This Is Our Warhammer Journey

*Crash!*

The impact from behind shoved the sharks aside, several poison crystals flew through the air, deeply embedding themselves into the steel walls.

The ancient warriors who knocked the sharks back raised their guns to fire.

The beams cut through the air, and as they reacted, they saw the alien bodies flash through the shadows. They could also hear the sound of the poison crystals piercing the ceramite, and the murderous intent that burst forth in their minds reached its peak.

With thundering steps, a loud cracking sound came from the air as three sharks left behind pale streaks.

Kill!

One raised his foot and kicked, forcing the enemy to block.

Another grabbed an alien limb, restricting its movements.

Then, the last one jumped high, cleaving the skull with an axe.

Shredding the treacherous marksman, the sharks, filled with anger and frustration, turned back.

Several hundred meters away, the ancient warriors quickly raised their hands to signal that everything was fine, and the sharks finally relaxed. Then, after the tactical gesture was made, they quickly ran toward their next prey.

The squad formed a relatively tight formation. In addition to the two sharks responsible for the main assault, one would always guard beside the ancient warriors.

They had to be more vigilant, more cautious, and avoid making such mistakes again.

With cold murderous intent, the sharks swiftly cleared the enemies hiding in various alleyways.

Unlike their brutal killing methods, the sharks' squad was eerily silent; after tearing apart their prey, they quickly melded into the pitch-black ocean.

The predatory sharks in their attack possessed an elusive speed, their shadows wrapping around them from their bloodline, providing the perfect camouflage. Only when they attacked, cut, and crushed any enemies daring to oppose them would their fangs show.

Just like the apex predators of Terra's oceans when they still existed, prey could only glimpse their wide blood-soaked jaws just before death beneath the deep blue.

"Slow down, we move to the next node in three seconds."

Romulus's voice sounded in their ears, allowing the focused sharks to take a moment to glance at the veteran still watching the shadows.

Their excellent vision allowed them to see the penetrating wound on the crow-faced helmet, where only a little blood had splashed, clearly from a timely head turn that avoided fatal damage.

Being able to detect these creatures' tracks in the Dark Eldar's domain and predict enemy attack trajectories was an invaluable experience—

The sharks often took pride in their silence and lethality, but they couldn't help but marvel at the ancient warriors' seasoned precision.

"Impressive impact."

The relay projectors displayed video images from each squad. Using his perspective, Romulus carefully coordinated every squad's movements, seeking every opportunity on the battlefield, then seizing it.

From a slightly immature start, gradually becoming more adept.

Stepping into the rhythm.

Watching the soul projections of those who seemed like puppets on his fingertips, vanishing in the midst of encirclements, watching their gathered strength violently sliced apart by Garna and the others' formidable individual strength, then devoured by the endless sharks.

These enemies were like toys in his hands.

The most inescapable battlefield tactic was controlling the enemy.

At this moment, Romulus held this unique advantage.

"I think I understand why Horus always liked to use the pale nomads for the first round of assault during battles."

Romulus said.

If he couldn’t command the warhounds, he would do the same.

Though throwing a squad into the first wave meant treating their lives lightly, the pure beauty of the numbers—

"The efficiency is just too high."

Lamecius, maintaining the psychic field and granting his teammates a god’s-eye view for micro-management, couldn’t help but comment.

Only a commander could truly understand the lethality of the predatory sharks; their charge, combined with their shadow abilities, was terrifying. Even if they charged right at you, you might not even react in time.

And this method of killing...

It was still somewhat hard to notice when facing the Dark Eldar, who were fearless, but if placed on the frontlines of regular battles, with slightly lower quality enemy troops, their morale would collapse instantly.

"I think I can rank the Dark Ravens' individual combat ability just behind the Thousand Sons."

"What about the Dark Angels?"

Romulus focused on the images sent from the battlefield, his mind still processing the visions from the various Imperial Fists.

"Why don’t you count the Imperial Fists if we're comparing top-tier combat ability?"

