Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 527: At first, this was just a normal battle
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Captain Hannah Katetzlar, piloting her faithful Dead Eye, and her after-deck gunner, Raffs, surveyed the plains as they passed.

"What did you see?" she asked.

"Those demon drop pods. There are many of them. Red ones," her reliable companion replied.

"Do you think we'd have a chance of hitting one or two?"

"They have already begun to open. It is estimated that within a few seconds, the blasphemous demons in their bellies will be released. I guess we can only select someone who looks like the leader to try to drop the bomb. Then it is time to return. Don't forget the new reconnaissance mission you just received from the headquarters. We have to go to the north, near the crashed Sword of Resistance, to take detailed pictures of the enemy's landing there and send them back to the headquarters."

Hannah remembered the intelligence reconnaissance mission they had just received and nodded regretfully.

"Then you have to pick the biggest one. Our fighter plane is not a bomber, and this bomb was a last-minute request of mine."

"No problem. I want to find a good home for it as soon as possible. Just fly over their group. Be careful not to get caught by those gargoyles. -Oh!"

The flight captain pulled the joystick and lifted the nose of her attack plane. The body of the plane flexibly turned sideways in the air. The gunner gritted his teeth and gripped his firing lever. A series of flames spurted out from the tail of the plane, leaving several arc-shaped bright orange-red lines in the air. The end of one of them swept the wings of the small flying demon that followed them in the air. The flesh membrane of that thing splashed a stream of black liquid, and it ran away wailing, looking for more vulnerable prey on the ground.

"Great, I think I see it! Over there! Hannah, one o'clock starboard!"

"I saw that too! I'll try to keep it steady and pass at a low altitude!"

"Watch me." Lafus took the bulging bomb that was fastened with woven belts and ropes next to him, checked it, and then pushed it to the drop port at his feet.

"In effective range in about three seconds! Rafus!"

"The Emperor is with you, boy." He made a prayer gesture to the bomb and then opened the bolts of the hatch.

The freezing wind in the air suddenly blew onto his helmet and goggles, but he had already seen the target - that conspicuous guy, red, with an equally huge cloaked man beside him, the incredibly large axe in his hand reflected the light of the distant artillery fire, and the two Chaos Space Marines were surrounded by a circle of Fallen, mainly red. Obviously, they were surrounding the leader and his adjutant, probably doing some pre-war mobilization or inflicting a filthy grace ritual.

Just a glance at the strange mutations on those guys' armor and bodies made Lafus feel the sting of pollution in his eyes behind the goggles.

He didn't dare to look at it any further. The time was just right, so he pushed the aerial bomb with the mark of purity on it towards the location where the big red man was.

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"My Lord, I do not understand. Wouldn't you let your champion lead our demon-summoning army as a vanguard? Then we can also offer our blood and skulls to the great gods."

After landing, the Chaos Undivided warriors went looking for their respective opponents to revel, but a group of major Word Bearers still stayed with Honsou and Mercurius. Apparently, Abaddon had told them something else, because Honsou had seen from the corner of his eye that the Word Bearers wizards hidden in the back row were secretly chanting scriptures from some scrolls, their hungry goggles flashing with malicious light as they stared at the body of the powerful champion. Obviously, as experts in demon manipulation, the Word Bearers had coveted this so-called "manipulable" Blood God champion for a long time.

"What? Don't you have your own combat company and target mission?"

"Of course, Master Honsou," they began, a Word Bearer wizard with teeth on his helmet, his belt clinking with scrolls of human skin and colorful jars. "But we also have direct orders from the Warmaster to follow the breach in the fortress you and your troops have breached and set up a forward base."

"I knew he couldn't be trusted." Mercury - Robert Guilliman calmly took the huge power axe from the weapon rack behind him. His thumb pressed the switch, and the field changed from blue to white, and finally to orange-red, like the bloody light of the setting sun burning in the sky.

Only the Master of Potion could hear the deep anger hidden in these calm words. He gathered his cloak, as if he didn't want to be blown or splashed by anything. "Well, you see, I've already asked him to warm up..."

