Chapter 231: Garro Needs a Vacation
Garro gripped the hilt of his sword, silently waiting for the prey to bite. Beside him stood the "new recruit leader" that Hades and Vorx had insisted he take along—Antaeus.
It was time to promote leadership from the second batch of Barbarus recruits, and Garro suspected there was some political meaning behind Hades assigning him to lead them.
Although Hades had seemed a little foolish when handing over the troops, Garro still believed the man always had deeper reasoning behind his actions.
In their daily interactions, Garro had come to understand the depth of Hades' thinking—so deep it was often unfathomable.
Even this mission was arranged by Hades. His reasoning?
"Garro, I think you need a break. Seriously."
Hades had looked at him with a conflicted expression, holding the latest stack of paperwork Garro had approved.
As someone who had once been a wage slave crushed by bureaucracy, Hades recognized the signs of burnout. There was a faint murderous aura in those documents. He didn't want Garro to one day snap and behead an Imperial official.
"It just so happens that the Rangda's here. Go hit the frontlines for a while. And train the newbie for me. Treat it as a holiday."
Garro didn't quite understand what "holiday" meant, but a commander's orders were meant to be followed.
Truthfully, Garro hadn't minded the previous work… well, okay—he had found it dull. Far too dull.
It had been too long since he'd stepped onto a battlefield.
Sometimes, the pain of waiting and restraint was worse than bullets or blades.
As a frontline company captain, Garro needed a little fire in his blood. Before he inherited the responsibilities of a legion master, he was just another warrior who loved charging into the heart of the fray.
And now, the opportunity has come.
The ship rumbled violently beneath his feet. Judging by the tremors running through the walls, Garro guessed they were either launching torpedoes—or firing macro cannons.
Leaning against the bulkhead, he could easily picture it all: searing lasers streaking through space, the smooth armor of enemy ships, the guttural snarls of the Xenos host.
The battlefield had a unique allure. Garro's palm itched faintly around the hilt of his sword.
The Fourth Horseman and her escort fleet had one job—slice the Rangda's formation in two. Sever the Xenos fleet at the waist, and annihilate the rear.
This meant the ship would come under heavy fire. But that didn't matter.
They would tear the enemy apart.
The voice of a mortal captain crackled through the vox, tinged with distortion:
"Lord Garro, in ten standard Terran minutes, the enemy may attempt a boarding assault. Shall we bait them in?"
"Let them come."
Garro replied in a low voice, fingers brushing the contours of his blade. It had gone far too long without tasting blood—and his hand had started forming calluses from holding a pen instead of a weapon.
"Understood, my lord."
Hades had been right. Given the xenomorphic nature of the Rangda, these creatures would likely target the command ship with focused boarding actions. The Death Guard had made very specific preparations for this.
Rather than fighting in the unfamiliar environment of enemy ships, luring the enemy onboard was the smarter option. The Fourth Horseman had been deliberately refitted—both internally and externally—
—to make her look like an ideal boarding target. Fragile. Exposed. Like a lamb baring its neck, subtly enticing the predator's gaze.
But in the areas designated for these boarding assaults, countless traps had been installed. Death Guard warriors waited in ambush, motionless, eager.
The enemy would not see the truth behind the inviting facade. When they arrived, they would be greeted only by the Death Guard's wrath.
Outside the Fourth Horseman, the Death Guard fleet was carving a path through the Rangda's ships with their lance batteries, engines screaming at full thrust. It was like a deadly duel—dancing a death tango with the enemy.
The Rangda's forces were slowly regaining rhythm. Smaller vessels worked to intercept and distract the Death Guard, shifting formation. One of the larger enemy ships began to take aim.
The coordination was excellent. The Rangda's fleet was also slicing into the vessels around the Fourth Horseman, so—bring them in.
[My lord, it's a psy-jump boarding party—landing point Y-2 sector, estimated arrival in three minutes.]
[Acknowledged.]
Garro raised a hand, signaling the Death Guard to take their assigned tactical positions.
They deployed quickly and silently. Garro's cold gaze followed as thin layers of frost crept up the bulkheads, strange spatial ripples flickering in the air.
In the dark, Garro's combat optics flashed red.
When the xeno warriors finally arrived at their destination, the first thing to greet them was the company captain's greatsword.
Dim and narrow cargo bays were rarely well-defended—chaotic structures that usually favored boarders. But the Rangda had no idea this one had been turned into a fortified slaughterhouse.
This space would be their coffin.
Limbs and shrieks erupted in the tight chamber. The butchers of mankind made no sound. They simply raised their blades—and carved.
Garro's heavy sword tore through enemy armor with savage grace. He moved among the invaders like a storm, sweeping wide and brutal arcs.
Flesh, bone, and splintered chitin flew alongside Xenos blood, splashing across his helmet. Their dying minds sent out bursts of psychic interference—a buzzing, piercing whine.
It affected his thoughts—but not unbearably so. He stood firm at the center of his own soul. The psychic howls were nothing more than echoes after a storm.
Beneath his helmet, Garro's eyes did not blink. They locked onto the unfortunate advance party with unyielding focus.
Shadows played across the walls. Blood sprayed in warm, intoxicating bursts.
Still trying to resist?
A gun barrel rammed into one xeno's grotesque excuse for a head. Its eyeball-like organ popped like a fruit—
Bang!
Garro fired cleanly. Then casually flicked the barrel, flinging off gobs of foul-smelling slime.
He scanned the room. Severed limbs everywhere, viscera and fluids smeared across the deck. The floor squelched beneath their boots. The chamber looked as if a massive ball of meat had exploded from within.
There's no survivors.
Garro looked up, mildly disappointed—then noticed his brothers frozen in place?
Were they hit by the Rangda's psychic backlash?
Garro tightened his grip on the sword—he could just use the hilt—
[Lord Garro?]
A cautious voice crackled over the vox.
Ah. They were fine.
Garro reluctantly—no, gratefully—lowered his blade.
He took a deep breath.
[What is it, Antaeus?]
Antaeus hesitated. While some troops had been assigned for melee, Garro had pretty much handled the entire assault himself.
So this is the strength of a company captain...
Antaeus was stunned. He had trained under Captain Vorx, already one of the most skilled warriors he knew.
But Garro's prowess was on another level. A veteran of Terra, forged in ancient wars.
Antaeus silently gave thanks to Commander Hades for placing him under Garro's command—even if Hades had been too busy to speak much with him directly.
[My lord, the captain just reported—we meet the conditions to board the enemy. Shall we proceed?]
[Proceed.]
Garro issued the order, realizing he'd gotten a bit carried away—he had almost forgotten he was supposed to be training a recruit.
He gave Antaeus an apologetic glance. But the blood-slicked helmet probably didn't convey the sentiment.
The boarding assault progressed with surgical precision. The Fourth Horseman smashed directly into the enemy's command segment—her adamantium prow a brutal wedge.
The enemy had no choice now but to cut their engines and focus on repelling the Death Guard.
With the Fourth Horseman at the tip, the Death Guard fleet had successfully cleaved the Rangda forces in two. The center and rear were now bogged down in combat, forced to engage.
The forward enemy elements were half-pushed, half-drawn toward the third mining moon.
To bait them in further, Hades had boldly stationed the command ship, Reaper's Scythe, directly above the third mining moon.
Now that the Rangda's fleet had been bisected, the Death Guard's next torpedo barrage landed without warning, tightening the noose and securing their hold on the battlefield.
The war had entered its second phase.
Hades, satisfied, watched the strategy unfold according to plan.
What he did not know… was that an unexpected guest was about to arrive.
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