Lamecius added some psychic suppression to a few stronger enemies and replied sarcastically, watching the movements in the Warp.

"Then Sigismund would’ve ended the conversation."

The atmosphere between them was lighthearted, as the battle unfolded exactly as they had anticipated. This feeling of having everything under control was incredibly satisfying.

They even had time to focus on micro-managing individual actions, taking on the risk of injury in place of the sharks.

After all, the meat puppets here were expendable, but the sharks were alive, and even though they were under the Emperor’s gaze now, they couldn't afford to die carelessly.

Romulus's operational limit was where it was, and there were only so many people. If they died, they could be replaced.

It would take at least a hundred years to train a veteran like that, and he knew what mattered.

"It’s time to finish this."

His gaze fell on the target with the strongest soul energy in the corridor, and his view coincided with the actions of Garna and the other two killers.

There, in the heart of this killing web, stood the officer of the assault fleet.

The officer’s attendants had been exhausted after repeated assaults, and their desperate, grouped struggles in the face of annihilation were futile.

After sending Arthur to repeatedly confirm the hidden traps, Romulus discovered that the officer hadn’t even had time to activate the explosives meant for a last-ditch effort.

He still didn’t understand why the enemy hadn’t set up a remote activation mode, which made Lamecius’s psychic attacks have less optimal release timing.

"Cease cruising. Main assault teams will enter the inner circle in batches, and the outer circle troops will converge at the marked nodes, providing fire support on the main corridor..."

Absorbing information from each squad, Romulus quickly reviewed the data on the panel he programmed and issued commands.

The noose representing death tightened, and with the detailed commands in the communications, the hundred or so members of the battlefield began to change their formations with unprecedented coordination.

This battle was bound to end in the way it was destined to.

That was victory—

It was here!

The ground trembled slightly, then the shaking grew stronger, like a train rushing toward them in the corridor.

It was him, the dark angel this time.

The vanguard team barely reacted before their guns were still raised. They were cut down like straw, and the stench of blood splattered everywhere.

Ah, there were the scarlet butchers and the silent knights.

The beautiful scene of life passing away unfolded before their eyes. The officer swore he would remember these majestic figures.

If he had the chance, he would send these warriors to the bloody battlefield of the Arena Queen Lilith, to witness their deaths under the watchful eyes of all Commorragh.

At the same time, he stopped in his tracks, as if giving up the struggle, listening to the sound of iron boots echoing along the road, smiling at the approaching angels.

Just as the officer revealed a triumphant smile, the metal ground in front of Garna suddenly heaved.

*Boom!*

A nearly four-meter-tall engine of pain drilled out, swinging its limbs. Who knows how such a massive creature could move in the narrow drainage tunnel.

The metal was shredded by the flailing, intricate limbs, with every movement sending shards flying like thunder, sparking around.

Yet Garna raised his hand without panic.

Thrust, flick, slash!

Incredible martial arts were displayed, and the engine of pain flew up as if poked by a ball. Before it even landed, the snake-like mercenary that had emerged alongside it was reduced to a pile of mud.

Staring ahead, facing the officer who raised his gun toward him, the Black Angel did not attempt to dodge, instead stabbing his spear upward, perfectly piercing the engine of pain still in the air.

*Thud, thud!*

The muffled sounds rang out as the disintegrating weapons struck the engine's back, tearing away large chunks of flesh. Even Garna had to retract his spear, which had been gnawed on, before throwing the engine of pain away.

*Crash!*

The massive body shot toward them, blocking the officer's view.

Then the tall angel pounced forward, smashing his power spear down.

*Clang!*

A long gap appeared in the ground.

Like a teleportation, the officer, the intended target, appeared behind Garna, then began charging at high speed.

Another trump card, the officer who controlled an assault fleet in Commorragh certainly had his own secret moves.

This wasn’t the first time he’d escaped.

The nearby guard, their understanding of the environment, and the high-tech tools in hand were all part of his repeated escapes from encirclements.

But the officer wouldn't choose to flee blindly, waiting to die.

