After lying in bed for a long time, the black silhouette seemed to have fallen asleep, only to be jolted awake again by Solas due to the planetary-scale vibrations caused by the recoil of the equatorial mega-cannon.
Snapping out of his silent cursing of the Rangdan Overlord, he sat on the edge of the bed and adjusted his mind to deconstruct the battlefield situation.
After all, this war was going to drag on for a very long time.
The Rangdan Empire had changed its strategy, shifting from an active invasion of the Imperium of Man to a strategic stalemate focused primarily on attriting the enemy's living forces.
Solas glanced over as the holographic data model showed the Rangdan Empire continuously deploying troops from within its borders.
Even without counting the reserve troops from various worlds and the slave units currently in transit, the troop count had already accumulated to one trillion combat units.
Yet, this terrifying number was a mere appetizer for the Rangdan Empire.
Under absolute mental control, slave artisans poured all their efforts into building war machines, fully unleashing the empire's martial potential.
Seeing this, Solas realized with a sense of helplessness that the Rangdan Empire intended to use lives and resources to fill the quagmire of war that was the Imperium of Man.
But would any of this work?
As Solas questioned himself, the light trails of the holographic projection flickered across his pitch-black silhouette, reflecting a hint of powerlessness.
He shook his head gently and swiped through the holographic projection, searching for weaknesses in the Imperium of Man within the Conquest Corridor system.
Planet Five disappeared from the holographic image; Solas lacked the confidence to defeat the Nur system.
The artificial intelligence, the various advanced weapons, and that boundless ocean of machines were enough to drown any provocateur.
Not only could he not provoke them, but he also sent out a message ordering the two garrisoned Rangdan Overlords to behave themselves and stay away from the front lines.
They could not withstand Blazkowicz's teleportation raids.
Planet Nine was also pressed away by Solas, abandoning the system's outer reinforcement zone.
The Iron Hands Legion was highly mechanized and worked in deep cooperation with the Martian Adeptus Mechanicus. Their armory contained a vast amount of lost technology, making their combat capability exceptionally formidable.
Coupled with Ferrus Manus's direct command in battle, Solas was not confident he could defeat his brother.
In the space theater, tens of thousands of warships advanced and retreated in perfect order under Ferrus's command, precisely eliminating the Rangdan fleets. His command capability was plain to see.
Ultimately, Solas fixed his gaze on Planets Seven and Eight.
The Dark Angels Legion led by Lion El'Jonson, and Vulkan's Salamanders Legion.
He actually knew quite a bit about these two Legions.
The might of the First Legion was known to all. Before their Primarch returned, they fought with vicious brutality, sweeping across the galaxy with a ruthless posture.
But Solas shook his head; he did not know Lion El'Jonson and was unsure how the Primarch's return would alter the First Legion.
When the Firstborn returned, they had only shared a nodding acquaintance during the council regarding the Rangdan, after which Lion had left the Imperium.
The Firstborn in Solas's memory was unsmiling, his emerald eyes hiding a sharp edge, radiating a supreme arrogance that looked down on everything.
Such a person was dangerous, and commanding the dangerous First Legion would only make the Legion more terrifying.
He closed the projection of Planet Seven once more, his gaze landing on Planet Eight.
"Vulkan—"
Solas murmured softly, and a dark figure surfaced from the depths of his soul, possessing a unique, radiant humanity.
That brother had a terrifying appearance and was the tallest among the Primarchs. His pitch-black frame was like an immortal monument, casting a shadow that protected the mortals behind him.
Vulkan was benevolent. He did not specialize in tactics and destruction; instead, he liked to strike iron by the forge, crafting weapons and armor to protect others.
His brother's gentle disposition influenced the Legion. It was precisely because of this gentleness that the Salamanders Legion had been criticized multiple times by the War Council—the Salamanders would protect mortals during war, causing casualties outside of projections.
"Brother," Solas murmured in a low voice, his fractured words trembling slightly. "Kindness is the noblest and finest virtue—"
"But it will kill you."
The hand he reached out hesitated. After struggling several times, he used the Rangdan language to write on the holographic image:
[War of Attrition Suggestion: Reinforce troops to Planet Eight to attrit the Space Marines of the Salamanders Legion.]
[The Salamanders Legion will protect the Imperial Army auxiliary forces. When the auxiliaries take heavy losses, they will step forward.]
After finishing the war suggestion, Solas did not send it for a long time.
Using kindness as a blade to plot against an enemy was particularly despicable. Guilt gnawed at him like a venomous insect, making his black fingers twitch slightly.
"This is war—"
A long sigh echoed in the room, followed by an artificial intelligence announcement: "War suggestion sent. Your clearance will grant direct access to the Overlord Council."
