Warhammer 30: The Second Legion's Expedition

Chapter 55 Attack, Betrayal and Tragedy

Holmes had no intention of suspecting the Legion's soldiers, but his unease made him stare at the two men's movements.

But nothing happened along the way.

Before setting off, Hector temporarily removed his armor and changed into a Trojan outfit specifically used for sacrificial rites.

"Why are there so many mortals?" Holmes wondered as he stepped into the monument to the heroes that the Dawn had specially set up.

He felt increasingly uneasy.

These mortal auxiliary soldiers, armed with laser rifles, bowed their heads in silent tribute to the fallen warriors in this space.

"Sir," Onosk saluted, then explained to Hector, who had also noticed this, "they requested a farewell ceremony for these fallen warriors."

"Why not drive them away?" Holmes asked sternly. "This is not a place for them to pray. There are spaces specifically prepared for them on the warship."

"No need to be angry, my son," Hector reassured him.

At the same time, he asked Onosque, who looked troubled, "I think you should have tried, so what is the reason that you are not fulfilling your duties?"

"My lord," Onosque said to Hector.

This sound made Hector raise an eyebrow as he listened to Onosque's High Gothic language with a Trojan accent.

"We've tried," Onosque said.

"But they failed. Among them were their deceased relatives, perhaps brothers, nephews, or even fathers and sons."

"Is that so?" Hector clasped his hands behind his back. Holmes noticed the Primarch's hands and subtly adjusted his stance.

The night guards following behind slightly raised the muzzle of their guns, and a private communication channel was activated.

"Let's go inside, sir," Onosque said anxiously.

Hector stopped at the doorway, unhurried, and turned to Onosque, asking, "Are the warriors' bodies all inside?"

"Yes."

"Alright, so you're a Trojan, warrior? Your accent sounds familiar."

"Yes, sir. I am a warrior of Troy."

"Then take off your helmet, soldier, and let me see your face."

"Of course." Onosque reached up to take off his helmet.

Fire!

At that very moment, a psychic shriek, like a shockwave, instantly spread throughout the entire space.

While removing his helmet, Onoske bent his forearm in a bizarre and contorted way and forcibly picked up the bomb gun in his hand.

Flames erupted at such close range from the muzzle of his gun.

Hector, who was already on guard, instantly straightened up. As he dodged the explosive bomb, his body was briefly restrained by the shriek.

"Alien!"

With Hector's furious battle cry, the restraints were instantly broken.

Meanwhile, in this not-so-wide passage, the mortal auxiliary army that had been praying ahead turned around with a strangely unified action that was terrifying to behold, without the slightest deviation.

They quickly drew their guns, and lasers shot out instantly toward Hector's unarmored body.

At the same time, the battle began even faster than the first shot.

The instant Hector made his dodge, Holmes dropped his weapon and instantly accelerated.

He lunged forward and, before Onosk's first bomb could even make a sound, instantly beheaded the Prophet's troops, including Elka, who was preparing to unleash his psionic powers.

The Night Guards behind him quickly mobilized, wielding specially made dual-wield explosive guns that ordinary Space Marines would never be allowed to pick up and use casually.

If a gun is pointed at a certain place, the people in that place will be turned into a cloud of blood mist that scatters in all directions amidst the rain of bullets.

They advanced rapidly forward like an impregnable fortress.

At the same time, Hector dodged and weaved, dislocating Onosque's arms in an instant and knocking him to the ground.

Then, like a raging lion, he charged toward the mortal soldiers who had fired at him.

The colossal giant, standing three and a half meters tall, charged forward, causing the entire space to tremble and distort.

The armed mortal auxiliary troops briefly broke free from the psychic control of the Kraf alien under this intimidating force. They regained their senses, but before they could repent or even understand what had happened, they were left to their own devices.

Their bodies either exploded into a bloody mist in the flames of the bombs or were severed in two by Hector's merciless hand.

To die without pain or guilt was the final act of mercy Hector could bestow upon them.

The bloody killings were taking place, defiling this place that should have been solemn, a place for prayer and mourning for the dead.

The gods of the High Heavens chuckled softly as they watched over the scene, even as the birth of the Youngest Lady calmed the raging warp storms, rendering them unable to influence the real universe.

But they remain loving, watching over every being they care about, want to hold onto, and who rightfully belong to them.

At the same time, they also wanted to acquire more, plundering from other gods.

This time, a supreme being wants to seize the pawn that the usurper has his eye on.

Betrayal and murder appeared for the first time on this ship that should have been filled with light.

Without warning, every corridor on the ship lit up with a crimson glow. The piercing, high-pitched alarm made everyone instinctively look up, their hearts jolting.

Then, some people asked questions in a panic, while others calmly organized their weapons and equipment. Faced with this sudden alarm, everyone prepared for battle with different attitudes and returned to their posts.

"What happened?" a dawn messenger in the cabin asked his company commander.

The company commander was also completely baffled. The bird divination device in front of him did not issue any alarm, which meant that there was no individual approaching them at high speed.

Moreover, such a high density of piercing alarms only means that someone has infiltrated the Dawn.

But who jumped ship here?

He then turned to the other person: "Psionic teleportation?"

"No." The man simply shook his head, denying it.

"I don't know," the company commander said to his subordinate.

This was utterly unbelievable. They racked their brains trying to figure out how the other party had managed to enter the Dawn's hull without a sound and remain hidden for so long.

It wasn't until an extremely angry and urgent voice came through the communication channel that all the Dawn Messengers, who had been orderly taking their positions, became agitated.

"To the Monument to the Warriors! The master has been attacked!"

Personnel were significantly redeployed, and several special companies from the Eighth and Eighteenth Companies were urgently dispatched to the Monument to the Heroes.

All the soldiers were moving at high speed. Although the Dawn Messengers of the Eighth Company were not as fast as the Eighteenth Company, they were even more reckless in their actions.

On the not-so-wide bridge, they marched along the fastest route, and they did not have any intention of slowing down or going around anything that blocked their way, whether it was machinery, servants or even humans.

As they charged, they left behind a trail of people, groaning in pain, bleeding profusely, and bewildered by what had happened.

Some people lost their hands, some had their heads smashed and died, and some died painfully in the trampling of the Eighth Dalian.

The crowd erupted in wails and screams.

The battalion commander of the Fifth Company, who arrived later, saw the tragedy and stopped, blocking his subordinates who wanted to rush through the road.

"Why did you stop, sir?" a company commander demanded angrily. "The soldiers are under attack!"

"The Primarch would never want to see this tragic scene," the battalion commander said. "You..."

He pointed to several familiar company commanders: "Take your men and stay to help them."

"Absolutely not!" one of the company commanders objected.

"Obey orders," the battalion commander said coldly. "You are under my command."

"If you are in danger, I will challenge you to a death match, Alhan Simba."