Alex decided to change his strategy.
Since standing still and waiting for death would be unexpectedly interrupted, he would take the initiative.
As a legend who had taken tens of millions of lives in border wars, merely speaking his name could make even newborn IMC babies stop crying.
He knew one iron rule: the one with the highest aggro dies the fastest.
As long as he made himself the brightest target on the entire battlefield, the Orks on the other side would definitely aim all their big shootas at his face.
He took a shallow breath, his lungs filled with the acrid smell of sulfur and roasted meat.
Although there was no stimulant injection, adrenaline had already begun to take over his nerves.
He bent down and pried an M36 Catrell-pattern Laser Rifle from the stiff fingers of a corpse.
The handguard was scorching hot, stained with viscous blood plasma, and the edges of the battery compartment were caked with black carbon buildup.
Without hesitation, he held the gun in one hand, propped himself up with the other on the sandbags at the edge of the trench, muscles tensed, and launched himself forward like a cannonball.
“Waaagh!!!” A hundred meters away, three Evil Sunz Orks on combat motorcycles roared as they charged, their twin-linked big shootas spitting fire from the front.
Alex didn’t seek cover.
He sprinted across the crater-filled no-man’s-land, facing the barrage, his eyes fixed only on the three progressively enlarging green ugly faces.
Slide.
He left a long trail of dust on the gravel ground, his body leaning far back, almost skimming the ground, avoiding two rockets that whizzed past his nose.
At the same time, his rifle opened fire.
Zzz—bang!
A red beam instantly burned through the first Ork’s goggles.
The Ork’s entire skull exploded like a watermelon shoved into a microwave, and the red blood mist was instantly vaporized into white steam by the high temperature.
Alex paused for a moment.
What’s with this recoil?
Before he could figure it out, his body’s muscle memory had already controlled him to complete the actions of standing up, wall-kicking, and jumping.
Bang!
Bang!
Two more explosions.
The other two Orks didn’t even scream as bowl-sized charred holes were blown through their chests, penetrating their engines behind them.
The motorcycles crashed into each other, transforming into a brilliant fireball.
“Shoot here!” Alex landed, flipped a middle finger at the Ork battle line, and provocatively shouted.
He was prepared to be torn to shreds by concentrated fire.
However, the anticipated pain did not come.
Zzzzzzzzz—!
The air temperature around him suddenly rose, and his eardrums ached from the piercing whistle of dense lasers.
Alex sharply opened his eyes.
On both sides of his vision, the previously empty death zone was now filled with dense red beams of light.
Those beams were not aimed at him, but grazed his body, precisely hitting every Ork attempting to pop its head up in front of him.
He felt something was wrong behind him and sharply turned his head.
Tros, who should have been in the trench, was now kneeling less than five meters behind him, his gun barrel still smoking.
And behind Tros, there was a row, two rows…
an entire platoon of PDF Soldiers.
They no longer cowered but fanatically surrounded Alex in a fan shape, their laser guns firing wildly, forcefully constructing an insurmountable iron wall around Alex.
“Cover the veteran!!” Tros roared, his face flushed red, veins bulging on his neck, “Don’t let these xenos interfere with him!
Suppressing fire!
Suppressing fire!” Alex stared blankly at this scene.
No, no, no, I came to draw aggro, how did I become the leader of the charge?
Wait a minute, how did you keep up with me?
Tros rushed over, pointing at the rifle’s vents in Alex’s hand.
“Watch out for overheating!
With this intensity of high-power firing, the heat sinks will explode!” Alex subconsciously looked down at the rifle in his hand.
The barrel was indeed glowing red, even faintly emitting an ominous purple aura, a sign that the energy circuits were nearing their limit.
His gaze shifted to the selector switch with its settings, which was stubbornly pointing at the standard mark.
“…” Alex looked at the Ork corpses blown to pieces in front of him, then finally at Tros, who had an expression that said, “I understand, don’t push yourself so hard.” “No…
this isn’t…” “Humility!” Tros shoved a new battery into Alex’s arms, his eyes burning with fanaticism, and turned to roar at the Soldiers behind him: “Do you see?!
To cover us, he’s maintaining maximum firepower even at the risk of his gun exploding!
Can we still retreat?!” “For the Emperor!!” A deafening roar drowned out Alex’s feeble protest.
The Soldiers charged past Alex like madmen, launching a full-scale counter-charge.
“All follow!
Don’t let the veteran fight alone!
Annihilate the xenos!” The Political Commissar also went wild, leading the charge with a Bolter in one hand and a Chainsword in the other.
The ground trembled.
The dust in front of the trench was suddenly ripped open as a three-to-four-meter-tall steel behemoth, painted with gaudy red paint and covered in skulls and scrap metal, smashed through a concrete wall, entering the battlefield with black smoke and a roar.
That was an Ork Killa Kan.
Although not comparable to those massive war beasts, this killing machine, composed of a trash can-shaped body and four hydraulic mechanical arms, was still an insurmountable nightmare for infantry.
It was equipped with power klaws capable of shearing tanks, and its other mechanical arm mounted a large-caliber auto-cannon spitting fire.
“Screech!
Die, ‘umie!!” A piercing shriek from a Gretchin came from the loudspeaker as the Killa Kan lifted its heavy metal foot, crushing a Soldier who couldn’t dodge in time into a pulp.
