He runs.

All the time - running.

The bottom of the boot was slimy, presumably with blood on the soles of the feet. But it wasn't a problem, after all, his problematic ankle deserved more care than a sock that had been integrated into the soles of his feet.

Every time he landed, his ankle hurt a heartbreak, but he still had to keep running. He had no reason to stop.

If it is to be more realistic, more indifferent, and more in line with the reporting standards of the Ministry of Military Affairs, then this passage can be expanded into the following long sentences.

Corporal Ognyan Tranteff, a corporal of the 'Brave' Company of the Twelfth Company of the 62nd Infantry Regiment of Terra, had to dutifully send every order between the various battle positions, and he was not allowed to stop until the end of his life or duty.

Ognyan has no problem with this. Communications have broken down and are hard to fix, at least in the part of their country that is struggling to maintain communications. Then, in this case, the ancient position of herald naturally represents an honor.

He's always keen to get honors.

He spread his legs, his knees not bent, and ran through the blood-soaked trenches like a programmed servant.

Passwords were written in his head, and papers were placed in the compartment of his military coat. He was holding a Martian MK2 light gun, which wasn't a great weapon, but he loved it.

He replaced the handguard, stock, and grip for it, and even added a special muzzle shaped ring from the Black Market when he got permission. He loved the gun so much that he had to hold it in his arms even now.

The dark snow was still falling from the sky, falling on his military coat and helmet, and also on the ground. The snow was always falling and it was falling non-stop, and there were not many living people left in the trenches.

The last time he was here, it was full of people. Now, most of them are corpses. However, the few remaining soldiers are still organizing a counterattack, waiting for reinforcements that don't know when they will arrive.

If Ognyan had been in the mood to think about it, he would probably have wondered why these people were fighting to the death, just as they wondered why he kept running.

But they don't have the mood and time to think, they just do their job and are loyal to their duties. So they live, and then they wait to die, and that's it.

Ognyan ran past them and spat out a blood-soaked word from his throat.

"The Angels of the Fist of the Empire are coming!"

It stands to reason that any form of order should not be allowed to be leaked, and he should inform the commander of the 33rd position in the eastern part of the palace about the order, who will then inform his soldiers of the order. In this way, it is in line with the system in the manual of the Ministry of Military Affairs.

However, Ognyan believes that now is not the time to strictly follow the rules and regulations. Moreover, the manual of the Ministry of Military Affairs is more suitable for being taken to wipe the butt.

The commander of the thirty-third position was dead the last time he came. So, Ognyan made his own judgment, and he spoke the order out loud.

With every step he takes, he utters a few words. By the time he reached the end of the trench, he had repeated the order fifty-five times, and all the soldiers who were still alive had heard him, but he had no time to observe their reactions.

In fact, the only reaction that most people could give was a few cheers between shots, and it was also suppressed by another voice.

There was also half a loyal artillery squad on their positions, and the artillery was still firing. In the positions where the infantry is stationed, the sound of artillery is always the loudest.

If Ognyan had stopped and peeked out through the observation hole in the trenches, he could see some fiery orbs falling from the sky, smashing into the dark fog, shattering or igniting some hideously twisted form.

It was the masterpiece of the artillery squad on the 33rd position, they hit it accurately, Ognyan did not know about it, but he always hoped that they would hit it accurately.

In this way, the herald Ognyan left the thirty-third position and came to the thirty-sixth position next to it.

He suffered as soon as he came, and the heavy dust grabbed his boots and made him almost fall. If it weren't for his quick eyes and hands and supporting himself with his elbows, I'm afraid he would really be on the ground with his face.

The herald propped himself up on the butt of his rifle and pulled his right leg out of the dust that was at least ten centimeters thick before he got back to his feet.

It was only then that he realized that his military coat had changed color, and that what had once been a beautiful white-gold color had now become a thick, damp cloth of black, white, gray, and dark red.

It had been perfectly cut and could even add a touch of Imperial might to his not-so-strong figure, but now it looked empty, as if it were hanging from him, and there was nothing under his overcoat.

Not only that, but the biggest bad news was actually the medals he hung on his chest, and they were missing, probably lost in a fall. The herald shook his head, not feeling sorry for himself, and he began to run.

There were more soldiers on Position 36 than on Position 33, and there seemed to be some officers alive. They are in good shape, with three full-fledged artillery positions, as well as a functioning field medical system.

Ognyan turned sideways and made way for the two medics who were carrying stretchers past him. On the stretcher lay a soldier with a broken hand and a pierced abdomen. It was clear that the two had just returned from the front line, and this soldier was one of the survivors they had found

The herald was a little heartened by this, and despite the swelling pain in his knee, he forced himself to quicken his pace and ran towards the center of the position.

Before he could get closer, he heard the grumpy voice of Sig Grimm, the commander of the 26th Company of the 63rd Infantry Regiment, known as the "Tank Breaker". The standard veteran Oilson is still alive, and still using his trademark loud voice to curse.

"Fuck, no retreat! No refund! Do you understand? Go back and tell your damn company commander who grew up with gangster shit that eats nests, and let him not even think about it, the 26th Company will definitely not give up its position, unless every soldier in the 26th Company dies here! ”

He sounded thunderous.

Ognyan approached quickly, and he didn't want to miss it. As he approached, he soon saw a man with no armor and a blood-stained bandage on his chest and back, a helmet in his hand, and another herald yelling at him.

After seeing this, Ognyan quickly changed his mindset.

He stood ten paces away from Sig Grim, then slammed his boots, made an Aquila salute, and began to report on his intentions and orders he had brought with him—he didn't want to go to the theater anymore, and he didn't want to drag on any longer.

