20 Phoenixes Fall from the Sky (III)

The Laer possess a fleet.

Realizing this made Jago Sevatarion feel uneasy from the bottom of his heart— the Night Lords were not unfamiliar with dealing with Xenos, but races like the Laer, who were even fully capable of building their own warships, were still a minority.

Fortunately, the fleet that arrived was a confluence of three legions. With just a simple salvo and the rapid strikes from the destroyers, the Laer fleet was completely annihilated.

Then, the war officially began.

The familiar airdrop, the familiar jolts, the familiar first wave of enemy attack. Sevatar thought this would be accomplished smoothly amidst difficulties, just like in the past, but what they faced was not just "difficulties," but a collection of difficulties.

"Move closer to me!" Sevatar roared grimly into the comms. "I don't want to see anyone fall behind. Maintain formation, advance quickly. We need to rejoin the other squads immediately."

His squad silently carried out his orders. Sevatar led the way, his reaction speed astonishing, faster than that of a typical Astartes, thus he always held the vanguard position.

Valtek and Karen Ofion followed closely behind him, ready to deal with any enemies that might appear outside Sevatar's line of sight. Behind them were Ramien, Vasagien, and Baal Sal, the three armed with Boltgun, providing covering fire.

The Apothecary Vakendwan Lyle walked alongside the silent Zarigras, while at the rear of the group were Anro and Nadras from Lunsot —all pale men with black hair and black eyes, silent in battle, carrying the deathly aura of Nostramo.

Normally, whether they speak or remain silent, their enemies tremble with fear. But this doesn't work on the Laer, who are simply a group of tall, strong, and agile beasts with snake tails and four arms.

They possess immense strength, capable of tearing through Ceramite armor with their claws alone. Their speed is also fast enough to dodge explosives from a certain distance. Worse still, they are not primitive humans; their weapons are equally deadly.

If you don't think these are problems, then listen to the sound of the waves.

Yes, the Night Lords landed in a floating city built on the sea— the Laer can move freely in the water, but the Night Lords cannot. Being dragged underwater while fighting such a dangerous enemy would be a death sentence.

But Sevatar was careful enough.

He always did this, as he was doing now. As the distinctive hoarse clamor of the Laer rose from the ruins of their bombed-out city, Sevatar immediately brandished his chainsaw.

Two wild beasts with snake tails descended from the sky and pounced on him. He immediately cut one of them in half at the waist, its head dripping with blood. The other was smashed into powder by Valtek's Power Fist.

But that wasn't the end of it. The attacked squad immediately scattered into the ruins. Their decision proved necessary half a second later, as the Laer's firepower poured in.

Deep green energy beams, wielding their blasphemous Xenos technology, were launched, relentlessly assaulting Sevatar and his squad. The young yet experienced Night Lords frowned, listening intently for a moment.

From the muffled energy beams emitted by the Laer, he gleaned the information he needed. Sevatar turned his head and gestured to the silent Zarigras. The latter nodded silently and bent down to leave the bunker.

The others immediately poked their guns out from behind the ruins and began using explosives to draw the attention of the Laer.

Three minutes and twenty-seven seconds later, Zarigras's voice came through the communication channel.

"There's one left alive, Captain," he said hoarsely. "Do you want me to kill it?"

"No, bring it here," Sevatar said.

He stood up, his goggles zooming in. Four hundred and seventy-two meters away in the ruins, Zarigras came running towards them, carrying a half-crippled Laer.

Behind him was a scene of carnage, the corpses of the Xenos scattered about, some even impaled by the sharp edges of the ruins, their bodies sliding down the sharp shell strips.

In typical Zarigras style, he was so ruthless once he entered the battle that even the veterans of Terra would occasionally be surprised. Seconds later, a still-living Xenos was thrown at Sevatar's feet.

The others ignored it and remained vigilant, while Zarigras used a cloth from the ruins to wipe his Power Sword. Sevatar stuck his chainsaw into the ground and crouched down to look at the Laer.

