Chapter 474 Departure
Markarian strolled past the flight deck of the Star Castle. The key systems of the Hell Eye have been basically controlled by the warriors of the Empire, but there are still some key parts in the Red Corsair. In control.
The emergency escape area is one of them.
The two groups of Astral Knights fired respectfully and cautiously from a distance while protecting the fearless flanks as they advanced, their bolters tearing at the shattered enemy lines.
The resurrected warrior didn't know their names at all, but he recognized the armor some of them were wearing - those inflicted on them by the hardships the Broken Eagle warband had endured and survived. He still recognized many of the scars.
But the warrior wearing armor is no longer the familiar person.
For Wuwei, the greatest sorrow is that things have changed and people have changed.
The passion and fanaticism brought about by the battle quickly cooled down in the immortal body, and he now felt particularly unfamiliar with commanding these strange warriors as the Astral Knight "The Lord".
In the past, they fought because they harbored long-forgotten hatred, and the soldiers of the Eighth Legion screamed curses that they had long since forgotten.
And now, those warriors who wear their armor serve for the Emperor who was once abandoned by Markaryon.
Dark thoughts, these dark thoughts were disturbing his mind.
The feet of the Dreadnought, covered with armor and claws, crushed corpses with its huge weight. The multi-melta cannon on its right arm kept firing, blasting away the Red Pirates' defense line. One gap after another.
These people were attracted by his huge figure and rushed forward regardless of their own safety, just to destroy his sacred mechanical body.
Perhaps there was a part of him that wanted them to succeed, just a small part, a part of his heart that remained dead silent when the battle occurred.
There is no joy here. The War Philosopher has never experienced joy in battle, but the pleasure of battle can make him focus and concentrate on external affairs.
Now, that focus has died along with who he was, like the cold sarcophagus shell of his body.
At this time, an armed servitor equipped with four chain saws that made screaming sounds rushed towards the Dreadnought. Markarian grabbed it and squeezed the servitor with his indestructible lightning claws. A smash.
When the electrified power claw blade crushed the servitor, the blood in the sluggish body was immediately evaporated by the moving electric light. Then Markarian ignited the flamethrower in the center of the lightning claw, turning the semi-mechanical The monster was covered in liquid fire, roasting its flesh and blood.
The next moment, he threw the body into the enemy lines in front, lamenting their indifference to this sophisticated killing technique.
Lost Primarch, this war was a waste of the Legion's talents.
It hadn't been long, but he was beginning to tire of fighting for the Empire and the Emperor.
"Markarian."
Suddenly, a voice came from the communication network.
It was a struggle for him to use the communicator properly instead of cutting into the armor's external loudspeaker, not helped by the fact that the war was heating up.
“I am Sevatar.”
Hearing this name,
His melt cannon had already beaten a red pirate into molten slag, and the remaining parts fell into pieces and fell into the crowd.
"Company Commander, shouldn't you be here too? You wouldn't wake me up just to kill everyone for you, right?"
"Maka Leon, it’s time to go. You go to area 1-17. There is a Thunderhawk there. We are waiting for you.”
“Who else?”
"Marek and the others."
Before he finished speaking, the pain penetrated his whole body like a ghost, accompanied by a soreness. Markarian's real body was thinking in the container filled with liquid, and he felt Silk secretions covered his face, and nerve pain washed over his pale body.
The red pirate who tried to pierce the chain saw into the knee joint of the Dreadnought was soon hammered into a pile of mud. Markarian spun his axis and straightened his lightning claws. Several people tried to attack. The red pirates were immediately thrown back among their companions and shattered into pieces.
"Where are we going?"
Markarian roared, his pain surfacing across the communications network.
"Sai, you feel very strange to me now. There are too many secrets in you, just like the original body tortured by hallucinations. I can no longer see through you."
"Ha, Markarian, you said it as if you could see through me before, we are going to-"
When the next few words were spoken, Markarian's mechanical body froze, allowing the enemy to use weak The firepower pounded his iron coffin.
“Are you sure?”
“It’s absolutely true.”
"What about these Astral Knights?"
Markarian curved his lightning claws in front of him, and sprayed a wall of fire from the flame emitter. The two teams beside him Advance under his protection with bolters and swords.
The enemies in the emergency escape area quickly collapsed and began to scramble to escape, fighting for the use of the last few shuttles.
Some red pirates even pointed their guns at their companions who were fighting side by side just now.
After that, the Dreadnought mecha slowed down, slowly.
He turned around and watched.
Noise surrounded him, unheard noises masked by the rolling of his joints and the roar of his weapons.
The physical bullets hit his shell like a heavy rain. "They have the ability to clean up this mess."
"But they are about to face Huron."
The Dreadnought's power furnace roared louder as Markaryon reengaged, and the loudspeakers on his hull blasted loudly as he roared in Nastromvin.
"If he can't even deal with Huron, then he's not qualified to be the one. No need to worry, they can at least get back alive. Time is running out, so evacuate quickly."
"What tools do we use to leave?"
"There is a disabled pirate ship nearby. I have a way to make it move again."
"Okay, I'll be right there."
Just as the elite of the Eighth Legion quietly evacuated the battlefield, Malakin on the Mother of Tears was already in a dilemma.
The enemy's firepower is increasing, and most of our own battleships have been damaged.
Distraught, the Abyss Watcher turned his head to face a mortal team member whose name he had no intention of remembering.
"The current status of the squadron's reorganization?"
The officer, wearing an outdated military uniform, stood straight and checked the display control panel.
"The battle damage rate of the Blood Wing Squadron has exceeded 60%, and the battle damage rate of the Golden Spear Squadron has exceeded 70%. Only the Light of Baal Squadron has a battle damage rate near the 40% red line. At present, each squadron has been reorganized and can be dispatched again. Two rounds.”
Malakin stepped forward, making a sound of armor scraping.
“Why is the battle damage rate so high?”
“Confirming, sir.”
The officer picked up the microphone attached to his coat.
"This is the command deck, now please-"
Malakin will never understand the way mortals show fear. He just watched the officer's face become pale, and his heartbeat was getting louder and louder like a drum. Coming faster and faster.
Obviously, it’s bad news, or bad news that mortals don’t want to be told.
"Some combat aircraft pursued too deeply and entered the enemy's air defense fire network. Sir, the flight commander is... correcting it."
"Order them to stop the attack, immediately."
The officer delivered the order, and as he listened to the reply, he swallowed and tried to speak.
The response from Flight Control was swift and furious, some parts of which the mortal decided not to tell the Chapter Master.
Suddenly, other voices intervened.
"My lord."
Malakin turned his head, surprised at the growing discomfort in the mortal's mouth.
"Say."
"The leader of the Soshyan Chapter wishes to speak directly with you, saying that it is the most urgent matter."
"Open the channel."
"Ma Brother Larkin.”
Soshyan’s voice echoed on the bridge.
"We have taken control of the Star Fortress."
"The Emperor is above."
Malakin breathed a sigh of relief. Although there were various accidents in time, the plan still followed the steps. Walk.
"Brother Malakin, now you have to make way for Huron."
Hearing Soshyan's words, Malakin pursed his lips.
Of course he knew what the next step in the plan was.
"Brother Soshyan, I hope that I can participate in the last step, and I will hand over the command to Brother Lothar."
"Understood, Brother Malakin, I promise, Huron is yours."
"Thank you."
After the communication was closed, Malakin took a deep breath and gently pressed the blood on his waist with his slightly trembling hands. Broad blade.
"Huron. Don't die before I come."
(End of Chapter)