Forty thousand years later, he became a god in the warp

Chapter 432: Reorganizing the Remnant Killing Squad

It was delicious. It was the most delicious thing Harold had eaten in decades. The rich flavor directly overwhelmed his taste buds. His malfunctioning tear glands seemed to be crying from the spicy taste, but the sourness and sweetness continued to neutralize it.

His mouth was watered and his appetite was opened. Just as Jackson said, this was a most delicious meal. He absolutely believed that after eating ration packs for several days, there would definitely be soldiers who would fight desperately for this rice bowl.

He was no exception. If he could let his wife and daughter taste such delicious food, he would definitely move forward bravely, obtain military merits, become a high-ranking general, and receive more generous rewards.

But that was later. Now, he had to thank Rebos who had saved him several times, and thank the other party for his generosity, so that he could get this delicacy. Only because of meeting him could he get to where he is today.

"Mr. Re...Rebos, this is the freshly cooked ant bull rice. I don't have anything else to thank you for. Please eat it."

Bowing in thanks, and raising his hands, Harold gave the best he had, though he was starving, though he wanted to eat badly.

"Raise your hands."

Rebos spoke without emotion, and Harold subconsciously held the bowl in his right hand and stretched out his modified mechanical left arm.

Dressed in a red robe and a mask, Rebos, who was no different from other technical priests, quickly disassembled his mechanical arm and inserted a cylindrical object into the hollow structure.

Similar to this

"Pulse amplifier. It activates pulses when punching at close range. It can overclock and overload electronic equipment to destroy the system and destroy the enemy's energy shield. It can be recharged with energy magazines."

"Sir Rebos..?"

Harold was stunned. He held the bowl in his right hand and raised his left hand high in the air. He really didn't understand why the other party was so nice to him.

"You...you don't want to eat?"

Rebos had an indifferent look on his face, and the muscles on his face seemed to have lost their function. He just shook his head and turned around to continue tinkering with something on the complex base station.

Harold looked at the lonely back of the other party, and at the other technical priests who were dressed almost the same as him. He only felt endless sadness. It seemed that the other party didn't even need to eat...

"Being able to eat... is such a wonderful thing..."

Since no one else would drive him away anyway, Harold simply sat on the ground and devoured this supreme delicacy while the rice with toppings was still warm.

Life is full of ups and downs. Once again, tears flowed from the corners of my eyes, and this time they were truly filled with joy.

"Sir, you...you are really different. I thought I would be transformed into a combat servant..."

Harold wiped his tears and continued talking while chewing and swallowing.

"Although I was fooled by the Military Affairs Department, the battle situation is not as easy as they said, but it is true that if I hadn't joined the Astra Militarum, my life might have been like that, and my children would probably have followed in my footsteps.

But now I have witnessed the other side of the world, where danger and opportunity go hand in hand. Only when I earn more military merits can the lives of my wife and daughter be greatly improved. This is my responsibility as a husband and a father. "

As Harold spoke, he took out his daughter's canvas from the interlayer of his bulletproof armor and stroked the faded portrait with his fingers. Now he felt that his life had a lot more direction.

"This is a family portrait drawn by my third daughter. It includes me, my wife, my eldest daughter, and my second son. We are a family of five. They live in Hive City No. 11. I miss them... I'm sorry, Lord Rebos, I lost my temper."

Suddenly realizing that his crying was inappropriate in this place, Harold stopped crying and left immediately. If he wanted to provide a better life for his wife and daughter, he had to fight hard on the battlefield.

But because of his coma, he lost all his weapons. If he doesn't hurry to get a new one, he will have to kill orcs with his fists on the battlefield... Of course, he can do it now.

Rebos turned around and calmly watched Harold leave. He was silent for a while, not knowing what he was thinking about. When he came to his senses, he found that his fingers had drawn two vertical lines "11" on the outer shell of the base station.

...

"Everyone listen up, I'm only going to say this once because there are so many of you. You don't want to go into battle naked, do you?"

The quartermaster stood on top of the Lemanus tank, with several speaker skulls broadcasting loudly around him. Groups of soldiers were waiting to apply for various equipment.

Normally, this kind of thing could be reported to the liaison officer in one's own company first, but he was the only one left in a company of a thousand men.