Upon receiving the war suggestion, the Rangdan Council treated it with exceptional importance.
Being able to wear down the enemy's elite legions in a war of mortals and slaves was undoubtedly a massive breakthrough.
If handled properly, they could even use this as a foundation to draw large-scale human reinforcements back to defend.
Driven by absolute authority, the Rangdan army began to operate with high efficiency.
In the fierce void fleet battles, the number of troop carriers dispatched from the Rangdan stronghold on Planet Six to Planet Eight increased noticeably.
The battlefield was densely covered by auspex arrays. The dense detection arrays quickly discovered the enemy troop movements and immediately reported to the command center.
Ferrus learned of the anomaly through data exchange and issued an order to the Salamanders with supreme authority:
[Rangdan forces are shifting, increasing troop deployments toward Planet Eight. Salamanders Legion, focus on defense.]
[The Salamanders understand.]
At the war fortress of World Eight, Ferrus's image appeared directly, facing his pitch-black brother.
"Brother," his stern face appeared even more solemn at this moment as he questioned Vulkan, "You should know the importance of this battle?"
Following his question, images popped up on the holographic sandbox showing small detachments of Salamanders appearing on the front lines, helping the mortal auxiliaries hold the line, and casualties had occurred.
Vulkan's pitch-black face was taut. Of course he knew that the battle in the J-11 system concerned the survival of humanity.
His thick, deep voice rumbled as he explained his Legion's actions: "If we do not save them, once that position falls, it will take at least one hundred thousand men to reclaim it."
"Brother, am I supposed to sit idly by, watch the position collapse, and force mortals to pay a massive price to fight for something we can do with a casual effort?"
Ferrus's light projection shook its head, and lights flared up on the sandbox, showing the void transport fleet sailing toward World Eight.
"A casual effort?" he asked in a low voice. "How many hands does your Legion have?"
"The assistance from the Salamanders Legion has already drawn the strategic attention of the Rangdan. The troop carrier fleets heading to World Eight have increased threefold!"
"According to my calculations, once the Rangdan forces enter the line, the pressure on your defensive front will at least double, and the subsequent offensive intensity will not stop."
Clank~
The sound of grinding iron was exceptionally loud in the noisy command room. The Lord of Drakes clenched his iron fist, his brow furrowing deeply.
His brother did not vent emotions; he merely used pure data to tell him the cruelty of the battlefield situation.
"Brother," Ferrus's voice was low and solemn, "I respect you and your sons highly. You possess an intense spirit of sacrifice and devotion."
"But this is J-11!"
"Father is fighting in the ethereal plane, and our brothers are bleeding in the real plane. Sacrifice and devotion are minuscule in this battle."
"..."
"The situation is perilous. Humanity cannot withstand the erosion of artillery fire."
He stared intently at his pitch-black brother, his words carrying a hint of questioning: "In this battle, only by discarding humanity and kindness can we seize the final victory from this beast-like tearing—"
As his voice faded, another light flared up on the holographic sandbox, and Lion entered the communication with a stiff face.
The Lion opened his mouth ready to demand accountability, but seeing Ferrus present, he glanced at Vulkan and promptly cut the communication.
Despite having much dissatisfaction in his heart, he still had to show respect to the supreme commander. Since headquarters had already called them to account, he did not need to pay it any more attention.
"I understand." Seeing Lion's image vanish in a flash, Vulkan also realized that he had caused a significant negative impact on the overall battle situation.
He said powerlessly, "I will restrain my sons and try my best not to get involved in the current fighting."
"Not 'try your best'!" Ferrus raised his voice, speaking with absolute firmness. "It is a must!"
"Brother," realizing his tone was too harsh, his voice softened slightly, "Please follow the rules of war. Do not force me to issue a compulsory order."
"I do not wish to strike at you, my brother."
"Your act of kindness has induced the Rangdan to reinforce their troops. The intensity of the battlefield the mortals face will be even higher, and the casualties will increase by dozens or even hundreds of times the number of people you saved!"
"Understood," Vulkan nodded powerlessly. "I will strictly restrain the Legion and resolutely execute the rules of war."
Ferrus nodded slightly, offered his brother a faint smile, and his projection vanished from the holographic sandbox.
Vulkan sat heavily back into his command throne, the clattering of his armor sounding like a sigh.
The insistence within the heart of the Lord of Drakes was squeezed and deformed by the iron laws of the battlefield. The conflict between ideals and reality was tearing his benevolent heart apart inch by inch.
"Pass the order to the Legion—" his voice was deep, as if the forge were dying out, "Warriors are not to intervene in the defensive lines without authorization."
Ultimately, Vulkan made a compromise to the rolling, unstoppable tide.