40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 334 54. Furious (two in one)

To this day, Fulgrim has lost count of how many battles he has fought.

He has faced many desperate situations. After all, being the original body does not mean being invincible. He has fought wars in which he ran out of ammunition and food, fought wars in which he was surrounded, and fought wars in which he had to face the enemy at a disadvantage due to intelligence errors.

Hills, forests, plains, oceans, vacuum. He has fought on at least a thousand planets, and he is an encyclopedia of wars - but he has never fought a war like this.

He was unarmed and naked, and that wasn't the problem. There was only one real problem.

"Father!" A man shouted and rushed towards him, the purple-gold armor paint shining brightly under the ambiguous light of the pink-purple sky. The sparkling sea surface illuminated the human skin hanging on his chest, making his twisted face even more fanatical.

He was breathing heavily, and the mere fact that he was about to come into contact with Fulgrim was almost making him unable to restrain his physical impulse - or was the psychological pleasure actually better?

He screamed, sword in hand but not using it. His steps were stumbling, and his posture was like that of a toddler longing for a hug.

Phoenix punched him and smashed his head.

Flesh and blood flew everywhere, some falling into the sea, and some falling on other people rushing towards him. The latter was overjoyed and immediately began to devour or lick his brother's blood. Those who did not enjoy such pleasure lowered their heads and lay in the sea.

Weapons were discarded casually, and they began to search for traces of flesh and blood in the sea like wild dogs begging for food, without any dignity of warriors.

Fulgrim felt nauseous and gritted his teeth, his handsome face filled with anger.

He rushed towards the next man, who screamed and raised his sword towards him - this was supposed to be a precise and swift swing. Phoenix had even thought about how to respond, but the expected attack never came. Because the man actually took the sword out of his hand.

He raised his hands tremblingly, lost in debauched imagination as he witnessed the primarch's muscular chest. Fulgrim roared and shook his fist, killing another person.

He was furious.

He had never felt such rage since he was lost in this sea of ​​illusion. The approaching storm clouds in the sky could not touch even one-tenth of the rage he felt at this moment on this level.

He is not the storm, He is far greater than the storm.

He began killing mercilessly, and no one could survive two attacks from him, but that didn't mean his rage stopped. In fact, he was even angrier because the men didn't even resist.

The few people who really tried to attack him also fell into a state of selflessness due to some strange stimulation. The sound of indignation scattered across the sea. The purple and gold paint that once represented nobility has now become a symbol of depravity.

Everyone he saw was dissipating and pleasuring themselves, and he knew all their faces.

Although it has become alienated into an indescribable appearance, he still recognizes it.

This situation continued until Eidolon's voice sounded behind him.

"Primarch!" he shouted. "Oh, my primarch!"

Fulgrim turned around and saw Eidolon charging towards him. It's hard to tell whether the emotion that arose in his heart after witnessing this incident was anger or relief - maybe it was both. Even if it was a fake, it was still a fake that could maintain a fighting posture.

Eidolon roared with excitement, as savage as a monkey. His power hammer kept a low posture during the charge, and the hammer head sank into the sea. The decomposition force field did not dissolve the sea water, but instead made their color more intense.

Fulgrim calmly observed his forward posture, preparing to dodge, and even adjusted his gait.

Eidolon rushed in front of him, and the weapon that killed countless people was held high by him at this moment - it should have fallen, if Eidolon didn't scream and fall backwards.

Fulgrim clenched his fists with an ugly expression.

"Primarch, me."

Eidolon slowly climbed up from the sea, breathing heavily. He stared intently at Fulgrim's face with a look that was extremely profane. He seemed to want to apologize, but halfway through his words he fell into a sudden scream.

"Oh, Primarch, I. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I hope you forgive me - hahahahahahahaha"

He laughed wildly, tears streaming down his face, his face was distorted with ecstasy, and the supreme shame brought about by being despised by the original body caused his already dry heart to suddenly surge at this moment.

Fulgrim rushed towards him unbearably, and at this moment, Eidolon's movements became more agile than ever before. He held the power hammer and rolled imagelessly in the sea water. During this period, he even opened his mouth to drink the unknown sea water.

Fulgrim chased him, and he ran towards the rear, as if he had no intention of fighting anymore, but in the next moment he swung a hammer towards the rear.

Phoenix immediately stopped and bent down to avoid it. After he regained his posture with a gloomy look on his face, Eidolon was already facing him directly with the hammer in hand.

The six medicine tubes were delivering medicine into his body at an unprecedented speed. His eyes were sparkling, and his ugly face matched his eyes that were wet with desire. So contradictory, so ugly

Fulgrim forced himself to remain calm again and sneered at Eidolon: "You really disappoint me, fake. You are basically tarnishing Eidolon's image."

"Really?" Eidolon asked with trembling lips, tears rolling down his face.

His tear glands should have lost their function long ago, but at this moment, they somehow regained their original function. The tears fell into the sea, stirring up pools of pink.

Fulgrim looked at him with disgust and stopped talking. Eidolon took a deep, deep breath.

He covered his chest and spoke sincerely and sincerely.

"You don't understand, my lord, you don't understand what I am. Do you think I am a false shadow, a puppet fabricated by the power of chaos? No, that's not the case."

