26: Open the door, the Empire is checking the water meter.

[Tactical Alert: 3 seconds to contact.]

[Attitude Adjustment: Thruster overload standby.]

Ninety-five pitch-black figures, like fallen angels rising from the depths of hell, streaked through the murky air, leaving behind filthy trails of chemical exhaust and unburnt Fuel.

They weren't as light or agile as the jump packs of later generations.

To put it bluntly, it was simply a rocket booster strapped to their backsides.

The chemical rocket boosters on the mk ii power armor emitted a violent roar, sounding like a severe case of asthma.

The high-energy Fuel in the combustion chamber didn't just generate thrust; it also produced a nauseating stench of sulfur and noise loud enough to shatter a Mortal's eardrums.

There was no beauty in this method of propulsion.

Its sole purpose was to smash a half-ton Ceramite can into the enemy's face like a cannonball.

At the moment of takeoff, the massive recoil kicked up a cloud of red sand, nearly burying the five brothers acting as decoys on the ground in a sandstorm.

Thud!

The first loud bang rang out.

It was the sound of heavy boots encased in Ceramite slamming hard against the star-glory's delicate, translucent crystal hull.

Then came a second, then a third... ninety-five dull impacts converged, forming a terrifying kinetic shockwave.

The massive airship, which had been hovering gracefully in mid-air like a swan, suddenly lurched downward, emitting a groan of structural strain, like a dragonfly weighted with lead losing its balance in the sky... [star-glory - Bridge Command Center]

"Impact alert! Hull Section C damaged!"

"Gravity stabilizer offline! The ship is falling!"

"Large number of physical intruders detected! They... they're clinging to the bottom of the ship!"

Alarms blared throughout the bridge. But these weren't the harsh buzzing of the Imperium; they were a series of melodious, ethereal wind chimes—a manifestation of the Crystal Energy Federation's deep-seated arrogance and pretentiousness. Even on the brink of death, they insisted on maintaining their so-called "elegance."

The Commander gripped the edge of the crystal console tightly to keep from falling.

He stared at the series of frantically flashing red warning dots on the holographic screen, his once-haughty blue face now twisted in disbelief.

"Clinging? You mean they slammed right into us?"

He roared, spittle flying onto the expensive control panel.

"These unrefined savages! Don't they know what a gravity well interception is? Don't they know what a tractor beam is?!"

In his mind, interstellar warfare should involve two warships separated by tens of thousands of kilometers of vacuum, firing light lances, magic circles, and gravitational waves at each other, as elegant as a gentleman's duel.

This behavior of jumping directly onto someone's face like fleas, tearing with hands and biting with teeth, was the savage conduct of low-level organisms, a filth untouched by the light of civilization.

"Activate the 'Prism Shield'!"

The Commander slammed his crystal scepter onto the floor, and the gemstone at its tip erupted with a blinding light.

"Full power output! Burn them to ash! Scorch these insects off my ship!"

Hummm—

A brilliant, aurora-like multicolored film of light instantly covered the airship's surface.

This was the Crystal Energy Federation's proudest defensive technology, capable of refracting 99% of directed energy attacks.

Any laser, plasma, or even certain kinetic weapons hitting it would be scattered into harmless spots of light by the shield's specific frequency.

But he had miscalculated one thing.

In this universe called Warhammer, some things cannot be refracted.

What was currently clinging to his hull were not light beams.

They were a group of iron cans weighing tens of tons, holding high-speed rotating saw blades, their minds filled only with slaughter protocols... [star-glory - Ventral Hull]

Li Cang's perspective shifted to the tactical eyepiece of the First Company's vanguard sergeant.

The image shook violently, with sparks flying and piercing noise everywhere.

[Codename: D-01 (Company Commander)]

[Status: Attachment Stable]

[Current Mission: Forced Boarding]

D-01 knelt on the mirror-smooth crystal hull.

Magnetic boots couldn't be used here because the crystal was non-magnetic.

But he was prepared. Diamond-tipped grip claws at the bottom of his power boots deployed under hydraulic pressure, digging deep into the hard crystal surface like a raptor's talons, holding fast against the gale.

The newly activated multicolored Prism Shield flickered before him like a greasy, nauseating soap bubble, trying to push him away and burn him.

D-01 said nothing.

In this newborn legion, silence was golden.

They didn't need to vent excess hormones through roaring like the Thunder Warriors.