The latter had its head lowered, its insect-like head bearing a pair of dark, multifaceted eyes, shaped like jewels, glistening with moisture. Its lower jaw was split open, and blood was dripping continuously from its mouth full of fangs.

Sevatar observed it carefully for a while, then drew his combat dagger from his waist.

He chuckled listlessly inside his helmet, hissing as he said, "Just so you know, I'm going to dissect you."

Dozens of seconds later, a series of incomprehensible screams echoed across the ruins. Two minutes later, the screams subsided, and Sevatar's team left the ruins.

Behind them, a Laer corpse, its skin peeled off and most of its muscles and tendons torn away, was hung up and swayed in the salty sea breeze amidst the ruins.

--

Van Cleef coldly swung his right fist, striking, striking, striking. After three blows, the Laer that had leaped out of the shadows was finally dead, its face smashed into a mangled mess by the company commander without any emotion or feeling.

Then, he turned around, Chainsword in his left hand roared as it sawed open the chest of another Xenos. The thing howled in pain, its four arms flailing wildly, tearing at Van Cleef's Power Armour.

Despite being on the verge of death, the armor's surface burst open with a massive gash. Van Cleef frowned, his right hand sweeping across his waist as his combat dagger slashed through, decapitating the creature.

But this was far from the end. In fact, in this dark cave filled with seawater, even more Laer were shrieking as they approached.

Unfortunately, the Night Lords are not afraid of the darkness.

There are monsters in the darkness, yes. But the monsters can only be them.

"Assemble, fire a volley." Van Cleef coldly issued two orders, using extremely concise language, but the Night Lords of the First Company responded with lightning speed.

The aliens howled, their shadows flickering in the darkness, only to be met with a barrage of explosives. Blood and flesh splattered, and the flames spewing from the gun barrels briefly illuminated the darkness, making the Night Lords' midnight armor appear even more sinister.

The relentless and efficient firepower suppression lasted for four minutes and seventeen seconds. The Laer who rushed out from the depths of the cave couldn't even stop a decent barrage of firepower before they were killed in vain.

Treading on flesh and blood, Van Cleef mercilessly crushed their corpses, the pulp blooming beneath his steel boots, transforming into alien flowers. His Chainsword ceased its roar, and the Night Lords silently regrouped, beginning to kill the surviving Xenos and gather the wounded.

Overall, the plan was a success; the capital of the city of the Laer had been captured. Yes, their capital was this cave overflowing with seawater.

Van Cleef lowered his head and stared at the ground for a moment. The seawater swayed, passively washing the flesh and blood on his steel boots. The corpses of the Xenos floated in the seawater, their flesh and tissue scattered everywhere, almost like a cruel mockery.

No matter how many of you die, it won't be enough to bring back any of the people I've lost.

The company commander raised his hand, slowly removed his helmet, and took a deep breath of the air thick with the smell of blood. His adjutant came to his side, covered in blood, and without a word, took the combat knife from Van Cleef's waist and replaced it with a new one.

"Eleven dead," Mollez said in a low voice. "And even more wounded. We need to rest here for a while, Company Commander."

"I know," Van Cleef replied calmly.

He didn't turn to look at Mollez; his eyes, perched high above his cheekbones, remained fixed on the depths of the cave.

"Have you notified the Primarch?" he asked briefly.

"You've been notified."

What did he say?

He brought up the matter of the funeral.

"There is none left?"

"There is none left."

Van Cleef turned around, a rare smile appearing on his face, "This means he's allowing us to act freely, Mollez. Rest here and recover our fighting strength. Resume marching in twenty minutes; we're going to wipe out the rest of the Laer."

He put on his helmet.

"--Leave no one alive."

"Understood, Company Commander," the adjutant said in a seemingly gentle manner, while simultaneously rubbing the discarded combat dagger with a whetstone hanging from his waist.

