Chapter 144: The First to Reinforce is My Fourth Legion!

TL note: hello everyone, just a quick note here- this was actually a chapter I forgot to post on patreon and because i couldn't find it I just redid it with my current method for translating so I do apologize for any sudden name changes. It will switch back to the old style after this and pick up with the new style around chapter 180ish. thank you again 

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The Death Guard was not the first legion to arrive at Planet 106.

The Adeptus Mechanicus' distress signal echoed through the warp, and in the nearby star systems, the fleet of the Fourth Legion, the Iron Warriors, received this call for help and responded to it.

The Iron Blood, along with her massive fleet, silently jumped to the Mandeville point of this star system, her azure plasma engines roaring. The Lord of Iron led his warriors, fixing their gaze upon this planet.

The fires of war had already begun to spread.

The ground split open, and black and green intertwined necron constructs emerged from the yellow earth. Countless scarabs dragged the limbs of necron warriors, casting them back into the green luminescence, and countless necron warriors reappeared from the necron constructs.

Mining zones 02 and 03 had completely fallen, and the 15 mining camps of various sizes originally used for excavation were now occupied by necron warriors. Utilizing the connections between the camps, the necron forces were launching an offensive towards the main mining zone 01.

Before reinforcements arrived, the Magi of the Adeptus Mechanicus and their Skitarii desperately defended the main mining zone 01, stalling the necron infantry at the border between mining zones 01 and 03.

Here, the shallow mine pits previously dug for probing and exploration provided superb cover for the Adeptus Mechanicus holding this position. It was by relying on their familiarity with and utilization of the terrain that the Skitarii were barely able to pin down the necron army.

Excavators previously deployed and abandoned in the mine tunnels were dug out by the Skitarii. These heavy machines, originally used to bore mine shafts, were now dragged to the surface by the Skitarii to serve as cover.

The explosives originally placed in the mine tunnels became the rangers' sharp weapon to hinder the scarabs. These bugs, attempting to burrow from underground and attack them, were now buried by the yellow earth amidst the roar of explosions.

On the surface, artillery thundered. Whenever the necron forces began to amass on a large scale, the Skitarii hiding in the mine tunnels would call for a new round of fire support, relying on the firepower units originally deployed in the main mining zone.

The earth trembled, and flames burned. Upon this cold, gray-yellow wasteland, they held their ground.

Yet even under the dense barrage, necron units still emerged from the smoke. Serpentine metal bodies nimbly traversed the battlefield riddled with craters, burrowing directly into the mine tunnels. On their reaping blades, luminescence flashed, and the flesh, blood, and metal of the Skitarii splattered with each flicker of the blades.

Encountering enemy warriors of this type for the first time forced the Tech-Priests of Graia to abandon some of the mine trench defensive lines they had just established and directly call for precision strikes on these areas with firepower.

Thereafter, whenever the large avian servitors detected the emergence of similar lifeforms, the Skitarii of Graia nearest to these enemy units would charge onto the battlefield, braving the fire support from their own side.

"Iron Within, Iron Without!"

The people of Graia possessed a fanaticism for battle. Compared to the slogans they often chanted, even the extremely low probability of victory calculated by their logic engines could not make them retreat a single step. The only thing that could cause the warriors of Graia to withdraw was the binary retreat code constantly issued by the Tech-Priests directly controlling their systems.

But now, their Tech-Priests commanded them to attack!

Countless rangers swung their arc mauls, attempting to engage the serpentine destroyers before them in close combat. The rangers charging to the front were torn to shreds in an instant, but those behind them precisely replaced the positions of their predecessors, as calculated by their logic systems.

Rangers, hopelessly outmatched, were naturally no match for the destroyers, not to mention the countless scarabs tearing apart the shells of the charging ranger squads.

But they had achieved their purpose.

The originally high-speed, mobile serpentine destroyers had no choice but to engage in melee with the squads of thirty Skitarii each. Electromagnetic pulses and radio waves loyally transmitted their precise coordinates at this moment to the artillery encampments in the rear.

Shells screeched through the cold winds of Planet 106, accurately striking the Skitarii and destroyers.

In an instant, flames erupted and smoke dispersed, revealing massive craters. Only a few scarabs at the edges of the craters attempted to move, while chunks of metal and flesh were scattered, stained ochre by the yellow earth.

Relying on this strategy, Graia successfully defended their main mining zone 01 before reinforcements arrived.

But at this point, the Skitarii on the surface had already suffered heavy losses, and ammunition in the rear began to run low, yet the necron forces still surged towards the front lines wave after wave, seemingly tireless.

Finally, due to the dwindling numbers of Skitarii, an undermanned squad failed to intercept a serpentine destroyer. That necron successfully darted into the nearest mine tunnel, slaying the Tech-Priest in charge of repelling scarabs and directing the front lines below.

