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War. In some sense, war is a synonym for civilization. It is perhaps the closest thing to [truth] in any nation, any race, or even any galaxy. No matter what race, what genes, what ideology or morality,
when civilization is born from animalistic ignorance, when [greed] is extracted from the instinct of survival, when the memories of carnivores marking territory and fighting are picked up, cleaned, and then given simple reasons like [honor] or [faith], war naturally arises.
So sudden, so logical. Two villages, two kingdoms, two races. Perhaps they had never met before. Perhaps their production relations, moral understanding, and past history were not even slightly similar.
But this does not prevent, when one side decides not to solve problems through peace and communication, [war] from appearing simultaneously in both their minds. From this perspective,
war is neither despicable nor cruel. It simply holds the same meaning as words like civilization, communication, and survival. It is an innate, simple talent of any intelligent species.
From wrapping themselves in tattered leaves, wielding wooden clubs, and throwing sharp stones at each other; to covering their vitals with wooden planks and cloth, fighting with long swords and warhorses;
to driving tens of tons of tanks and self-propelled artillery from smoke-billowing factories, letting the nightmare of nuclear fission and biological weapons completely break all bottom lines and sense of security.
Until flying into space, touching the sun, moon, and stars once worshipped, letting their breath and the twinkling of stars echo in the same field of vision. But it was merely replacing swords and cannons with chainswords and bolters, letting great starships several kilometers long take over from what were once planes and artillery... That's all.
From the skirmishes of three to five warriors, to the battles between two combat groups, and then to millions, tens of millions, or even hundreds of millions of armies mutually destroying each other under the command of sand tables and pen tips, war has never changed.
It is the nightmare of every individual, the calamity of every collective, the tribulation of every nation... And, the great victory of every race. When the Marshal gives the order, the General devises the plan, the Commander maps out the route, the Captain assembles the soldiers,
and the Lieutenant swings his blade, commanding the charge. When the edge of war transforms into the blade of a tiger, the hooves of cavalry, the tracks of tanks, and then the buzzing of dense swarms of drones sounds. No one cares about those who truly face it. Even those people themselves don't care. At the very least, Latobis didn't care.
"Bombing! It's drones!" Confused shouts rang out in the trench. Sergeant Latobis tightly gripped his rifle. This was the only thing he hadn't abandoned throughout his arduous journey.
He pressed himself against the earthen wall of the trench, one hand desperately trying to dig deeper with the entrenching tool he had just been issued. Even a centimeter of progress meant a greater chance of survival. Finally, before the sharp tearing sounds completely shattered his eardrums, he managed to cram his entire body into the hole, leaving only a tattered boot exposed outside.
The bombing began. The Ran-Dan's drone swarm perhaps numbered in the hundreds, thousands, or even more. In any case, Latobis had heard the anti-aircraft guns firing indiscriminately early on. He had heard the anti-aircraft gunners boast that their heavy weapons could blockade several kilometers of airspace,
firing thousands of shells per minute, capable of tearing even a fly to shreds. But this seemed to be useless. Latobis only heard the anti-aircraft guns going mad, continuously spitting fire. The gun barrels of an entire position roared a discordant song of resistance, but none of this prevented the Ran-Dan from dropping bombs into the trench.
Latobis tightly covered his ears, but he couldn't stop the explosions from continuously pounding his incredibly fragile eardrums. It was a chaotic, irregular roar. Sometimes it was heavy and solemn, other times it was piercing, like a shattering glass bottle.
The sergeant could even hear the sound of seemingly solid earthen mounds and the soldiers within being blown sky-high together. It was a unique, dull sound, almost impossible to mistake, and it meant that a unlucky person, or even more, was buried alive in the earth.
Some bombs landed on the ground, some landed in the trench, and one even landed near Latobis. His exposed boot could feel the impact of flying mud and stones striking the sole.
He heard everything: the explosion of bombs, the firing of artillery, the strange sounds and shrieks of drone wings cutting through the low sky. But the only sound he couldn't hear was the screams of humans: whether buried alive by a wave of earth,
or instantly engulfed in flames, or even having all their oxygen sucked out in the vacuum created by exploding shells, these were not deaths that allowed anyone to make a sound. Only bombs, only explosions. This nightmarish symphony lasted for five minutes, or even more. Finally, it stopped.
Latobis even forgot how he climbed out of that pit. He moved his soft calves and feet, barely standing up, but after only a few seconds, he collapsed to the ground, his legs giving way as if all his strength had been drained.
Then, he remembered something and almost crawled on all fours to the side, frantically digging through the mud and rubble, letting his fingers bleed from the thorns. After a while, under his pulling, Tigre's head emerged from the mud. Neither of them spoke.
They simply glanced at each other, then lowered their heads, gasping for breath. The entire position now resembled a muddy quagmire, trampled by a thousand armies. Craters were everywhere, and scattered body parts were mixed with overturned mud and kidneys, emitting an unprecedented stench.
Those soldiers who still had strength shouted loudly, either searching for their comrades or simply crying for help. Countless shouts, accompanied by officers' whistles and the groans of the dying, all sounded at once, no quieter than the Ran-Dan army's terrifying bombardment from earlier.
But soon, all sounds ceased, because everyone simultaneously stopped.
A tremor. A sensation of vibration assailed their senses. The earth was trembling, as if thousands of monsters were migrating beside them. Latobis struggled to his feet, and then he saw the Ran-Dan army.
They were attacking from directly in front of the bridge, rolling down from the mountain. It was like a living curve, a black tide, something that could not be precisely described by any human language.
