Chapter 1122: Heavy Encirclement
“Grand Master!”
The Apothecary shouted to the huge Deathwing Grand Master as he tore the chainsword from the enemy’s chest.
But Belial was not listening, his attention focused on the dismembered bodies of the three Chaos Space Marines he had just killed.
“We must retreat and join the battle group!”
Belial ignored the apothecary and pushed himself back into the enemy.
He dodged a whizzing chain axe, pinned an enemy warrior against the wall, cracked his skull between the rocky concrete wall and ceramic pauldrons, and swung his The Silent Sword, swung in a tight arc, rushed into the surging red armor with cold fury.
The roaring chain blade flashed toward his neck, and he leaned back as far as he could, the weapon's teeth gleaming as it grazed his throat.
Roaring, he fired a bullet into the attacker's squinting helmet, vaporizing the Chaos Space Marine's head.
The headless body twitched back and disappeared under the pressure of the red armor.
"All the gene seeds have been extracted, Grand Master Beria! We must retreat!"
Finally, Beria struggled to hear the pharmacist's voice, his heart was beating, and the sword was tearing apart another person. an enemy.
"Got it."
He roared, deflecting the enemy's chain saw aside, exposing the attacker's neck, driving the tip of his sword into the Chaos Space Marine's windpipe, and then immediately Withdrawing the blade, he plunged it into the face of another minion of the Dark Gods.
“Everyone moves into formation!.”
Suddenly, Beria felt the pressure from the enemy in front of him eased, causing him to take a step back and risk a glance behind him.
He saw Techmarine standing in the center of the corridor like a vengeful demon, the four arms of his servo harness spewing death from a series of laser cutters and plasma burners.
The tech sergeant is wearing gloves and holding a gear-powered ax in his hand. The tech sergeant forged this weapon himself after returning from Mars. The spark head of the ax is shaped like the gear of a huge machine. It is an exquisite piece. , a weapon of astonishing power, filled with all the craftsmanship of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
The geared tomahawk rises and falls like the lever of an over-speeded shorthand diagram, the Techmarine cutting down the enemy with brutal swipes that crackle on impact.
“Great Master, retreat quickly!”
Techmarine yelled to Belial as he sliced another Chaos Space Marine with his Cog Waraxe, bisecting him from shoulder to hipbone.
"The enemy has stepped up their offensive! The Supreme Master needs you!"
"Mis."
Beria turned his head, he could no longer see the other one Deathwing Terminator, but the opponent's identity tag still shines brightly.
He's alive, at least for now.
"We cannot leave him behind."
"The enemy will regroup soon."
Beria ignored the Techmarine's warnings, another attacker's body next to his retina The monitor showed where Meese should be.
The Deathwing Grand Master tossed the corpse of his archenemy until he saw the familiar bone-white helmet of a Deathwing Terminator.
“I found him.”
Sliding his sword into the thigh of a charging foe, Belial grabbed Myth's gauntlet and pulled him from under the pile of corpses.
"Can you still lift him?"
The technical sergeant's question was not meant to be insulting.
"Okay!" Beria grunted forcefully, and the two terminators stepped forward, lifting the injured Mies' arms and legs.
The Techmarine nodded, chopped off the arm of one of his enemies, and then decapitated him.
Beria began to clear the way for the team, his fury methodical, although the aggression was tempered by the efficiency of the finisher.
Techmarine envied his calmness, but sometimes the Deathwing Grand Master's rage could no longer be contained.
On that day he will sympathize with Beria's enemies.
Although he was wearing a Terminator, Belial was no slower than a warrior wearing power armor. As he ran, many cultists were crushed under his ceramic boots.
The enemy's ribs were broken, bone fragments pierced his guts, and his organs were flooded with blood.
Around him, the Deathwing Company slammed into the breach in an orderly formation. The heavy firepower in their hands recoiled and washed away the bodies of surrounding enemy warriors. The air was filled with the putrid stench of burning flesh. taste.
But just when he thought there were only scarlet massacres, more heretics in black armor poured into the battlefield from all directions and started shooting wildly.
"It's the Black Legion!"
Seeing the massive number of enemies, the Deathwing Master was shocked, and then killed three enemies with a series of explosive bombs.
But even so, the enemies still seemed endless.
He realized that this attack might not be so easy to resist, and the Black Legion would probably devote its main force to the Dark Angels.
Beria's guess was indeed correct. After learning about the death of his chief wizard from the escaped Garmozej, Abaddon decisively changed his plan and changed the main attack direction to go too deep. of dark angel.
As long as the Dark Angel, the Empire's most advantageous offensive spearhead, is severely damaged or even knocked out, it will be much easier for the Black Legion to continue to hold on or retreat.
For this reason, he even did not hesitate to mobilize defensive forces from other directions, gathering more than two thousand Chaos Space Marines around the Dark Angel at one time, and this is what Beria saw -
A rare, Astartes-style mass offensive.
Beria dialed the weapon to full automatic and fired again, killing a large number of cultists, their bodies blown to pieces by exploding bullets.
Yet they did not waver. Brushing away at the Deathwing like a possessed man, regardless of the damage they suffered.
And their fallen master is behind them.
“Death!”
A bladed gauntlet struck Beria's shoulder guard, and he sidestepped a thrust intended to disembowel him and drove the muzzle of his pistol into his attacker's torso.
limbs and chunks of flesh rained down on his armor as he pushed forward, splattering against his bone-white Terminator armor.
The sharp smell of blood was suffocating, and another sword came at him. He blocked the downward blow with his Silent Sword, and then smashed the pistol into the other Chaos Space Marine's face.
The blow landed on the side of the cultist's skull, and Beria's pistol then fired into the endless black and red.
He could smell the Warp on them, it soaked them, wafting from their pores like a malevolence.
Suddenly, a warning sign flashed on Beria's helmet display, indicating that his ammunition had reached the last round.
The Grand Master of the Deathwing growled, then blew his head off an emaciated assailant, the heretic's torso appearing dissimilar to his bony legs.
Belia magnetically latched his pistol to his armor and thrust his sword into the nearest cultist's bloated neck.
(End of this chapter)