lcionline Chapter 297 The Orcs' Big Adventure
Chapter 297 The Orcs' Big Adventure
On the wasteland of Case IV, White Scar soldiers used explosive guns to drive piles and chainsaws to cut steel bars. Next to the rebuilt fortress skeleton, metal plates dug out of the ruins were piled up. Casal was hammering the foundation with a power hammer when he suddenly heard the roar of an engine in the distance—Russell rode a modified motorcycle up the slope, the rear wheel kicking up a three-meter-high cloud of dust, and accurately threw a bundle of steel bars onto the construction platform.
"Tenth time!" Russell said, swinging the car to a stop with one foot on the ground, the Bloodthirster shovel stuck in the back seat like a flag. "This is much faster than a handcart."
Arya, who was mixing concrete, looked up and chuckled, her psionic tentacles curling up the cement bucket: "Try using a motorcycle to mix it next time? Your golden arcs might be able to serve as a mixing rod."
On the training field at dusk, Russell was racing a motorcycle slalom with a White Scar recruit. Just as the front of his motorcycle crossed the finish line, he suddenly noticed someone on the back seat—Arya had appeared out of nowhere using her psionic powers, her arms wrapped around his waist.
“You were speeding,” her breath brushed past Russell’s ear. “According to Section 3 of the White Scar Traffic Act, speeders must give psionicists a three-lap ride.”
The onlookers, the white-scarred warriors, whistled, and Casal fired his explosive rifle into the air like a salute: "Three laps around the field! Or I'll dock your oil rations!"
Russell's golden arc of electricity nearly burned through the accelerator: "Hold on tight, psychic fine officer!"
On the rooftop of the fortress in the dead of night, Arya projected a star map using her psionic tentacles. Russell, munching on an energy bar, grumbled, "You said the starry sky over the grasslands was beautiful last time, but now it's all just cement dust."
“This is the romance of the Warhammer universe.” Arya’s fingertip lit up a ball of psionic light, and a vision of their first meeting appeared in the halo. “At least it’s much gentler than the welcoming ceremony back then.”
Russell suddenly shoveled his entrenching tool into the still-wet cement roof: "Now let's add something more formal—" He tore off half of his cloak and wrapped it into a cloth flower, "The first bouquet of roses from Case IV, a cement-scented special edition."
Arya's laughter startled the mechanical ravens that were perched in the distance.
“This is the seventh bathroom I’ve fixed this week!” Casal slammed his White Tiger Blade onto the dining table. “Why do those kids always like to carve ‘White Scar Motorbike Cult’ graffiti on the walls?”
Russell was spreading jam on bread: "Maybe it's because your 'super cool motorcycle horn idea' is so popular?"
Arya's psionic tentacles snatched away Casal's energy drink: "Suggestion: Change it to an automatic graffiti-washing system—use your treasured Wolf Pack anthem as the washing sound."
Three months later, at the fortress's completion banquet, the White Scar warriors roasted beast meat with hot melt guns and clinked oil drums like wine glasses. Russell and Arya sat on the edge of the newly built watchtower, their feet tracing the winding tire tracks of the racing training ground.
“Seriously,” Russell said, shaking the skewers on his entrenching tool, “would you still get paid if you went back to the Temple of the Psionic Powers now?”
Arya's psionic tentacles stole his barbecue: "No pay, but a long-term mission—to monitor a demolition office director who can unleash lightning."
Casal, in the distance, suddenly sneezed, and the roasted lizard on his White Tiger Blade fell into the fire: "Who's talking about my motorcycle plan again?!"
The night wind swept across the grassland, and the fortress's searchlights swept across the starry sky. These were precious moments during the lull in the fighting—enough for soldiers to remember why they fought, and for ordinary people to believe that there is still starlight in the shadows.
…………
On the morning of Case IV, the alarm of White Scar Fortress shattered the silence. Casal's White Tiger Blade cleaved through the holographic projection, and the distress signal of the Cadian Legion flashed in the air.
"Orcs? What are those greenskins up to now?" Kassar's voice carried a hint of excitement. "Brothers, get ready for a race!"
Upon hearing the news, Russell was overjoyed and said, "Finally, I have the chance to try out the newly modified motorcycle."
Arya's psionic tentacles curled up the tactical board: "According to intelligence, the orcs' 'Big Rampage' is a super-large war machine that is attacking Kadian's defenses."
The roar of the White Scar warriors' motorcycle engines was deafening, and Casal's White Tiger Blade drew a silver streak in the air: "Brothers, let's unleash a new storm on the grasslands!"
Russell's golden arcs of electricity flowed beneath his skin, and the serrated edge of the Bloodthirsty entrenching tool gleamed coldly: "For the Emperor, for White Scar!"
Arya's psionic tendrils gently brushed against Russell's wrist, her voice carrying a hint of tenderness: "Be careful, don't crash into the mud again."
On the wastelands of Kadian, the orc war convoy surged like a green tide toward the White Scar warriors' motorcycles.
"Spread out!" Casal's voice crackled through the comms. "Let them taste the speed of Whitescar!"
Russell's golden arcs of electricity crackled on his motorcycle as the serrated edge of his Bloodthirster shovel cleaved open an orc's skull. His motorcycle weaved through enemy lines, golden arcs of electricity weaving a dazzling trail of light in the air.
Arya's psionic tentacles swayed gently in the air, her voice tinged with a hint of mockery: "Russell, your motorcycle skills have improved again."
Russell's voice carried a hint of teasing: "That's because you're watching me from behind."
Kassar's White Tiger Blade cleaved through an orc war chariot, the motorcycle engine roaring deafeningly. His voice crackled through the comms: "Brothers, focus fire! Attack their command vehicle!"
The roar of the White Scar warriors' motorcycle engines suddenly intensified as they charged toward the orc's command vehicle.
"For the Emperor!" Russell's voice was like thunder, and golden arcs of electricity erupted in the air, turning the command vehicle to ashes.
The orcish war chariots crumbled under the white-scarred warriors' motorcycle charge, and the green tide receded across the wasteland. Kassar's White Tiger Blade flashed silver through the air: "Brothers, we've won!"
The roar of the White Scars' motorcycle engines was deafening, their voices filled with a touch of heroism: "For the Emperor, for the White Scars!"