Feeling the Centaur Carrier sway as it moved, a small squad of grenadiers sat inside the compartment, bound for the very front lines.
Grenadier 19—at least, according to that complicated and lengthy Krieg identification code—could be abbreviated as Grenadier 19.
The grenadiers here had been selected from various companies and squads, then reorganized. These soldiers, who had survived one or two bloody battles through combat skill and luck on the battlefield, had naturally become the most elite veterans of the Krieg regiment.
Grenadier 19 tilted his head slightly as he looked at a soldier whose equipment was completely different from that of the grenadiers.
As grenadiers, they carried superior gear and armor, whether it was the hellguns connected to backpack power cells or the heavy carapace armor.
Their armor consisted of breastplates with additional abdominal plating, greaves, and knee guards. Every component was forged with reinforced ceramite layers to increase strength and heat resistance while reducing weight.
Yet even so, this armor was still quite cumbersome. The physical strain of prolonged combat led some soldiers to discard parts of it.
But the newcomer crammed into this vehicle wore none of the grenadiers' equipment. He wore only the standard Krieg soldier's uniform and carried a Lucius-pattern lasgun, which sacrificed ammunition capacity for greater power.
He did not know why his superiors had specifically ordered such a soldier to join their combat unit. But Grenadier 19 did not care much. As Kriegers, they obeyed orders, not questioned them.
As sinners, they could receive The Emperor's forgiveness only in death.
Hiss!
The Centaur Carrier finally came to a halt. Its hatch was lowered by hydraulic mechanisms, revealing a clear path for the grenadiers inside.
Grenadier 19 slung his weapon over his back and swiftly stepped out, observing the surrounding battlefield and defensive positions.