The heavy logging guns used for supervision did indeed work, but the effect was completely different from what Elias had expected.
The instinct for survival is powerful, and the wisdom of the hive city's underclass thugs often manifests in these devious ways. As the saying goes, 'above there are policies, below there are counterasures.'
The cultists, driven back by death, quickly discovered an excellent 'loophole' after charging a certain distance. One cultist, after a stray bullet grazed his scalp, stumbled and fell to the ground in fright.
He was horrified to find that, once he was prone, most of the laser barrages fired from the opposite trenches whistled over his head, greatly reducing the hit rate!
Even better, as long as he didn't stand up and run back, the heavy logging guns of the supervisory team behind him wouldn't target him!
He imdiately lay motionless on the ground, his hands covering his head, his body pressed tightly against the blood-stained earth, like a startled ostrich.
This brilliant discovery was quickly imitated by others.
Thus, an extrely comical scene unfolded on the battlefield. The cultist army, which had originally charged like a tide, after suffering a small number of casualties, all lay down. They lay in swathes on the open ground a hundred ters away from the players' position, as if performing so bizarre ritual of worship.
They neither advanced nor retreated, rely wriggling on the ground. Occasionally, a few unlucky ones were taken out by players' fragntation grenades or precise single shots, but large-scale casualties were indeed curbed.
Capturing the players' position? That now beca an even more fantastical notion. The entire offensive completely stalled.
Elias watched this scene from above, trembling with rage, his lungs feeling as if they would explode.
Casualties, in his view, were the least worth ntioning. What he wanted was victory, overwhelming force, advancent! Not to watch his army play dead on the ground like a group of terrified maggots!
"Useless! A bunch of damned cowards!" His sharp, piercing curses echoed across the command platform, "Despicable wretches! Do you really think you can earn the attention of the dark Gods? You don't even qualify as sacrifices!"
He unleashed a torrent of vicious curses at the prone believers, but they either couldn't hear him or, if they did, dared not move.
After his outburst, Elias's cold rationality regained the upper hand. He realized that relying on these useless individuals was impossible. To save face, to take this damned position, he could only rely on himself.
"A bunch of ants, daring to defy my will?" He hissed in a low growl, purple psychic flas rising around him, "Let personally descend and teach you ants, who still believe in the Corpse Emperor, what true power is! The will of the dark Gods cannot be defied!"
Before his words finished, Elias's figure transford into a purple streak of light, leaping decisively from the high platform!
He crashed like a teor into the center of the players' position, the ground beneath his feet cracking in response. A violent psychic shockwave erupted from him, and the first few players in its path, without even ti to react, were sent flying, bleeding from their orifices.
This sudden turn of events stunned all the players.
And Elias gave them no chance to breathe. He raised his staff, purple lightning dancing in his eyes.
"Die!"
A twisted purple lightning bolt descended from the sky, precisely striking a player attempting to raise his gun. The player instantly beca a smoking, charred human form, along with the lasgun in his hand, which lted into molten tal.
Imdiately after, Elias waved his hand, and three screaming psychic missiles materialized out of thin air, whistling into another player-dense firing point. A violent explosion sent dust skyward, and the cover, sandbags, and several players there were all obliterated.
In the blink of an eye, more than a dozen unprepared players were killed, each in a horrifying manner, creating a grueso scene.
Watching his handiwork, seeing these "Astra Militarum Soldiers" so fragile under his psychic power, the frustration in Elias's heart vanished, replaced by an unparalleled sense of exhilaration. He spread his arms and let out a hearty, maniacal laugh: "Corpse Emperor's lackeys! Suffer! Wail! And then die!"
As for the players' reactions... "Oh my god, how did this boss suddenly co down?"
"Zero-fra startup, not even a cutscene! Shouldn't he usually make so arrogant speech from the platform and wait for us to be ready before jumping down?"
"Damn it, why use psychic lightning of all things! My lasgun and bulletproof armor, which I just exchanged for rits, are gone again! How long will it take to grind that back?"
"Man, you're dead and you're still worried about equipnt?"
"Nonsense! A person is dead, but in ten seconds they're a good man again; equipnt gone is truly gone!"
"To hell with this palpatine knock off! Let's beat his ass!"
Elias reveled in the pleasure of the slaughter, waving his staff as if conducting a symphony of death and destruction. Purple lightning and explosive fire intertwined, transforming this small position into a mortal hell.
However, after so killing, he awkwardly discovered that sothing seed amiss.
The anticipated scene of the enemies collapsing, fleeing, and crying for their mothers did not occur. After the initial chaos, these Astra Militarum Soldiers not only showed little fear of him, but instead... the look in their eyes was filled with an emotion he completely failed to comprehend.
It wasn't hatred, nor despair, but a kind of... longing, mixed with greed and excitent?
It was as if a pack of hungry wolves had seen a piece of fat at fall from the sky.
With a powerful shout that cut through the battlefield's clamor: "Kill the boss! Get exp! Exchange for Poison Blades!"
The atmosphere of the entire battlefield instantly changed.
"Damn! Man, that's so catchy, are you going to take the postgraduate entrance exam?"
The players, who had just been scrambling to escape Elias's pursuit, laughed and chanted slogans he didn't understand, while simultaneously and unanimously turning their guns, aiming every weapon they could fire at him.
"Whoosh whoosh whoosh—"
"Bang bang bang—"
Lasers, live ammunition... hundreds of thousands of attacks, like a torrential downpour, poured in from all directions, instantly engulfing Elias's figure.
A purple psychic shield instantly unfurled before him, like an indestructible eggshell. The dense attacks struck the shield, creating dazzling ripples, but failed to harm him in the slightest.
Elias sneered contemptuously; the shield's strength gave him boundless confidence.
However, when he saw the cultists, who had just mustered a flicker of courage and were preparing to charge with him, once again decisively duck their heads and continue playing dead on the ground after seeing this terrifying concentrated fire, his recently cald rage reignited.
"Useless!" He roared in the direction of the cultists, while also shouting at the players, "Your attacks are aningless against ! I'm completely invulnerable! Fools"
He had expected this powerful declaration to crush the enemy's morale, but what answered him was the players' gazes, as if they were looking at an idiot.
This look set off alarm bells in Elias's heart. Sensing sothing was wrong, he suddenly looked behind him.
A figure, he saw, had silently crept up behind him at so point, standing in the blind spot not covered by his psychic shield.
That person was the Mua'dib. His body was densely covered with fragntation grenades taped and tied on, and he had two anti-vehicle magnetic bombs strapped to his chest, making him look like a walking arsenal.
At this mont, he held a large handful of pins he had just pulled from the grenades.
The mont their eyes t, the Mua'dib grinned and roared, lunging at Elias: "For the GOD EMPEROR, I shall beco a firefly!"
Boom—!!!
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