Crimson-gold holy flames roared and swirled in the vacuum, their tongues licking at the Plague Fleet stained with its stench.
The Brevis Expeditionary Fleet followed with a second salvo, dozens of Promethium incendiary bombs mixed with relic powder trailing pale blue flames.
It struck precisely into the enemy ranks, which were disrupted by the fire.
" Gemstone, Lance Battery calibration complete, target: enemy central formation!"
The observer's voice, brimming with barely suppressed excitement, broke the heavy atmosphere in the bridge.
Dominic stared at the plague fleet engulfed in holy flames on the main screen, a cold glint in his eyes, and gave a deep order:
Fire!
Three azure high-energy beams instantly tore through the dark space, like nails of judgment lowered by God-Emperor, piercing fiercely into the enemy ranks along their burning trajectory.
The two plague cruisers at the very front, already charred black, couldn't even last half a second; the light spears easily pierced through their already precarious flesh and armor.
It swept along the ship's hull with unstoppable force, penetrating directly into the corrupted engine deep within.
Two muffled explosions silently erupted in the vacuum, sending dark green, corrosive liquid and charred fragments of flesh flying in all directions.
However, they can no longer heal through proliferation as they did before.
The holy flames clung to every piece of debris, burning all the plague-infested tissue they touched to ashes, leaving not even a trace of mold behind.
The Lunar-class Cruiser that had just defected and been Nurgle faction only two hours earlier met an even more tragic end.
Its hull had not yet been fully transformed by the power of the plague; the flesh and blood proliferation only covered the surface armor.
The deep metal structure and energy circuits still retain the Imperium style, while the Chaos Blessing is only superficially rooted.
When a Brevis fleet incendiary bomb grazed the bridge and exploded, golden flames shot into the interior through the ventilation ducts, the entire warship almost immediately lost control.
The proliferating blood vessels sizzled and melted under the high temperature, and the rusted cannon barrels broke off one after another.
The purulent slough on the ship's surface shrank violently, like skin that had been doused with hot oil.
Before the Nurgle Daemon on board could react, the Gemstone's light spears followed, striking its power core with pinpoint accuracy.
With a deafening roar, this former Imperium warship was completely blasted into a massive fireball.
Along with the countless crew members and demons inside who were not yet fully corrupted, they all turned into cosmic dust.
"Confirmed destroyed! Four enemy ships have lost signal!"
The observer's report was resounding, and cheers erupted from the soldiers on deck.
The soldiers, who had been suffocating from the enemy's disgusting self-healing ability since the start of the war, finally tasted the exhilarating fruits of victory for the first time.
Dominic exhaled a breath of stale air, his tense jawline softening slightly, but his brows remained furrowed.
He believed that the power of the Lord of Pestilence was far more than just these few methods.
As expected, after a brief period of chaos, the Nurgle Fleet quickly responded.
The plague warships, which had been charging headlong like mad dogs, relying on their own regenerative abilities, all changed course.
They no longer ignored artillery fire and advanced in a straight line, but began to use the smoke from explosions and the wreckage of friendly forces as cover.
Using an irregular S-shaped trajectory to evade fire, he predicted the impact point of the Macro-cannon like a true veteran of naval warfare.
Every now and then, they would fire a volley of corrupted shells in retaliation, precisely suppressing the Imperial Fleet's firing positions.
The speed of advance has slowed down, but the accuracy and survivability have been greatly improved.
The already thin network of incendiary bombs suddenly became mostly empty, with most of the bombs missing their target and exploding into useless golden fireballs in the vacuum.
"Major General, the enemy has begun to maneuver and evade!" Adjutant Karen frowned, pointing at the constantly changing enemy trajectory on the screen.
"They no longer withstand artillery fire head-on; their movement is very cunning, and our hit rate has dropped by nearly 60%."
"At this rate, it will take at least twice the firepower to reduce their room to maneuver."
Dominic stared at the slippery, dark green ship shadows on the screen, a slight smile playing on his lips.
Being afraid is the right thing to do.
They dared to charge around recklessly before simply because they were invincible due to the proliferation of their flesh and blood.
Now that the Holy Flame can break through their defenses and stop their self-healing, the plague rats naturally retreated.
"Good thing." His voice was calm, revealing neither joy nor anger.
