allendalepharm Page 181
Page 181
Black Templar.
This is the name of my battle group.
This is a glorious name. To the people of the empire, it often symbolizes victory, glory, unwavering fervor for the God-Emperor, and boundless loyalty to the empire.
As for aliens and heretics, anyone with even a modicum of knowledge would tremble with fear and worry about their future upon hearing that name.
For them, the name only represents destruction.
Inside the Black Sanctuary, besides officers of various ranks such as Grand Marshal, Marshal, Fortress Lord, and Hermit Elder, there is a special position that, more than the leaders of the battle groups, can better present the spirit of the Black Sanctuary to the world.
That position is Emperor Champion.
Every Emperor Champion is personally chosen by the Emperor. Before each fierce battle, the Emperor selects the most fanatical, loyal, and powerful warrior from among the Black Templar warriors. That warrior will see a vision, and then be thoroughly examined by priests. Finally, he will be clad in black armor, wielding a black sword, surrounded by tools imbued with the Emperor's power. This is the Emperor Champion, and the symbol of glory for the Black Templar.
I don't remember when I was chosen as a new blood, but I still clearly remember my service period and the scene of the day I was chosen as the Emperor Champion.
One hundred and thirty-eight years—that's my length of service.
Forty-eight years—that's how long it's been since I became the Emperor Champion.
At that time, the hermit was not yet Gremardus; I won't go into his name here. I can only describe him as a rigid, but not bad, old man. He was utterly loyal to the Emperor and ultimately died serving him.
Before he died, I wielded my black sword and utterly slain the rampaging red demon. When he saw me carrying the demon's head, patrolling the battlefield, I saw a relieved smile on his face and a barely perceptible sadness in his eyes.
It's as if I'm grieving for my fate.
Almost every Imperial Champion dies on the battlefield; this is a "tradition" inherited from the first Imperial Champion, Sigismund, the first Grand Marshal of the Black Templar.
I know this clearly, but I am not afraid, for as an Astartes, the Angel of Death of the God-King,
Dying on the battlefield is, for us, a perfectly good choice.
And so, I spent 48 years as the Emperor Champion. During that time, I killed countless enemies, including heretical demons, twisted aliens, and indescribable and terrifying foe. Without exception, they were all slain by my sword. This is the power of being the Emperor Champion, the power of me, Bayard.
However, I still know clearly that even with such power, it still seems so insignificant in the face of this dark and hopeless world.
Sometimes I can slay rampaging demons, but I can't save the people buried in a hive. Sometimes I can defeat an entire small orc army by myself, but I still can't stop the Asgardian Army from going to their deaths one after another.
I am the Emperor Champion, and I should make this empire better, but unfortunately, I am unable to do so.
So I made almost the exact same choice as all the previous champions.
I began to become numb. I suppressed my emotions deep within my heart, transforming myself into a ruthless sword. Only when I drew my sword would my emotions, enveloped in fervent faith, surge forth, and my anger resurface in this real world time and time again.
I had thought I would continue like this until one day I died on the battlefield, but not long ago, a dream I had on the Eternal Expedition told me that this galaxy, this empire, still has hope of being saved.
And this hope is the return of the God-Emperor's son, the father of me and all the sons of Dorne—Rog Dorne—to the Empire.
At first, I found this incredible, because the Empire hadn't seen a truly living Loyal Primarch in 1 years.
However, because of the existence of a Primarch, we still have a certain estimate and general judgment of the specific instances of Primarchs. It was only when I actually met the loyalist Primarch, that is, my father, that I understood that the words and messages that the Emperor told me in the dream were not unfounded, but the true hope that the Empire had from then on.
Hope remains.
Gripping the black sword tightly, I looked at the orc a head taller than me and took a deep breath.
"I am the Emperor Champion, Bayard! In the name of the Emperor and Dorne! Xenomorph! Die!"
----------
The first encounter between the orcs and the Black Templars has ended.
The ground was littered with the corpses of orcs, their blood flowing from their wounds and pooling together to form a bloodbath.
The warriors of the Black Templar stood amidst pools of blood, their magnetic boots clicking and clattering with each step they took.
Helbrecht tallied the casualties and remaining ammunition for each group after the battle, compiled the information, and handed it over to Roger Dorn.
"There were 323 green-skinned orcs in total. We killed them all without any fatalities, but the Belial brothers and the Taro brothers were seriously injured. The apothecary has given them emergency treatment. The Belial brothers need to be buried in the Fearless as soon as possible..."
"Arrange for someone to take the wounded back to the Eternal Expedition and provide them with immediate treatment."
Roger Dorn spoke, stepping over the pile of orc corpses.
The Black Templar Terminators advanced, their heavy flamethrowers spewing long tongues of fire, filling the air with a strange, meaty aroma.
Roger Dorn walked up to Bayard, the Imperial Champion, who was kneeling on one knee, holding the black sword in front of him with the tip pointing down. He was bowing his head and muttering to himself, as if performing some kind of prayer ritual.
Roger Dorn stood silently behind his offspring, patiently waiting until Bayard finished his prayer and stood up before speaking.
"Beard".
Roger Dorn's deep voice echoed in Bayard's ears, causing the Emperor Champion to turn around.
"Father."
"Did you hear something?"
Bayard shook his head slightly.
“Father.” Bayard’s voice was tinged with bitterness. “The power of the God-Emperor is infinitely strong. Even though I was chosen by him, I could not hear his voice clearly. At most, I could only vaguely sense his power and his will.”
Roger Dorn looked at Bayard and nodded.
"Alright, let's move on. We need to find the Bonebreaker's trail as soon as possible."
Roger Dorn asked Bayard if he had heard the Emperor's voice, for a reason that was not complicated.
