The third defensive line had become an inferno.
The once-orderly trench defenses were now nothing but shattered ruins. Craters, scorched earth, and twisted steel lay everywhere. Gretchin corpses were piled mountain-high, some still in firing positions, their fingers locked stiffly around their triggers.
But there were even more warriors who were still alive, still fighting.
Their armor was damaged, their bodies covered in wounds, their ammunition nearly spent-but not one fled, not one gave up.
They still gripped their rifles, still held their trenches, still fired into that black tide.
Just then.
Heaven and earth lost their color.
The rampaging black Annihilation Beam suddenly froze in midair. The advancing Necron Warriors suddenly stopped dead. Even the wind ceased to blow.
Time seemed to stand still at that moment.
Sharpfang froze. With difficulty, he turned his head and looked behind him, toward the place where the Big Boss had secluded himself.
Then he saw the most breathtaking sight of his life.
A golden figure descended.
He merely stood there, and the entire world trembled beneath his feet.
He looked over the battlefield. At the fallen warriors. At the warriors who still held their ground. At the little fellow leaning on a crutch, covered in wounds, yet still standing with his head held high.
A flicker of... heartache passed through his eyes.
"Thank you for all your hard work."
He spoke softly, his voice as gentle as a spring breeze.
Then he raised his right hand and gave a casual wave, as though shooing away an annoying fly.
There was no earth-shaking explosion, no world-destroying torrent of energy.
Only the forcible distortion of physical laws in their purest form.
The gravitational constant changed. The strong nuclear force ceased to function. Atomic nuclei could no longer hold electrons.
Thousands upon thousands of charging