As he pondered, Dimit looked toward the other mechanical behemoths.
The spaced armor was covered in marks left by every kind of weapon—melted metal, bullet heads lodged in the gaps, craters of varying depths. The mechanical behemoths looked utterly hideous now, having taken a hard turn toward Ork style.
Some carriages had been completely torn open by heavy weapons mixed with sorcery. Groaning metal hung crookedly to one side, blocking the firing arcs of the upper turrets on other carriages. The carriages looked like lobsters with their shells peeled away, their protected flesh brutally scraped out as well. Of the two hundred soldiers inside, nothing remained but scraps of cloth and blotches of blood.
Such damage was not uncommon among the twenty mechanical behemoths. Delivering two million Krieg soldiers into the enemy positions had already become an impossible task. Fortunately, the behemoths had not slowed down. Just as Magos Tius had said, when one carriage was damaged, the others would drag it onward.
"Kitty, what do you think of this swaying thing? It's way more enthusiastic than that girl I won in a duel back in the Loma Tribe!" Olwen's wild voice rang out. Thank the Emperor for His blessings—the smoke of the battlefield did a fine job of masking the rank animal stench clinging to the Space Wolf.
"Everything is normal. If the enemy has no further attacks, we will break through beyond the fifth defensive line." Dimit answered flatly. During their brief time together, he had already grown accustomed to the Space Wolves' rude enthusiasm. In truth, if one adjusted one's mindset and regarded these snarling Space Marines as wild dogs, it was easy enough to do.
Thus, Dimit looked at Olwen and his comrades with restrained arrogance, like a noble knight regarding beasts. Fortunately, the lenses of