nucmednet Chapter 261 Evacuation and Abandonment
Chapter 261 Evacuation and Abandonment
As the days passed, the situation on Carlos IV grew increasingly dire. The Grey Knights' reinforcements were nowhere to be seen, and Russell repeatedly urged Grey Knights Company Commander Astlan via communicator, but each time the reply was a cold, "It's not time yet." These words were like a thorn, deeply embedded in Russell's heart. He knew the Grey Knights' actions were always shrouded in mystery, but the current situation was far from optimistic.
The cultists' attacks grew increasingly frenzied; their chaos wizards summoned more demons, and even some powerful Tzeentch demons joined the battle. These demons were twisted and contorted, their bodies crackling with psychic power, and each attack carried devastating force. The pressure on the defensive line increased dramatically, and the casualty figures for the defenders and Kashejin warriors continued to rise.
"Commander, our ammunition reserves are running low, and our casualties have exceeded one-third!" A Kashejin soldier ran up to Russell, panting, his face covered in blood and dust.
Russell stood atop the highest point of the position, his gaze coldly fixed on the distant battlefield. Cult banners fluttered in the wind, their maniacal laughter and incantations echoing through the air, as if mocking the Imperial forces' incompetence.
“We must persevere,” Russell murmured, his voice tinged with weariness but more so with determination, “for the Emperor, for Carlos IV.”
He swiftly issued orders, adjusting the defensive line's deployment. The Kashejin warriors, with their last ammunition and sheer willpower, repelled the cultists' attacks time and again. However, each repelling came at a heavy cost. The defensive line teetered on the brink of collapse under the impact of chaotic energy, and the morale of the defenders gradually waned.
"Commander Russell, we can't hold on any longer!" The government army commander ran up to Russell, his voice filled with despair. "There are too many cultists, and those demons... we simply can't fight them!"
A complex emotion flashed in Russell's eyes. He knew that the government soldiers had fought with all their might, but they were, after all, just mortals, and their resistance seemed so powerless in the face of the terrifying power of the Chaos Demon.
“Hold on a little longer,” Russell’s voice was deep but firm. “The Grey Knights will come.”
However, a vague unease lingered in his heart. The Grey Knights' delayed arrival made him question the true purpose of this mission. Were they merely used as bait to distract the cultists? Or did the Grey Knights have another plan, and they were just pawns in it?
Just then, the cultists' attack erupted again. This time, their offensive was even more ferocious than before. The Chaos Wizard stood on high ground, his staff gleaming with an eerie blue light. His incantations echoed through the air, summoning even more demons.
"For Tzeentch! For Chaos!" The cultists' maniacal laughter echoed across the battlefield as they surged toward the Imperial forces' lines like a tidal wave.
Russell swiftly swung his Bloodthirster shovel, a golden shield shimmering around him. He charged to the front lines, engaging the onrushing demons in fierce combat. His movements were swift and precise, each strike carrying devastating power. However, the sheer number of enemies was overwhelming, and his stamina was rapidly dwindling.
"Commander! Our left flank has been breached!" A Kashejin soldier's voice came through the communicator, tinged with anxiety.
A resolute glint flashed in Russell's eyes: "Everyone, tighten the defensive line! Concentrate firepower and hold the core position!"
The Kashejin warriors swiftly obeyed orders, tightening their defensive lines. However, the cultists' advance remained unstoppable. Their chaotic energy raged across the battlefield, and the defenders' positions were gradually eroded.
Just as the defensive line was about to collapse, a deep rumble suddenly echoed from the sky. Russell looked up and saw several silver-gray warships slowly descending from the clouds. The ship's hatches opened, and a squad of warriors clad in silver-gray power armor rushed out—the Gray Knights had finally arrived.
"Grey Knights!" A glimmer of hope flashed in Russell's eyes, but a complex emotion stirred within him. Were their arrivals a rescue, or another form of exploitation?
