War Hammer Stew

He took a deep breath, his voice dropping to a whisper that was all the more chilling:

"That intelligence officer and his subordinates—it matters not whether they are dead or have defected."

"Find his family: parents, spouse, children. Send them all to the Alru Group biological department. Tell them these 'voluntary' test subjects may be used for any high-risk project."

"Y-yes, sir..."

The operator recorded the order, his face deathly pale.

"As for now."

The bald director looked at the increasingly unfavorable battle situation on the screen, enunciating every word:

"Order the Alru Group Defense Department to immediately mobilize the First through Tenth Security Battalions, all in full heavy gear."

"I want to see at least fifteen Leman Russ Tanks, five Hellhound Flame Tanks, twenty Sentinel Mechs, and every armored personnel carrier that can still move."

"Also, notify the Chamber of Commerce Psyker Squad. Detach thirty combat psykers to accompany them."

He paused, then added:

"Tell Commander Capas that I do not care about casualty figures, nor do I care about ammunition consumption."

"I want to see all factory areas in the Crimson Bright Wasteland back under control within five standard hours. I want to see the head of every rebel impaled on a spear, arranged in the shape of the Imperial Aquila."

"If he cannot do that..."

The bald director smiled, a smile that caused the temperature in the entire command center to plummet by ten degrees.

"Then he shall turn himself into a specimen and be impaled right along with them."

The orders were relayed within thirty seconds.

Around Arlu City, shrill alarms blared simultaneously from six military bases.

Garage doors roared open, and heavy tracks ground against the concrete floor.

Painted in the deep blue and silver-gray of the Alru Group, the Leman Russ Tanks saw their turrets rotate slowly, their main cannons gleaming coldly in the morning light.

The larger Hellhound Flame Tanks rumbled, their engine roars causing the ground to tremble.

Then there were the bipedal Sentinel Mechs, equipped with heavy bolters or lascannons, their pilots performing final system self-checks.

Further away, on the assembly grounds, eight thousand fully armed soldiers stood in neat phalanxes. The ballistic armor they wore was no longer the crude gear of the overseers, but standard military equipment featuring ceramic plating and the Alru eagle emblem on the pauldrons.

On one side of the formation, thirty figures draped in dark purple robes with hoods obscuring their faces stood in silence.

Around them, the air twisted slightly, and light refracted in unnatural colors—the energy field unconsciously radiated by psykers.

"For the Chamber of Commerce! For the order of Aurelian!"

The commander stood atop his command vehicle, roaring into a megaphone before the battle.

"Crush the rebels! Leave none alive!"

"Move out!"

A torrent of steel began to roll toward the Crimson Bright Wasteland.

Inside Refinery No. 3.

The players had looted until their eyes were bloodshot.

The central cooling tower had been reduced to ruins, Refining Furnace No. 2 had been blown apart, and the mountains of ore and semi-finished products in the raw material warehouse had been swept clean.

[Mechanicus Oil-Lover on the Run] looked at the final number jumping on his terminal, his breath hitching for a moment.

[Total Recovery Value: 1,587,600 Imperial Coins]

"Brothers..."

His voice in the area channel carried a rare tremor, "We... we looted 1.58 million."

There were no cheers in the channel.

Everyone was panting, staring at the skyrocketing numbers in their accounts.

Wang Zhong and the others had completed the distribution of Imperial Coins based on contribution, with each person receiving an average of 319 Imperial Coins.

Some received more, such as the demolition and technical teams, while others received less, such as those responsible for perimeter security.

But even the lowest payout was over 280 coins.

This was a massive fortune.

A fortune enough to instantly turn five thousand miners into elite light infantry.

"Enough..."

Wang Zhong looked at the four hundred-plus coins in his own account and grinned, "It was worth it."

Just then, a deafening explosion erupted from the direction of the factory entrance, followed immediately by a tidal wave of shouting and even more intense gunfire.

"The rebels have broken in!"

[Did White Scars speed today] poked his head out from a pile of rubble for a look, then immediately pulled back, "There are a lot of them! Looks like thousands!"

A force wearing mismatched armor and wielding various modified firearms charged toward the overseers and guards who were still putting up a desperate resistance; this group, while fanatical, still seemed somewhat normal.

But another force around them...

"The Emperor protect..."

Schrodinger's Loyalist crouched behind cover, observing through the scope of his laser rifle, his voice dry, "Those guys... something's wrong."

On the east side of the refinery, about six to seven hundred rebels had undergone a terrifying transformation.

Their muscles bulged unnaturally, distorting and cracking their armor, their skin turned dark red, and their eyes burned with pure bloodlust.

They no longer used firearms, but wielded massive axes, cleavers, or even ripped heavy machine guns from their mounts to use as clubs, crashing into the overseer ranks with incredible speed and strength.

Wherever they went, severed limbs flew and blood splattered.

And the corpses they killed would soon twitch and rise again under the influence of some strange power, joining their ranks, stiff in movement but still deadly.

"Khorne..."

Wang Zhong murmured, "The other wave is Khorne's followers."

"So Ren's side is Tzeentch, and this side is Khorne..."

Tax Brother scratched his helmet, "Aren't they going to fight each other?"

"The four Chaos Gods are mortal enemies, but when facing a common enemy, like the forces of Order, they will occasionally cooperate."

Mechanicus Oil-Lover on the Run quickly explained, "Although such cooperation usually involves backstabbing and mutual scheming, at least on the surface, they will eliminate non-Chaos forces first."

As if to confirm his words, on the other side of the refinery, in the direction of Ren's warehouse, the spatial rift had already expanded enough for something to pass through.

The first to emerge was a large group of chattering, winged, beaked, small demons covered in blue scales, Tzeentch Horrors.

They swarmed the battlefield like locusts, not with brute force, but by tearing through armor with their claws, disrupting minds with their shrieks, or simply spitting out small spells that twisted reality.

Immediately after, a giant claw covered in feathers and eyes extended from the rift.

An indescribably massive figure was slowly squeezing through the rift.

It had three heads, one calculating madly, one cackling, and one sleeping.

Nine arms held a codex, a scepter, a dagger, an hourglass, a quill, and a mirror reflecting countless possibilities, while its lower body was a mass of twisted tentacles and pus flowing with knowledge.

While not comparable to a true Greater Daemon, this was definitely a very troublesome Tzeentch demon, the Lord of Change and Mystery.

"My god..."

Soul of Cadia's mouth hung open, "A boss actually appeared..."

"More than one."

Wang Zhong pointed towards the Khorne followers.

Indeed, amidst the Khorne berserkers who had slain enough lives, the ground suddenly cracked open, and boiling blood surged forth.

From it crawled a monster four meters tall, with bulging muscles, giant horns on its head, and a massive blood-soaked axe in its hand, a Bloodletter, a lesser demon of Khorne.

But on this battlefield, it was a killing machine.

Tzeentch demons, Khorne demons, rebels, Khorne berserkers, the still-resisting overseers and guards...

The entire Refinery No. 3 had now completely become a meat grinder of Chaos civil war, mortal slaughter, and demonic rampages.

"A classic Warhammer free-for-all."

"Loyalist bro, we..."

Did White Scars speed today swallowed, "What now? Retreat?"

All the players looked at Wang Zhong.

They had money in their pockets, over three hundred coins, enough to revive more than sixty times if they logged off now.

Wang Zhong looked at the utterly chaotic battlefield, then at the Imperial Coins in his account.

"Leave? Where to?"

"The Alru Group's army outside will probably arrive soon. Can our two legs outrun their treads?"