"Now follow my orders, line up in the 6th column and go to the requisition office in front of you to collect and fill out the form. Anyone who disobeys orders will be punished according to military law!"

Harold didn't dare to act rashly, so he could only stand in the crowded queue and quickly follow the crowd to the quartermaster's office. When he saw the quartermaster, he didn't say a word, but just gave him a few forms and asked him to leave immediately.

Looking at the pictures, texts and boxes on the application form, Harold felt a headache. How could he fill out such a thing when he could not read a single word?

"Damn it, why don't you throw away your life? The soldier will now punish you to clean the toilet of the Ogryn team! And remember to fill in the form."

"Sir..."

"Those who can't read should find their own political commissar. If your political commissar is gone, find the one next door. Go!"

The quartermaster ruthlessly interrupted his request, and the pickets used their batons to shove all the soldiers who had received the application forms. Harold had no choice but to hurry back to the account room. Fortunately, the well-fed political commissar did not leave.

"What is that? An application form, right?"

The political commissar took the form from his hand, frowned and said angrily:

"Damn the Military Affairs Department. Although I, as a political commissar, shouldn't say certain things, the reality is so shitty that it's unacceptable..."

The commissar sat on the ammunition box, took out a pencil from his coat pocket, and read carefully:

"Equipment Loss Form...Equipment Damage Form...Equipment Request Form...Ammunition Request Form. Four forms, and only one soldier needs to fill them out. Damn, how can this not be slow!"

Harold could only listen to the political commissar's explanation of the meaning of the words in the table while he hurriedly recalled the situation of his equipment.

"Sent to... From... I know that. The nature of the lost equipment... Unintentional, I know that. What is the number of the lost equipment?"

"Hmm... this seems to be the 345th laser rifle of the 6th assembly line of the Reza East Factory."

"Oh, RZ-E113-6-345..lost location?"

"Um...it should be about ten days ago, when Mr. Rebos came."

"Yes, E34°, W121°, Ruins Point 774."

"Reporter... Harold Scott. Details... I'll write this for you. I have to sign it anyway. Next one, the equipment damage form."

Various forms, cannot be filled out, and may not be sent after filling out

The two of them asked and answered questions, and it took them half an hour to fill out the four forms in their hands. Harold saluted and thanked him, saying that he would live up to the political commissar's expectations, and then took the forms back to the quartermaster's office.

The quartermaster took it, glanced at it, and threw it into a pile of document boxes. Then he took out a pile of regimental flag newspapers from another document box on the left and handed them to Harold, saying:

"You are from the 119th Regiment, right? You will soon follow the other regiments and move forward. Everyone in your regiment must read this regimental flag newspaper carefully.

Also, this one, the Military Affairs Department is recruiting a killing team to carry out the great will of the God-Emperor and slaughter those damned orc leaders. If the mission goes well, you can apply for a vacation in the city of Hive City No. 11."

"take a vacation?!"

Harold's ears pricked up immediately, and it seemed that the city where he was born was used as a vacation spot. How could he not seize such an opportunity? So he pushed everyone away and ran back to the tent.

At this time, the political commissar was communicating with the communicator. Judging from his sad expression, the news brought by the other party was not gratifying. Slap and Jackson next to him were also gloomy and unhappy.

"Understood. I will gather my soldiers for the pre-war mobilization. Thank you for your hard work. This is for the Emperor."

The political commissar ended the question and answer session and looked at Harold who had rushed back. Seeing his joyful face, he couldn't help but sigh and said:

"It's another shitty reality... The superiors have assigned us new regimental officers and a large number of conscripts, and merged them with the other 12 crippled corps to form a new corps, with an unprecedented number of 3 people."

"Well..is this a good thing?"

"It's a good thing. Of course it's a great thing. The equipment provided is definitely guns and cannons, and the damn logistics supply is no longer just ration packs. It's a good thing... a good thing..."

Jackson kicked over the ammunition box, then sat down on the camp bed and sighed. Sleep patted Harold on the back and said with emotion:

“You have been here for a short time and do not understand the meaning of this. Moreover, you are not very literate and cannot understand the contents of the regiment flag newspaper.