Like swarms of ants crawling across a field, Ran-Dan soldiers and slaves continuously appeared from the daylight, forming dense military formations that rushed towards them. In the blink of an eye, they were everywhere.
Latobis watched. He just watched. He watched this terrifying and captivating scene. He watched perhaps hundreds of thousands of Ran-Dan troops rush towards their position, like an entire tsunami crashing down on a fishing boat. He forgot to fight, he forgot to think, he even forgot to breathe for a moment, until his ear was struck by the loudest, most hoarse command.
"Enemy attack!"
"Return to combat posts! Get back to your damn combat posts!"
"Return to combat posts!"
"The battle is not over! Maintain third cruising speed, beware of asteroids."
"Reload torpedoes. Repeat, reload torpedoes!"
On Sabis IV, a battle might have just begun, but on Sabis VIII, the closest planet to Mandeville Point, a battle had already completely ended. The Ran-Dan shield ships and void drone swarms were burning fiercely.
Less than one Terra standard hour ago, they were still the lingering prestige of a victory, swarms of arrogant hunters, eagerly chasing a defeated and fleeing Dark Angel warship. But upon entering the edge of the galaxy and the asteroid belt, where the Ran-Dan Grand Fleet was too busy to care, the situation reversed 180 degrees.
The Dark Angel warship, originally [fleeing in panic], instantly revealed its most ferocious fangs and claws. The three most heavily armed Ran-Dan small warships were almost simultaneously destroyed. The remaining stragglers hadn't even figured out what happened before they were blown to pieces in the shadows of asteroids and meteorites.
After less than an hour of chasing and counter-chasing, the Dark Angels' warship proudly left the chaotic melee site and began cruising along the shadow edge of Sabis VIII, carefully observing the defensive situation near Mandeville Point.
"So... what exactly are we doing?" From fleeing in chaos, to counterattacking, to hunting, and now to stealth reconnaissance. Ahriman was still completely confused. He could understand every operation and every plan of the Dark Angels,
but he simply couldn't understand what these guys were doing? Trying to resist? Then why didn't they gather their military forces and fight on the low orbit of Sabis IV? Trying to avoid the enemy?
The entire galaxy was filled with Ran-Dan warships; where could they hide? Trying to escape? Then what are they doing looking at Mandeville Point? That leads to the Ran-Dan controlled territory!
"Phew..." Ahriman tried his best to take a deep breath. Finally, he chose to turn around and walked to the leader of this Dark Angels unit. "I think I have the right to know something." He said.
The leader of the Dark Angels on this ship was an old veteran who concealed himself in a hood. Ahriman could only see his scarred jaw. "Son of Magnus the Red, you are indeed our ally and guarantee in this battle, but that doesn't mean you can know more.
Please realize that." Ahriman tried his best not to get angry. "Then can you tell me where Lady Morgan was taken? She is a comrade of mine from the same team. Why did you leave her on Sabis IV and bring me here?"
"Because this is a mission. Regarding Lady Morgan, I regret that I cannot answer. The order I received is for you to stay here, as an ally and guarantee." Guarantee? This word made Ahriman feel uneasy.
He increasingly suspected the Dark Angels' purpose in taking Morgan. "Then... I think I should at least have the right and identity to know what exactly we are supposed to do? What plan is encompassing this galaxy?" The Dark Angel couldn't help but laugh.
After laughing for a while, he continued to shake his head. "I really want to explain everything to you, but unfortunately, I cannot do that."
"You don't want to say?"
"No, I can't." The Dark Angel corrected him. "I can only tell you that our current mission is to hide here and wait for the right moment."
"What moment?"
"I don't know." The Dark Angel denied it quite frankly. "Because I don't know the complete plan either. I am only responsible for the part I received. Even what to do next is something I cannot know now.
Only when the necessary conditions are met will the memory lock in our minds be opened, and the next course of action will be known."
"So now, even if you search every Dark Angel in the entire galaxy, you will only get the same answer.
Before everything begins and ends, no one will know the complete, specific plan and details."
"If you still cannot adapt, then please adapt as soon as possible." Ahriman lowered his head. He was silent for a while. Then, the Thousand Son sighed.
"At the very least, and I mean at the very least, I should know everything you know. Before the battle, the struggle, and death officially begin, I believe I have reason to know more about the truth and details of what I am fighting for."
This question made the Dark Angel fall silent for a while. Then, he patted Ahriman on the shoulder.
"Son of Magnus, do you know Azir?"
"I've heard of him. He has dedicated everything for the Empire and the Emperor." The Dark Angel nodded.
"Yes, we all know that Azir sacrificed himself for the Empire, but the Ran-Dan don't know."
"They think we don't know."
"In their analysis, they completely view Azir's death as an accident. They think their actions were swift, their movements agile, and that they ended the battle before it even began."
"But in fact, they didn't."
"Whether it was Azir, or the 244th Patrol Fleet, or other things you don't know about, perhaps they were unknown, perhaps you've never heard of them, perhaps they were completely torn to shreds the second they encountered the Ran-Dan fleet."
"But they were not silent. The Ran-Dan thought they were, but in reality, they were not."
"Whether it was Azir, or them."
"Their intelligence and communications were accurately transmitted back moments before their complete annihilation. Countless blood-stained communications told us."
"Where they died, when they died, and at whose hands they died."
"We know everything."
"And the Ran-Dan think we don't know."
Saying that, the Dark Angel pointed to a star map beside him. Following his instruction, Ahriman's gaze fell on a corner of the star map. There were markers, one after another, drawn out.
They stretched from the dark Ran-Dan controlled territory all the way to the Sabis system. Their times, appearances, and memorandums differed, but their color was consistent. It was a red, a blood-like red.
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