Any hesitation on the battlefield would bring a سلسلة of consequences.
Before, your sacrifice could still create an opportunity.
Now, you had even lost the chance to sacrifice yourselves.
Salamander Vulkan raised his storm shield high and looked at the Fire Warriors being held back by the Ethereal councilors. A trace of sympathy appeared on his face—not for that Ethereal, but for their warriors. "Take them down!!!"
In the Imperium, even a commander from some branch of the Departmento Munitorum could fight on the battlefield and risk his life.
Not to mention the commissars among the Imperial Guard.
This... was the first time he had encountered people who were nothing but decorative ornaments.
Even their so-called honor guards, dressed in nothing but simple cloth, were equally useless ornaments with no combat capability. Did they truly think war across the galaxy could be won by putting on a show?
If you had traded your own sacrifice for victory earlier, I might have thought more highly of you xenos. Unfortunately, you had now lost that opportunity. You were just like those human High Lords—once they gained power and status, they regarded their own lives as more precious than anything else.
That such people could still be worshipped by your warriors was their tragedy.
The battlefield was steadily compressed.
The Salamanders who had boarded the vessel, along with the Silver-White Armor Chapter created from Salamander gene templates, occupied every major route into the starship.
They intercepted Fire Warriors attempting suicidal charges.
A Silver-White Armor Chapter warrior stood with his helmet constantly flashing with reflected explosions. His Bolter fired with meticulous precision, eliminating one fearless Fire Warrior after another as they tried to rush into the starship.
"Governor."
"Mm."
A figure passed by him.
Cisrain, bearing the Emperor's Sword, emerged safely from the exploding