Termite Drill Bores Through

"Are you sure?" the Terran-born instructor asked seriously.

"I can," Flamini said calmly, facing the gazes of the five instructors.

"I believe him," said the Vostonian-born instructor who was sizing him up in the mess hall. "He predicted fifteen days ago that we would set foot on Zhuya today."

"Moreover, his father highly values his potential."

"If it weren't for his insistence, he would have been groomed as Librarian; he has that kind of precognitive ability."

He smiled and asked Flamini, "How many Mitu are there?"

"I don't know, I didn't see all of them, but from what I saw, there were over ten thousand."

"We can't handle so many enemies. We should call for backup immediately." The instructor's smile vanished, and he said gravely.

"Instructor, they're underground. We can use bombs to collapse the tunnel and bury them all underground."

A cold glint flashed in Flamini's eyes. Although this wouldn't be considered taking revenge on the despicable Xenos himself, he would still be thrilled if he could Burial Xenos as suggested.

"Good idea," the Vostonian-born instructor's eyes lit up. "The tunnel has been excavated, but it hasn't been reinforced yet."

"Only a small amount of explosives is needed to collapse it."

He looked at the other instructors.

"Can."

"It's definitely feasible."

The others readily agreed.

The Vostonian-born instructor shouted:

"Your first lesson in Zhuya has begun, and it's also your first lesson in demolition."

"You must strictly follow our orders. Believe me, this concerns your life and the lives of others."

Under the guidance of their instructors, Flamini and his men removed various explosives, including Melta Bomb, from the transport plane and deployed them in the tunnels where he foresaw the impending attack of the Mitu.

They, who originally had no chance to participate in the battle, were full of motivation.

They all came from a planet ruled by the Mitu. Before their transformation was complete, each of them still retained relatively complete memories.

Everyone has family and friends who died at the hands of the Xenos.

The miners were ordered to leave, and the instructors led the group to ambush behind the rocks.

Flamini held a scepter, his mind transcending his body, attempting to capture information about the Mitu in the Warp.

As time ticked by, his brow furrowed more and more deeply.

Flamini didn't have any further information to look forward to, and he knew that was perfectly normal.

For these prophetic Psyker, actively seeking information doesn't guarantee the desired results, yet they sometimes witness visions of the future when they don't actively pursue them.

However, he certainly didn't want it to be now.

Their forces were too weak; even though the instructors were all veterans qualified to be company commanders' guards, they were not yet true Shadow of Order.

If a Mitu tribe were to reach the surface before they discovered them, it would cause them considerable losses.

Although Flamini longed for revenge against the Mitu, he did not want others to die because of his advice.

He looked down into the tunnel, his consciousness spreading as he used Psionic Energy to probe.

Ten seconds later, Flamini still hadn't noticed.

[The Mitu are all pseudo-photochemical Psionic Energy beings, some of whom are even capable of evading Psionic Energy detection; I cannot sense them through Psionic Energy.]

Flamini gripped his scepter, hesitating whether to ignore the warning from the think tank Ramsay, open his mind, and explore the warp.

He knew it was dangerous, but he was willing to try.

Just then, the instructors' cold, stern voices rang out simultaneously through the communication headsets.

"They're here."

Flamini paused for a moment, then suddenly remembered.

[I forgot, the Shadow of Order inherited the keen senses of the Primarch.]

As he pondered, he saw the Vostonian-born instructor beside him press the detonator in his hand.

A deafening roar erupted, and the entire mountain shook violently.

Flamini's mind flashed through images: devastating molten lava flows, carrying rocks, crashing onto countless anemone-shaped creatures.

Success!

My suggestion worked!

As Flamini was filled with joy, the instructor's voice came through his communication headset.

"Flamini,..."

The instructor called out several names in a row, "You all come with me."

Flamini and the others immediately followed in the instructor's footsteps, and they heard him say:

"The Termite Drill can carry ten people."

"We must enter the tunnel and deliver a crushing blow to the Mitu."

Flamini excitedly followed the instructor and crawled through the open door into the Termite Drill.

"Flamini, the Incendiary Assault Gun is yours."

Upon hearing this, Flamini excitedly sat down at the control panel.