He simply reached out with his right hand and drew a 1.2-meter-long, jagged heavy Chainsword from the magnetic rack on his lower back.

His thumb pressed the activation switch.

Vroom, vroom, vroom—!!!

The low hum of the idling Chainsword instantly turned into a violent shriek, like a thousand angry hornets buzzing in his ears.

Driven by the high-speed motor, the monomolecular teeth became a blurred phantom, radiating waves of deadly heat.

No words were wasted.

D-01 gripped the hilt with both hands, adjusted the angle, and plunged it vertically into the shimmering Prism Shield.

Screeech—!!!

A piercing grinding sound erupted instantly, the high-frequency vibration nearly shattering his auditory sensors.

The "Prism Shield" flickered wildly, its light turning erratic.

The shield's logic core attempted to analyze the energy frequency of the attack to refract it.

But the system reported an error.

[Error: Attack source is solid matter.]

[Error: Frequency cannot be analyzed.]

[Error: Refraction impossible. Absorption impossible.]

A Chainsword is not energy. It is high-speed rotating metal, the ultimate manifestation of physical laws.

The high-speed rotating teeth physically "sawed" through the film of light.

It was as simple, crude, and unreasonable as using a chainsaw to cut through plastic wrap.

Next, the teeth made contact with the crystal hull beneath.

Crack—Bang!

Shards of translucent crystal flew everywhere, like a rain of diamonds.

This magical material, capable of resisting thousands of degrees of laser heat, was as brittle as ordinary glass before the ultra-hard alloy teeth and the terrifying downward pressure of the power armor.

Three seconds.

Just three seconds.

An irregular hole large enough for a mk ii power armor to pass through was sawed out.

Hiss—

The air pressure inside the cabin instantly vented, sweeping several exquisite carpets, shattered crystal lamps, and unknown decorations into the high altitude.

"Enter."

D-01's communication channel contained only those two words, cold and devoid of emotion.

He sheathed his Chainsword, raised his heavy early-model Bolter, and was the first to leap into the dark, whistling hole.

Behind him, ninety-four black reapers entered one by one... [star-glory - Internal Corridor]

This was a corridor filled with exotic artistic flair.

Softly glowing magic gems were embedded in the walls, the air was filled with a faint scent of lavender and ether, and even the floor was made of some soft, beautifully patterned organic fabric.

This didn't look like a warship; it was more like a mobile art gallery.

But in the next second.

A Ceramite boot covered in red soil, rust, and machine oil stepped heavily onto the expensive carpet, ruthlessly crushing the elegance.

The black giant stood tall, his helmet nearly brushing the crystal chandeliers on the ceiling.

"Over there! Intruders!"

Amidst the alarms, a squad of "Crystal Energy Guards" clad in silver-white light armor rushed over.

They were slender and moved gracefully, holding gem-encrusted spears with crackling orbs of lightning at their tips.

"For the glory of the Federation! Expel this filth!"

The guard captain shouted, his voice clear. He thrust his spear forward, and a blinding bolt of lightning shot toward D-01.

Crack.

The lightning struck D-01's pitch-black breastplate, exploding into a shower of sparks.

But it only left a charred mark on the Ceramite surface; even the paint hadn't fully peeled off.

For mk ii power armor designed to survive the hellish Warhammer universe, an energy attack of this level didn't even require activating the deflector field; the physical insulation layer alone was sufficient.

D-01 stopped in his tracks.

His emotionless red tactical eyepiece swiveled slightly, scanning the group of enemies before him, who wore only thin cloth armor and carried no heavy weapons.

In his tactical vision, these were not warriors.

They were mobile, fragile, water-filled organisms—trash waiting to be cleared.

"Purge."

No shouting, no war cries.

The five Astartes prototypes in the front row raised their guns simultaneously.

It was an extremely oppressive visual impact. In the narrow, exquisite corridor, five iron giants over two meters tall and as wide as doorframes formed a black wall, their dark muzzles nearly filling the field of vision.

Bang!

The first shot rang out.

Not a burst, but a single shot. Because Li Cang had said every bullet was money.

The guard captain still held his heroic spear-thrusting pose. The thin magic shield on his body lit up, attempting to block the incoming object.

But it was a .75 caliber, mass-accelerated, hardened-tip solid metal rocket shell.

Thwack.