Amidst the occasional sounds of fighting overhead, there was suddenly a discordant scream. The Master of Alchemy subconsciously raised his head when he realized what the sound was. Apparently, the others also realized it, and they began to scatter and look for the nearest cover.

Guilliman was about to do the same, but his wrist was grabbed by the Master of Alchemy. He turned back in surprise, "Although I am... but I cannot..."

Then he saw Honso blink and mouth the words "Close your eyes."

The last thing the original body saw was the bomb, which was attached with an extra body and obviously had an excessive amount of explosives, falling to the ground.

The extremely scorching heat of over a thousand degrees, the instantly burning and expanding vacuum, the bright white light and shock wave caused by the explosion swept across everyone within a kilometer.

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"These mortal pilots are clever."

Marshal Amaritch said as Modred stood on the wall beside him, the flag of the Crusian Expedition flying proudly in his hand.

They also saw the bombing scene just now. The attack plane then performed several difficult moves again, shook off the hyenas in the air, and flew towards their north.

"Perhaps, Marshal, but I would rather face those heretics face to face." The castle lord raised his bolter and shot the head of a tall and strong subhuman cultist who opened his bloody mouth and tried to climb up and shoot at them with his body with too many thick arms. "These enemies are too weak to be our opponents for martyrdom here. We need some truly powerful heretics to demonstrate the glory of the sacrifice bestowed upon us by the God-Emperor and Dorne." "Patience, Mordred." The marshal replied, staring closely at the airdrop landing area in front of him, "The ritual symbols and emblems just unfolded there are unclean, filthy, and twisted."

"It's the Word Bearers, my lord." Modred also saw the twisted skeletons with black flames, the human skin scriptures and runes flying in the air, the large number of on-site sacrifices and magic circles, and the cult men and women who were driven down the seven-story high walls they were defending and filled the moat with their own flesh and blood. Their equipment was simple, and the only thing they had in common was that they had marks dedicated to the dark gods engraved on their foreheads or bodies with blades.

Modred saw them coming with his own eyes, and they were blasted into pieces of blood and flesh like rows of harvested crops by the Cadian defenders under the city walls, as well as Brother Regnar armed with heavy weapons and the Cross Medal Squad he led. But they still chanted Lorgar's hymns, and walked desperately towards death in batches as if full of hope, filling the bottom of the moat with blood and corpses bit by bit. Even the orbital bombardment and ground shooting of these heretics completely ignored them. More than half of the cultists who died from light spears and artillery shells from behind were probably killed head-on.

The aerial bombing just now caused the shooting from behind of these weak but endless attackers to pause for a moment, and they immediately rushed over like a black unclean wave, almost drowning the Black Templar heavy firepower team under the bastion wall.

"Tell the Ankh Squad that they are not allowed to retreat, not even a single step."

Mordred asked another battle brother to go down and convey the marshal's order, but then he found that Amaritch's eyes were attracted by something in the distance.

He couldn't help but follow the Marshal's gaze.

"God Emperor. Your holy light of leading death shines upon us humble ones!"

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"You...are not..."

"You talk too much." The huge and heavy axe was as light as a feather in Guilliman's hand. With a crackling sound that broke through the air, it smoothly cut the Word Bearer, who was about to hurriedly send a message overhead, into five neat pieces. The two hands holding the scriptures and the transceiver smashed into the dust along with the outer gauntlets, and the chanter's head rolled down the other side of the slope caused by the bomb, with a sticky black oily substance flowing out from the cut on his broken neck.

The master of medicine came up from behind him and glanced at the shattered pieces of flesh on the ground. "Well... although I usually say that you are wasting the gene storage glands in your neck, it seems that they don't have anything good for me to recover. There is another one, 310 meters away, moving in the opposite direction."

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier that your power armor has a personal shield that can be used by both of us?” He raised his hand and fired several shots to the side, accurately blasting the last Word Bearer who was about to escape into two halves. Guilliman - still with double horns on his head, the illusion camouflage from a certain Primarch worked very well - said unhappily, “Then I would have tried to kill Abaddon!”

