Wow, It Even Has a Weapon Spirit

Just as Ruan Wenbo had said, the Cultists did not launch another attack. The Players actually got to sleep in the game, and everyone found it quite novel.

As soon as the next day arrived, a piercing alarm once again tore through the Underhive's murky air. In the darkness ahead, a new tide of Cultists surged toward them. They howled blasphemous prayers and brandished crude weapons like a pack of mad dogs driven by hunger.

The Players jolted awake and nervously returned to their firing positions, gripping their Lasguns. This time, however, Commissar Walter did not immediately order them to fire as he had before.

"Hold steady! Hold steady!" He stared fixedly at the approaching enemy, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Let them come closer... closer!"

The Cultists charged into fifty meters, forty meters, thirty meters... The Players could even make out the twisted fanaticism on their faces and the filthy Chaos marks on their bodies. Just as one Player could no longer resist pulling the trigger, Walter finally roared, "Fire!"

Dense red laser beams instantly wove into a net of death, accurately enveloping the Cultists at the front. At such close range, the Lasguns' power was brought to its fullest. The Cultists seemed to slam into an invisible wall, falling in swaths as charred holes burned through their bodies.

However, there were simply too many Cultists. Those in the rear immediately trampled over their comrades' corpses and continued their charge when the front ranks fell. In the blink of an eye, dozens of stragglers still howled as they vaulted over the trench's edge and engaged the defenders at close quarters.

"Prepare for melee!" Walter roared as he drew his Chainsword.

"Huff huff, haha!" A shout brimming with pure joy, utterly out of place on the battlefield, rang out. Big Eagle Cop excitedly swung that enormous metal rod and charged forward like an out-of-control Siege Hammer. He needed no technique at all, only simple swings, sweeps, and crushing blows. Every swing stirred a spray of blood, and the metal rod striking flesh and bone produced dull, teeth-gritting thuds. Almost no Cultist could last more than a second before him; their fragile bodies were effortlessly smashed into pulp.

On the other side of the line, Ruan Wenbo, wielding a Chainsword, also shone brilliantly.

When the first Cultist charged at him with a rusty cleaver, Ruan Wenbo's heart was still pounding wildly. But just as he prepared to flail around like last time, the Chainsword in his hand suddenly gave a slight tremor.

A marvelous sensation traveled from the hilt throughout his body. To his astonishment, he discovered that this Chainsword, named [Xenos Must Die], seemed to possess a consciousness of its own and was deliberately helping him.

This help was not some cheat-like seizure of control, but an exceptionally gentle form of guidance. Whenever he wanted to block, a faint pull from the blade guided his wrist to the optimal angle; whenever he prepared to counterattack, even the roar of the blade seemed to urge him to take the most efficient step.

Under the Chainsword's guidance, Ruan Wenbo's movements became cleaner and sharper than ever before. Block, sidestep, thrust, sweep... It was as though he had become one with the weapon in his hand. In this bloody dance, he was rapidly learning how to fight rather than having his mind go blank as it had the first time.

The terrifying Chaos puppets that had once seemed so ferocious in his eyes now vanished beneath his attacks like fragile snowflakes.

"Is this... a Machine Spirit?" After a clean decapitation, Ruan Wenbo could not help exclaiming. Feeling the faint hum of hatred and fury from the Chainsword in his hand, a term that had existed only in the setting suddenly became incomparably real.

He ran a lunging Cultist clean through with one stroke. Feeling the thrill of the blade tearing through flesh and the "pleasure" conveyed by the Machine Spirit, he could not help shouting, "By the Omnissiah! I understand those Tech-priests now! This just turned into a mindless hack-and-slash game!"

Led by Ruan Wenbo and the Ogryn Big Eagle Cop, these two "generals," the battle line immediately stabilized. Big Eagle Cop was like a mobile meat grinder; no Cultist could remain within his range for more than three seconds. Ruan Wenbo, meanwhile, fought like an experienced swordsman. With the Machine Spirit's aid, every swing of his Chainsword was precise and lethal.

Seeing this, the other Players' morale soared. They followed close behind Ruan Wenbo, using their Lasguns to accurately pick off enemies attempting to flank them, or using rifle butts and bayonets to finish off the stragglers stunned by Big Eagle Cop's berserk assault.

The entire battle shifted from a tense defensive engagement into a satisfying slaughter of weaklings. The Chaos Cultists' vaunted numbers and fearless madness seemed so feeble before overwhelming power and efficient killing.

When Ruan Wenbo cleanly severed the last Cultist's head, only the howling wind and the Players' heavy breathing remained on the battlefield.

The battle was over.

Leaning against a sandbag as he replaced his Lasgun's power cell, one Player said in confusion, "Come to think of it, I don't think I heard any artillery this time..."

The moment he said that, everyone still immersed in the joy of victory froze. Thinking back carefully, it was true: from beginning to end, the thunder of friendly heavy artillery that had given them such a great sense of security had not sounded even once.

The atmosphere immediately grew heavy.

After a brief moment of thought, Ruan Wenbo reached the most obvious and unsettling answer. "They're out of ammunition, aren't they?"

That guess weighed on everyone's heart like a cold stone.

A force short on ammunition, undermanned, and trapped deep within a city's ruins usually did not meet a good end. Though they had only been in this game world for a short time, Commissar Walter's sternness and concern, Big Eagle Cop's simple honesty and courage, and the veterans who fought silently had all given the Players a considerable sense of immersion. They did not want this tenacious Astra Militarum force to end in the tragic annihilation of its entire unit.

Seeing the worry appear on everyone's faces, Ruan Wenbo spoke to comfort them. "Don't overthink it. This is only a closed beta, and it'll end soon. Maybe the officials will open up more slots next time? Then we can bring in hundreds or thousands of brothers directly. That'd be a fresh force!"

His words awakened the others.

"Yeah! We're Players!"

"These Chaos Cultists have no tactics at all. They're just unafraid of death and numerous." Ruthless Assassin slung his Lasgun over his shoulder and said confidently, "When it comes to those two things, we Players have never been afraid of anyone!"

Everyone voiced their agreement. As long as they had enough people and their equipment kept up, they were confident they could turn these Underhive ruins into a meat grinder for Cultists. In an instant, the earlier gloom was swept away, replaced by the vigorous, hopeful vitality unique to Players.