"Sir! Please—"
Facing the woman kneeling on the ground crying with the baby in her arms, the political commissar Millard raised his pistol coldly, and shot the traitor and the evil seed in her arms at the same time, then turned around and walked towards the next one, leaving more than a dozen corpses behind him.
Capture is meaningless, and the superior's instructions are to kill them.
"Imperial Dog! Your pseudo-Emperor will curse you too!"
The man with his hands broken leaned against the wall, spitting out blood foam in anger, and Millard shot through the other person's head.
Heretics have only madness, and their destination is death.
Benevolence means betrayal.
After the execution of the last prisoner, the political commissar turned around and came to a collapsed stone tablet, stepped on his feet, and then wiped the blood and stains on the boots with a cloth to ensure that it was still shiny, and then came to the officers in the fearful gaze of the soldiers.
"Now the traitors have retreated to their evil and fallen churches and cellars, and let the soldiers work harder and concentrate the flamethrowers, and we need a great burn to purify this filthy land."
"The political commissar...the soldiers fought for three hours in a row and were very tired. Anyway, the traitors had no way to escape..."
Faced with the officer's excuse, the political commissar rolled his eyes. He knew what the other party had. The soldiers were looking for anything valuable from door to door. They were bleeding and naturally did not want to come in vain, even in this bottom nest, there was only poverty and depravity.
This is the legion recruited by the Great Vortex locally. From officers to soldiers, they lack the discipline and will of steel, so the role of the supervisor is very critical.
The only answer from the political commissar was to press his hand on the handle of the explosive pistol on his waist and throw a look at the officer with "give you a chance to reorganize your language". The other party immediately turned around and greeted the people around him.
"Let your brothers attack quickly! Don't scrape it! The ground is scraped off! The flamethrower team is brought over to me and burn it! Burn everything!"
Under the scolding of the officers, the soldiers had to give up other "works" and concentrate on attacking. Soon a more intense gunfight broke out on the streets, and every step they made their way was subjected to tenacious resistance from the pagans.
Some traitors seemed to have fallen into some religious fanaticism and completely ignored their lives. They foamed at their mouths, their eyes turned white, and their fingers spasm and twitched on the trigger. These loyal citizens of the once inviolable human empire have now become despicable traitors and are carrying out their final stubborn resistance.
The streets were burning, embers were floating in the night sky, laser guns crackled, like the sound of thousands of dry branches breaking, sharp and terrible screams echoed in the ruins, and some traitors hid in their own homes, and the soldiers locked the doors and windows, then lit them out with flamethrowers, watching the people inside flee like rats in burning red tin cans and slapped the doors and windows in despair.
Just as the flames gradually began to devour this small town like a garbage dump, some kind of chanting echoed in the wind, louder and louder and more harsh.
Political Commissar Millard also felt the air become heavier, and even a communication soldier on his right began to moan, and the communicator behind him also made a tremolo.
Suddenly, a soldier emerged from somewhere and almost pounced on him. The political commissar took a step back and kicked the other party down, then pulled out his pistol.
"What are you doing! Are you crazy?"
But the other party just rolled on the ground, his eyes squinted tightly, his mouth widened, and dirty and unfamiliar words kept coming out of his mouth.
The political commissar immediately pushed his explosive pistol on the other party's temple.
"Shut up..."
He growled, with a barbaric world accent in his voice.
But the soldier stumbled and stood up, and his smile spread across his face, sickly and manic, he mumbled, coughed, and spit on the grass, his saliva hissing like a strong sore as it landed, and even the smile on his face grew bigger and bigger until it swallowed the entire cheek.
A sentence was repeated between his lips before he began to scream.
"Revenge has arrived."
The political commissar stared at the man in horror. The man's skin fell off like a python shed, leaving behind a layer of dry folds and dead skin. Only the things under the original skin emitted an evil halo under the fire.
The political commissar felt that he should do something, and raised his pistol with both hands, not knowing that they had already stepped into a huge witchcraft trap.
As the chanting sounds faded away, sick yellow and blood-red mist rose from the ground, black clouds whizzing past his head, and the soldier's dark eyes reflected the storm, which was a terror, malice and unknown darkness.
Then the soldiers around fell down in groups and collapsed to the ground, their bodies were twisted and their eyes flashed with madness. Some prayed to their comrades for the emperor's kindness, while others twisted into new shapes in the grunts and clucks. The soldiers began to shoot at their comrades, and the gunshots came one after another, and the screams never burst out like human mouths and throats.
"What kind of witchcraft trick is this?"
The political commissar screamed, fear taking the last trace of discipline from his voice, the soldiers in front of him had already coughed out their teeth, their chin clicked to the limit, and thick liquid poured out from it, followed by a hand.
So he started shooting, and the pistol sprayed explosive bombs, which he hoped would work until the other hand stretched out after the first hand, and the explosive bomb exploded the man's head.
Then something tear him into half from the inside.
A strange monster rushed out of the fallen corpse, staring at the political commissar with yellow glass-like eyes. It looked like a skinless hunting dog, steaming like a soldier's corpse, covered in blood and dirt. The dirty internal organs slid down from the creature's face. When they met the other party's eyes, the terrible thoughts of blood and killing invaded the political commissar's mind.
This made him panic, and the explosive pistol kept firing.
Hitted by the bomb, the monster retreated for a moment, and then it smiled, its staggered teeth shining in the raging fire.
Then its damn tongue sizzled, and a sword gathered from the bones scattered under its feet, and it took two steps forward, and a soldier tried to escape from it in fear, and the monster immediately cut him in half.
The political commissar took this opportunity to escape from its gaze. He was not going to escape, but to reorganize the soldiers' counterattack.
"Don't be messed up! Don't be messed up! Close the front!"
But worse, the traitors also appeared again. They wore various masks, howling and waving all kinds of rough weapons, rushed out of the evil church and the open cellar, and the soldiers around them who had no cover fell in groups.
Chapter completed!