The defensive pressure had eased.
In the position, the Death Korps of Krieg Commissar, wearing a gas mask and carrying an entrenching tool on his back, caught sight of a problem breaking out among the Orks in the distance.
Their firepower was dropping sharply!
Once he noticed this, the Commissar ordered the Death Korps soldiers to leave their original defensive line and begin actively suppressing the Ork units with fire.
A steady stream of lasfire poured over the Orks.
On the Ork side, wave after wave of war cries rang out as they organized charge after charge under the lead of their bosses.
But even though the Death Korps had gained the advantage, they maintained an indescribable silence.
This regiment gave the impression that they were not living people, but machines or gears standing there instead: silent and efficient.
That lasted until the metal wall burst apart, and the head of an Ork Boss was severed by Lancelot’s sword.
Everything settled, leaving only the hum of the power sword’s disruption field as the background noise of the battlefield.
When Lancelot’s towering figure and distinctive bearing appeared before them, the silent Death Korps finally showed a slight reaction.
A beige hood, a power sword marked with the Imperial Aquila, sharp swordsmanship… only, that black power armor of his… could he be from the Deathwatch?
But he did not have arm chains.
Only the style of his hood resembled the Dark Angels.
The Commissar was puzzled.
Lancelot, meanwhile, stood before them with his sword.
Even without revealing his identity, his presence did not draw the slightest suspicion from the loyalist soldiers.
The Astartes before them was exceptionally clean.
Though he seemed mysterious, in their eyes, he was still one of the God-Emperor’s Angels, a being who had slain the enemies of mankind and appeared before them.
This was no different from a tremendous reinforcement and affirmation of their battle.
“My lord, the Death Korps of Krieg 17th Siege Regiment, 249th Siege Company, has been ordered to guard the armory here with all personnel.
At present, the 248th and 417th Siege Companies are defending the central passage.
What are your orders?”
The Death Korps Commissar immediately led the Krieg soldiers stationed here to kneel on one knee before Lancelot, then swiftly explained the current situation to him.
It turned out that Lancelot was currently standing aboard a Cobra-class destroyer.
This destroyer had originally been following its fleet through the Warp, but for some unknown reason, the vessel had suddenly dropped out of Warp transit and appeared in this star region occupied by Orks.
It can’t be because of my Inviolable Domain, can it…
Lancelot could not help muttering inwardly.
But when he raised his head again and looked at the Kriegers before him, feeling their gazes fall upon him from beneath their gas masks, an indescribable emotion surfaced in his heart.
It felt heavy.
He had not expected to meet soldiers from this regiment.
The Death Korps of Krieg.
A regiment whose defining image was the silent charge.
Before, he had only ever seen them in videos.
He had never expected that when the Death Korps of Krieg truly appeared before him and saluted him, he would feel this way.
“For the Emperor.”
Lancelot could not help slipping into his role.
Then he reached up and removed his helmet.
The eyes of the Death Korps immediately focused on Lancelot’s movement.
When the Krieg soldiers saw the human face beneath the helmet, their hearts were struck as if by lightning.
Space Marines rarely removed their helmets.
A helmet was not merely an integrated tactical system, but also a symbol of a Space Marine’s identity as an Angel of the Emperor.
Once it was removed, it usually meant only one thing.
Respect.
To the Death Korps of Krieg, this was truly supreme honor.
Because their homeworld had once fallen into internal rebellion, Death Korps soldiers were born believing themselves guilty.
They regarded themselves as the Emperor’s currency, not his subjects.
To die for the Imperium and to die for the Emperor was part of their atonement.
Yet now, this Angel of the Emperor before them was willing to remove his helmet for their sake…
No matter the reason, the Death Korps soldiers could feel that they had been respected.
But they had always been taciturn and poor with words, so they could only straighten their backs even further as they faced Lancelot’s inspection.
“Mortals, my name is Lancelot.
I come from the First Legion.
At present, I need sufficient ammunition replenishment.
I also need a squad to accompany me in purging these enemies of mankind!”
Because he was unfamiliar with the ship’s structure, he needed a mortal squad to guide him.
Lancelot did not fully state his identity.
Although leaking secrets would not bring any substantive, physical punishment, his combat score was linked to the rewards of future secrets.
Naturally, the more he had, the better.
