Chapter 1080 Countdown 100
(Note, from now on, the book will start to count down to about 100 chapters. In addition, I will add my own private settings about the Emperor and some other things. I will add some things for the plot, so don’t look at it with the underlying logic of Warhammer.)
"go ahead!"
With an order, the combined forces of the Necrons and the Empire advanced forward like a torrent of steel.
Since their alliance, the war against the Tyranids has gradually become favorable, but this does not mean that final victory is within reach.
The Hive Mind seemed to have sensed this change, and began to deploy more and more Zerg fleets into the galaxy, which put increasing pressure on the Necrons and the Empire.
However, at this critical moment, an unexpected situation occurred. The resurrected Ork warlord Bonecrusher reorganized a huge "waaaaagh" force and launched a fierce attack on a Tyranid Hive Fleet that invaded the Milky Way without hesitation.
At the same time, the Tau Empire also acted quickly and organized its own fleet to engage in direct confrontation with the Zerg.
The Tau Empire's allies, the space dwarf Wotan Alliance, are also continuously providing the Tau Empire with a variety of advanced weapons and equipment, adding more variables to this fierce battle.
Not only that, the Eldar were not willing to be outdone and they began to besiege the Zerg fleet.
Among them, the Savage Eldar and the Ark Eldar chose to unite and work together to fight against the Tyranids; while the Dark Eldar chose to watch coldly. They were not interested in this melee, what they wanted was a massacre.
All forces in the Milky Way made their choice almost at the same time. While they were at war with other races, they all turned their spearheads towards the Tyranids, forming a rare "gang fight" situation.
........................
Gorodo System
The purple and gold fleet drew elegant arcs in the void, like the flowing hems of skirts at an aristocratic ball.
The hulls of the Emperor's Children's warships were engraved with intricate baroque emblems, glowing purple-gold under the light of the stars.
And at the front of the fleet, on the bridge of the battleship "Emperor's Pride", a tall figure in purple-gold armor was staring at the tactical holographic star map.
His slender fingers tapped lightly in the void, and every touch rearranged the light spots on the star map, as if he was conducting a grand symphony.
"Number three, thirty degrees starboard." Fulgrim's voice was as deep and melodious as a cello. "Let them have a taste of our passion."
As soon as he gave the order, the three strike cruisers turned sideways gracefully like gentlemen who had heard a hint from their dance partner.
Their gun muzzles lit up with dazzling light at the same second, followed by a volley of light spears.
Scarlet beams pierced through the void, accurately piercing the densest area of the Tyranid Swarm fleet.
Several hive frigates twisted and swelled in the light, eventually exploding into floating organic debris.
The Zerg fleet began to stir, the giant crustacean-like ships turning back and trying to fire back with their hideous flesh turrets, but Fulgrim had foreseen all this.
"And now, my children," the Primarch smiled a smile that made all on the bridge shudder with glory, "let us begin the real show."
The vanguard fleet of the Tyranids swarm came like a rotting black cloud. They had no formation, no tactics, only pure numbers and the instinct to devour.
The Emperor's Children's fleet was arranged in a textbook perfect formation, with battleships in the center, cruisers spread out on both wings, and destroyers moving in between like flexible daggers.
As the first wave of Zerg bio-ships came into range, Fulgrim raised a finger.
Then came the roar of huge cannons.
Tens of thousands of shells drew deadly parabolas, blooming flowers of destruction in the Zerg fleet.
The interval between each salvo was precise to the millisecond, and the light of the artillery fire danced in the primarch's purple-gold pupils, as if he was enjoying a fireworks show.
A dozen hive motherships fell apart under the continuous bombardment, their shells bursting like rotten fruit, splashing out sticky organic matter.
The swarm of insects began to multiply wildly.
From the shattered remains of the motherships, thousands of spore sacs burst forth, each sac spawning swarms of space predators.
These giant bat-like creatures screamed and pounced on the human fleet, their sharp claws enough to tear through the armor of the warships.
Fulgrim sighed, as if regretting the crudeness of his enemy, and snapped his fingers.
Thousands of automated turrets rose from the armour of the Emperor's Children warships, spinning, aiming and firing in eerie unison.
The barrage of bullets wove a deadly web in the void, and every predator that approached was precisely beaten into a pulp.
The Primarch did not even look at the tactical screen. His gaze remained on the main battlefield. His fingers continued to tap in the air, adjusting the fleet formation.
The Tyranids finally realized the danger. The node creatures of this hive fleet let out an invisible scream, and the remaining fleet began to rush towards the core of the human fleet recklessly - they wanted to directly hit the "Pride of the Emperor".
Fulgrim rose from his command throne for the first time, his movement so graceful that the gemstones inlaid in his battleplate did not even clink.
"What a... tasteless death throes." The Primarch shook his head, then raised his sword.
"All fleet, free firing."
This was the only imprecise command he issued during the entire battle.
The Emperor's Children had waited too long for this moment. Every ship overloaded its weapons systems, lances, macrocannons, torpedoes, plasma cannons - all weapons fired simultaneously.
A light brighter than a supernova burst out in the void, and the last fleet of the Tyranids was reduced to ashes in this light.
When the optical sensors were finally able to re-image, all that was left on the battlefield were floating organic debris and the still-spotless Imperial fleet.
Thunderous cheers broke out on the bridge, but soon returned to absolute silence. That was because the Primarch had turned and walked towards his private cabin, his purple-gold cloak fluttering behind him like a proud phoenix folding its wings.
At the last moment before the hatch closed, Fulgrim looked back at the tactical star map.
There were no longer any enemy lights there, only the Emperor's Children fleet maintaining a perfect parade formation in the void.
This battle, like every battle he commanded, was just a small note in his eternal pursuit of perfection.
