Starting from the Planetary Governor

Chapter 1730: Chapter 982: Terra Under Siege (Part 2)

No matter what, this is a war, and there will always be our soldiers who perish due to various unexpected situations. The enemy’s scattered firepower at the foot of the mountain suffered losses in the attack and defense, but because of their numbers, they quickly replaced the losses, maintaining fire coverage and occasionally hitting a target.

When they hit the city walls, it’s manageable since the walls of the Terra Imperial Palace can withstand it. However, if they hit the battlements, the soldiers’ cover cannot always protect them adequately.

Not to mention, some fixed fire points would be knocked out.

The only good news is that the supplies of ammunition in the arsenal seem inexhaustible—even if they run out, resupply from the rear is easily accessible.

Currently, in the siege of the Terra Imperial Palace, what the defenders lack most is manpower. There is plenty of weaponry, but there’s no one to deliver it. If needed, they have to send logistics teams or vehicle soldiers back to fetch it.

But these cannot compensate for the loss of fixed fire points.

If the installed turrets are destroyed, repairing them won’t be an easy task during the war.

And every time such a fixed fire point is lost or soldiers die in battle, Zhao Zian’s heart grows heavier.

It means fewer cards in his hand.

And as of today, it’s starting to look like the end of the road.

The enemy seems to have noticed this too, and they launched an unprecedented fierce assault on the city walls and gates.

Zhao Zian’s communication channel is filled with urgent calls from all units.

Bad news of personnel casualties and positions lost came one after another.

"Commander! C7 gun position has been destroyed by Chaos Starfield Warriors climbing up! We had no choice but to detonate the gunner’s explosives, burying those Chaos Traitors in it, but our Company Nine, Platoon Three also perished in there..."

"D4 section wall is cracking! They’re ramming it with a Demon Engine!"

"Alloy gate is in crisis! The siege Demon is on top! What’s the artillery doing?!"

There were troubles everywhere, and everywhere needed more people for support.

Yet, Zhao Zian had no one left at his disposal.

Below the walls, the Sun Legion traitors set up the Heavy Woodcutter Gun and started sweeping the defenders behind the battlements with concentrated armor-piercing rounds, causing sparks to fly off the alloy walls. The defending soldiers could only huddle behind cover, unable to peek out. Meanwhile, the artillery camp behind them, operating the defensive firepower of the walls and the regiment’s heavy weapons, was busy supporting other areas, unable to attend to this side.

Zhao Zian took a deep breath and decided to go himself. He hefted his Blast Bomb Gun, aimed at a traitor leader below setting up a rapid-fire cannon, and fired several rounds, blowing holes in the man’s battered armor.

After finally taking him down, he turned and saw enemies already climbing the walls under cover!

"Bless me, Master!" A young guard soldier shouted as he swung his chain-saw sword with all his might, severing the arm of a Terror Demon Berserker carrying an axe climbing through the bullet storm to the battlements. But in the next second, an enemy from another direction leapt up and pressed a bolter gun to his helmet, pulling the trigger. White bone fragments and red and white matter splashed onto the charred alloy wall.

Zhao Zian swiftly turned and shot their head to pieces.

Then, he continued firing downward until his Blast Bomb Gun was empty.

He ducked back behind cover, took a long breath, and reopened the communication link to headquarters.

After finally connecting, he almost screamed with all his strength: "’Anvil’ is in crisis! Repeat, ’Anvil’ defense core, the third gate regiment defense area is under attack from enemy forces with over twenty times the force and with Interstellar Warrior support! Gun positions are more than half lost! Casualties have reached 50%! We need reinforcements! Repeat, we urgently need reinforcements! Otherwise, the defense line will collapse!"

After a brief crackle of static, a fatigued yet calm voice came through, from the liaison officer at command: "Received, Commander Zhao. Multiple core nodes of the Imperial Palace are under fierce attack, ’Diamond Wall,’ ’Sighing Corridor,’ ’Emperor’s Crown’ outer ring are similarly engaged in bitter struggle, with Nagor plague engines infiltrating multiple areas. The division cannot dispatch any organized reserves. The commander orders: defend at all costs! Buy time for reinforcements! Your sacrifice will be remembered by The Emperor!"