Before death, he would use his own methods to give these monkeys a painful lesson.

‘Just mindless pursuit.’

Snapping off the overloaded teleportation device, feeling the pain of his body being burned, the officer quickly increased the distance with a speed far beyond that of an Astartes, mocking to himself.

The roars behind him lessened, and the remaining members of the guard faithfully performed their duty, drawing the Crimson Angels away from him.

In the midst of being hunted, the officer, experienced in assassination, had already identified the single flaw in the deadly encirclement.

That was the angel’s lack of intelligence.

The officer didn’t know how he had been locked onto, but the deterrence from the Thirsty Lady forced him to disregard things he shouldn’t have been thinking about.

If his opponent had been a chosen of the Thirsty Lady, he wasn’t sure if he would have had the courage to fight back.

Of course, the team surrounding him was undeniably outstanding, efficient, and powerful. Even in Commorragh, filled with the strongest warriors, they could be considered among the elite hunting squads.

But the mindless, relentless pursuit by the angel exposed the greatest weakness of this hunting group.

That was the fact that the initiative in selecting the battlefield was in his hands.

Listening to the cold, steady wind in the corridor, the officer was now certain that the angel was once again distancing itself.

Others might have worried about traps, but this furious and powerful angel kept stepping into them with every test.

Clearly, this warrior didn’t have the ability to recognize traps.

And even if the environment changed, he clearly remembered the areas where dark matter bombs had been placed.

All he needed was to cover his intentions with a frantic escape, and the forces chasing him would eventually step into the web he had woven with his flight, offering themselves as his death’s companions.

A perfect plan.

A cruel smile tugged at the officer’s lips.

A bunch of fools wasting their talents, only I am the master of this conspiracy.

The only regret was that he had to race against the clock and couldn’t bid a calm farewell to these charming warriors.

Ah, perhaps I should have trusted my subordinates more; otherwise, I wouldn’t be rushing to personally activate the bombs now.

"As long as, as long as I reach that place..."

Ignoring the pondering alarm, the officer waved his pain blade to cut a gap and, relying on his powerful body, directly crashed through the sealed isolation door.

Then the officer stopped.

“......”

The silent knight stood quietly in the middle of the corridor. One hand planted the shield on the ground, and the black sword rested on his shoulder, facing him in a relaxed posture.

It seemed like a provocation.

The officer didn’t act recklessly, as he had often used this trick to deceive those hot-headed fools into attacking blindly, leaving only a body with damage at the knight's feet as the best proof.

‘Think about it, Ashton, think about it. The door to the left still leads somewhere. I can take that route, though it’s a bit longer.’

Clutching a plasma grenade in his hand, the officer’s mind rapidly ran through a plan, but before he could act, the heavy claws on the left tore open the large door.

*Whoosh—*

Crimson blood mist spread, and far taller than the average Astartes, Tyberos emerged, his massive form blocking the officer’s view. Through the gaps of his massive frame, the officer could only see a pile of meat slop, ground into paste, and the corridor filled with the blood mist still leaking out.

‘Looks like I have to turn back. That angel is still tangled with the snake mercenaries, it’s definitely been pulled away. I must trust my judgment.’

The officer turned back.

Behind him, the bloodstained angel slowly advanced, and the late-arriving warhounds swung their axes, gnawing at the still-struggling, twitching corpses, finishing off the battlefield.

*Buzz!*

A shockwave from afar tore through the officer’s helmet’s protection.

*Clang!*

But in that moment of distraction, the black sword left an afterimage in the air, severing his left arm that held the grenade.

The massive great white shark absorbed the blow of the blade and closed in, crushing the officer’s limbs with brutal force.

The angel arrived up close, his fury dissipating as he looked at the self-satisfied alien, a mocking smile appearing on his handsome face.

Three sets of eyes silently watched the officer, watching the once-mighty Dark Eldar who had now lost everything.

How dare you be so smug with your self-serving arrogance?

You were always trapped in the net.