Starting from the Planetary Governor

Chapter 223: Chapter 161 - The Meaning of Life_2

Everyone was on edge.

They knew that it seemed like war had already broken out. The starship was continuously firing, engaging in battle with the Green Skin Fleet.

This was unlike any war they had experienced before.

In the past, no matter how powerful the enemy or how dire their own situation, it had always been a battle fought on solid ground, with the weapons in their hands. To some extent, their lives were under their own control.

But now, they were who knows how far from their homeland, from their planet, in a place where they were told even light took a long time to travel.

If the naval battle were lost, all of them would be buried in this Star Sea.

But soon, their mission arrived.

He saw the company commander and the political commissar exchange a few words, then the order was given for the entire company to move out.

After walking out for dozens of minutes, amid a violent explosion, he witnessed the squad next to them almost completely engulfed by flames and shrapnel. Immediately afterward, with his head in a whirl, he saw silhouettes charging through the broken breach.

Almost instinctively, he raised his gun and fired in that direction.

Although it had roughly the shape of a person, Lacroix was certain, very familiar, that it was a Green Skin.

Indeed, his firing even saved the life of the company commander. With his lead, many of his comrades around him opened fire, and the Green Skin was quickly killed on the spot under concentrated fire.

However, more Green Skins, stepping over the still-burning flames, charged in.

A bloody battle thus unexpectedly erupted at close quarters.

There was no heavy firepower, no cannons, no armored vehicles... In the environment inside a starship, it was difficult to deploy such things.

All they had were the guns in their hands and wills of steel.

As more and more Green Skins poured in, it even became difficult to keep shooting, and they had no choice but to fix bayonets and engage in hand-to-hand combat.

A chaotic melee ensued, leaving no room for any art of command; both sides were locked in a desperate struggle. Bayonets, bullets, blood, limbs... all these things whirled chaotically in the narrow corridor.

Lacroix had nothing left in his head, just one stabbing motion after another. His comrades fell one by one beside him, and others took their places, but he was somehow largely unscathed, even though his chest was struck by a Green Skin's large cleaver.

The plasteel bulletproof armor plate had saved his life, and in turn, he ignored the pain in his ribs and the fact that he was knocked to the ground by the Green Skin's great strength, and he plunged his bayonet fiercely into the unsteady Green Skin's neck.

Lacroix, splattered with blood on his face, pushed the corpse aside with force and stood up, gasping for air.

And it seemed like this was the last Green Skin, as there were no more living enemies in sight.

But in this hellish scene, there were only seven others still standing, like him.

Lacroix looked around, confused.

An entire company of one hundred and twenty men... just seven left?

He couldn't count the number of bodies strewn across the corridor, especially when some were disfigured beyond recognition. He only knew that almost everyone he recognized was dead, the seven before him were strangers. They were all covered in blood, just as confused as he was.

The seven of them instinctively gathered together and stood in silence for a long time, none daring to speak.

In the end, it was Lacroix who broke the silence, "Here... who has the highest rank?"

He remembered that during a break in the surface battle before, the company's political instructor had instilled in them many military regulations. If the team's formation was scattered, the soldiers nearby should gather spontaneously and follow the one with the highest rank as the temporary commander. Enjoy more content from m-v l'-NovelBin.net

Now... could this be considered scattered? Or should it be considered gone?

"I'm a private..." a timid voice said, "I was just replenished into the 3rd Independent Regiment..."

"I'm also a private..." "I'm a corporal..." "I'm a lance corporal..."

Around the circle, they were all just soldiers.

Lacroix scratched his head, now really unsure of what to do.

Not even a single officer left, huh? What was to be done now?

In a trance, he saw everyone's eyes turn to him.

He then remembered that he had not yet reported his rank: "I... I'm a sergeant."

When they were last reorganized, he was still a private; after the battle at the Tower Ruins, he became one of the old-timers of the Beast Slaughter Group, and during a mass decoration, he was promoted to the rank of sergeant.