A chilling despair mixed with burning rage surged up Zhao Zian’s throat.

No reinforcements, only "hold" and "sacrifice."

"The Emperor protects!" he growled lowly, cutting off the futile communication and turning to the internal channel of the regiment.

His gaze swept over the piles of remains beneath the wall continually covered by new, frenzied bodies, and his voice, though exceptionally calm, carried a heavy force.

"Headquarters has made it clear, no reinforcements will arrive. The gate beneath our feet is the first and strongest barrier to the inner ring. The enemy wishes to step across here to boast their desecration to the Imperial Guard!"

"They are mistaken!" he raised his voice sharply, almost shaking the noise-canceling system inside his Feedback-Type Power Armor helmet, "They face the walls of The Emperor! They face the guardians of the Terra Imperial Palace! Tell these foolish wretches with their blood, that anyone who covets the Imperial Palace—must die! Even if we all fall here in battle, make these Terror Demon scum understand that for every one of our lives they take, they must pay tenfold, a hundredfold! Shed every last drop of blood for The Emperor, here and now! Anvil! Indestructible!"

The remaining defenders erupted in earth-shaking roars, despair turning into the power of resolve: "Indestructible! For The Emperor!"

Despite their nearly desperate situation, their morale remained high.

The palace guards, as Mortal Troops directly commanded by the Imperial Guard, received some of the best training and equipment, with a particularly high distribution rate of Feedback-Type Power Armor, and their assortments of weapons were plentiful, making them top-tier forces even within the Star Realm Army.

Plus, they had the courage to face death in desperate situations.

The heavy weapons outside were being precisely marked and eliminated by the defenders’ artillery, who, despite sustaining substantial casualties, continued to hold their positions on the wall.

Even though, the enemy had already charged up.

A squad of the strongest Terror Demon Berserkers, clad in armor soaked in flesh and blood, climbed the walls braving the bullet storm pouring down from above.

Melee combat began.

Chain-saw swords roared, Power Axes swung, Blast Bomb Guns roared and spewed flames at point-blank range, each collision of weaponry sparking bright flashes and fragments.

Blood splattered across the cold alloy floor, then was trampled into black sludge by countless boots.

The defenders, with a resolve for certain death, lunged even when having lost limbs, using teeth or the grenades held in their remaining hands, to tackle the enemies and fall off the wall together.

Their will was so tenacious, but the fact that there was a breach in the wall’s defense was undeniable.

More enemies surged up.

These Chaos foes, having expended so many lives, finally glimpsed the dawn of victory, naturally refused to give up easily.

But Zhao Zian was not there.

He was on an even more crucial battlefield.

Zhao Zian personally led his guard down from the walls, to the creaking alloy gate of the inner layer.

Each strike of the battering ram driven by the Demon Engine caused the heavy bolts to emit a harsh metallic groan, the thick gate already riddled with terrifying dents as smoldering breaths seeped in from the gaps.

The repeatedly scorched alloy gate, amidst one last terrifying collision accompanied by the deafening sound of metal tearing, catastrophically collapsed inward, raising a cloud of dust as Zhao Zian and the guard rushed forward like iron thrown into a forge without hesitation.

The sound of Blast Bomb Gun firing at point-blank range was as dense as a torrential downpour, chain-saw swords held their ground against thicker, twisted axes inscribed with desecration runes, every clash eliciting dazzling flashes and metal fragments.

Zhao Zian displayed remarkable combat skills, consecutively slaying three Terror Chaos Cultists, but his Feedback-Type Power Armor was covered with alarming dents and gaps, his shoulder plate cleaved off by a passing large axe.

He saw a young soldier suffering a heavy blow from a Terror Cultist, being cleaved open by a Chainsaw Axe, his innards instantly churned to bits and sprayed out; he saw another veteran detonating all the Thermite Bombs strapped to him, becoming a blinding small sun in the densest area of the enemy, instantly clearing a large swath ahead, yet the place was quickly filled by more frenzied foes from behind.

The remaining defenders gathered around their commander, forming a despairing yet determined circle.

Every second, someone fell. Each swing of a sword might be the end.