The battle line began to collapse.

But a howl from the sky interrupted the necron army's advance.

Drop pods of the Iron Warriors tore through the void, their high speed igniting the dense swarms of scarabs in the sky. Iron, accompanied by the burning of flames, stepped upon this land together.

Reinforcements had arrived.

Gigantic warriors with metallic luster charged out from the drop pods, their pauldrons striped in yellow and black, signifying their identity.

The situation on the battlefield was instantly reversed. The collapsing front line now even began to slowly advance. The Iron Warriors, possessing seasoned combat experience, leapt into the mine trench dugouts that had been temporarily recaptured and began to process them into simple fortifications.

Nas stood on the pyramid-shaped necron construct, on the second tier, for the top tier of the first level belonged to the king.

It was the Phaeron tasked with standing guard, expelling those who disturbed the tomb. This was its mission.

For this very reason, when the shallow tombs were disturbed, it was awakened.

Nas, following the memories in its thread, began to expel those lowly foreign races.

Currently, one-fifth of the necron warriors in the shallow tombs had been roused by the system. In Nas' estimation, this was already sufficient to eradicate the foreign races on this planet.

And with Nas' authority, it could awaken the full strength of the shallow tombs.

Although on the battlefield, the foreigners' artillery had destroyed quite a number of slaves, to Nas, this was of no consequence.

They could stand up and march anew. The existence of the reanimation protocols had made death a rarity.

Although not all necron minds would be transmitted back to the necron constructs completely intact, and over time, even the system was not always precise and lossless...

But Nas had already included this minor damage into its considerations. Expulsion was possible, that was its conclusion.

Nas was unlike other necron Phaerons. They usually enjoyed charging to the front lines in order to demonstrate their loyalty to their king.

Nas knew that its king trusted it. There was no need for such.

Its king had already slumbered for a very long time. During Nas' previous three awakenings, the king remained asleep in the deepest layer.

Nas understood the king's sorrowful sentiments. As the eldest son of a grand dynasty, being exiled to a barbaric planet on the fringe, demoted to a mere lord... Even the nobles on this planet were no longer lowly subordinates to the king, but had become his equals.

The king's authority was also confined to this planet.

The king was unwilling to wake, Nas knew.

Therefore, as his most loyal guardian, it would expel all who disturbed his dream.

Perturabo stared expressionlessly at the representative of the Magi of Graia before him.

The Lord of Iron sat upon his throne, dense and crude cables descending from the ceiling, connected to his throne. Beside the throne forged from pure steel, on the dim black screens, battlefield data streamed past frantically.

"You say you called for additional reinforcements from others?"

His deep voice reverberated within the spacious chamber.

"Yes, my lord."

The Tech-Priest before him was trying his best to shrink himself to the smallest size possible while maintaining a calm tone.

After Planet 106 came under attack, they had immediately broadcast a distress signal to nearby star systems.

Thus, the Fourth Legion received the call for aid.

But the information previously sent to the Forge World of Graia had not been retracted. After assessing the situation on Planet 106 and considering other political intentions, the Tech-Priests of the principal world had summoned the Fourteenth Legion, the Death Guard, as reinforcements.

Unexpectedly to the Tech-Priests, the Death Guard, originally preoccupied with the construction of their homeworld, displayed exceptional enthusiasm for this request for assistance.

Perhaps it was because the Death Guard required the mineral resources of 106?

And now, the Lord of Death would personally lead his fleet from Barbarus to arrive first, while the main fleet of the Death Guard stationed at Galaspar had also begun to redeploy.

This meant that Perturabo would be receiving "reinforcements" from another brother.

"No reinforcements are needed here."

Perturabo's voice was like metal blocks grating against each other. His deep eyes, seemingly devoid of emotion, stared at the one before him like a machine.

"You think the Fourth Legion requires reinforcements?"

"The death-wars we have fought outnumber the components on your body."

"And you believe I need reinforcements? Need a legion that has only fought a single battle to assist me?"

Perturabo slowly stood up, his massive armor creaking. Metal encased him, brimming with power.

The furious flames of forging steel ignited his countenance.

Perturabo descended from his throne, striding to the Tech-Priest's side in anger. He stretched out a hand and grasped the Tech-Priest's shoulder.

A grating sound of metal deforming rang out, and feeble sparks flashed.

"This is why I detest your kind so much."

Perturabo disliked most of the Tech-Priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Their attitude towards technology was like slimy worms in a mire, making Perturabo retch.

Although Perturabo and the Fourth Legion maintained friendships with a small number of Tech-Priests and Forge Worlds, he held contempt for the majority of them.

"Get lost!"

"After I secure this planet for you, get lost!"

Perturabo violently shoved the Tech-Priest away. The Priest of Graia was flung out, stumbling and struggling on the ground, trying to climb to his feet.

