"They say the Crimson Angel Chapter suffered heavy losses this time! I'm afraid it might not return to full strength even within a millennium!"
An Astartes in black-and-gray Power Armour watched the Astra Militarum clearing enemy corpses from the ruins ahead and struck up a conversation.
His words held both smugness and melancholy!
Even the hunched shark statue on his left shoulder plate had become somewhat mottled and chipped.
"Against a battlefield like this, for a Chapter with fewer than three hundred men to still have any survivors is already pretty good!" another warrior, who was maintaining a bolter, joined in after hearing that.
"Those who are about to be interred in Dreadnoughts?" the first warrior said disdainfully. "You should know, they don't even have any Dreadnoughts. Those men can only die or be sent to the rear. Their Chapter will most likely be broken up!"
The warrior crudely repairing his bolter merely shook his head at that and said nothing.
Though the two Chapters had a minor grudge between them, they were both Astartes. Whenever they saw their own brothers—or those of another Chapter—sacrificed and destroyed, it was impossible for them to feel nothing.
"I just wonder how His Lord Regent will arrange things for them this time. If those blue cans reported what happened last time to their superiors..."
He had not finished speaking when the Astartes repairing the bolter immediately raised his head and shook it firmly. "Impossible! It was only one Dreadnought. They have five hundred worlds behind them, and their production capacity is maxed out. They wouldn't report to the Lord Regent and ask him to punish us over one empty Dreadnought shell. Besides, I reckon that even if they did report it to the Lord Regent, their direct superior would probably give them a