"To hell with the deception!"
Before the contract workers could hesitate, a loud and clear young man's voice called from above.
The wavering crowd looked towards the Imperial Navy Naval Officer wearing a bicorne hat.
"I am Horatio Cochrane, descendant of the legendary Admiral Spire! Listen! The enemy has been defeated. Joining them is choosing to be buried with them!
As long as you turn your weapons on these lackeys, I will reduce your number of voyages. Any heavy criminal who kills that sword-wielding traitor and his brave subordinates, I declare you pardoned in the name of the Corpse Emperor!"
"Ad-Admiral Spire's descendant??"
Upon hearing that this person was the descendant of the well-known Admiral Spire, the contract workers were shocked and began to discuss amongst themselves.
Faced with the conditions Horatio offered, most of them wavered.
The bald contract worker who had shot the Voidsmen-at-Arms Officer looked in terror at the contract workers around him who were siding with the Imperial Navy.
He knew his actions meant certain death. In his desperation, he gritted his teeth and aimed his gun directly at Horatio, pulling the trigger.
Horatio, sensing danger through his Precognition Shard, stepped back and deftly dodged, avoiding the bullet's path before the man even fired.
"Anyone who takes up arms against the Imperial Navy will not live past today! If you fight the enemy, you will be rewarded! Those who stand with the Navy, roll up your right sleeves, folding them three times!"
Horatio's booming voice echoed throughout the lower deck.
"He said he'd reduce our voyages..."
"If we kill these ugly masked figures, we can get pardoned..."
"My wife and children are still waiting for me at home..."
"Did you hear? He's Admiral Spire's descendant, he can definitely do it..."
As for joining the Blood Army, whether they could win and what would happen after winning, the ugly masked man said nothing. It was clearly an empty promise.
However, the conditions offered by the Naval Officer, who was a descendant of the glorious Admiral Spire, were very generous and clear. Moreover, as an officer with real authority, he did not seem to be lying.
The sallow-faced contract workers' faces twitched, their arms trembled, and their eyes darted around as if they were about to pop out. They were watching what choice those around them would make.
Clearly, though their lives were hard, they were not fools like the Ogryn.
Gradually, the contract workers formed three groups. Two of these groups gradually aimed their weapons at each other, while some still had not made a decision.
The vast majority of contract workers chose to side with the Imperial Navy. They all rolled up their right sleeves, folding them three times.
Only a small number stood with the Blood God's servants. Their reason was pure: their hatred for the Empire surpassed all else. They didn't care about winning or losing, only about retaliating against the Empire and making its Soldiers bleed.
Ultimately, the contract workers' infighting erupted when the heavily tattooed man shot his companion who was in the process of rolling up his sleeve.
Some who were hesitant quickly chose their faction, while the timid ones found a place to hide.
Under Horatio's highly infectious charisma and the irresistibly generous conditions he offered, the overall situation was decided.
The Blood Pact Army's decision to release the contract workers ultimately backfired on them, becoming the final sharp knife at their throats.
"Let's go! Soldiers, kill the enemy!" Horatio took a shortcut, gracefully and efficiently flipping over the railing and leaping from the second-level gangway onto the lower deck.
Lasers and shotgun pellets flew wildly, and even Horatio's bicorne hat fell to the ground during the fierce sword fighting.
But he couldn't even bother to pick it up. The lower deck was a chaotic mess, with enemies all around him—in front, to the sides, and behind. Any moment of laxity could result in a fatal blow.
Many people had just stabbed an enemy to death, only to be killed immediately by other enemies rushing in from behind.
Horatio's officer guard rallied tightly around him. These Breakers, like stars surrounding the moon, protected him, forming a dense, tank-like combat formation.
They escorted Horatio forward, while Horatio's goal was to personally kill the enemy officer.
Due to the fanaticism of faith in the Warhammer 40K universe, combat in this world inherited the dueling style of commanders that would only appear in literary works.
No matter how high a person's rank, even a Solar Lord, GW made a tabletop miniature for him, allowing him to personally go to the front lines, wielding a Chainsword and fighting the enemy, while leaving command to his staff.