After Lancelot said this, even the Death Korps Commissar could not help breathing a little faster for an instant, his heartbeat suddenly accelerating.
As for the reason, it was naturally very simple.
These mortal soldiers of the Death Korps of Krieg would have the honor of fighting side by side with an Angel of the Emperor.
…
At this moment, the Orks who had been beaten back by Lancelot were not actually frightened.
“Aaagh!
I reckon fightin’ dat big lad’s dead boring!
Me gun won’t even shoot in front of ‘im!
I’m goin’ somewhere else to Waaagh!”
“Same ‘ere!
Heard some Gretchin down below on dis ship found a bunch of fully armed humies with four arms!
I reckon dey’ll be real good in a scrap!”
“Waaagh!
Wot’re we waitin’ for, then?”
The conversation above took place between two Ork Boyz who had narrowly escaped Lancelot.
…
On the other side.
After Lancelot gave his orders, in less than three minutes, an elite ten-man squad of the Death Korps of Krieg had been selected.
Lancelot’s boltgun had also been loaded with ammunition, and radio contact with the Krieg soldiers had been established.
At that moment, Lancelot put his helmet back on.
Just as everything was ready, an unexpected report reached his ears.
“Lord Brother, the bridge command center is temporarily out of contact.
Friendly radio reports say that those boarding Orks seem to have been provoked by something and have started drilling down toward the lower decks.
A scout squad discovered a group of four-armed humanoid xenos rushing out from the lower decks.
They are currently engaged in a melee with the Orks.”
Four-armed xenos rushing out from the lower decks?
After hearing this news, Lancelot’s expression almost became difficult to control.
Affected by his Inviolable Domain, the Orks could not get properly Waaagh’d up when facing Lancelot.
Since they could not get excited, but were still naturally rowdy, perhaps those Gretchin crawling through the pipes had discovered the lower decks of the ship and accidentally run into the Genestealers.
Lancelot was extremely familiar with this kind of xenos.
These things were Genestealers, commonly nicknamed chicken thieves, because they look like mutated zerg chickens.
They were the advance infiltrators of the Tyranids, as well as one of the most hidden and dangerous parasitic threats in the galaxy.
In this universe full of monsters and madmen, any species without some truly vicious trick would have been exterminated by the Imperium of Man long ago.
The scale of the Genestealer species, however, had only grown more prosperous because of humanity’s travel through the stars.
These things were disgustingly troublesome.
They did not directly kill humans.
Instead, they injected Genestealer genes into human bodies.
Those implanted with their genes could be called hosts.
The host would not die.
On the contrary, they would be brainwashed, madly worshiping the Genestealers.
From the outside, there would be no sign of anything wrong.
But from that point onward, the offspring produced by the host would all be Genestealers.
That alone was not even the most threatening part.
As reproduction continued, the first-generation Genestealers were easy to identify, but the following generations would increasingly resemble ordinary humans.
By the fourth generation, Genestealers could even infiltrate the upper levels of human society.
It seemed as though they had been assimilated by human genes, but that was also the most disgusting part.
By the fifth generation, those fourth-generation chicken thieves who looked no different from humans would directly give birth to purestrain Genestealers, completing the atavistic return.
And purestrain Genestealers were extremely powerful.
Their claws could easily tear through the heavy armor of Terminator suits, and they possessed tremendous intelligence and even psychic talent.
One could say that this xenos was abnormally dangerous.
What made Lancelot find it hard to keep a straight face, however, was that before they fully became purestrain chicken thieves… those gene-infected hybrids might even worship the Emperor.
Yes.
Although their cognition had deviated, they still considered themselves part of the human world.
Their Emperor might have four arms, but most hybrid chicken thieves were, in a certain sense, genuinely among the most devout believers in the Imperium.
They believed in the God-Emperor, carved holy icons, worked desperately, and even fought Chaos and xenos.
They were more “loyal” than real believers.
That was why the saying went: “chicken thieves die for the state.”
Only, no one knew how many hybrids these Genestealers emerging from the lower decks had developed.
In any case, all of these things were enemies of mankind.
First, Orks boarded the ship.
Then the Ork boarding action drew out the chicken thieves.
Maybe later, the Drukhari would show up and stick their foot in too?
Lancelot sighed inwardly.
How should he put it?
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