"Because it is our trump card, my lord." The Master Potion Master lowered his head to check his medical gauntlets - the auspicious instrument on his medical gauntlets was undoubtedly far more advanced than Guilliman could comprehend, for Hongsuo was using it to accurately scan all life signals that had been specially marked within a radius of several kilometers. Although Guilliman suspected that this function was originally designed for search and rescue in ruins and battlefields, it was also very useful for them to use it to accurately hunt down the Word Bearers who were dazed by the explosion one by one. The Primarch of the Ultramarines decided not to raise this question so much.

"Our mission is to lurk and build a semi-public site, not to be assassins. If an assassin is needed, my genetic father will naturally have someone more suitable than me. Didn't we agree on this before? My lord, a little impatience can ruin a big plan. If you forcibly move Abaddon from his assigned position, it will be a huge threat to you yourself. Have you ever thought that there may be a possibility that you have just successfully knocked down, killed, and destroyed this Chaos Warmaster from his throne in the last second, and the next second you are forcibly pressed on the throne by the four dark gods above the throne, and the Chaos Mark is engraved on your forehead. Their divine power will force you to do something unspeakable?"

"...You have quite a rich imagination. Even if forced, I will never yield to them." Although he disagreed, he had to admit that the Iron Warriors Potion Master's understated yet witness-like tone when he said this instantly sent a surreal and chilling electric current through Robert Guilliman's spine, almost making the Primarch shiver.

"Indeed, I have seen a lot of the madness and changes of chaos recently. I have also experienced the malice and treacherousness of this world. Now I really feel that nothing can make me lose my composure."

The camouflaged Primarch stood still. In the massacre just now, with the help of Honso, he killed about two hundred enemies who landed with him in a little over two minutes. Many people did not even have the chance to see him swing his weapon, but there was not a drop of sweat on his face tattooed with scriptures, as if he had just chopped some wood into firewood in the forest of the Hera Mountains.

Now Honso said that they had to calibrate some necessary data before they could go to where the Sons of Dorne were, so he was on guard and waiting for the master potion master to finish.

Guilliman turned the axe upside down and leaned it on the ground like a long sword. He took a breath, and the smoke, blood, the smell of roasted metal and the sweet smell of corrupt spices filled the battlefield. "But I still have to say that you are really very unlike the Iron Warriors I used to know, and you are not like any of the heirs that Perturabo would favor in my memory." He rolled his amber eyes and stared at Honso, who was looking up at the direction of the bastion as if comparing something. "You are too... opinionated. I remember that he didn't like his officers to act on their own. You are more like the type that he would easily... execute."

"Then I'll take it as a compliment, my Lord." Satisfied with marking what he needed from the many data directories, Honso put the screen back into his medical gauntlet. "We can go over now. The Black Templars here are the Crusius Expeditionary Force, led by Marshal Amaritch. They still have eighty-eight people. I suggest we hurry up and mark this place as our occupied area and take care of other things before Abaddon's troops from other areas come over, otherwise they can easily fill themselves up here."

The Thirteenth Primarch looked at the Iron Warriors' Master Potion Master suspiciously, "How do you know so much?"

"Tracing and calibrating the data, sir. I am doing this just now." The war blacksmith gave a mysterious and formulaic smile. "But I assure you that there is no witchcraft involved. It is all mechanical truth and technology."

"I hope so." Guilliman pulled up the axe, thought for a moment and put it back on the weapon rack on his back, and then the two of them walked towards the Martyrs' Bastion.

——There, most of the mutants and cultists who were originally driven by the Word Bearers had been killed. Their arrival stood out like a crane among chickens, attracting everyone's attention.

The Black Templar's heavy firepower group and the artillery fire from the defenders on the city walls all attacked them, but they crossed the battlefield unscathed and walked to the foot of the city wall that was tens of meters high. They looked up at the thick city wall.

"Do you have anything else here that can take us both straight up?"

The Thirteenth Primarch threw this question to his nephew who had a fake smile on his face without thinking there was anything wrong with it.

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"This is a provocation! A naked provocation!" Mordred was burning with righteous anger. He knelt on one knee in front of Marshal Amaritch, "My lord! These two heretics have obviously sacrificed their companions and gained more powerful strength. Please allow me to carry the sacred banner to fight! I will hunt down these two hateful wizards for you, for the God-Emperor, and for Dorne!"

(End of this chapter)