We are Taran reborn
After the "Iron Warriors" bombing ended, Taran became a living hell, where the virus turned all organic matter into slime.
Death drifts with the wind and tumbles in the water.
There are no living or potentially living creatures on the ground.
The survivors entered the sealed underground shelter and breathed the air they had never encountered on the ground above.
The bunker complex beneath the Cassiodian Mountains.
Susada Sean, holding Data Slate, reported, "Your Excellency, the fourth raid on the Iron Warriors' Shadowless Labyrinth has failed."
"Of the 500 tanks, 290 survived and are heading towards the Kubarac Shelter to make contact with the Northern Loyalists forces."
Hiss----
Governor Drasallius spoke quickly, trying to cover the sound of the breathing pump.
"I see."
He was appointed governor by the Imperium, and by the time he arrived in Taran, he was already an old man.
The Great Crusade had taken away his strength; his cheeks had sunken, and his spotted skin stretched taut over his skull. The reinforced support components that held his body together clicked and clattered.
Twenty years later, the Iron Warriors killed the world he had protected.
He returned to the battlefield and became the father of the Taran's raiding wars.
His gaze swept over all the commanders, "The war in Taran will never end!"
"Regardless of victory or defeat, we will take this as a starting point and continue moving forward."
"We will attack again, and then again, until none of us have the strength left."
"After that, we figured out a way to continue the attack until we defeated them."
"Yes!" The crowd stood up in unison and Drasallius.
Drasallius looked to his right at the general, whose body was ramrod straight.
"Gorn, reporting."
"Your Excellency, the Iron Warriors have assembled a large force, and it has been confirmed that among their henchmen and lackeys participating in the battle are the Garibed Oathsworn and the Seleucid Cuirassiers— "
"At least 50,000 tanks are rapidly advancing towards us."
Drasallius at the tactics table. "Assembly status."
"All tanks are assembled and ready to launch an attack."
"Tactical maneuvering, seeking opportunities, and striking the Iron Warriors' flanks."
"Yes, sir."
Drasallius scanned the commanders who were a second too slow to speak; most avoided his gaze, but Marshal Jasila Vaul of the 71st Cohort of the "Solar Auxilia," a "Scoria-born" unit, met his eyes without fear.
I know some of you disagree with my strategy.
"We should use our fortifications to strike at the traitors who are attacking," Marshal Vaul said.
He was the commander stationed at the Taran Equatorial Defence Station and was the first to launch a counterattack.
His counterattack in the New Moon Province fired the loudest shot in the Taran people's counterattack.
Vaul destroyed Galson's vehicle and forced the commander Perturabo relied on to order the Artillery Array to fire indiscriminately, ultimately killing him.
"Abandoning the stronghold will only gradually Weakening the power of the loyalists."
Drasallius nodded. "Vaul, I admire your courage."
"But I ask you, all of you remember one thing: we are the Taran Reborn."
"You must also remember where you are and the price we paid to get to this day."
He slammed his fist on the tactical table. "This isn't just war; it's revenge."
"We cannot defend against the relentless advance of the Iron Warriors, our Fortress cannot withstand their offensive, but we can avenge ourselves in our own way."
"Attack, retreat to the New Moon Shelter in the south, and launch another attack."
"Yes!" everyone answered in unison.
No one can question Drasallius's beliefs, and the people of Taran searched in epic tales for a title worthy of him.
The Taran call him "Isha-ka-Nu," which means "the desire for revenge."
What could the Taran accomplish without him?
Within the complex, engines roared from the twenty-seven bunkers housing hundreds of "Solar Auxilia" divisions.
Some of them were Taran, while others were dozens of "Solar Auxilia" divisions that came to provide support.
Drasallius strode toward his Poison Blade, and the metal Great Beast awoke with a roar.
He was encased in custom-made armor, looking like a withered corpse on the battlefield, yet he was the keystone that brought everyone together.
He swiftly passed the Servitor who was loading ammunition, then suddenly stopped and looked to the right in front of the Berek to check the secondary weapons gunner.
"Soldier, there's a tear in the back of your protective suit."
"If you don't deal with it, you'll soon die in the Killing Fog."
Thump!
"Grown ups!"
The soldier crashed into the tank with a thud. "Drasallius— "
"I was just checking----"
"I forgot to check the status of my protective suit—sorry, I'll take care of it right away."
Drasallius stopped in his tracks; what a childish voice.
"How old are you."
"Sir—I'm thirteen, yes, I'm thirteen years and fifty-two days old."
He's even younger than when he was full of dreams and rose to stardom.
He was already at the lowest age required for Imperium conscription. Damn war, damn civil war, forcing children to go to the battlefield.
You don't need to feel sorry for me, understand?
"Checking your protective suit is for your own good. If you want to return to the underground alive, get your damn protective suit sorted out right now."
"Yes, sir."
The soldier watched as Drasallius walked past him, then stared intently at the Taran Guard.
Wherever Drasallius went, his guards followed closely behind.
They were all Taran, ordinary people just like him before the World's Death.
Their clothes were tattered, like a group of ragged, wandering ghosts.
The young soldier clenched his fist, "I want to Drasallius's guard too! I know I can do it!"
I want to follow him and witness Taran's revenge firsthand.
Drasallius the hatch and slammed into his seat.
Click!
The sound of his back cracking tugged at the corner of the old man's mouth.
Drasallius's back didn't budge as he put on his communication headset.
To minimize their chances of being detected by the Iron Warriors' advanced Auspex array, they do not activate high-power electronic devices before launching an attack.
"I am Taran Avenger."
"Communicator silence."
"Action."
He turned off his communication headset, and the fifteen-meter-long tank roared to life, slamming his back against the seat with a series of clicking sounds.
With a thrust from below his hips, Drasallius pressed his eyes against the periscope's Eyepiece.
The gate opened, and thick fog rushed into our eyes.
He stared wide-eyed at the burning air.
Amidst the rumbling vibrations, he rotated the periscope to search.
Suddenly, his hand stopped, staring at the gradually clear outline of the tank.
It doesn't have the emblem of Iron Warriors, but it is still a high-value target.
Tanks equipped with massive siege cannons were branded with sand-colored markings.
He was very familiar with the markings; he had seen them many times when he was still serving in the military.
The Garibed Oathsworn.
A traitorous Auxilia that has long fought alongside the "Iron Warriors".
Eleven o'clock!
The Machine Spirit roared, and the ten-meter-long Battle Cannon fired rocket-propelled shells.
The flames of vengeance, trailing trails of fire, tore through the thick fog and slammed into the invading tanks, sending up bright flames that burst forth in a blaze of revenge.