The integration of the remaining troops and pre-war mobilization all mean that there is a new battle plan. The situation that has been stable for a long time will be turbulent again. The battle line needs to be advanced, and the battle zone needs to be transferred... people will die... many, many people will die."

Before he finished speaking, Slep took the stack of regimental newspapers and began to explain to Harold that the name of the regimental newspaper was "Drop and Take Cover" and their next battle zone would be the orc garbage city on the outskirts.

Translate in the next

Translation of the previous image

A large number of orc artillerymen will hide in their defense lines and continuously bombard approaching troops. As for troops like them that were formed before the war and have a large number of conscripts, the only role they can play is probably to consume the enemy's ammunition reserves.

"After 10 days, I think the entire stronghold will come out in full force, and there will definitely be more than one...millions of people."

The political commissar spoke with great emotion, and Harold's excitement was completely blown away. He had seen millions of dollars, and he had seen three or five thousand of them. However, when he thought about so many people coming one after another, he felt unexpectedly calm.

"Commissar... since they are all dangerous, I want to join the kill team."

Three pairs of eyes looked at the suddenly brave warrior. Perhaps ignorance is fearless. A soldier who had only experienced a few battles was bold enough to want to join the killing team.

"Do you think the Killing Squad is a place that anyone can go? Going deep into the rear, fighting alone, there are only a few people who can survive out of the millions, but the Killing Squad is always dead!"

The commissar's shout made Harold stagger, but thinking about what Jackson said about the impossible vacation, he had to choose to join the killing team and give it a try.

"I, Harold, was born with a bad fate. Since I might die anyway, I might as well give it my all and choose the one with a higher reward. Political Commissar, please agree to let me join the Killing Squad!"

This was the truth. Jackson slapped his thigh and agreed with what he said. He stamped his feet, stood next to Harold and said:

"Fuck... To be honest, it's the same for me. Since we're going to die anyway, I might as well die gloriously. It's too depressing to be cannon fodder. Let me go, too, Political Commissar."

The political commissar looked at the two people who volunteered, and then turned to Slep, who was cleaning his gun nearby. The other party closed his eyes and nodded. It was unclear whether he agreed with the two people's ideas or wanted to join in.

"Shit, if I wasn't the commissar, I would have gone too... and now I'm just a lousy signatory. Go ahead, take my letter of recommendation, and join the Killing Team."

...

If any readers have traveled to the Warhammer world, here is a completed form for you to copy.

Although the Military Affairs Department is sending out invitations to heroes in the hope of recruiting more members of the killing squad, this kind of organization only recruits the elite among the elites.

The purpose of providing high-value equipment is to enable you to complete high-value tasks. If you don't know anything about it and expose your target and get killed before you even sneak into the target, the loss caused will be too painful.

By the time Harold and the other two arrived, Steel Sand Snape's name was well-known, and coupled with the strength of the Lightling sniper, the Military Affairs Department was eager to beg him to join them.

"It's just a different place to shoot. Besides, stealth is what I do best."

Jackson's side was also unusually smooth. Although everyone thought it would be difficult, he showed off to everyone. No matter what kind of Empire vehicle it was, he would start at 180 miles per hour. The tank drifted more smoothly than the guys in the Iron Fist class.

"As for cars, I can learn anything with wheels."

"I see, I see, you are all talented people, what about you, Sergeant?"

The quartermaster looked at Harold with a smile, hoping that the sergeant label on the other party did not represent that he was a rookie soldier, and that underneath his unprepossessing and honest appearance was a heart that hated aliens.

"me..."

Harold didn't expect that he couldn't join directly even with a letter of recommendation. There were also many people who came with letters of recommendation from their own political commissars, and they all had to go through layers of selection again.

"Oh, I have this!" Harold raised his left arm and showed the electronic device modified by Rebos.

"This is a modified mechanical arm. Lord Rebos said it can send out electronic pulses to destroy the enemy's electronic equipment. Like this."

Harold said this, and slapped the lever on the robotic arm with his right hand. After a "click", he aimed his arm at the servo skull in the sky.

After a dull throbbing sound, the skull fell to the ground. Then came the sounds of other people falling to the ground one after another.

"I..I didn't expect it to be so powerful."