Bayonet combat, a traditional skill of the Astra Militarum, often proves more reliable than the "feeble" laser guns they carry. A monomolecular bayonet thrust with the full weight of the body might actually stand a chance of piercing the defenses of those heretical abominations.

That said, the cultists were still at least a kilometer away. Even if they advanced closer, the distance would still be several hundred meters. Why fix bayonets now?

Despite this question lingering in his mind, Zhang Ge didn’t hesitate to seize the opportunity to volunteer for what could very well be a suicide mission. Watching as Dulles turned to head toward the first position, Zhang Ge stood up and spoke decisively:

"I’ll go first. The squad needs a commander. Your life should be saved for when it’s more useful."

As Zhang Ge said this, his face remained devoid of fear or tension, as if the life he was offering up wasn’t his own. Of course, there was no fear—his tightly pressed lips made him look more unyielding than an ancient relic like an AK.

Dulles paused for less than half a second before handing over the plasma pistol in his other hand, its blue glow shimmering faintly.

"If you want a quicker death, just hold the trigger down. The Emperor’s light will consume both you and your enemies."

Zhang Ge said nothing further. He accepted the plasma pistol and, with his other hand, gripped the midsection of his lasgun like a short spear, raising it as he prepared to charge.

However, no one present noticed the subtle, but suddenly more radiant, blue glow that flickered across the plasma pistol as it changed hands.

A suffocating tension began to spread throughout the bunker as each member of the Astra Militarum completed their preparations, akin to the oppressive atmosphere inside a landing craft just before storming a beachhead.

This tension persisted until two piercing whistles rang out in succession. Even deep within the bunker, the sound was clear. Without hesitation, Zhang Ge charged out.

The abrupt transition between the dim bunker and the bright outside world didn’t hinder Zhang Ge’s vision. His pupils adjusted rapidly to the light, allowing him to take in the scene in the trench.

Blood, flesh, and metallic fragments were scattered everywhere, staining the trenches as if a child had carelessly spilled paint from a palette. The "survivors" were mostly missing large portions of their bodies, yet they still emitted incoherent sounds and convulsed in their final moments.

Before entering the bunker, this trench had been manned by at least a full PDF infantry platoon. Now, not a single one had survived. Worse still, some had been twisted by the warp’s dark sorcery into grotesque abominations. Retaining their sanity but trapped in swollen, pulsating flesh, they writhed in agony, crushing their comrades in the process.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Zhang Ge understood why bayonets were necessary. As he sprinted toward the nearest mass of flesh, he raised the plasma pistol in his hand.

The trigger was pulled, and a searing heat blasted forth. The plasma’s intense heat distorted the air, and the familiar delay between pulling the trigger and firing caused Zhang Ge’s heart to sink.

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This power—was this really a plasma pistol?

But the machine spirit, roaring in satisfaction, left no time for further thought. As the monstrosity noticed Zhang Ge and let out a piercing scream, its maw opening wide to crush him, a brilliant blue plasma orb shot forth.

In an instant, the superheated plasma struck the creature’s open maw with unerring precision, bypassing its tough exterior and detonating inside, melting it from within.

Starting from the point of impact, the creature’s "head" began to swell from the inside out. Radiant light burst through the cracks in its flesh, followed by vaporized gases and liquefied muscle, forming tiny pink droplets. Finally, the explosion—caused by the rapid release of energy—tore apart most of the creature’s upper body with a deafening bang.

Zhang Ge wasn’t the only one to witness this. The second in line, a plasma gunner clad in heavy carapace armor and wielding a plasma rifle, had also seen it. He had raised his weapon to fire another shot, but after seeing the scene before him, he glanced incredulously at his plasma rifle, then cast a complicated look at Dulles, who had been his commanding officer for years.

"Old Dulles, we’re comrades. I trusted you. And you’ve been hiding this little plasma pistol all along?"

Unaware of what had just transpired, Dulles, thinking there might be trouble outside, gestured quickly for the plasma gunner to avoid blocking the exit.

Meanwhile, Zhang Ge, seeing that his shot had seemingly incapacitated the creature, approached cautiously to ensure it was truly dead. He raised his bayonet, intending to deliver a finishing blow—better safe than sorry. If the thing still had any life left, it could counterattack at close range.

Just as he was about to strike, a well-aimed grenade was lobbed into the gaping wound left by the plasma shot. The creature's body swelled once more, and a mix of shrapnel and flesh fragments erupted from its surface. One of Zhang Ge’s comrades, who had followed Dulles, grabbed the drag handle on the back of Zhang Ge’s armor and gave him a reassuring pat, signaling it was safe to move on.

While another plasma gunner and Dulles focused on clearing the other side of the trench, Zhang Ge and his teammate were tasked with securing their side. The remaining squad members split into two groups: two followed each team to provide backup and finish off any stragglers, while the rest, seeing that this section of the trench was secure and without casualties, removed their bayonets and resumed suppressing the advancing cultists.

Busy. But busy was better than dead.

For a fleeting moment, Zhang Ge resented not being reincarnated as one of the PDF troopers. But he could only sigh and press on.

As Zhang Ge advanced toward a bend in the trench, a wave of PDF reinforcements surged into the second line of trenches from the rear. The second whistle from earlier had been their signal to attack.

Amid the escalating cacophony of shotgun blasts, grenades, and lasgun fire, Zhang Ge rounded the corner.

There, three monstrosities loomed, clustered around several grievously wounded soldiers. They gnawed and crushed their victims like snails devouring food. These creatures didn’t need sustenance, nor did they have the biological structures for it. Their actions were purely to torment the living.

Zhang Ge raised his plasma pistol once more. The glowing blue orb cut through the blood-soaked, cloying air, purging one of the abominations in a blaze of flame. As he prepared to fire a second shot, a sudden tug on his armor yanked him backward.

By mere inches, he avoided a mass of writhing crimson flesh that was hurled at where he had just stood. The grotesque chunk splattered against the trench wall, sprouting tiny tendrils as it began to creep forward.

The Star Realm Army is not like the cannon-fodder police or military in horror movies that wait until the monster finishes transforming before opening fire. As a laser beam from the rear blasted the creature to pieces, a teammate rushed forward, activated a sensor-triggered anti-vehicle thermite mine, and tossed it around the corner.

Those mindless monsters, of course, went berserk and charged after their initial attack missed, only to be reduced to ashes by an explosion powerful enough to take out a Leman Russ tank. By then, the four of them had already retreated to a safe distance.

Zhang Ge's face was expressionless, but his heart was bleeding: I must have been a saint for eight lifetimes to end up matched with you pro-gamer bros today.