The Emperor’s Angel of Death

Despite having 5-6 hours of rest every 10 hours, the continuous combat was making Hays feel disoriented, and he couldn't remember how many days had passed.

The war had become a mechanical torment. Perhaps the Hive Mind was thoroughly enraged by these stubborn opponents, no longer aiming to swallow them whole in one gulp, but instead to slowly erode their flesh and spirit. Large-scale attacks had turned into waves, or even scheduled small-scale harassments. As the yellow mist gradually rose, artillery and air support became increasingly ineffective, and more battles required the soldiers to hold their ground.

Astartes might still be able to cope with this high-intensity, non-stop combat, but ordinary soldiers found it difficult. A day or two was manageable, but after ten or fifteen consecutive days, many of them reached their breaking point.

Friendly fire and accidental discharges became more frequent, and because the soldiers' reactions were slowing down, they struggled even against the weakest ripper, and casualties began to rise sharply.

Even in Hays' company, 7 men had already been killed, 4 were seriously injured, and 11 were lightly wounded.

The casualties put immense pressure on Hays, far more than on his soldiers. He knew those men, not just as comrades in arms, but as old friends and fellow countrymen. He didn't even know how he would face their parents when he returned.

He had thought he was used to death, but in reality, he wasn't.

"Enemy attack!!"

The sharp whistle jolted Hays awake from his doze on the ammunition crate. He jumped up and shouted:

"Enemy attack!!! Prepare for battle!"

With that, he grabbed the half-empty can of energy drink next to the crate. This energy drink was specially supplied to officers by the battle group and featured a comical red ant-bull giving a thumbs up. It was indeed effective; one can could keep a person energized for an entire day. But so far, he had only received two cans. He heard it was meant for Space Marines, and he didn't know if it would affect his body, but without it, he wouldn't be able to stand, let alone command. Even so, he had to conserve it.

After taking a couple of sips, Hays quickly grabbed his pistol and the nearby chainsword. It had been issued to him, but he hadn't used it because it was too heavy. However, as the battle progressed, he found this weapon quite useful, especially when he wielded it with his mechanical arm. Its destructive power surprised even him.

The sun hadn't yet risen into the sky, or rather, it was difficult to see real sunlight on this planet anymore. All the light was dirty, filtered through the ominous mist. Just like the previous battles, the attack in the early morning was sure to be by gargoyles. About ten thousand of them flew from the clouds, swooping down on the stronghold.

The next moment, thunder rumbled and lightning flashed as air-burst rockets were launched, creating brilliant flames in the sky and knocking most of the aliens out of the air.

However, due to the severely depleted stock of air-burst rockets, which had to be used sparingly, only ten were fired. This meant that some gargoyles successfully flew past the anti-air zone, but the Hydra anti-aircraft vehicle's high-explosive shells quickly shattered them, sending bloody, charred chunks of flesh raining down like terrible hail.

As a supplement to the anti-air defenses, a limited number of Hydra anti-aircraft vehicles had been deployed to eliminate any that slipped through.

"Wow! Damn it!"

A curse came from beside Hays. It turned out that some of the gargoyles' fragments and fluids had splashed on them. Although the stronghold had washing facilities and showers, the continuous fighting and the dwindling supply of clean water meant that a company could only use them every four or five days, and the time was very limited. Understandably, many had to fight covered in filth.

"Damn the Tyranids!"

Even Little Feton couldn't help but curse, pulling a bloody gargoyle eyeball from the back of his neck and throwing it on the ground to crush it. He no longer looked like the naive boy he once was; he had grown stubble, and his skin was cracked. He looked several years older.

But there was no time to worry about cleanliness now, because the swarm's approach could already be heard.

The mist was now less than a thousand meters from the stronghold's walls. Their vision was completely obscured by the thick wall of fog, and they could only wait anxiously for the enemy to appear.

The next moment, as if in slow motion, a huge claw tore through the fog wall, followed by a tide of chitin and claws rolling out like a breached dam.

Led by several carnifexes, countless termagants and hormagaunts surged forward.

In response, the heavy bolters and multi-lasers on the defensive towers immediately fired into the swarm, followed by mortar rounds—but due to excessive ammunition consumption, the rate of fire of the mortars was much slower than before.

The reduced firepower meant that the Tyranids had a chance to approach the walls.

Stepping over the bodies of their fallen comrades, and braving the dense rain of fire from the walls, they reached a position less than twenty meters from the walls.

Then the termagants began to fire, sending swarms of maggots towards the walls. Some smashed against the walls, turning into a mass of filth, adding some fresh marks to the already eroded, multicolored, and pockmarked surface of the walls. But some flew over the walls and landed on the heads of the soldiers who were firing.

"Agh!"

"Quick, inject anesthetic!"

After dealing with the Tyranids for these past few days, everyone had gained some experience. The fleshborer maggots weren't very strong, so the soldiers added a transparent shield in front of their helmets to prevent them from being hit directly in the face. They also wrapped the battle group's compressed towels around areas where the armor didn't provide protection—these magical towels had proven to be very useful in this war, and could even be used as gas masks in emergencies. Because the front of the towel had a strange mohawk gnome (dwarf) pattern when compressed, they were jokingly called gnome towels.

But even so, some people were still hit, and the maggots found a chance to burrow into their flesh. In this case, the only way to deal with it was to immediately inject a large dose of anesthetic near the maggots to anesthetize the maggots and the person together, and then perform emergency surgery to remove the maggots.

If the maggots died or rotted inside the body, the toxins and acids would kill a person immediately. The best outcome would be amputation.

"Keep your heads down! Prioritize the termagants!"

Putting on his helmet, Hays commanded while firing his pistol downwards.

Soon, the bodies of termagants and hormagaunts piled up, overlapping each other to a height of three or four meters, as if building a ladder.

"Throw grenades! Blow up those bodies!"

The soldiers immediately threw fragmentation grenades outside the wall, trying to destroy the siege ladder made of corpses.

Two seconds later, a large number of grenades exploded, sending pieces of flesh flying. Hays heard something collapse and looked down, seeing the pile of corpses collapsing downwards, leaving a pool of blood on the wall.