Chapter 62: Emotion Is a Luxury

Chapter 62: Emotion is a Luxury

Rumble!!

Causing the very ground to tremble slightly, the sky-obscuring radioactive dust storm was still a hundred kilometers away.

Yet in the trenches, Hawke could feel the vibrations and hear the terrifying sound of the dust storm's approach.

Hawke had never witnessed such a magnificent dust storm. It covered the heavens and earth like the end of the world, and most terrifyingly, it crackled with lightning.

His homeworld possessed no such dreadful storms; only on this alien planet, which also belonged to the Imperium of Man, did such tempests exist.

This was the second planet of the Obo system.

Planet Two was a terrestrial world, where imperial colonists had carved out hive cities to sustain normal production and daily life.

Unlike hive cities on other worlds, the hive cities here extended downward.

The Obo system was a binary star system, and intense stellar radiation constantly bombarded the system's four planets, scouring them into barren wastelands.

Retreating underground was undoubtedly an excellent solution.

The entrance to the hive city was a gigantic mountain range. The colonists had hollowed out the entire mountain to construct a spaceport, alongside numerous structures designed to harvest solar energy to power the hive.

Such a layout made the entire hive city extremely easy to defend and difficult to conquer.

At least until Hawke and his comrades arrived, the Orks had failed to take the hive city.

Hawke had never imagined that his very first battle in the Astra Militarum would be fought against Orks.

They had already routed the greenskins several times.

Yet those creatures always staged a comeback; until the void war concluded, it was unlikely this conflict would truly end.

Hawke belonged to the 65th Natal Regiment, a newly formed regiment.

The Primarch required sufficient armies to vanquish the enemy and safeguard the fruits of the reformation.

Veteran soldiers had been dispersed and assigned to various units to whip the recruits into shape.

This ground engagement was also Hawke’s maiden battle.

The terror of death sent his adrenaline surging, leaving him struggling to calm down even after the fighting had ceased.

"Those greenskins are truly revolting," Castin remarked from beside him.

Hawke glanced at Castin, who was likewise wrapped tightly from head to toe.

The heavy, dual-layered protective military uniform completely obscured her fine figure. Her young face, brimming with vitality, was flushed red—evidently suffocating within the gear.

The Emperor’s cause demanded the dedication of all men and women.

Castin belonged to the 68th Regiment, a unit composed entirely of women.

The regiments were not mixed; keeping them separate allowed for better management and prevented undesirable conduct.

"Is there any enemy of the Emperor that isn't revolting?"

Hawke offered a lighthearted reply.

Castin smiled—a lovely expression, reminiscent of a sweet girl next door.

"Once this is over, let's go get a drink," Castin said.

"That would be simply marvelous. When such a lovely female soldier invites one for a drink, there is no reason to refuse," Hawke chuckled.

Castin opened her mouth to speak further, but the shrill wail of a siren shattered the moment.

A cacophony of chaotic sounds echoed from the distance.

Accompanied by billowing dust and the howling gales of the storm, the Orks burst into view.

Those creatures steered a fleet of terrifyingly modified war wagons, roaring at the top of their lungs, "Waaagh! Waaagh!"

"They're coming!" shouted an officer clad in black long boots and wielding a laser pistol.

His voice reverberated across the entire defensive line via a servo-skull.

The thunder of artillery erupted as beams of light and shells spewed from the rear of the lines.

Medusa missiles, heavy cannons, and laser destroyers all opened fire, unreservedly unloading their ordnance.

The rocky plain before the trenches transformed into a sea of flame. Numerous Ork war wagons were flipped over in the blasts, and Orks of all sizes were blown to smithereens, their limbs scattering across the ground.

"Those damned beasts, hahaha!" Castin’s voice rang out, accompanied by her fierce battle cry, "All xenos must die!"

Castin's words drew echoing roars of agreement from the others.

The soldiers' jubilation, however, was short-lived. The Orks surged through the sea of fire, brandishing their weapons.

They dragged forward grotesque, crude cannons that looked as though they had been hammered together from scrap metal, launching a counterattack against the human lines.

An artillery shell detonated close to Hawke, kicking up a cloud of dust that subsequently rained down under the planet's gravity, coating him from head to toe in filth.

The concussive booms of the explosions left his ears ringing.

"Get up! Take aim! They're coming!" shouted the platoon commander.

Hawke sprang to his feet, grabbing his lasgun. He shoved an energy cell into the housing and adjusted the power output just as he had been trained.

The Orks were closing in, bellowing with frenzied excitement.

"Fire!" roared the platoon commander.

Ruby-red laser beams lanced out from the trenches, weaving together into a dense, intertwined red web.

Countless laser pulses struck the Orks, wringing shrieks of agony from them.

Hawke targeted every enemy in sight, doing his utmost to ensure his shots did not miss.

Suddenly, a voice of absolute shock rang out.

"Emperor preserve us, have these greenskins lost their minds?!"

Hawke turned his head to see another comrade staring upward into the sky.

Following the soldier's gaze, Hawke's initial confusion quickly gave way to sheer disbelief.

Creatures known as Gretchin were hurtling through the air, clutching massive artillery shells in their arms.

Many of the grots were blown apart before they even hit the ground.

Yet a few lucky ones managed to release their shells just in time, landing directly inside the trenches.

Hawke was forced to pivot and deal with the greenskin runts first. Though short in stature, their ferocity was by no means lacking.

Wielding all manner of sharp improvised weapons, they hacked wildly at everything within view.

The sudden appearance of the grots threw the human defensive line into disarray.

Capitalizing on the chaos, the larger, brutish Ork warriors quickly breached the line of fire, leveling their heavy-bore sluggas and blasting away indiscriminately.

The frontline plunged into utter disorder as the Ork warriors proved vastly more formidable than the grots.

From nearby came Castin's desperate cries for help, pleading for anyone to aid her.

Hawke desperately wanted to turn and see what was happening, but he could not; he was fighting for his own life.

An Ork warboy was raising its crude power axe, preparing to hack him into mincemeat.

"Your opponent is me, xenos."

A Primaris Space Harrier clad in blue and white armor charged out from behind the line. A crackling power sword swept toward the Ork; when the blow was parried, the Space Marine seized the opening to kick the brute sprawling onto the mud.

With a swift flourish of his power sword, he cleaved the creature's head clean off its shoulders.

"For the Emperor! For the Master of Macragge!" the warrior bellowed before charging toward the next group of Orks.

More Primaris Space Marines poured into the fray, shoring up the Astra Militarum's faltering defenses.

Granted a brief respite, Hawke raced toward the spot where Castin had cried out, but he arrived too late.

Castin lay motionless in the trench, blood pooling from deep lacerations that had torn her body apart, soaking her uniform. Around her lay the lifeless carcasses of several Ork boyz and grots.

"No, Castin..." Hawke shook his head, his eyes growing damp.

Castin had been a remarkably empathetic girl, capable of getting along with anyone—bright, optimistic, courageous, and brimming with boundless devotion to the Emperor.

She had yearned to fight for the Emperor and the Master of Macragge, yet she had perished in her very first battle.

Just moments ago, they had been making plans to share a drink.

Now, she was nothing more than a cold corpse.

"Move out and follow the Primaris Space Marines in a counter-offensive, soldier! Do not grieve the dead; she has already fulfilled her oath and her duty!"

The platoon commander's voice echoed sternly.