The antigravity engine beneath it acted like a high-powered vacuum cleaner, instantly sucking up the magnetic scrap mixed with coolant on the ground.
BZZZZT-!!!
A piercing crackle of electricity rang out. The tank's engine spat dazzling arcs, then began belching thick black smoke. The entire tank abruptly dropped, lost its lift, and slammed into the ground, completely disabled.
The two tanks behind it immediately tried to reverse, but it was already too late.
"Now! Fire!"
At Liu Zhipeng's command, the gladiators hiding in the scrap heaps on either side of the tunnel attacked as one.
Their weapons were a motley assortment: Lasguns taken from guards, spear launchers they had cobbled together from scrap metal, and even bundles of highly explosive gas canisters that some men lit and hurled.
BOOM! BOOM!
The narrow tunnel instantly became a corridor of death. The flames of the explosions lit every face crimson. Though the tanks had thick armor, it was soon riddled with holes under the close-range barrage. The first tank, immobilized on the ground, took concentrated hits from more than a dozen homemade bombs. Its ammunition finally detonated, engulfing it in a massive fireball.
"Infantry! An infantry squad!"
The High Lord's infantry rushed up from the rear and, under cover of heavy mechs, began fighting the gladiators in a fierce close-quarters battle.
This was precisely when Angron showed his true worth.
In this underground labyrinth, where severe electromagnetic interference had disabled every communications device, Angron's immense capacity for empathy became the perfect living battlefield radar.
"Passage three on the left flank! Marcus's squad has run into a riot-control mech! They're scared!" Angron's eyes gleamed gold in the darkness. He needed no reports; by sensing the fluctuations in his brothers' emotions, he could clearly track what was happening in every corner of the battlefield.