Warhammer: From the Devouring C'tan Fragments

When a round of bombardment ended, the sturdy fortress had become dilapidated, as if it would fall down with a blow of wind.

The noble private army stationed inside had suffered heavy casualties. Under the bombardment of artillery shells, they had no time to dodge or fight back. They could only watch their companions being blown to pieces and the walls collapsing, which also killed their comrades.

In the square behind the fortress, there were only a few survivors among the tens of thousands of mechanical workers. Most of them had been almost completely wiped out by the Apocalypse tanks' shelling, without the protection of a solid fortress.

"help me."

"help me."

Only a few lucky mechanical workers were still alive, but they were seriously injured and fell to the ground, gasping for breath, groaning in pain and begging for rescue.

"cough cough"

The noble commander crawled up from under the bodies of a group of guards. His body was very weak, and just this small movement made him cough uncontrollably.

After coughing several times, the noble commander finally felt his breathing become smoother. But he knew now was not the time to rest. He had to recover his fighting strength as soon as possible, otherwise he would die.

The noble commander suddenly felt a damp heat in his palm. Puzzled, he lifted his right hand, which had been covering his mouth and nose, and examined it. Only then did he realize it was covered in blood.

Obviously, in the bombing just now, even though he survived thanks to the guards' desperate protection, he was seriously injured in this fierce bombing.

His lungs were badly damaged, and every breath brought sharp pain, but he knew he couldn't give up. If he collapsed, everything would be over.

"Great God-Emperor, please protect your humble servant and allow me to kill more heretics who dare to blaspheme the Great God-Emperor."

The noble commander lost his balance and knelt on one knee, muttering to himself.

After the noble commander prayed to the Emperor, he suddenly felt that he could not feel any pain in his body, as if he had not suffered any injury.

This situation made the noble commander ecstatic. It seemed that he had received the blessing from the Emperor and gained the power from the Emperor, and now he had the strength to kill the heretics.

The noble commander, who had recovered, searched the entire fortress carefully and found that there were more than a thousand elite soldiers in the fortress, but now there were less than thirty soldiers who could still fight, and dozens of the others were seriously injured and could not join the battle again.

"Take your weapons and leave the fortress. This place is about to collapse. Let's go outside the fortress to stop the invading heretics."

The noble commander gathered all the surviving soldiers and gave orders to them.

"Yes."

The soldiers responded to the noble commander weakly, their voices seemed to have lost their vitality and were very low.

The uninjured soldiers carefully supported their seriously injured companions, took each step with difficulty, and slowly left the fortress that once made them feel fear and despair.

The noble commander walking in the front had no way to deal with the low morale. After enduring such a fierce bombardment, the fact that these surviving soldiers were still willing to continue following him proved that he usually treated people well.

Otherwise, even if these people were his own private soldiers, there was a possibility of mutiny. Although with his current strength after being blessed by the Emperor, he could easily kill the soldiers who wanted to mutiny.

But in the end, he could only be a commander without troops, which was not the result the noble commander wanted. The noble commander could only walk silently in the front, thinking about how to boost morale next.

In this team, there was a soldier who was supporting his comrade. He was staring silently ahead, his eyes fixed on the noble commander who was leading the way out, and a complex light involuntarily flashed in his eyes.

He knew that the war had become meaningless, but the noble commander still wanted to continue, and he found it difficult to accept such an outcome.

They paid a huge price, sacrificing many comrades, yet never got to see the enemy's face. This cruel reality filled the soldier with anger and helplessness. The noble commander's indifference chilled him even more.

What's worse, judging from the noble commander's behavior, he doesn't seem to intend to stop fighting, which means that the innocent lives of these surviving soldiers will continue to be involved in this endless killing.

And these ordinary soldiers had become pawns in the hands of the nobles, used in exchange for so-called victory. Thinking of this, the soldier's arm, which was supporting his comrade, could not help but tremble slightly, his heart filled with fear and confusion about the future.

"What’s wrong with you?"

The comrade who was supported by the soldier noticed his abnormality and asked in a weak voice.

Despite his frail condition, the soldier was able to keenly sense the uneasiness of his comrades.

"I don't want to fight any more. We've lost too many of our comrades, and in the end, we haven't even seen the shadow of the enemy.

If we continue fighting like this, we will all die here, but I really don't want to die!"

The soldier's voice was filled with deep despair, his eyes were full of pain and unwillingness, and the soldier murmured.

"But what's the point of not wanting to continue fighting? We are just ordinary soldiers and have no ability to decide when this war will end.

Our families are still in the inner city. If we don’t continue, our families will also be enslaved by the invaders, which is unacceptable to everyone.”

The seriously injured soldier murmured in a low voice, as if he was persuading the soldier, or as if he was persuading himself, to be firm.

"But aren't we enslaved anyway?"

The soldier retorted to the comrade he was supporting, but their conversation was so low that no one could hear it. Only the two people who were standing next to each other could hear each other's words.

"Yes, we are already enslaved. What difference does it make if we change masters? We will still be working for others all our lives."

When the soldier who was being supported heard his comrade's rebuttal, he was stunned for a moment and then reacted.

The life he was living now was no different from what these nobles had said about being enslaved by invaders. The only difference was that he had a new master.

But I don’t know what the temper of my new master is like, whether he is tyrannical and cruel or kind.