After the explosions subsided, the instructors issued the order to proceed.

Amidst a rumbling vibration, the massive drill bit of the Termite Drill tore through the earth's surface and plunged into the underground tunnel.

Flamini locked onto the Mitu Xenos through the Eyepiece of the control panel.

"Fire!"

As the instructor gave the order, Flamini unleashed a furious barrage of flames at the Xenos.

The bodies of more than a dozen Xenos anemones were torn apart by a barrage of bullets.

Dozens of Mitu raised beams of light and shot them at the Phase Shield Generator of the Termite Drill, flashing with blinding light.

The Termite Drill, beaming with light, charged into the Xenos, its Melta Cutter hissing as it shredded them.

The Termite Drill continued its rapid advance until the Phase Shield Generator alarm sounded, at which point it finally broke through the surface.

Flamini, soaking wet, stepped out of the hatch, thinking to himself.

[Eighty-six, I personally killed eighty-six Mitu.]

In the 12th month of 844, while the Tech Sergeant and Librarian were studying the Jormungandr Star Monolith, Nimrod and Sanchez traveled to Attila.

In the Stormbird, Nimrod's gaze pierced through the viewing window, fixed on the ever-approaching planet.

Attila was smaller than Terra, and its entire world consisted of only one continent, with the other half surrounded by oceans.

As the Stormbird drew nearer to the surface, Nimrod saw the sea of sand in the center of the continent, surrounded by vast grasslands.

The grasslands are dotted with rolling plains, towering mountains, rushing rivers, and deep inland seas.

The Attilan spotted the black iron birds flying in the sky, and they roared and gave chase on horseback.

The Primarch turned its gaze toward them with great interest, while simultaneously capturing the figures of thousands of Attilan.

In the blink of an eye, the Primarch had categorized the Attilan on horseback into those with the same physical characteristics.

The Attilan were relatively short in stature, but had broad shoulders, long limbs, black eyes, and nut-like skin.

Their black hair, either combed into shiny braids or tangled up, and many of them sported beards that covered their chins, reminded Nimrod of the Chogoris.

Nimrod also saw the distinctive scars on the faces of the Attilan, where, as part of a rite of passage, some would have long, deep, vertical cuts made on their cheeks, which they would then rub with ashes.

"The Attila riders are elegant and swift; only the Exodite Aeldari surpass them in both aspects." Sanchez gazed down, his mind flashing back to the Exodite Aeldari he had encountered in Terry.

Nimrod nodded slightly, his gaze fixed downwards.

The tribe that pursued them encountered another tribe, and the warlike Attilan charged at each other simultaneously.

The horse descendants they brought from Terra, bursting forth with speeds exceeding those of armored vehicles, collided.

Nimrod knew that although the Attilan's horses still retained the Old Terra form, they were actually creatures modified by the environment and biochemical technology.

He knew that when the Departmento Munitorum first took notice of the Biochemical Beast, they immediately recognized their value, and the level of attention and treatment they received even exceeded that of many low-ranking officers in the Astra Militarum.

Ironically, the Attilan were considered to be of the same low social status as the Ogryn because they neither bathed nor washed their clothes.

The Attilan considered bathing an insult to the soul of water.

As Nimrod pondered, the two tribes clashed, their three-and-a-half-meter-long Hunting Spear tucked under their arms colliding first.

In an instant, more than a dozen people from each side were pierced by the sharp spear tips.

The victor raises his spoils and roars with triumph.

They drew their short knives, chopped off heads, and the bodies rolled onto the grass, staining it red with blood.

Those who won the spoils of war, amidst the envious gazes of others, would hang their heads on their horses, which would later be made into goblets as a symbol of their victory.

The two tribes passed each other, then simultaneously turned and attacked each other.

For thousands of years, they have fought like this, and the brutal battles have forged them into brave Warrior.

Nimrod saw the Spear in the hands of the two Attilan clashing past each other, both avoiding the other's attack.

The two horses collided like two human the Chariot, their hooves kicking and their mouths tearing at each other.

"Both the rider and the horse are good, but the weapons need improvement before they can serve as soldiers and set foot on the Galaxy."