In the corridor, the scorching metal hissed, and the air was filled with the acrid smell of ozone. Ghostface pressed himself tightly behind a thick, deformed metal blast shield, letting the Hellgun's red beams char the surface of his cover with a sizzling sound. Since his initial dodge at the start of the battle, he hadn't dared to peek out again.
He didn't need to. As a commander, as long as he didn't die, the guards under his command could continuously respawn on this cold warship through an unreasonable mechanism, using their lives and cheap automatic rifle bullets to wear down the enemy's superior equipment and precious lives.
"Legion Commander," a player who had just respawned and was checking his ammunition came over and said, his voice muffled by his gas mask, "The Inquisitor's guard's firepower is a bit fierce. They're all Hellguns, and our flimsy armor is like paper. If we keep trading like this, it seems we might not win!"
"What?!?" Ghostface spun around, eyes wide, as if he'd heard something outlandish. "I've already half-finished showing off, and now you're telling me we might not win?!"
"We didn't know we were fighting an Inquisitor today!" The player spread his hands innocently. "Our standard gear is for fighting xenos, not for urban warfare against Inquisition elites! Speaking of which, why did that guy suddenly go crazy and insist on using an Exterminatus to bomb Dalis?"
"How the hell should I know!" Upon learning that his 'meticulous' game dev might fail, Ghostface's temper flared instantly. He roared, "The original GW rogue trader trilogy wrote that this jerk went insane and wanted to use an Exterminatus to bomb Dalis, and now this jerk is really going insane!"
"The GW original also wrote that cultists' heavy logging guns could penetrate the ceramite chest plate of a Primaris space marine and hit his heart, severely wounding him!" The other person shouted back, equally belligerently, "So why can't our heavy logging guns even scratch the ceramite paint of a space marine?!"
"How the hell should I know, go ask GW!"
The two players wearing gas masks inexplicably shouted at each other a couple of times amidst the gunfire, then stared at each other, falling silent. Just then, Freddy, who was desperately suppressing firepower with a heavy logging gun not far away, turned and shouted at them: "If you're so idle, hurry up and help! Stop putting on a two-man show over there!"
It was good that Freddy didn't speak, but when he did, Ghostface looked at his back, and a flash of lightning seemed to strike his mind, a brilliant solution instantly forming… On the other side, Inquisitor Grande's loyal personal guard was calmly and efficiently unleashing firepower from behind sturdy cover. Just as they were gradually gaining the upper hand, a concerted roar came from the Helldivers' position: "Three, two, one, throw!"
A blurry black shadow was thrown from behind cover in an extremely exaggerated arc, curving through the air and smashing towards their position.
The guards' combat instincts were instantly triggered, and several precise red beams immediately hit the black shadow, the scorching energy burning sizzling marks on him.
The black shadow crashed heavily to the ground, rolling twice on the smooth deck. The private soldiers looked closely and found that it was a living Helldivers! Needless to say, the one thrown over was Freddy… "Damn you, Ghostface, after this battle, I'm coming offline to PK you…"
These were his last words in this world. The next second, the high-explosive satchel charge, which he had protected with his body and strapped intact to his chest, was remotely detonated.
Blinding white light engulfed the entire corridor, and the violent shockwave tore and twisted the sturdy metal walls. Everything instantly fell silent, leaving only the sizzling sound of molten metal and gradually failing alarms.
Before the smoke of the explosion had dispersed, the Helldivers swarmed forward. They struggled amidst the twisted wreckage, successfully digging out Inquisitor Grande, who was still barely breathing, from under a pile of debris. Ghostface waved his hand casually: "Quick, quick, give him a life-sustaining stimulant. He can't die yet."
...In a high-level reception room on the Sorrow's Edge, the expeditionary force's powerful officers were gathered, the atmosphere as heavy as ice. rogue trader Lucian Gritte, who had almost entirely shouldered the logistics of this expedition, Commander-in-Chief Wendell Gage, Imperial Navy Admiral Jeraqua, and even Iron Hands Company captain Ruman and the famous Ultramarines Chapter Master Calgar were present.