Regardless of the faction, if the commanding leader on the battlefield was killed by the enemy, the morale of their subordinate troops would suffer an extremely heavy blow, and their disintegration and annihilation would only be a matter of time.
Horatio gripped his weapon, walking towards the Blood Pact Officer wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a bizarre golden mask.
The other party immediately noticed this stern-faced, cold-eyed Naval Officer from the crowd.
The Blood Pact Officer faced him, his crimson pupils burning with raging fury.
He swung his sword at Horatio, issuing a challenge.
This person was not fighting alone; he also had an elite blood-stained squad by his side. These squads, blessed by the Blood God, were the elite of the Blood God's servant army. They were selected from the elites of various units, and many of them were once elite warriors of the Astra Militarum, comparable to Loyalist Heir Storm Troopers.
They were led by a blood-stained squad leader, and their members ranged from Sulphur Grenadiers, Butchers, Disembowelers, Corpse-men, Enforcers, Flayers, Gunners, to mutated Ogryn, serving as officer guards for the Blood God's servant army.
Both sides, carrying their respective honors and beliefs, eyed each other with mutual hostility, with only the most detested hatred in their eyes.
The Blood Pact Officer spat a mouthful of red phlegm onto the ground. His subordinates bared their teeth, picked up their weapons, and took a stance.
They couldn't wait to determine who was superior to the renowned Imperial Navy Breakers boarding party.
—
Armor fragments from the bombardment continuously fell from the top, which was about a hundred meters high.
As Horatio advanced with his guard, a shell pierced through the upper part of the gun emplacement's lower deck. Many people further away from him were killed by the flames and the shattered remains of the bulkhead.
The scorching inferno blowing from afar made him feel as if boiling water had been poured over him, but he gritted his teeth and endured, his gaze fixed on the enemy's movements.
The explosion did not stop the slaughter on the gun deck. People faced off and fought amidst the danger.
No one could escape this dangerous place before a victor was decided.
"Warriors of the Blood God! Kill these slaves of the Corpse Emperor! I want the heads of their officers offered to our master, and then bring me his Chainsword!"
When the two elite squads approached a certain distance, the Blood Pact Officer roared, brandishing his power sword.
He stared intently at the large red Chainsword in Horatio's hand, finding it perfectly suited to his temperament, his simple mind completely ignoring the weight it should have had.
"Armed forces, advance!" Compared to the Blood Pact Officer, who was roaring with hyperthyroid-like excitement, Horatio appeared much calmer and steadier.
He commanded his guard, maintaining their formation and advancing in an orderly manner. When the distance closed to a certain point, the Soldiers unleashed their first volley.
Several people were struck down, while others quickly hid behind the shields erected by the large Ogryn who had been deceived into believing in the evil gods, and then returned fire at the Breakers from behind their shields.
The Sulphur Grenadier took the opportunity to throw special bombs capable of burning through any armor, but he clearly overlooked one thing.
Shotguns are best for shooting clay pigeons.
And the Imperial Navy happens to be the army with the highest rate of large-caliber shotgun equipment, second only to the Adeptus Arbites's Marshals.
The massive sulfur bomb was barely thrown when it was detonated mid-air by a volley from the armed Soldiers behind the boarding shields, exploding into a cloud of pungent yellow smoke.
This yellow smoke, carried by the ventilation ducts, drifted back over the heads of the blood-stained squad downwind and some contract workers who had joined the Blood Pact Army.
They screamed, their bodies engulfed in flames. Some had their facial skin melt, and thousands of degrees of debris burned through their clothing and armor, roasting flesh and melting bone.
The yellowish toxic gas caused the traitors to fall to the ground, their eyeballs nearly bulging out. They writhed and struggled on the ground, clutching their painfully stinging airways, making difficult, gurgling coughs like ducks, both comical and pathetic.
Those controlled workers who had betrayed the Navy paid a profound and heavy price for their treachery at the hands of their own 'friendly' fire, even before Horatio could act.
It's the beginning of the month, please support me, dear readers! This week is a trial week for three daily updates. I will update three chapters every day this week to see the reading effect.