dmims Chapter 26 Iron 7's Rebellion
Chapter 26 Iron 7's Rebellion
Sado shoved aside several miners who were running out and rushed in.
There was no time to figure out what had happened.
The sounds of gunfire, the cacophony of miners' cries and lamentations, and the frantic, savage laughter and roars of nobles filled the air.
The scene, accompanied by the explosion of crimson blood mist and the pieces of corpses, became the final depiction of hell in Sado's eyes.
Sador stood there, bewildered. He didn't look for cover or shout. His gaze swept quickly over the charging soldiers, the fleeing soldiers, and the bullet-riddled corpses on the ground.
No no.
Until he refused to accept it and looked at the steps where the nobleman was, filled with pain, he finally saw the person he wanted to see.
Menelaus's severed body was being held tightly in the arms of a miner he did not know, and blood was spilling all over the ground.
Those people risked their lives to reclaim the last fragments of this brave man's body.
Sado's eyes narrowed, his eyes, which had previously retained some other colors, turned blood red. His mind was filled only with anger and overwhelming killing intent.
Sado couldn't remember what happened after that.
But when he came to his senses, Sado was sitting on the folded corpse of a nobleman, his head placed on pieces of Menelaus's body that had been pieced together at some unknown time.
Menelaus's ashen and battered face was washed with his own blood and the blood of the miners who had snatched his body, and a satisfied smile hung on that blood-red face.
Sado could almost see the last image reflected in Menelaus's lifeless eyes.
— Resistance.
…………
…………
M30.833, Iron Seven Mining World.
He grabbed a miner by the neck and lifted him up. Instead of crushing his neck cleanly, Salpedon watched him struggle in his hands, pounding his arms until he was lifeless.
Beneath the cold helmet, his leaden-gray face remained expressionless. He turned his head and looked at the remaining three miners wearing inferior shell armor.
He threw the body in front of the group.
"Now, still no one is willing to tell me who Menelaus is, or where he is?"
There was no response, only the pounding hearts of the insurgent miners, driven to the brink of terror, and their unnatural breathing as they struggled to keep their mouths agape.
Salpedon lifted his foot and slowly approached, the huge shadow swaying and stretching under the flickering mine lights until it covered everything.
Salpedon crouched down, and on his silver-painted power armor, in addition to the crown symbolizing the Dawnbringer, there was also a ferocious metal skull on his shoulder armor.
In the Eighth Company where he served, some soldiers of the regiment had expressed their dissatisfaction and objections, believing that the purity and unity of the regiment should be maintained. However, Salpedon opposed this and did not hesitate to confront them openly.
Salpedon knew his background was not illustrious; he came from the bottom of Troy and was the son of a gangster under a nobleman.
His leaden-gray, death-like complexion stood out within the entire legion, but the survival wisdom of the Underhive allowed him to quickly find a way to establish himself. He had to become special, to think like the Underhive, like the mafia.
This incredibly grotesque skull was a small test for him, a test of his master's, his king's, attitude towards it.
The conflict between Salpedon and the veterans of the Terran legion intensified, even drawing attention to a small part of the conflict between Trojans and Terrans, which naturally caught Hector's attention.
"My Lord," Salpedon murmured in reverence in his heart.
Hector's figure at that time was etched in Salpedon's memory, and the Primarch arrived at the location where the two sides were facing off.
Hector did not take sides; a raging fire consumed his mind.
He charged at everyone without even drawing his weapon, wearing only a Trojan coat.
Their eyes couldn't even catch the Primarch's movements. Nothing in the way could block or restrain the Primarch's actions. Before the first Terran Dawnbringer could react, he was already flying away.
The remaining ten people stood separately.
Ten people, in the time it takes for a human heart to beat once, faced an unarmed Primarch while wearing power armor. They were as vulnerable as children. All of them were knocked away and all of them were seriously injured, but none of them died.
"My father." Salpedon stood inside the ship as he was now, his Primarch's enormous form obscuring him.
At that moment, Salpedon seemed to feel the flashing lights as fast as thunder, and between the light and shadow, the Primarch's enormous form appeared distorted in his eyes in an extremely blasphemous way.
He looked at the handsome, angelic face of his genetic father, and in the blink of an eye, it seemed to distort and change.
It was a scene from the future: a lion-like head shrouded in black mist overlapped with his genetic father, Hector.
Salpedon was stunned and stood rooted to the spot, the two-and-a-half-meter-tall Astartes trembling like a child who had done something wrong.
He watched helplessly as Hector's hand slowly and irresistibly reached out to him.
The Primarch's hand kept shifting between sharp, twisting claws and human palms, as if a dream and reality were intertwined.
The hand landed—
"Salpedon." Hector's voice was devoid of sorrow, joy, or anger.
"My father."
call----
call----
Salpedon emerged from the mine, and two Trojan recruits nodded to him, picking up their shields and waiting for orders.
But Salpedon didn't pay attention to the two of them immediately; he found a place to sit down.
His brain felt completely drained, leaving him in a hazy, confused state.
Salpedon felt cold, as if he were losing his soul, and felt an indescribable emptiness within him. He needed to stay here and rest.
"Are you alright, Salpedon?" one of them asked.
Like Salpedon, his shoulder armor also featured a laurel wreath and a hideously grotesque metal head pierced by a longsword, except that his head was that of the Minotaur, an alien from Troy.
"·····"
"Salpedon?" the man continued.
Another person raised their hand to stop them.
He shook his head at the person who asked the question: "Let him have some peace and quiet."
As a soldier in the legion and a brother in his company, he expressed his understanding.
Upon hearing this, the other person had no choice but to give up and resume their vigilance.
The reason they could have such a friendly atmosphere was that they were all of Trojan descent and were all soldiers of the Second Legion.
This is the result of Hector's legion's restructuring over the years.
At the end of M30.825, the Empire of Man found the leader of the Iron Ten Legions, Fernus Manus, at Medusa, where the Storm Sector and the Misty Sector meet.
In the same year, the Emperor, along with Phenus and Horus, divided their forces and conquered the galaxy.
Meanwhile, Hector launched a massive conscription campaign across the entire Irios region. The entire sector responded to the king's order, operating at all costs and logistical constraints, providing the Second Legion with over 3.6 million of the best young men of the right age.
Under Troy's rigorous selection process, these 3.6 million people were screened layer by layer, and finally, more than 3,000 new recruits suitable for reform were incorporated into the Second Legion's operational order of battle.
Faced with a sudden increase in new recruits from various planets, combined with the already large and complex Second Legion of over 70,000 soldiers.
Hector retained the Legion's ancient pyramid-shaped command framework, namely the Legion, Company, Battle Group, Company, and Squad command structure, and expanded the entire Legion to twenty Companies.