Chapter 213 212: Who is dead?
Huron remarked sarcastically.
But listening to the voice over the radio, the Lamenters, who had already prepared themselves to die, stared blankly at the radio, only realizing what was happening after a long while.
What does that mean?
We can evacuate?!
The crowd instantly looked up at the sky, and only then did they realize that the fleet attacking the Tyranid Swarm above their heads...
Seemed to be a bit too numerous!
So much so that the Tyranid Swarm, which should have always maintained a numerical advantage, was actually at a one-to-one parity with the enemy ships in space.
And without their numbers, the battle in space became more like a slaughter.
With Light Lances, Macro Cannons, and drop pods falling like dense meteors, the Tyranid ground units on the planet finally began to be wiped out in large swathes.
The Tyranid Swarm, which had once left Malakin gasping for air, finally disappeared from the sight of the Lamenters for the first time.
Countless Mortal refugees excitedly ran out from where they had been hiding, cheering excitedly and constantly waving their arms at the sky.
Even after the Tyranids around the Lamenters were eliminated, a large number of Transports flew down from orbit.
Amidst the growing excitement of the refugees, a large number of Imperial Guardsmen ran out from them, delivering much-needed food and medicine while re-occupying the high walls to guard against any possible scattered Tyranid Swarm.
The emptied Transports prioritized taking away women and children, sending them to the safer fleet.
There was no need to send the elderly, because no Mortal could live to old age in the Imperium.
The refugees were overjoyed, but looking at the fleet above and the Transports flying before them...
Although many of them had been repainted with the black livery of the Sith Legion, many Transports that had not yet been repainted still retained their original Chaos or pirate markings.
Especially one of the Red Corsairs Transports; as the Lamenters who had been severely screwed over by Huron, they were all too familiar with it.
If it weren't for the fact that the vast majority of the surrounding Transports were in the black Imperial livery, and the Imperial Guardsmen running out were also equipped with standard Astra Militarum gear...
The Lamenters would have already opened fire on this group of strange troops.
"Thank you."
Before boarding the evacuation Transports, a group of refugees bowed respectfully to Malakin and the surviving Lamenters to thank them. A girl even held up a bunch of local wildflowers with both hands, handing them with anticipation to the 'angels' who had protected them and fought until now.
Malakin did not have the coldness of other Astartes; he knelt on one knee with his severely wounded body, and after removing his helmet, a kind and gentle smile appeared on his handsome, melancholic face.
Facing the girl who gave him the flowers, Malakin carefully took them from her small hands, then solemnly placed them into his chest piece before smiling gently:
"Thank you, too."
The girl was excited and happily threw herself back into her mother's arms, glancing over and curiously observing this group of absolute heroes in her world.
Until a light cough came from the side; the refugees took one look, then turned and ran into the Transport in a panic.
Malakin also looked over. Van Roth looked at his own Inquisition attire and the warm scene just now, which felt as if it didn't belong in the Imperium, and smiled quite awkwardly.
Seeing that an Inquisitor had arrived, Malakin, who had dealt with them many times, finally stood up straight again.
Clenching his right hand into a fist and striking his chest, Malakin bowed his head respectfully:
"Lord Inquisitor."
The remaining Lamenters also followed their Chapter Master in saluting. In the past, Van Roth would have accepted it graciously.
But now, with the special attention of the Sith, how could Van Roth dare to be negligent towards this group of'Sons of Misfortune'?
After all, as long as the Sith was watching, even if the Lamenters were truly cursed with misfortune, compared to the luck the Sith had had along the way, it didn't seem that bad.
At least they wouldn't just fight apocalyptic battles!
Van Roth turned his body to only accept half the salute.
Then, after waiting for Malakin and the surviving Lamenters to straighten up, he pointed to a gunship Transport with a unique black and gold livery:
"Let's go, the Sith is waiting for you."
The gunship roared and lifted off, accompanied by intense, scattering heat waves.
The remaining bio-ships overhead were being torn apart under dense cannon fire, and the orbit was paved with endless biological corpses, along with some mixed-in ship wreckage.
Although not without casualties, seeing the completely disproportionate exchange ratio outside the porthole, Malakin felt increasingly curious about the orac that was getting closer and larger above.
Until the gunship landed steadily on the huge hangar deck of the orac, and when Malakin stepped down, a cheer arose from the refugees around him.
Malakin looked over to find a large number of refugees actually receiving simple bandaging and food on the deck.
Not only had they survived, but they were enjoying a standard of living that was extremely difficult to enjoy in a Hive City.
That was, being able to receive medical treatment and eat hot food.
This scene immediately sparked Malakin's goodwill toward the owner of this fleet, and then, amidst the sound of 'claps' as everyone around instantly stood at attention and saluted, a voice with a hint of curiosity came from behind:
"Why didn't you evacuate according to the plan?"
Malakin looked back to see a Mortal in gilded silver armor with a kind face, quietly watching him.
However, everyone around, whether they were Astartes, veteran Terminators, or that Inquisitor, all showed great respect to this Mortal.
Even Huron, who was hiding behind the crowd with an awkward expression, bowed his head respectfully.
Huron and Malakin could be considered old acquaintances.
Malakin knew that this person was the leader of the fleet; regardless of whether the other party's status was higher than his own, or because the Sith's act of saving Mortals won his respect, Malakin also saluted the Sith with equal respect.
Clenching his right hand into a fist and striking his chest, he looked up amidst the dull sound of ceramite and replied:
"The Imperium requires every planet to personally exterminate their own world."
"They all executed it, we did not."
A simple sentence, but it elicited different reactions from those around them.
Huron was bored, while Van Roth looked at this group of Astartes who dared to defy the will of Terra.
Only in the eyes of the Sith did more approval appear.
Perhaps because of his soul from another world, the Sith often subconsciously wanted to find humanity in the galaxy.
"Why do you have to personally exterminate your own world?"
Van Roth spoke with a not-so-good attitude, while Malakin, facing the Inquisitor, took out a projector from his chest and opened it in front of the Sith.
In the image, there were two tentacles, one above and one below, spreading towards Terra on a galactic scale.
At this moment, the position where the Sith was located was merely a branch of the branches of these two massive tentacles.
And on the path that the two tentacles must take, there were large areas that automatically turned gray, the isolation zones.
This was exactly the information that Guilliman had sent to the Sith that day.
To create an isolation zone and guide the Tyranids to other regions, the Imperial worlds in the gray zone had to be completely destroyed.
Van Roth opened his mouth but couldn't find words to reply, bowing his head again, while the Sith silently watched the image in the projection and turned his attention back to the present.
"This is not your active sector. Who brought you here? Where are they now?"
The Sith asked a more realistic question, but the faces of Malakin and the surrounding Lamenters, who had been somewhat relaxed, instantly turned pale.
Malakin even swallowed dryly, and only then, as if recalling some terrifying memory, spoke stiffly:
"Custodes, we came here following a squad of Custodes."
"And they..."
"Are all dead!"
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It might not seem tempting right nobut who knows what the future holds?
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"