When most of the soldiers had already boarded the transport ships along with their vehicles, a tremor rumbled from the street connected to the side of the square.
It was as if a powerful piece of music had begun to play.
The Guardsmen and Officers standing watch around the perimeter paid it no mind, but Zhang Ge couldn't help casting a curious glance toward the source of the sound.
The vehicle had yet to arrive, but its cannons announced themselves first.
Two barrels, as thick as century-old trees, slowly extended into the square, followed by the colossal form of the Land Cruiser they were mounted upon.
Where had that six-hundred-meter-long Land Cruiser gone before? It couldn't have simply vanished into thin air.
Now, in its renewed form, it answered those questions.
On the prow of the ship, flanking the ram, two Volcano Cannons taken from Shadowswords jutted forward like lances. Behind them, stacked across the upper hull, were the main guns of so many super-heavy tanks that they could have constituted an entire company.
Yes, during their downtime, Yolanda had taken the Land Cruiser to the site where Olivia had once annihilated the enemy's super-heavy tank formation. There, after dismantling, repairing, purifying, and refitting, every usable heavy weapon was pried free and crammed into the hull, which still had ample capacity for modification.
And yet, as the rejuvenated Land Cruiser rumbled halfway into the square, Zhang Ge realized he had underestimated Yolanda's skill with her hands.
Four triple-mounted 457.2mm Gun Turrets sat silently along the central axis of the hull.
If anyone still recalled that caliber—yes, it was none other than the Macro Anti-Air Cannon the Yarkalan Adeptus Mechanicus had intended to entrust to Zhang Ge just as they evacuated the planet.
But now it was not one, but twelve of them in total, and all of them had been reconfigured into triple-barrel mounts.
Under Zhang Ge's gaze of "I leave for a moment, take a nap or two, and this is what you all manage to do?", the Sandworm Land Cruiser ground over the fragile earth, leaving behind vast tracks before finally coming to a halt beside the transport ship.
Even though the transport ship could carry six Titans with ease, fitting a six-hundred-meter-long Land Cruiser inside its bay would be a stretch. Instead, the Sandworm would be carried slung beneath its belly.
False Sage: holding an Axe of the Omnissiah, looking utterly ordinary.
True Sage: handcrafting a land battleship with nothing but a wrench, then standing upon its deck to proclaim that the ram before them was his true Axe of the Omnissiah.
…Well, never mind. Doesn't matter.
This operation was likely to rely primarily on airdrops. The previous transport ship had a powerful Gravitic Generator, which allowed it to air-drop the Land Cruiser. But surely this one couldn't have the same capacity?
Yes, it looked powerful… and probably was powerful. But even if so, if that strength couldn't be deployed, then it was as good as nothing.
With that rationale to comfort himself, and with no more hidden masters in sight, Zhang Ge finally let his heart settle somewhat. He turned and climbed back into the Valkyrie.
Small setbacks, nothing to worry about—it wouldn't stop him from seeking death anyway.
With such thoughts in mind, the Valkyrie quickly carried the group into the transport ship's hangar.
Outside.
Not long after, the vertical thrusters scattered across the hull roared to life within a surge of energy tides. Torrents of incandescent exhaust struck the ground with a brilliance bright enough to blind, the molten metal glowing a searing orange beneath the heat. Slowly, the transport ship's hull began to rise.
Once it had gained some altitude, the ship shifted sideways, latching the Land Cruiser to its underside, and then, with the main engines at full power, soared into the clouds.
It was like a star ascending into the heavens—but this star was far from alone.
All around, aside from this staging ground visible to Zhang Ge's eyes, other mustering points for the Planetary Defence Force were also active. Recruited from regions under the influence of the 1st Mechanized Infantry Regiment, their numbers were twice as many. Though primarily infantry, they were well-trained and decently equipped—more than enough to fill the gaps in the line.
Beyond the transport ships and smaller armed vessels, several inconspicuous sparks of light could be seen—Stormbird Transporters from the Vengeful Spirit.
These colossal relics of the Great Crusade could ferry half a Space Marine Company at once, while also serving as airborne fortresses equipped with void shields and bristling with light and heavy weaponry. They could smash through enemy anti-air fire and clear entire landing zones. Yet even more dangerous than the vessels themselves were the countless cold giants assembled within their bellies.
Nearly all of Zhang Ge's forces had been committed to this special operation.
These soldiers were not only well-armed and battle-hardened, but after the battle at the Deadwood Sector wall, their faith in their leader had deepened into near-blind devotion.
To reverse the tide of a battlefield with millions using only two hundred thousand troops—though outsiders might never understand, to them, that achievement had already elevated Zhang Ge to the level of legend alongside the heroes sung in their planetary histories.
And what of the things that had happened since?
In the pitch-black void, more than hellguns or carapace armor, it was the burning will of the 1st Mechanized Infantry Regiment that was the rarest and most precious weapon of all.
Before long, the small fleet, assembled into formation, had ascended into low orbit.
Beneath them, the metallic continent of the Deadwood Sector stretched clear. As they drew closer to the target and descended, the hazy ground soon resolved into sharp detail. Yet unlike before—where the untainted regions, though bleak, still seemed relatively stable—the areas scourged by Daemons had already been transformed into living hells.
It was as though the land had been steeped in purest malice. Aside from a few Noble Fortresses that still clung to resistance, every place within sight had become a stage draped in red and black.
Ash drifted through the air, the blood long since dried to crimson crust. Only the occasional shrill scream and the brief bursts of lasgun fire proved that this was still part of the mortal realm.
Of course, to one particular noble, all of this was nothing more than a grotesque play happening outside their walls.
Guarded within the fortress's depths by several Deathstrike Missiles, the noble had managed to make even the Chaos Forces hesitate to strike, unwilling to gnaw on a landmine that could shatter two of their teeth at once.
As for the noble's supposed duty to protect the people?
Ha. Something to tell the Inquisition, perhaps. Who could ever take it seriously?
The most dangerous moment for a Deathstrike Missile is when it has not yet been launched. So long as they remained, this fortress would forever be a harder nut to crack than the rest.
But what the noble, smug in their belief that they could die comfortably behind their walls, did not yet realize—was what his private army would soon face.
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