The sound was shrill and mournful, like the wailing of the dead.

--

Karyl gently stroked the cheek of a Laer with his fingers, and blood gushed out. His opponent shrieked and retreated, its body, stronger than its kin, already bearing multiple wounds, dripping with blood, a horrifying sight.

Each of its four arms held a twisted blade, gleaming with cold light and arcs of electricity, but none of them actually struck Karyl. The Laer angrily split its jaws open, revealing sharp teeth in the air, and pounced again the next second.

The hatred was especially evident. Karyl stared into its eyes, showing no mercy, yet without any change in expression, he grabbed its head and gently lifted it upwards, pulling the spine and head out completely.

Karyl casually tossed it aside and turned to walk towards the other end of the ruins. The collapsed coral tower was no longer what it used to be; no matter how much love the Laer had poured into this place, it was now just a ruin.

But what destroyed it? Was it a bombing? No, it was a Stormbird. It was one of the few Stormbird still in service within Night Lords, and at this very moment, it was being burned in flames.

"Instructor," a weak voice sounded beside the Stormbird. "I can't see you."

"If you can't see, then rest well," Karyl said quietly. "You've lost too much blood; it's normal that Kastas can't see."

Where is my squad?

Karyl didn't answer the question; he simply turned his head and glanced at the several corpses he had personally carried to the Stormbird.

He didn't speak, his expression hidden behind the bloodless, tearless skeleton. Night Lords, named Kastas, understood something from this silence. He gave a bitter smile and barely moved his body.

Both his legs were broken, as was one of his hands. This was the honor he earned facing the attack of the Laer, whose blades, crackling with electricity, were incredibly deadly and could easily tear apart Ceramite.

The sturdy material used to manufacture Power Armour turned to fuzz on the battlefield, becoming as fragile as tofu, easily pierced by anything.

Kastas's squad was wiped out except for him. Their Stormbird were first attacked by the energy beams emanating from the top of the coral tower, and after an emergency landing, they were attacked by the premeditated Laer.

These Xenos were deadly enough, but this ambush was led by three even stronger Laer. Kastas's squad members were either torn apart by blades or roasted alive inside their power Power Armour.

His survival was also partly due to luck; if Karyl hadn't been wandering the battlefield like a ghost, he might have been dead long ago.

"Instructor." After a moment of silence, Kastas spoke again. His voice was still weak, almost a whisper in the wind. "What should I do?"

"Just survive," Karyl said, his cloak remaining still and motionless. Something flickered in his shadow, reeking of fresh blood, carrying hatred and rage as it stepped into the darkness. "Your vow is not over, Kastas."

Eleven minutes later, medics and Apothecary arrived in troop carriers and took him and his squad away. Karyl, however, remained where he was. He lowered his head, and a blue light gradually appeared in his eyes.

Unlike before, when it appeared suddenly with lightning speed, it gradually seeped out from deep within the skull's eye sockets. The seawater that filled the coral reef trembled, and a sudden gust of wind swept across the ruins.

The skeleton clenched his right hand tightly, and his Shadow began to twist, boil, and even stand up as if it were about to detach from him—however, just as it was about to reach a certain critical point, all these strange phenomena disappeared without warning.

Karyl released his grip, silently turned, and left.

Some powers ultimately come at a price; they must be exercised in moderation.

He must exercise restraint.

A series of steps, stretching upwards, were slowly unfolding beneath his feet.

It is made up of the blood of the enemy, the blood of the Night Lords. It is the hatred and resentment surging on every battlefield, rushing in, begging to be completed, to be grasped, to be forged into a blade, to pierce the chest of the murderer.

Karyl did not accept; as always, he refused.

He won't step onto those long steps for the time being.

But it has already prepared a crown.

This chapter is 4k words long, and there are still 6k words left. I plan to update this afternoon. I'm going to have a feast at noon.