Kahn’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he stared fixedly at the brand-new power armor worn by Roya and Titus.
He swallowed a mouthful of saliva, his voice sounding somewhat tight: “My Lord, can…
can mortals wear this set of armor?” As soon as these words were spoken, the surrounding air fell silent for an instant.
Political Commissar Silas standing in the rear abruptly raised his head, and the exhausted Astra Militarum soldiers around him also cast their gazes over one after another.
A light of extreme longing instantly burst forth within their eyes.
The Astra Militarum were consumable assets used to fill trenches with flesh and blood; if mortals could also wear Space Marine power armor, they could survive the tide of Ork Boyz and even push back this group of xenos.
Roya glanced briefly at these remnants of soldiers.
He knew very well what they were thinking.
“Not right now.” Roya’s tone was flat, directly cutting off their unrealistic fantasies: “To let mortals wear this set of armor, an extremely harsh prerequisite must be met.
Current resources cannot achieve it.” Villager conversion required consuming experience points.
Converting Titus just now had spent all his savings, and now the experience bar was pitifully stuck at level 0.
A trace of disappointment flashed through Kahn’s eyes, but it quickly subsided.
Silas also tactfully shut his mouth, not continuing to pursue the question.
Secrets involving divine miracles like this were not something they were qualified to probe into.
Roya no longer paid attention to the crowd, turning his head to look at Titus: “You stay here.” “My Lord?” Titus was puzzled.
“This collection device has operating range limitations.” Roya pointed at the witch mob grinder ahead: “Someone must be within a range of one hundred and twenty-eight meters around it for those targets to continuously appear.” This was the underlying logic of the MC system; the mob grinder required a player or a bound Villager to load the chunks around it.
“As you command.” Titus had no objections at all, holding an iron sword and standing beside the collection chest.
Roya walked over, brought up the workbench, and pulled wooden planks and iron ingots out of his inventory.
Right in front of Titus, he quickly laid out the crafting recipe.
“Look closely.” Roya crafted a few spare iron swords and iron pickaxes, shoving them into Titus’s hands: “This is how the workbench is used.
Put the materials in the right positions, and you can produce tools.
If the tools break, make them yourself.” Titus’s Villager template instantly made him understand this manufacturing logic that defied common sense.
He nodded solemnly, his gaze revealing fanatical execution capabilities.
Time passed.
Witches continuously fell from the top of the tower, plummeting to their deaths at the bottom of the pit.
Redstone dust and experience orbs surged out along the water currents and hoppers.
Roya stood aside absorbing the experience orbs.
Crisp system sound effects rang out consecutively in his mind.
His experience level slowly climbed from 0, finally jumping to the number “3”.
Right at this moment, a burst of hurried footsteps came from the shadows in the distance of the passage.
An Astra Militarum courier covered in blood and filth scrambled out of the passage, heavily crashing down at Silas’s feet.
He couldn’t care about catching his breath, shouting hoarsely: “Sir!
The frontline has collapsed!
The main force of the Ork Boyz is attacking!
Three!
There are three Ork Warbosses!” Silas’s expression changed drastically.
Kahn instantly gripped the Chainsword at his waist, his tactical visor glowing fiercely with red light.
“Let’s go.” Roya immediately stopped absorbing experience, flipped his hand to put away the workbench, and turned to stride toward the passage.
Titus closely followed behind.
The group passed through the gloomy Underhive passage and returned to the ruined frontline.
The scene ahead was suffocating.
Tens of thousands of Ork Boyz resembled a green ocean, filling every line of sight.
Wielding crude guns and big choppas, stepping on the corpses of their companions, they crazily assaulted the Astra Militarum’s final broken steel defense line.
Behind the wave of Ork Boyz, three Ork Warbosses exceeding three meters in height were exceptionally conspicuous.
Draped in heavy scrap armor and brandishing massive power klaws and heavy Chainswords, every roar they let out plunged the surrounding Ork Boyz into deeper madness.
The Astra Militarum on the defense line were being slaughtered.
The firepower of lasguns was completely unable to stop a charge of this scale.
Roya stopped in his tracks, not rushing to charge forward.
With a thought, two block beds crafted from wooden planks and wool appeared in his hands.
“Bang.” Roya slapped a red bed directly onto the blood-stained metal floor.
Kahn and Silas were stunned.
