Azriel stood motionless in the darkness, his eyes fixed on the heavy explosion-proof door at the end of the corridor, and the timing display floating around his surroundings flashed to zero.
The enemy's attack began.
Sappho's opinion was right. The enemy would attack after they occupied the Governor's territory, and would fall on the outer wall with all the anger of the pseudo-gods, and because they had no friendly cover around them, they had to fight alone.
The Supreme Tutor imagined the scene outside, imagined the army of the enemy gathering in shadows and tunnels, accompanied by the remaining vehicles spitting out bubble-like assault squads. As shells exploded overhead, the assault troops would use hot melt weapons and crackling thunder hammers to complete the task, smashing an entrance in the main passages of the Governor's District.
At the moment, the Black Legion was like a group of violent locusts, tearing against him and others.
Because they knew they were about to fail, the empire had surrounded them.
The scene ahead has not changed, and the explosion-proof door is intact.
The only sounds Azriel could hear were the gentle rubbing sounds of his armor and the washing of his breathing apparatus.
His muscles twitched, and the urge to change his defensive posture and face the enemy head-on was almost overwhelming.
"The longer you wait, the more blood will splash out."
Sappho calmly placed his hand on Azriel's shoulder pads, and he understood the feeling of the highest tutor at this moment.
“It will soon be soaked in blood.”
Azriel nodded, and the priest's words eased the violent call in his mind like a summoning gong in the ancient arena.
Suddenly, a gust of overheated metal sparks burst into the darkness, and countless tactical icons flashed across the display - he was ready to kill anything coming in through the explosion-proof door, nothing else mattered.
As the enemy stepped up the attack on the door, the drizzle of sparks turned into a pouring rain, and a pulsating amber line became the focus, dividing the door into two from the floor.
"They are here."
The cutting stopped, the melting line hung in the dark, glowing and rough like fresh scars.
Silence filled the corridors, threatening to take away the last bond of reason.
Suddenly, a huge metal hand armor passed through the center of the explosion-proof door, and the pneumatic piston hissed and spit out as the fingers bent to find what to tear apart.
The audio damper in Azriel's helmet filters out the screams of metal friction when that hand reaches back, grabs the door, tear it off from the hinge, and drags it into the darkness.
After a moment, the hand, and the bulky body it attached to, flashed by suddenly.
"It's the Hell Beast, in the No. 1 Channel!"
Azriel warned and resisted the urge to fire with a gun.
Even a bomb like this kind of enemy is useless, it will only scratch the paint of armor pressing on the body. As a terrifying fusion of countless and technology, even the Hell Beast is an enemy that cannot be stopped without the help of heavy firepower.
Soon, the tall monster stomped on the wreckage of the door, appeared in the corridor, and fired.
"For Caliban!"
Waiting for the enemy to enter the predetermined distance, Azriel suddenly roared.
On the ceiling above him, a missile launcher screamed, and its ammunition fired at the Hellbeast in the form of a ball of flame.
The first missile hit the sarcophagus on the front of the Hell Beast and exploded, exploding its armor.
The second missile's second-level booster was ignited after a moment, driving the third-level charge through the weakened armor plate, detonating on the front of the Hellbeast.
The flames engulfed the Hellbeast and wrapped it like a shroud.
But it did not die, and the vitality of this subspace creation is much stronger than ordinary fearlessness.
As the Hellbeast continued to fire, the automatic shells ripped the walls and ceiling.
The rocket launcher fired again and fired another missile at the metal monster.
As Fearless raised his claw-shaped arms to defend, a sharp scream rang out from the Hellbeast.
The missile's main warhead hit the arm, blowing it into a silver shrapnel, paralyzing it in place. The remaining warhead drilled into the wall next to the Hell Beast, detonated with enough power, and opened a large hole in the passage.
A creepy roar filled the corridor, and a group of warriors in blood armor swarmed from the hell beasts and rushed towards the direction of the Dark Angel.
Azriel stood up and strode forward, while the angels around him activated the flamethrowers and hot melt to bathe the enemy in liquid flames.
He saw the true identities of these enemies, which made him angry-
"It's a bastard of the Scarlet Slayer!"
The Scarlet Slayers ran in the flames, ignoring their bubbling armor and the flesh and blood flowing from the flames.
Azriel's pistol began to flash in the darkness, firing a series of bullets at the enemy.
Whenever he sees an enemy, a curse will be emitted in his mouth.
Their red armor seemed to be a direct mockery of the Empire, with the sacred Aquila on the breastplate of the Dark Angels adorned with the signs of battle chapters on their shoulder pads, while the enemy's armor was inlaid with brass skeletons and profane runes.
"Cranon! Get out!"
Within the narrow range of the corridor, it was impossible for bullets to miss, and Azriel found its target with each shot.
He first shot the enemy directly in the chest, and then fired two more shots.
Within such a close distance, even the power armor could not provide much protection, bullets shot out from their backs in bloody hail.
Sappho stood on the right side of Azriel and fired with his Seiko blaster fully automatic until the circular meter flashed to zero.
But there was no time to reinstall it, the next enemy would pounce on it in just a moment.
"Azriel, lie down!"
Hearing Sappho's warning, Azriel decisively did it.
The next moment, the paralyzed Hell Beast opened fire again and fired a storm of shells into the corridor, the noise was deafening.
Several dark angels who were shooting were caught off guard, and their torso instantly turned into fleshy mud, and their limbs were cut off by vicious attacks.
Azriel lay under the twitching corpse of the enemy, his pulse pounding, the smell of blood and the charred flesh suffocating, blood dripping from around him, condensed into a thick, sticky liquid that threatened to swallow him.
"Emperor, shape my desires according to your unyielding will."
With the last roar, the hell beast's magazine was empty, and Azriel stood up and shot under the cover of the corpse.
The Scarlet Slaughter and their servants piled up like red-armored sandbags, but they were still moving forward, and then the tall tutor added two abominable things to the pile of dead bodies that blocked the corridor.
As the enemy aimed the flamethrower at their dead, the smell of the prophet and the burning flesh poured towards Azriel, burning a path to the dark angels.
As his pistol spat the last bullet, Azriel hung the gun back on his thigh and held the secret sword tightly in both hands.