The Emperor’s Angel of Death

“Eliminate them!”

Accompanied by the roar from the armor's loudspeaker, the young Battle Sisters pulled the triggers, causing their weapons to spit out dancing sparks of fire, sweeping across the approaching horde of Orks, instantly felling dozens of beasts—bolt rounds deeply embedded into the Greenskins' bodies, tearing open twisted and grotesque holes, exploding into flying pieces in an instant.

These bolters were smaller and lighter than the standard bolters of the Adepta Sororitas, but their performance was even better, especially the recoil, which was reduced to an unbelievable level, thanks to the superior material science and craftsmanship of the Hearthkyn Salvagers. Although the price was not cheap, Sorkash felt it was well worth it and very suitable for women, so he splurged on ordering ten thousand sets.

Some Sisters also used plasma guns, lightweight versions used by Space Marines, as well as meltas and light grenade launchers. Their firepower level was basically on par with Space Marines.

Accompanying the Sisters were the Vulture-pattern battle automata, their designs divorced from the decorations of the Adeptus Mechanicus, transformed into short-winged skeletal angels. Only Ulan Huda was willing to abandon religious disputes and make such significant changes to the battle automata. They flew in groups of three, circling the battlefield and attacking any targets within range.

The Sisters unleashed a storm of death, interweaving bolter fire and plasma flames, heading towards the entrance. The approaching Greenskins had nowhere to hide, nowhere to escape. In an instant, their corpses blocked the entrance.

“They really are angels.”

Donchev stared at the beautiful figure fifty meters away, subconsciously clutching the Aquila on his neck. The other party's fair, slightly angry face was so sacred at this moment that even the bloody smell in the air was covered by the scent of roses.

“Soldier, here, take this.”

A gentle voice sounded. Donchev turned around and saw a Battle Sister in her twenties with short golden hair, blue eyes, and a pretty face that made him swallow hard, standing behind him. She held a bolter in one hand and threw something at him.

Donchev quickly caught it, looked down, and saw a badge he didn't recognize.

“Pray to the Lord of Holy Fire. He saved you, and only He can convey the Throne's grace to you.”

With that, she raised her gun again, began shooting, and shouted:

“Sisters, advance!”

Donchev blinked.

“The Lord of Holy Fire…”

Then he jumped up, straightened his messy greatcoat, and grabbed the command saber from the ground. The pain on his body seemed to have disappeared.

“Men! The angels are here! The Lord of Holy Fire is here! We are saved! Fight! Keep fighting! Don't be a disgrace! Drive these green beasts out of our homeland!”

Encouraged, the soldiers immediately burst into fervent fighting spirit, emerging from all directions to launch counterattacks, while in the old city behind them, many people were kneeling on the ground, clasping their hands together and praying to the sky with tears in their eyes.

“WAAAAGH!”

An Ork climbed up the city wall along a ladder, raised the choppa in its mouth, and was about to chop down a soldier who was frantically trying to reload his gun.

“Damn it, damn it—”

Watching the drooling beast rush towards him, the sixteen- or seventeen-year-old soldier trembled even more. The bullets clattered to the ground. As the choppa was about to strike, he instinctively raised his gun to block, but the outcome would inevitably be that he would be split in two—

“Filthy beast.” A clear, cold voice descended from the sky, followed by a sword wreathed in arcs of electricity sweeping across, instantly separating the Greenskin's head from its body.

“Ah…”

The young soldier smelled a unique fragrance, then slowly lowered the rifle in front of him. He saw petals, silver wings, a slender waist, long legs stepping on the Ork's corpse, a sword with arcs of electricity, and when the other party turned her head slightly, the beautiful profile that seemed to radiate holy light made the soldier's fear of facing death just now thrown to the winds. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, matched with the exquisite silver flame-patterned tiara, so noble.

“This, I…”

But the other party immediately turned her head again, then leaped lightly, all the way down the slope of the metal stairs, the power sword in her hand like a flying leaf in the wind, constantly chopping off roaring, huge heads one by one, the headless corpses falling one by one.

When an Ork raised its gun to shoot her, the first few bullets were all deflected in other directions by an invisible force, and then a burst of blood exploded in the exact center of that ugly head's forehead, creating a spray of shattered bone and brain matter behind it.

Beatrice turned her head to look at the ramparts. A girl with red wings holding a sniper rifle was smiling at her and giving her a thumbs up.

The Dawnsword Guard had also undergone some changes with the reorganization of the Adepta Sororitas. When they left the convent to carry out combat missions, they would form a group of six, and would also be assisted by ten Red Wings veterans, because their jump packs had unique silver sword-shaped wings, they were jokingly called the Silver Wing Sword Maidens by people in the convent.

“Haha! Chopping up these Orks is much more interesting than chopping up Tyranids!”

Suraya's slightly crude laughter echoed in the communicator. Beatrice leaped up, the jump pack's several nozzles activated, making her like a gliding black swan, passing over the heads of astonished Ork Mekboys, and taking off the other party's head cleanly in an instant upon landing, while Suraya's greatsword at the same time chopped up an Ork pet with two legs like a giant balloon.

“Bugs only scream, and they all scream the same way. My ears are getting calluses from listening to it. I heard that every Ork warband has a big boss. I want to take off its head as a trophy.”

Suraya's words drew laughter from several people around her.

“Find one first.”

They gathered together, each person's armor having an extra pendant on the waist, which was a Tyranid claw or tooth, representing that they were veterans who had experienced the Tyranid War.

Although in the diocese, the Black Flame Rose Convent's main task was to protect the Matriarch, and most of the time they were in the rear, they also participated in operations to suppress Genestealers, and during the most intense period of the war, they were also sent to the front lines. That kind of high-intensity and cruel war transformed them. If the convent didn't advocate leaving scars, and everyone had scar removal surgery after the war, they would probably be scarred all over. The cruel battles also caused 37 Dawnsword Guard sisters to fall. Although they were sad for a long time at that time, this experience also tempered their spirits.

“I don't feel anything interesting.”

Beatrice gently flicked her sword, flicking the remaining blood off onto the ground.

“Only anger and sorrow. Just now in the sky, I saw a lot of sacrifice and death. There were even women and children on the battlefield. Orks have no honor, they are just beasts. They have killed millions of people and crushed countless families. Now I just want to kill them all.”

Suraya pulled her greatsword up from the ground and said in a deep voice:

“Then what are we waiting for! We now—”

Suddenly, the sound of hooves came from afar. The Battle Sisters turned around in surprise.