On this battlefield ablaze with artillery fire, where they could be torn to pieces by xenos at any second, this lord had actually pulled out a bed?
Roya did not explain, directly lying down on the bed and closing his eyes.
One second later, he rolled off the bed.
A system prompt box flashed across the edge of his retina: [Respawn point set].
“Titus, lie down on it.” Roya pointed at another bed that had just been placed beside them.
Titus didn’t hesitate at all; wearing the heavy power armor, he lay down stiffly on the soft wool bed.
Then he quickly stood back up.
[Villager Titus bound respawn point.] “Done.” Roya drew his iron sword and loosened his neck a bit: “Let’s get to work.” Before his voice faded, Roya’s legs suddenly exerted force.
The power armor produced no servo motor noise whatsoever as his entire body transformed into a blue stream of light, crashing straight into the Ork Boyz wave ahead.
Titus pulled out his iron sword and followed closely behind.
“For the Emperor!
For the Five Hundred Worlds!” Titus erupted with a deafening battle cry, plunging single-handedly straight into the xenos formation.
A sturdily built Ork Boy howled and raised its choppa, hacking straight down toward Titus.
Titus neither dodged nor evaded, the iron sword in his right hand sweeping horizontally outward without any fancy tricks.
The moment the pixel-like iron sword contacted the Ork’s body, there was no tactile sensation of tearing flesh and blood.
“Bang!” Accompanied by a dull, unusual sound, a bizarre red light flashed across the Ork Boy’s body.
Immediately afterward, its tough physique, which was sturdy enough to withstand several lasgun blasts, flew directly backward.
One-hit kill with a sword.
Titus’s movements did not stop, resembling a fierce tiger charging into a flock of sheep.
As his iron sword swung continuously and sword shadows swept past, Ork Boyz fell down in patches.
Kahn, standing in the rear, was completely dumbfounded.
He knew Titus’s background very well.
A neophyte who hadn’t even completed his augmentation surgery shouldn’t possess this level of destructive power, even when wearing power armor.
That blocky iron sword, which looked crudely made, was actually even more lethal than his Chainsword.
“Lord Sergeant.” Silas held his laspistol and walked to Kahn’s side.
Looking at Roya ahead, who was moving through the Ork Boyz wave as if entering an empty realm, his voice trembled slightly: “Lord Roya’s identity is definitely extraordinary.
The power he uses…
is too terrifying.” “This is a good thing.” Kahn took a deep breath, suppressing the shock in his heart: “As long as this power is used to slay xenos, he is the Emperor’s blade.” In the center of the battlefield.
Roya had already punched through the front-line cannon fodder of the Ork Boyz, heading straight for those three swaggering Ork Warbosses.
“Waaagh!!!” The leading Ork Warboss spotted this highly threatening blue humie.
It let out a roar, its massive physique erupting with terrifying speed as the heavy power klaw on its right hand carried a shrieking sound that tore the air, grabbing straight for the top of Roya’s head.
Roya’s gaze was cold and stern, advancing instead of retreating.
He raised his left arm, and the vambrace of the power armor accurately jammed the joint of the power klaw.
Monstrous strength collided; the adamantium floor beneath their feet instantly caved inward, and massive cracks spread all around.
“First move.” Roya let out a cold snort, the iron sword in his right hand fiercely sweeping upward from bottom to top.
“Bang!” The iron sword smashed heavily onto the Ork Warboss’s chin.
Red light exploded brilliantly.
The Ork Warboss’s huge body was knocked flying upward, exposing its completely undefended chest.
Roya twisted his waist and leaped up using the momentum, his iron sword carrying the sound of rushing wind as it smashed heavily against the Ork Warboss’s chest.
The crisp bone-cracking sound was overwritten by the system’s damage judgment sound effect.
The Ork Warboss retreated repeatedly, spitting dark green fresh blood from its mouth, the fanaticism in its eyes finally replaced by a trace of fear.
“Die.” The instant he landed, Roya’s legs exerted force once more, his figure shooting forward like an arrow released from a bowstring.
The iron sword drew a straight line without any arc in the air, striking the Ork Warboss’s neck with absolute precision.
“Bang!” The third sword.
The Ork Warboss’s body froze in place, followed by a violent flashing of red light.
Under the panicked gazes of the surrounding Ork Boyz, this massive, arrogant Ork Warboss directly collapsed right then and there.