"I'll be blunt," Lucian took a deep breath, breaking the silence, "I propose that we immediately negotiate peace with these xenos and completely withdraw from the Dalis system."
"No," Ruman said without a trace of emotion, the current sound of the comms making his voice sound more like two pieces of steel rubbing together.
"I need a sufficiently convincing reason to accept this humiliating proposal," Calgar's voice was steady, clearly indicating his absolute rejection of it.
"Wendell," Lucian directly called the Commander-in-Chief by Name, "You tell them."
Wendell Gage nodded, his face grim, and stood up: "The situation… is very bad. Although we appear to be in a great position due to the Helldivers Legion's astonishing achievements, in reality, we are on the verge of destruction."
He paused, then continued: "We initially thought this was just an un-civilized xeno species. The Adeptus Mechanicus' last record of them was of them making fire with sharpened sticks. We thought, at most, they occupied one or two star systems… In fact, that was completely wrong.
Their sphere of influence spans at least an entire star cluster. These xenos have assembled over a hundred warships, and I don't think our Imperial Navy can withstand another 'victory' as costly as the last one, can it, Admiral Jeraqua?"
Admiral Jeraqua's face was ashen, neither confirming nor denying.
"As for their technology," Wendell said with a bitter smile, "Honestly, in many areas, it's superior to ours."
"Absurd," Ruman said coldly, "Inferior xenos can never contend with humanity in sacred machinery."
"Yes, we made them bleed profusely," Lucian interjected with a grim joke, "but their reinforcements are almost here, and our supplies have run into anomalies, unable to arrive. The current situation is the best we can hope for. The Helldivers, in their heroic combat, captured the xenos' highest ruling class, which is our biggest bargaining chip. We either accept the status quo or spend the rest of our lives in their prisoner-of-war camps. And don't forget, that madman Grande could launch a cyclonic torpedo at any moment!"
Just as both sides were unable to reach a consensus, and the atmosphere was at a stalemate, Calgar suddenly spoke: "I just found it strange… Why isn't the Helldivers' commander here? They captured the xeno leader, and the breakthrough in the battle was their primary achievement."
"I invited him," Lucian's tone was hesitant, "but I don't know why he hasn't arrived yet."
Just then, the heavy metal door of the reception room opened. A strong smell of blood assailed everyone present, making their faces change.
Ghostface strode into the reception room, and behind him, two Helldivers were dragging the blood-soaked, unconscious Inquisitor Grande like a dead dog.
"Oh, everyone's here? Heh heh, it seems I've arrived just in time," Ghostface surveyed the room, saying casually, "On the way, I happened to run into this Inquisitor who was about to go to the bridge to immediately launch a cyclonic torpedo, so I conveniently dealt with this small problem. Sorry for the slight delay."
"You… why did you bring him here?" Lucian asked in astonishment, momentarily at a loss for how to react.
"Then where should I take him?" Ghostface shrugged matter-of-factly, "Should I leave him lying there and come back to move him after the meeting? He's an Inquisitor after all, such a 'placement play' would be too insulting."
I think dragging him around like a dead dog is the real insult… Lucian's eyelids twitched wildly: "May I ask, Commander Ghostface, what exactly are you doing, moving him… all over the place?"
"Do I even need to say?" Ghostface retorted, "The soldiers on the front line fought with their blood to achieve such a result, and this guy behind the lines just waves his hand and plans to blow everything to ashes. Letting him die like that would be too easy for him."
His voice suddenly turned cold, filled with undisguised malice.
"I will take him to the surface of Dalis and let him see with his own eyes every place where human soldiers once fought to the death. Then, I will nail him to the highest building on Guelbryn, letting him forever and consciously endure the shame brought by his decision! Traitors must pay the price!"
Lucian swallowed with difficulty: "The Inquisition will go mad…"
"Oh, and then send a few Inquisitors to investigate in three to five years?" Ghostface scoffed disdainfully, "Brother Lucian, don't worry. By then, I'll be long dead!"