Starting from the Planetary Governor

Chapter 1754: Chapter 995: The Poisoned Dagger and the Warhammer

Recounting the past of iron and blood. Draped in crimson battle armor symbolizing nobility and sacrifice, with a visage seemingly sculpted into stone by time and endless wars, stood Dante, the Battle Group Leader of the Blood Angels, alongside Raymond Vis, the Battle Group Leader of the Saints, his entire body covered in indigo and silvery-white paint, with sacred runes flowing faintly. At the other end of the tactical holotable, the nauseating yellow-green wave representing the Nagor Demon Army had almost engulfed the entire northern hemisphere of Terra, leaving only a small patch of golden area representing the Emperor’s Glory, isolated within the inner ring of the Imperial Palace and its surrounding areas. The blazing white arrow signifying the main force of the allied army was thrusting out from within, its sharpness aimed directly at the core of that filthy yellow-green vortex—the former Imperial Prime Minister, now fully turned into Nagor’s embrace, the Demon Prince, Zebert. "We are the poisoned dagger, delivered from the shadows, straight to the heart of corruption," Martins’ voice was as low and steady as magma surging from the depths of the earth, possessing a strange resonance as if hundreds of souls were whispering in the armor together. This voice echoed within the command post converted from a small medical station, easily penetrating the faint, incessant explosions coming from afar. "His Majesty the Regent King wields immense power, demolishing fortresses from the front, piercing through the layers of decayed barriers. Our mission, however, is to attack from the rotting and bloated flank—" His thickly armored, fine gold-covered fingers suddenly jabbed at the holotable, the point falling precisely on the wing of the sharp arrow of the main force, at a section marked as the ’Hills of Suffering’ in the nest capital ruins. "From here we break in, piercing through the fragile defenses, directly arriving at the side of Zebert’s desecrated throne. This plan should be a surprise attack, swift as lightning, targeting its lifeline. However..." He looked up, the scarlet glow beneath his helmet sweeping over the two veteran and prestigious founding Battle Group Leaders, like molten steel. "The battlefield is a swirling storm of toxicity. If the front edge is halted by its pus-filled walls, if that decaying beast senses the blade upon its throat... then this dagger must transform into a hammer!" The words "hammer" left his lips with the decisiveness of a collapsing mountain, causing the air to tremble. "Your will is the direction of our blade." Raymond Vis struck his right fist against his chest, the sacred humming flowing through his armor recounting the past of iron and blood. Draped in crimson battle armor symbolizing nobility and sacrifice, with a visage seemingly sculpted into stone by time and endless wars, stood Dante, the Battle Group Leader of the Blood Angels, alongside Raymond Vis, the Battle Group Leader of the Saints, his entire body covered in indigo and silvery-white paint, with sacred runes flowing faintly. At the other end of the tactical holotable, the nauseating yellow-green wave representing the Nagor Demon Army had almost engulfed the entire northern hemisphere of Terra, leaving only a small patch of golden area representing the Emperor’s Glory, isolated within the inner ring of the Imperial Palace and its surrounding areas. The blazing white arrow signifying the main force of the allied army was thrusting out from within, its sharpness aimed directly at the core of that filthy yellow-green vortex—the former Imperial Prime Minister, now fully turned into Nagor’s embrace, the Demon Prince, Zebert. "We are the poisoned dagger, delivered from the shadows, straight to the heart of corruption," Martins’ voice was as low and steady as magma surging from the depths of the earth, possessing a strange resonance as if hundreds of souls were whispering in the armor together. This voice echoed within the command post converted from a small medical station, easily penetrating the faint, incessant explosions coming from afar. "His Majesty the Regent King wields immense power, demolishing fortresses from the front, piercing through the layers of decayed barriers. Our mission, however, is to attack from the rotting and bloated flank—" His thickly armored, fine gold-covered fingers suddenly jabbed at the holotable, the point falling precisely on the wing of the sharp arrow of the main force, at a section marked as the ’Hills of Suffering’ in the nest capital ruins. "From here we break in, piercing through the fragile defenses, directly arriving at the side of Zebert’s desecrated throne. This plan should be a surprise attack, swift as lightning, targeting its lifeline. However..." He looked up, the scarlet glow beneath his helmet sweeping over the two veteran and prestigious founding Battle Group Leaders, like molten steel. "The battlefield is a swirling storm of toxicity. If the front edge is halted by its pus-filled walls, if that decaying beast senses the blade upon its throat... then this dagger must transform into a hammer!" The words "hammer" left his lips with the decisiveness of a collapsing mountain, causing the air to tremble. "Your will is the direction of our blade." Raymond Vis struck his right fist against his chest, the sacred humming flowing through his armor recounting the past of iron and blood. Draped in crimson battle armor symbolizing nobility and sacrifice, with a visage seemingly sculpted into stone by time and endless wars, stood Dante, the Battle Group Leader of the Blood Angels, alongside Raymond Vis, the Battle Group Leader of the Saints, his entire body covered in indigo and silvery-white paint, with sacred runes flowing faintly. At the other end of the tactical holotable, the nauseating yellow-green wave representing the Nagor Demon Army had almost engulfed the entire northern hemisphere of Terra, leaving only a small patch of golden area representing the Emperor’s Glory, isolated within the inner ring of the Imperial Palace and its surrounding areas. The blazing white arrow signifying the main force of the allied army was thrusting out from within, its sharpness aimed directly at the core of that filthy yellow-green vortex—the former Imperial Prime Minister, now fully turned into Nagor’s embrace, the Demon Prince, Zebert. "We are the poisoned dagger, delivered from the shadows, straight to the heart of corruption," Martins’ voice was as low and steady as magma surging from the depths of the earth, possessing a strange resonance as if hundreds of souls were whispering in the armor together. This voice echoed within the command post converted from a small medical station, easily penetrating the faint, incessant explosions coming from afar. "His Majesty the Regent King wields immense power, demolishing fortresses from the front, piercing through the layers of decayed barriers. Our mission, however, is to attack from the rotting and bloated flank—" His thickly armored, fine gold-covered fingers suddenly jabbed at the holotable, the point falling precisely on the wing of the sharp arrow of the main force, at a section marked as the ’Hills of Suffering’ in the nest capital ruins. "From here we break in, piercing through the fragile defenses, directly arriving at the side of Zebert’s desecrated throne. This plan should be a surprise attack, swift as lightning, targeting its lifeline. However..." He looked up, the scarlet glow beneath his helmet sweeping over the two veteran and prestigious founding Battle Group Leaders, like molten steel. "The battlefield is a swirling storm of toxicity. If the front edge is halted by its pus-filled walls, if that decaying beast senses the blade upon its throat... then this dagger must transform into a hammer!" The words "hammer" left his lips with the decisiveness of a collapsing mountain, causing the air to tremble. "Your will is the direction of our blade." Raymond Vis struck his right fist against his chest, the sacred humming flowing through his armor.