The rank of Lance Corporal signified that he had a position equivalent to a D1 rank within Revival City, as touted in the propaganda. Adding together food rations and training allowances, he already had enough to live a life far better than mere subsistence. If he ever stopped being a soldier, he would be transferred laterally at the same rank and have a secure future.

Furthermore, during combat, he would receive combat pay.

His promotion had been swift among his squad; only the squad leader held the rank of Sergeant First Class, and the deputy squad leader was a Staff Sergeant. Beyond that, his rank was the next highest.

But overall, within the entire company, he was still a small fry.

Then, he heard a Private First Class say, "Well, looks like you're the highest-ranking here, so we all follow your lead now."

Lacroix was stunned.

Me, me, me... I can't be the one in charge, can I?!

But he quickly regained his composure.

This was not about power; it was responsibility, and there was no shirking it. According to regulations, he had to take on this responsibility.

Taking a deep breath, it seemed he finally understood the question that had preoccupied him before.

He might not dare speak of the distant future, but at least his current value was to lead the remaining seven survivors of the 2nd Company, 6th Battalion, 3rd Independent Regiment.

The last remnants of the 362nd were all here.

What to do next?

Previously, their mission was to proceed to Zone B7752 to stand guard and eliminate all the alien enemies that appeared there.

However... the company commander, the political commissar, they might know where Zone B7752 was, but how would he, a mere Lance Corporal, know?

Scratching his head, he heard the distant sound of battle.

With a call, he said, "Let's go toward that direction and see if we can find any other friendly forces."

If there were friendly forces, especially officers, it seemed he could relinquish his responsibility.

...

Genie Kuangya, fully armed at nearly three meters tall and wearing ultra-heavy armor, pushed open the half-destroyed hatch and was the first to step out of the landing craft. He was met with a volley of over thirty electromagnetic rifles and laser guns firing at him.

His armor rang with the impact of the hits, yet none of them could halt his stride for even a moment. He moved forward with his mechanical legs at a swift pace, shielding the Green Skin youngsters following behind him from harm, while also creating space for them to deploy their formation.

And during this process, he also lifted his left arm. The rocket launcher mounted beneath his forearm fired a salvo that sent the entire front row of elite marine soldiers and several others about to come forward for support flying into the sky.

The violent explosion caused some damage to the metal corridors of the ship's hull, blowing holes through it and revealing the split mechanical structures underneath, as well as groups of people evacuating below.

It seemed to be a gun turret belonging to the 'Reflector' Interception Laser Cannon of the 'Quintet.'

Kuangya grinned wickedly, his smile fierce.

Such a harvest too?

He lifted his arm again, aiming the rocket launcher downward. The automatic reloading mechanism had already filled the launcher with a new round of rockets, and two orcish youngsters with large packs on their backs were replenishing his combat pack with more rockets through the ammo intake located at the armor near Kuangya's rear.

The next moment, another dozen rockets flew out, striking the isolated turret below with solid hits.

The crew operating the 'Reflector' which numbered in the dozens were almost instantly obliterated. The laser cannon's energy storage device followed, detonating and blasting an even larger gap in the surroundings.

The wave of the explosion even reached the upper levels. While Genie Kuangya was unaffected, several unfortunate Green Skin youngsters were caught in the blast and hurled out of the ship.

Without the ship's life support and gravity systems, these individuals, even as robust Green Skin Orcs, had no chance of surviving in the vacuum.

But that did not matter. Destroying a ship cannon was far more valuable than a few unlucky youngsters being blown away.

Seeing such a spectacular explosion right before their eyes, the surviving youngsters were extremely delighted.

Kuangya laughed loudly too!

He waved his hand, signaling his boys to quickly leave the landing bay; they were going to charge deeper in!

As the Military Governor of the 10th Plundering Fleet of the Iron Tooth Clan, he was the fleet's leader. Today he was determined to win the war by personally entering the fray!

The fleet's supreme commander personally joining the fight was reckless to the point of foolishness, but it was quintessentially Green Skin.