(A small green-skinned runt) But in Alex’s eyes, this thing only represented two words: Deliverance.
“Excellent.” Alex didn’t look for cover like the others.
On the contrary, the light in his eyes was terrifyingly bright.
In this death zone filled with flying shrapnel, he didn’t retreat but advanced straight towards the Killa Kan.
“Alex!!” Tros behind him was shaken by Alex’s spirit of sacrifice.
The Killa Kan noticed this ‘umie who didn’t know his place, and its massive power klaw swept horizontally with a tearing roar.
Come on, cut me in half!
Alex spread his arms, ready to embrace death.
However, just an instant before the rust- and blood-stained giant klaw was about to touch his waist— Zzz— It wasn’t a command from his brain, but muscle memory ingrained for nine lifetimes deep in his spinal cord.
It was the instinct of a reborn Pilot, an absolute reaction honed through tens of thousands of anti-gravity battles.
The moment the metal touched his clothing, Alex dropped to his knees, his body leaning far back.
Tactical Slide.
He carved a perfect straight line on the ground full of gravel and shell casings, his body almost skimming beneath the deadly klaw.
The sharp blade only sliced off an antenna from his helmet.
“…Shit?” Alex looked up at death whistling over his head, his mind blank.
Why did I dodge?
I didn’t mean to!
These damn legs!
Before the sliding inertia ended, he had already drilled himself between the Killa Kan’s two mechanical legs—this was the machine’s only blind spot, and the most vulnerable chassis position.
Now, he was lying on his back in the shadow of the behemoth, directly beneath the roaring engine and tangled pipelines.
The Killa Kan lost its target and angrily spun in circles, its heavy metal feet constantly thudding near Alex’s ears, making his internal organs churn.
“Step on me!
Step down, you idiot!” (Pressuring a Killa Kan?) Alex desperately raised the M36 rifle in his hand and pulled the trigger at the oil-stained chassis armor above him.
He wanted to attract the driver’s attention by shooting.
After all, with such thick-looking armor, how could a single-person laser gun…
hum— This time, the rifle in his hand emitted a low hum similar to a turbocharger starting.
The rusty vents on the side of the gun instantly turned crimson, and a pungent odor of ozone being instantly ionized permeated the air.
Alex felt the gunstock in his hand become scorching hot, as if he was holding not a mass-produced rifle, but a charge rifle.
Then he watched with his own eyes as the selector switch with its settings began to shift gears by itself.
?
The next second.
Boom!!!
A dazzling red light erupted from the barrel of this inconspicuous rifle.
The beam ignored the laws of physics, instantly piercing through the Killa Kan’s thick cast-iron chassis armor plate, melting through the internal power transmission shaft, and finally precisely detonating the fuel core beneath the cockpit.
“Screech!
Oh oh ho ho ho?!” A confused shriek from a Gretchin came from inside the Killa Kan.
Immediately after, a violent fireball exploded from within the machine.
The shockwave, carrying fragments, swept outwards, flinging Alex, who was directly beneath the machine, like a rag doll.
He traced a parabola in the air, falling heavily onto a sand dune more than ten meters away, rolling several times before stopping.
“Cough cough…
cough…” Alex scrambled up, covered in dust, and spat out a mouthful of bloody sand.
Not dead.
He touched his arms and legs again.
All intact.
And in front of him.
The once invincible Killa Kan had now become a pile of burning scrap metal, its massive mechanical arms hanging limply to the ground, occasionally sparking with electricity.
The battlefield once again fell into a deathly silence.
All the PDF Soldiers remained frozen in their charging postures, their jaws almost hitting the ground.
All the Orks also stopped their actions, staring blankly at the still-smoking war machine.
“…” The gun barrel had completely softened due to the extreme heat, drooping like a cooked black noodle.
The battery compartment was directly melted shut, emitting a pungent burnt smell.
This gun was completely scrapped.
Alex silently held up this piece of scrap metal, trying to throw this evil thing far away.
But in the eyes of others, this became another signal.
Tros looked at the figure who was unharmed in the huge explosion, kneeling on one knee, raising his weapon to declare victory, and tears streamed down…
executing a steel demon with a mortal body…
even overloading and destroying his weapon to penetrate the armor…
Tros’s voice cracked, his throat felt like it was filled with sand, finally turning into a battle cry that almost made him vomit blood.
“Do you see!!
That is the Emperor’s wrath!!!” “For Calderis!!” “For the slaughter!!” If the previous counterattack was merely a morale boost, then at this moment, this PDF unit completely went berserk.
The Soldiers who witnessed the miracle had red eyes.
In this desperate 41st Millennium, nothing could ignite human fanaticism more than personally witnessing a living legend.
They no longer sought cover, no longer cared about casualties.
Countless laser beams converged into a red rain, and even wounded men with bayonets roared out of the trenches.
These mechanized Orks began to retreat—under the backlash of the incomprehensible “I fink dis ‘umie iz too tough” Waaagh!
field, they were routed by these fanatical mortals.
Alex was still sitting on the sand dune, holding the thing that seemed to stick to his hand no matter how he tried to throw it.
He looked at the allied troops in front of him, who were charging like mad dogs to tear the Orks apart, then looked back at the still-burning wreckage.
Something isn’t right here, is it?
Can this battle even be fought?