Grey Knight Company Commander Astram stood atop the battlefield, his holy flame longsword gleaming brilliantly. His voice echoed across the battlefield: "For the Emperor! Purify these heretics!"
The arrival of the Grey Knights instantly turned the tide of the battle. Their psionic power raged across the battlefield, completely suppressing the cultists' chaotic energy. Demons turned to ashes in the holy flames, and the cultists' maniacal laughter turned into screams of agony.
Just as the demons were temporarily suppressed, Astram's voice came through the communicator, cold and firm: "Russell, we must evacuate from here."
Russell froze, almost unable to believe his ears. He quickly connected the communicator, his voice tinged with anger and confusion: "Evacuate? Why? We just stabilized the line!"
Astlan's voice remained calm, as if stating a simple fact: "The intelligence was wrong. The Thousand-Faced Demon Lord will not descend upon this world. Our mission has failed, and staying here will only increase casualties."
Russell clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white from the force. His gaze swept over the mortal defenders still fighting, a surge of indescribable anger and helplessness rising within him: "What about them? What will become of these mortal troops who fought alongside us? They'll be abandoned here, slaughtered by cultists and demons!"
Astlan was silent for a moment, his voice tinged with helplessness: "We can't control them. If we don't evacuate soon, the Thousand-Faced Demon Lord might descend upon other worlds, and then even more people will die."
A flicker of pain crossed Russell's eyes, and his voice was almost a roar: "They're going to die here! They trusted us, they fought alongside us! How can we just abandon them like this?"
Astland's voice remained cold, but now carried an undeniable air of authority: "Russell, this is an order. Our mission is to stop the Thousand-Faced Demon Lord, not to waste time and resources here. You must understand that sacrifice is inevitable."
Russell's gaze swept across the battlefield; the remaining defenders were still fighting fiercely. Their commander—the middle-aged man—seemed to sense something and looked up in Russell's direction. Their eyes met in mid-air, the commander's gaze filled with doubt and unease, as if asking, "Are you leaving?"
Russell dared not look him in the eye, his heart filled with guilt and helplessness. He knew he could not change the Grey Knight's decision, nor could he save these mortal guards. Their fate was already sealed.
Just then, the roar of the Thunderhawk gunship echoed from the sky. The Grey Knights' transport ship slowly descended, and Astran and his warriors quickly boarded. Astran stood before the hatch, his gaze coldly fixed on Russell: "Russell, come with us. I need your help."
Russell stood there, his heart filled with inner turmoil. He knew he couldn't change the Grey Knights' decision, nor could he save these mortal guards. But he also knew that if he stayed, he would only perish with them.
Finally, Russell sighed helplessly and turned to walk towards the Thunderhawk gunboat. His steps were heavy, as if each one was treading on his own conscience. He dared not look back, dared not look at the defenders who were still fighting bitterly, dared not look into the eyes of the commander.
The hatch of the Thunderhawk gunboat slowly closed, the roar of its engines echoing in the air. Russell sat inside, staring blankly at the ground. His heart was filled with complex emotions—anger, guilt, helplessness, and even a hint of self-loathing.
Astran sat opposite him, his voice calm yet tinged with coldness: "Russell, you must understand that our mission is to save more people, not to waste resources here. Sacrifice is inevitable."
Russell didn't answer, but silently clenched his fists. He knew Astram was right, but that didn't ease the pain in his heart.
The Thunderhawk gunship took off and quickly departed from the Carlos IV. Russell looked through the porthole at the receding battlefield below. Cultist flags fluttered in the wind, the figures of chaotic demons ravaged the battlefield, and the figures of the mortal defenders had disappeared into the smoke and flames.
He closed his eyes, his heart filled with complex emotions. He knew that this defeat was only the beginning; the real battle lay ahead. For the Emperor, for the future of humanity, he had to continue fighting—even if it meant facing such choices time and time again.