Perturabo watched the Tech-Priest with cold eyes, but quickly lost interest. He turned and strode back to his throne.

Data from 106 was still flowing, but Perturabo believed everything was already under his control. The heavy artillery and Stormbirds of the Fourth Legion were being transported to 106 in an orderly manner.

Perturabo was very curious about his enemy, these foreign races with metal bodies. Perhaps they were currently the only good news that could make him feel less miserable.

But bad news had already drowned him.

Here he was, bringing his legion to an insignificant corner, for an insignificant Forge World, to defend an insignificant planet.

He was even scorned by these short-sighted fools of the Mechanicum!

How dare they summon another legion to reinforce him, a legion still wet behind the ears? The Fourteenth Legion had not even spread word of a single glorious battle record.

And in other corners of the universe, the Emperor was leading those ignorant, arrogant legions in other campaigns. Several legions were participating, yet he and his legion were once again neglected!

Perturabo silently stared at the strategic data slate before him. In the eyes of others, he appeared to be contemplating the situation on the battlefield.

The Randan Campaign was in full swing. The visages of the First Legion, the Second Legion, the Sixth Legion, the Lion, El'Jonson, and his supercilious brothers seemed to still echo before Perturabo's eyes. Among the primarchs, the topic of and competition for the title of Warmaster had long drawn open its curtains.

Perturabo knew he could vie for Warmaster. His capabilities far surpassed theirs. Compared to those brothers who emphasized so-called customs and personal glory, Perturabo knew that only precise calculations and an iron will were what the Imperium, what the Emperor needed.

But those self-important fellows had drawn the attention that should have been his through their ostentatious conduct.

Thus, he was neglected, isolated, forgotten on battlefields filled with mud and filth, while his brothers now stood on the plaza, accepting the cheers of the people of the Imperium.

Fury burned fiercely in Perturabo's chest, crackling.

A brief report interrupted his train of thought.

[My lord, the primarch of the Fourteenth Legion, the Death Guard, Mortarion, requests an audience with you.]

Perturabo snorted.

The poor fellow.

Perturabo had not met this brother before, but among primarchs, this kind of news always spread swiftly.

In a previous conversation with Magnus (Perturabo did not mind this wise one; Magnus was one of the few who understood Perturabo's brilliance), Magnus had once mentioned Mortarion. He was a primarch from an agri-world, but—short-sighted.

The Crimson King opened his mouth in his library, ruefully remarking,

"This is not his fault. The planet he was on may have been unable to support his understanding of the wondrous nature of the warp and psychic powers."

"I hope that when I meet him in the future, I can make Mortarion truly comprehend the psychic arts."

Perturabo took a sip of tea. Whatever, he was not as kind-hearted as Magnus.

A brother from an agri-world... He most likely would not understand or appreciate Perturabo.

Some later rumors also confirmed Perturabo's speculations. The first battle of the Fourteenth Legion was not widely publicized. On the contrary, Fulgrim and Ferrus Manus, who had gone to assess them, left in silence.

Although Perturabo did not believe Fulgrim and Ferrus Manus could make any objective, impartial judgments—Fulgrim was too rigid, Ferrus Manus too emotional—Perturabo also secretly marked a cross for this newly arrived brother in his heart.

The emblem of the Death Guard flickered on Perturabo's vox. Perturabo glanced at it.

Forget it, he would welcome his brother, teach this brother from an agri-world the art of war.

(Help take a look at the author's note)

Hmm... the volume split was a huge failure, so I decided to throw these all into one volume, but actually there's still a tail end to the plot of the previous volume.

Then, regarding the necrons... This author tried very hard to dig through the lore, but when it comes to military strength, the part about electronic cricket fighting... Hmm... It may still be written in an idealistic manner. (You see, Krieg fighting necrons, Beastmen fighting necrons and such... But the author is currently referencing the book about Orks fighting necrons. The necrons are currently the background's ceiling, but those fighting against them... If we do a comparison of military strength to the 30k era, it feels...?)

For example, what's the rough exchange ratio between the necrons' Doom Scythe and the Imperium's Stormbird?

What about the exchange rate between necron warriors and space marines?

The lords are currently benchmarked against... ? (From what I found, it's chapter master, so that's probably equivalent to a 30k legion lieutenant.)

Previously, when the necrons and the Imperium fought, it was the 40k era with a bunch of mortal Imperial Army regiments, Space Marine chapters, and a bunch of Imperial Navy.

But if we convert the Imperium's military strength to the 30k era, it seems to not be as exaggerated as four or five full legions?

There's still a lot of military strength conversion links... So are there any well-read friends willing to share some knowledge?

Take it as some fun, don't take it too seriously... But if you provide feedback, I'll try my best to revise accordingly.