Like a stone smashing through a paper window, the magic shield shattered instantly, turning into flecks of fluorescence.

The bolt shell bored into the captain's chest without resistance.

He didn't fall immediately.

Because according to the Bolter's design principle, the mass-reactive shell would, 0.02 seconds after entering a body and meeting sufficient resistance... Boom!!!

A dull, wet explosion echoed from inside the human body.

The entire corridor fell silent instantly.

The captain was gone.

In his place was a large, radial splatter of red and white mixture across the crystal walls, the ceiling, and the exquisite carpet. Fragments of internal organs hung from the crystal chandelier, still dripping.

The remaining Crystal Energy Guards stared blankly at the scene, their spears trembling.

They were used to the scorching of energy weapons and the blasts of magic.

In their concept of war, death should be glorious or involve being vaporized by energy.

But they had never seen something like this... a weapon that blew a person apart from the inside, turning them into a pile of mangled meat.

This pure, primitive, industrial violence, devoid of any beauty, instantly shattered their psychological defenses.

"Mon... Monsters!"

Someone screamed, dropped their spear, and turned to run.

Bang, bang, bang—

Three more shots rang out. The rhythm was as precise as a stamping machine in a factory, without a hint of unnecessary tremor.

The three retreating figures were struck as if by invisible giant hammers.

Their upper bodies exploded instantly, leaving only their lower halves to run a couple more steps by inertia before collapsing limply, gushing fans of blood.

"Advance."

D-01 stepped over the severed limbs and broken bodies.

His power boots stepped into the viscous blood and organ fragments, making "squelch, squelch" sounds, leaving a trail of bloody footprints on the expensive carpet.

Behind him, over ninety black-armored warriors maintained a standard tactical formation, advancing silently.

They didn't run, they didn't roar, and they didn't even spare a second glance at the corpses on the ground.

They were simply executing a program.

Like a heavy bulldozer that had broken into an exquisite porcelain shop, they crushed everything in their path—vases, artworks, or living people... [Holographic Operations Cabin]

Li Cang watched this scene and frowned slightly.

He wasn't frowning because of the gore—in Warhammer, that was just "daily life."

He was frowning because he was pained by the cost.

"Four bolt shells."

"That captain could have been handled in close combat; one shot was wasted. That's 0.5 GP."

He made a note in his holographic notebook.

[Revised Tactical Doctrine: When encountering unarmored units in narrow terrain, prioritize using the Chainsword. The Bolter is reserved for breaching or mid-range suppression.]

"Commander."

D-01's dull, flat voice rang directly in Li Cang's mind via the neural link.

"Reaching the Core Power Room ahead. Detecting extremely high energy signatures."

"The enemy is overloading the power core."

Li Cang's eyes narrowed.

The Crystal Energy Commander was going to self-destruct?

—That wouldn't do.

This ship was now the property of his Empire.

Those crystal engines and anti-gravity cores could be sold for a fortune, enough to re-equip the First Legion.

"Stop him."

Li Cang issued the command, then added:

"Try... try not to blow up the power reactor. That thing is worth a lot. Use physical means to make him calm down."

"Understood."

D-01 cut the communication.

He looked at the heavy Mithril door ahead, which was covered in defensive runes.

It was the final line of defense leading to the power room, and the magic flowing through it was enough to withstand heavy artillery fire.

He didn't use the Chainsword to saw the door this time; that would be too slow.

D-01 took a step back and removed a cylindrical black grenade from his waist.

This wasn't a normal high-explosive grenade; it was a Cluster Demolition Grenade.

Its design purpose was for directional demolition, to blow open tank armor and fortress gates.

Pull the pin.

Countdown.

3, 2, 1.

"Room service."

If he could tell jokes, he might have said that.

But he couldn't. He simply pressed the grenade against the door's hinges, then turned, raised his shield, and took cover.

Boom—!!!

The focused shockwave from the directional blast instantly tore through the Mithril door's physical structure.

The runes flickered once and then went out.

The two heavy doors flew inward, crushing several guards who were trying to resist into pulp.

Amidst the lingering smoke and dust, the black reapers stepped into the power hall.

The Commander, dressed in ornate robes, stood before the core, his scepter still trembling. He looked at the black giants emerging from the smoke, his eyes filled with despair.

Now.

It was time to have a proper talk with this elegant Commander about the transfer of ownership for this ship.

In a physical way.