"If they're willing to wear us down, we'll wear them down. Order all ships to maintain their formation and advance steadily, don't give them any opportunities, and don't rush things."
He knew better than anyone that the enemy's maneuvering and delaying tactics, while seemingly advantageous, actually bought the main fleet the most precious time for ammunition refitting.
Time ticked by, and the roar of gunfire on the space battlefield continued unabated, yet a strange stalemate ensued.
The Nurgle Fleet skillfully maneuvered through the Brevis fleet's barrage of fire, occasionally nibbling at the outer perimeter of the Imperial Fleet.
The Imperial Fleet maintained its distance, using its numerical advantage to gradually wear down the Nurgle Fleet; neither side was able to achieve a decisive victory immediately.
Until the Tech-Priest's communications came through to the bridge, his metallic voice held a barely perceptible urgency:
"Major Admiral, the refit is complete! The main battleship's Macro-cannon and torpedo tubes have all been loaded with purified incendiary bombs mixed with the ashes of sacred relics."
A glint flashed in Dominic's eyes, and he suddenly raised his hand:
"All-out assault! Deploy crossfire and trap them in the central area!"
The moment the order was given, the entire Imperial Fleet, like a giant beast awakening, bared its fangs.
Nearly sixty warships simultaneously adjusted their course, slowly encircling the enemy from the left, center, and right.
The flames from the Macro-cannon formed a continuous band of light, enveloping the entire airspace in holy flames.
The fourfold difference in quantity is clearly reflected in the density of firepower.
The Plague Fleet, which had previously been able to maneuver with ease, was suddenly stretched thin.
Golden flames and blue spears of light were everywhere; if you dodged the artillery fire from the left, you couldn't avoid the torpedoes from the right.
Just as it evaded the light spears in front, the Macro-cannon from behind slammed into the stern.
Like fat sheep driven into a corner by a pack of wolves, they charged left and right through the dense barrage of fire, fleeing in panic, their previous arrogant arrogance completely gone.
Warships were continuously ignited by the holy flames, spinning uncontrollably in space, trailing raging golden flames, before finally turning into exploding fireballs.
At the very back of all the warships, the Pale Rose, which had remained aloof like an observer, was finally brought into the range of concentrated fire.
Gus's Brevis Expeditionary Fleet had a tight hold on its flank.
The young brigadier general remembered Lynn's advice and knew the principle of capturing the leader first. From the very beginning of the war, he had his sights set on this plague flagship.
He specifically selected the purest batch of incendiary bombs from the ammunition depot.
It was made by mixing the ashes of successive archbishops of the Brevis Ecclesiarchy with holy oil.
The purest flavor!
"Fire all torpedoes at once! Target: midships of the enemy flagship!"
More than a dozen torpedoes, trailing golden contrails, were launched simultaneously, like a dozen holy arrows aimed at the trolls.
Just as the Pale Rose attempted to turn and evade, it was precisely hit in the midsection of its hull.
"Boom!"
A golden flame, more dazzling than ever before, suddenly erupted, and tongues of fire several meters high spread across the surface of the ship.
Unlike ordinary plague warships, the Pale Rose is perpetually shrouded in a dense, dark green, Field of Corruption.
That's an extension of the plague's power, capable of corroding shields and dissipating energy.
But the moment the golden holy flames touched the domain, the seemingly eternal dark green mist began to melt away rapidly.
The sizzling burning sound seemed to reach the ears even through the vacuum. The thick layer of mold and proliferation on the ship's surface kept peeling off, revealing the badly corroded metal skeleton underneath.
The ship, which had been sailing steadily, suddenly staggered, and the corrosive mist spewed from the propellers instantly weakened by more than half.
Its speed suddenly slowed down, like a rotting, carrion-like beast whose fat had been burned through, convulsing painfully in space.
Deep within the Pale Rose, Phelps let out a painful and furious roar.
He was symbiotic with the entire warship, and the pain of the holy flames scorching the ship's hull was a hundredfold reflected back onto him.
The golden flames, like a leech, seeped into the gaps in his Power Armour, burning his already decaying body.
Even the power of the plague, a blessing from the Grandfather, could not suppress such pain.
"Impossible, how could such ordinary fire possibly shatter the grace of the Grandfather..."