"In the name of the Emperor and the Aquila, and in accordance with the wishes of Company Commander Fafnir Rann of the Fist of the Empire—"

He shouted hoarsely, it certainly wasn't the first time he had dealt with Sig Grim. He had to yell like that, that damn loud voice to notice him.

"—I brought his orders!"

Sig Grim turned.

"The Emperor forbids, but, who?" He asked. "What - no, which honorable Imperial Fist Company Commander? Fuck, why are you talking so loudly? You bastard Ognyan. ”

"Company Commander Fafnir Rann wants me to pass on a password to the major positions on the eastern front of the palace." Ognyan said without squinting. "There is a two-thousand-strong Imperial Fist strike force coming across the battle line from the west side of the palace."

"They brought support, and they brought with them an army of cathars and supply servants. Company Commander Fafnir Rann wants you to remain courageous and loyal, and they will be there soon. ”

"Fuck good!"

Sieg Grim immediately roared, his right hand raised in the air, and waved his helmet like crazy. Then, he immediately turned around and smashed the mud-covered helmet at the feet of the other herald.

"Look at Ognian, look at you! Damn it! ”

The man sighed, "It's useless for you to be angry with me like this, Chief Grim. Wanting you to retreat is the company commander's business, and it has nothing to do with me."

"Pick up the helmet!" Sig Grim glared at him.

A second, two seconds, three seconds—amid the roar of the cannon and the sudden sound of a horn, the herald bent down and threw his helmet back to Sig Grim.

Putting on his helmet, the tank breaker picked up his military jacket from a rock and a blaster in an astonishingly swift motion, six shiny medallions waddling against each other on the butt of the blaster.

He grinned and roared again, "Then I apologize to you!" Do what you have to do! Don't care about my old bastard's foul language! ”

The herald saluted, and with a helpless smile on his young face, he and Ognyan exchanged a bow, and then turned straight away. Ognyan did not leave immediately, but continued to speak.

He still hasn't said anything.

"Also." Ognyan leaned over to the tank breaker and pulled out the paper from his coat, which was wet with his blood and sweat. "You'll also need to sign this document."

"What the hell is this?"

The gray-haired Sig Grim glanced at him, turning off the safety of his blaster as he took a soldier nameplate around his neck into his mouth and pressed it under his tongue.

He asked vaguely, "Didn't you say that Company Commander Rann told you the password?" ”

"This is the secret order of the Palm Seal." Ognyan said. "He asked me to bring this order to you by name, so it's for one person, Company Commander Grim."

"Then I'm really honored." Sig Grim said in a weird way. "Read it to me."

"I don't have that permission."

"Read it to me!" Sig Grim roared.

At such a close distance, his voice even overwhelmed the trumpets of the charge and the cries of the people. Ognyan, however, was very determined and unfazed.

With the murderous gaze of a tank breaker, he slammed the parchment roll into his face.

"See for yourself, Company Commander Grim." The herald said very firmly. "As I said, I don't have that permission."

The veteran was silent for half a second, glaring at him impatiently, but still didn't say anything after all. He lifted his hand to straighten the helmet he was wearing crookedly on his head, and then reached out to take the parchment roll.

His reading lasted about thirty seconds, divided into two parts. The first time, he glanced at it in a hurry, and the second time, he focused. Ognyan waited until more than a minute after he had fallen into deep thought, and then spoke slowly to remind him.

"Do you have any orders for me to take to the other positions, Company Commander Grim?"

"Nope." The veteran said pensively. "But—well, Ognyan, have you ever heard of Zefon the mourner and Joffil Demukia the beheader?"

"I'm sure I've never heard such a majestic title in our troops."

"So they're Astarte?"

"Probably." The herald said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing—have you ever heard of Ur Pesson?"

"Not either."

"And what about Sa'd ibn Salah ibn Rashid al-Ratib?"

“.”

Ognyan looked at him in silence and shook his head slowly, "Company Commander Grim, if this is a joke-"

"—I swear to the Emperor that this is not a joke." The tank smasher said seriously.

The herald glanced at him, but Sig Grim's eyes were serious, and there was no smile. Some veterans were indeed keen to trick heralds, but he had never heard of this one doing anything like it.

In retrospect, the commander of the 26th Company of the 63rd Infantry Regiment was at best a violent personality, but I had never heard of such a rumor that he liked to joke regardless of the occasion

So, Ognyan nodded. There were flaming fireballs that landed not far from them, splashing up a cloud of dust.

"I have not heard of the first three, but Major Ibn knows them. He was the commander of the 21st Corps, I mean, the current commander. Why are you asking this? ”

"Because they're coming to my position soon." Sig Grim said confusedly. "The Palm Seal has asked me to lead these five on a secret mission."

"It's not something I'm supposed to hear."

"Who cares?"

Sig Grim asked rhetorically, then spoke to himself.

"And he had a request for the time when the mission would begin, and he wanted me to start the mission in 15 hours, uh, fifteen hours, and asked me to arrive at Combat Position 10 before then. The palm printman said that I would find Ur Pesson there. ”

He shook his head, his lips opening and closing, and silently spat out a curse. The herald pretended not to see it, and he asked, "It's your business, Company Commander Grim, do you have any other orders?" ”

"No, get out!" Sig Grim replied crudely.

He turned, climbed to the top of the trench with his gun in his hand, and began to charge. Ognyan stood in the slightly empty trench, the wails of the wounded, the roars of the soldiers, and the incessant firing of all kinds of weapons.

His ears were noisy, his legs and body were in terrible pain, he fell to the ground in a trance, reached out and touched his chest, felt a fist-sized hole, and then he fell into a coma.

Five minutes later, he stood up again.

He kept running.

The update is complete, it's much better today, and it will return to normal updates tomorrow, with a daily 8k guarantee.

(End of chapter)