126: The Real Battlefield

Jolting.

Mide lowered his head and checked once more that his breathing tube was not leaking and that the battery powering his gas mask was still functioning properly.

Then he bent down to inspect his thick puttees and military boots—the temperature on this planet was high. The Cult of the Underworld had previously taught them some basic knowledge: on planets touched by Chaos, temperatures became abnormal.

He felt stifled by the heat. Sweat soaked into the coarse cloth, dried again, and left layer after layer of white salt stains.

But it was still within tolerable limits and would not affect the march.

Next came the newly issued weapon. At the junctions between metal parts, Mide could see green fluorescence flickering from deep within the gun's body, as though it were quietly whispering unspeakable secrets to him.

This new rifle was heavier than the Lucius No. 98 he had used before. Although it imitated the lasguns Krieg soldiers were accustomed to using as closely as possible in appearance, it was still heavier, and its ammunition capacity had dropped from twenty-five shots to twenty.

Mide had examined the power cell fitted into this gun. He was certain that heavy black block was not some standard-issue Departmento Munitorum product. Clearly, it was more refined and stored more energy.

Yet even such an obviously superior power cell could only provide twenty shots for the weapon in his hands.

The Magos who had issued the weapon told Mide that, before this gun, there was no such thing as a vital point—you only needed to hit the target, and the beam would complete its own mission.

Their equipment this time was good enough to bewilder even the silent Krieg soldiers. They understood the order to slay a god, because even godslaying would require a battlefield for