as well.

At this moment, his eyes were bright.

"I have nothing more to say, come and fight, come and fight side by side."

——

Saul Tavitz swings his power sword with a lot of force.

The blade of the sword brutally pierced through its body, and the filthy aetheric flesh shattered little by little in the decomposition field, followed by the strong bones. With a roar, a demon was split in two.

The steaming, foul-smelling entrails and decomposing flesh fell to the ground, blood splattering all over him. But that's just the beginning, there are more demons coming out to try to get their hands on what is behind them, and that must not happen.

At the very least, Tavitz could guarantee with his life that no demon would be able to set foot in the Hall of the Torch inside the Desperate Fortress until they were completely dead.

For this, they can do whatever it takes.

"I am thunder, I am lightning!"

An unfamiliar battle cry came from Tavitz's side, and the Emperor's Son continued to kill, slashing at the tide of demons as he glanced at the figure at the front out of the corner of his eye.

He was dressed in gold armor with a simple style, and his arms and legs were decorated with lightning and scarlet. He wielded a great sword of unrivaled bravery, and with each swing of the sword, several demons died at the same time.

Lightning swirled around the broad greatsword, illuminating his face as well—it was an iron face, utterly merciless, the arc of its smirk, the grim striking of the craftsman, and its blood was covered in blood.

Frankly, Tavitz had never seen such a brutal tactic, with each blow trying to bring up more blood. The self-proclaimed warrior of Thunder was full of mysteries, and if he had the time, if he wanted to, Tavitz would have been eager to sit down with him and talk.

He knew he was going to hear one good story after another.

But now is not the time.

"Evacuate! Come back to the front! A voice roared behind them, with mechanical and electronic undertones. The artillery has been loaded! ”

As his voice fell, a precise rain of death shot out of the carefully maintained guns of the Mechnidus, revealing the glory and wrath of the Mechists.

Weapons take turns to share death in this incredibly spacious tunnel. Hordes of demons that had burst out of the mist had been beaten into a sieve, and the strongest of them had only a slight resistance.

But they were demons after all, and the bewitched and the fat rotten soon stepped forward and began to use all sorts of evil tactics to try to stop Tavits and the rest of the warriors from evacuating.

The breathtaking sound and the plague that brought the dead back to life began to spread rapidly, and it was on the verge of collapsing the front - but at the critical moment, a golden shadow charged against the crowd.

"Demons!"

Thunder roared and slashed the greatsword in his hand. He leaped to his feet and cut off the blade in his hand. Not thinking about whether he could come back at all, he had only one purpose, that is, to kill those two monsters who were confusing the front.

When Tavitz saw this, his footsteps suddenly stopped, and the emperor's son began to gallop towards him without hesitation.

In just a second, he had already judged the current situation - reinforcements were still coming, and the Palm Sealers had already mobilized a huge amount of manpower and firepower to ensure that the Star Torch Hall was safe and sound, and they only needed to hold this wave.

So those two things have to die.

"Cover them!"

One of the commanders immediately gave the order, and the mortal soldiers immediately shifted their fire, roaring and firing at the enemy.

They bought Tavitz some quiet time for his run without paying attention to the demons or the resurrected walking corpses, and also allowed him to get to the Thunder five seconds early.

At this moment, he was fighting with the bewitching long-tongued monster that was all pink all over. Although the latter's posture is enchanting, his movements are incredibly sensitive. If it weren't for the breadth of the giant sword, which could cover half of the body with a random block, Thunder would have been defeated at this moment.

Seeing the opportunity, Tavitz pulled out his new Mechanician gun from his waist and raised his hand to slam a plasma shot into the thing's face.

Thunder followed, swinging his sword and splitting its charred body in half. The fat, rotting monster was not idle, and it seized the opportunity to unleash a disgusting miasma of faint yellow at them.

At the critical moment, Thunder raised his left hand with a wicked smile, and a thick black barrel poked out under the armor, and the promethium flame immediately began to burn. The miasma was burned and even caused a series of explosions.

In the firelight, Tavitz fired another shot, still hitting a large mouth on the fat demon's fat-covered belly. It wailed, and the flames dissipated, and the greatsword emerged from it, smashing it from head to toe with extreme violence.

"For unity! For unity! ”

Thunder laughed wildly and slashed his right hand again, killing several demons instantly, while Tavitz threw down a barrage of splinter grenades and turned away without hesitation.

He knew that the Thunder could keep up—and it was, and the cruel giant, much taller than him, grinned lowly and came a little closer to him as he ran.

"Well done, latecomer." He complimented, but his tone was a little sarcastic out of nowhere.

The Emperor's Son glanced at him and replied, "Each other, you undead fellow. ”

"What is there to fear from death?!" Thunder retorted loudly. "A glorious death is what I have asked for all my life, Saul Tavitz, son of the Emperor! Do you know what glory is?! ”

Tavits kept silent.

Of course he knew, but he had no glory to speak of right now - yes, he was fighting for humanity and the Empire, but he had no glory to speak of.

He's an escapee, he's left his legion and the Primordial, and that alone makes it impossible for Tavitz to answer that question.

Seeing that he didn't answer, Thunder didn't ask, but took off his helmet as soon as he returned to the fortifications, revealing his face.

His skin was a rough bronz, the bridge of his nose was high, and his eyes were menacingly raised. At a glance, Tavitz was sure that this man had been war-hardened – but the question was, who was he?

"Who is you?" Tavitz asked dryly.

"Let's take our time." Thunder laughed in reply, flicking his helmet and tucking it under his armpit. "It's just a person who has survived so far."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving behind only a loud war cry.

"For unity!"

It's finally finished

(End of chapter)