That is, after boarding the orc's flagship, Lin Qi lost contact with him. He could only vaguely sense that the other party was in the warp, fighting a life-or-death battle with some incredibly terrifying beings.
Although he knew who the other party was fighting, what their purpose was, and that the Emperor would intervene, Roger Dorn still felt some unease, which was why he kept moving forward without stopping, searching for traces of the Bonecrushers.
Asking Bayard was also a way of asking whether the Emperor had told him about the situation in the warp.
However, judging from the current situation, things may not be as good as we thought.
At the very least, it's a stalemate; otherwise, the Emperor wouldn't have spared any attention for himself, leaving him completely unaware of the battle situation.
Faced with this situation, there's not much I can do.
That is to keep moving forward.
The orc corpses were quickly incinerated, leaving only a pile of blackened roasted meat and the aroma of meat wafting in the air. The Black Templars regrouped, and one of the unlucky chosen ones reluctantly activated the teleportation system with two wounded soldiers. With a flash of psionic signal, they turned into blinding white light and disappeared, returning to the Eternal Expedition, which was engaged in a fierce battle with the orc battleship.
Roger Dorn strode forward, venturing deeper into the warship.
After leaving the spacious hall where the first battle took place, the group soon arrived at a long, dark corridor. The Terminators formed a shield formation at the front, followed by elite veterans from the Brotherhood of Swords. They were all on high alert, wary of any enemies or attacks that might appear at any moment.
The column advanced, and just as they reached a certain "point," Roger Dorn frowned sharply. He raised the Stormfangs in his hands, and then, before any of the Black Templars could react, the Primarch of the Empire formally revealed his battle stance to his offspring for the first time.
What kind of posture was that?
Bayard's eyes widened. As the Emperor's Champion, he was the strongest Templar present, second only to Roger Dorn in combat power. He was the only one who sensed the danger lurking in the crisscrossing pipes above the corridor.
But even he couldn't clearly see Roger Dorn's movements during the battle.
Even the afterimage was not clearly visible.
The only thing the Emperor Champion, this glorious warrior, could perceive was the deep rumble of the Storm Fang when it was activated, unlike any other chainsaw weapon.
Faster than the Imperial Guard, in a mere second, none of the Black Templars could react. If a mortal were standing here, they might even doubt whether the Primarch had actually moved, or whether the Primarch possessed the powerful psychic ability to stop time.
In fact, it was just incredibly fast.
Roger Dorn returned to the spot where he had started, the Stormfangs still emitting a low rumble. He exhaled a long breath, and then a large amount of blood rained down from the sky.
"This is a Greenskinned Orc infiltration force."
Helbreshett looked at the orc corpses lying on the overhead pipes and recognized them.
"They've been lurking here since early morning."
“These are Greenskinned Orc warships,” Roger Dorn said calmly. “They can monitor the situation on their own ships, so setting up ambushes in advance is not a problem for them.”
Helbracete nodded, but he also had a new understanding of his father.
It must be said that he truly deserves to be the protagonist of the imperial myth. Not only is he formidable in his wisdom, but his raw strength is also astonishing.
Helbrecht even suspected that even without power armor or sophisticated power weapons, the opponent could defeat 99.9999999% of all beings in the entire galaxy with just his physical body.
"keep going,"
Roger Dorn gave the order.
“I have a feeling, kids, that we’re not far from that guy.”
As the Bonebreaker watched as Roger Dorn killed all of his elite special forces in a mere second, he knew he should have a proper meeting with this super big shot.
Rising from his throne, his armored body, even larger than that of the fearless warrior, looked incredibly powerful and imposing. Gripping his weapon, he led his personal guards toward a specially chosen open space below.
The sound of gears turning filled the air, but there was no scraping against the ground from the steel door. A huge crack appeared, then widened, revealing a long corridor behind the door, and the sound of approaching footsteps.
Meanwhile, in the subspace, Brother Gao Mao looked at the little shrimp in front of him, whose face was already bruised and swollen from being beaten, and was panting heavily.
"Kill him quickly!"
"Brother Mao shouted anxiously."
"Kid's going to fight that super shrimp!"
Brother Gao's face was gloomy. He looked at the shrimp in front of him, whose wing was broken and whose body was covered in wounds, but whose only difference was the sword in his hand. He knew that he really needed to get serious now.
Lin Qi looked at the nasty second brother in front of him, took a deep breath, and knew that the most crucial moment of the battle was about to begin.
The Cursed Legion helped him delay the orcs following behind Brother Gao Mao. Originally, it shouldn't have been Lynch alone facing Gao Mao, but him and Felus together.
However, Felus is now tied up. A gigantic orc, the size of a knight's mech, has appeared in the orc warp army. To stop it, Felus has no choice but to abandon his initial plan and instead deal with the gigantic orc.
In other words.........
Right now, I can only rely on myself.
Chapter 213 Reactions from All Sides (The Appearance of Various Primarchies, and the Three Giants of the Think Tank)
The gate was not closed.
Relying on the Primarch's superhuman eyesight, Rogue Dorn easily spotted the green-skinned orcs standing opposite him, looking at him from afar, and immediately recognized their leader.
There was nothing special about it; the orc was simply too enormous, so enormous that it was impossible to ignore him—he was a head taller than Dreadnought, and judging by sight, Roger Dorn even suspected that the orc was a size larger than himself.
The weapon in its hand is ferocious and rugged, revealing a kind of beauty that combines technology and savagery. However, this does not affect the viewer's judgment of the weapon's power, and may even increase the level of danger.
That is the Bonebreaker, also known as Rogdorn. According to the data, if things continue to develop, he is very likely to become a powerful orc comparable to the Primarch, a general of the orcish empire ten thousand years ago.
We finally met.