Eidolon blinked, put down the power hammer, and straightened his chest like never before.

Although it was only for a moment, the temperament that only belonged to the 'model' emerged at this moment. The sea surface was sparkling, and his face seemed to return to its original appearance due to the refraction of light at this moment.

Fulgrim was inevitably stunned.

Eidolon laughed happily: "Do you see clearly, my lord? If you don't, I can do it again until you are willing to accept the truth. I am not a fake, father, I am the real Eidolon."

"You can lie as much as you like." Phoenix said a few cold words from between his teeth. "I'll make it impossible for you to say a word again."

"If I can truly die, I will thank you." Eidolon bent down and bowed grandly. "Sadly, that's not going to happen."

Behind him, some shadows began to rise from below the sea level. Those who had been killed by Fulgrim returned again, their eyes far beyond before, extremely fanatical.

Phoenix narrowed his eyes and his expression gradually changed. Eidolon smiled proudly, not hiding his emotions at the moment.

"Remember when I said I wanted your head, father? I will do it. You cannot win in such a war. War requires experience and theoretical support, and you have never fought such a war. "

Phoenix raised his fists.

"Come on," he said. "If you want it, come and get it yourself."

Eidolon laughed wildly and rushed towards him.

——

It is difficult for Tariq Torgadun to describe his mood at this moment to anyone. In fact, he probably does not have the time to do it.

He stood up and leaned out from behind the simple bunker, as fast as lightning. Years of training allowed him to accurately fire four life-harvesting bullets at this moment. After doing this, he immediately retreated behind the bunker.

"Good marksmanship!" one of the Emperor's Children shouted to him, his silver hair flying and his cheeks covered with healed wounds. The curly letters formed one name after another, densely covering his face.

"We need to evacuate, Captain Lucius!" Torgadun shouted at the man over the roar of his bolter. "Must evacuate!"

"You give the order!" Lucius said crisply.

Torgadon noticed that he was smiling, and the four service spikes gleaming under his short white hair - the Captain of the Thirteenth Company of the Emperor's Children perfectly inherited their father's good looks, but unfortunately, his smile ruined everything .

It was a terrifying smile that contained nothing but anger. Togaton knew in his heart that if possible, Lucius would probably rush out to fight with bullets in his head.

Fortunately, he was still willing to listen to him, and that was enough.

"Let's go from the back. There is more than one way to reach Hangar 21."

"Lead the way, Captain Togaton!" Lucius made a prompt decision and quickly issued the order.

The emperor's sons obeyed his order and began to evacuate in an orderly manner, covering each other from behind the bunker. After being imprisoned for so many days and forced to fight to the death with their brothers, they could still maintain discipline.

Torgadon had mixed feelings in his heart. He didn't understand why his legion couldn't do this. He quickly put this useless thought behind and led his brothers and the Emperor's Children to break out of the siege. net.

They began to run rampant in the twenty-first deck, and soon relied on Togaton's familiarity with this place to leave the siege of the Sons of Horus and arrive at a secluded armed room.

The team began to resupply in silence, while Togaton took off his helmet and took slow and deep breaths in the corner of the room. Taking off his helmet was not the wisest thing to do in wartime, but he had to do it, he needed to breathe direct fresh air.

This thought was shattered the moment the smelly air from the Spirit of Vengeance rushed into his nostrils. Togaton smiled bitterly, and Lucius came to him.

"Isn't that a bad feeling?" he asked.

"What?"

"You know what I'm talking about." Lucius made a simple gesture. "Even though they attacked you first, I understand the feeling of having to kill someone."

"Honestly, I just feel sorry." Tarik Torgadun said, trying to shake off a mocking smile and tell a few jokes to liven up the atmosphere. Naturally, this attempt failed.

The Imperial Son's company commander looked at him sympathetically and shook his head: "I don't know what exactly is going on inside you, Captain Togaton. I am only unfamiliar with Horus."

Me too. Togaton thought silently. So do I.

Two minutes later, they were on the road again. They changed four roads in a row, but were blocked all the way, unable to move forward. Togaton immediately noticed some clues from this strange situation.

After the fifth route also encountered the same dilemma, he derived a conclusion-he believed that Horus wanted to trap them on the Vengeful Spirit. For this reason, he let him know everything They took action, but sent troops in advance to block any possible channels for leaving the ship.

but why?

This question swirled in his mind.

Why, father? Why are you doing this?

For a moment, in the darkness, his father tried to answer.

——

The war dogs went all the way up, not daring to stop for a moment.

Their movement was swift, and their killing was as silent and ruthless as possible - servitors, mortal servants, Astartes. All enemies they saw along the way were slain by them. Angron finally had weapons, he got two power swords.

To the Astartes, it was a great sword, but to him, it was just two long swords, even a little short, but having weapons was better than nothing.

Now, their movements all rely on Angron's perception. This method of movement is efficient and precise, but also cruel, because every war dog can see the movement of the Butcher's Nail.

Kahn couldn't tell how many times he had the idea of ​​persuading the original body. As always, he killed it. He had long known that such persuasion would lead to nothing. To Angron, the Butcher's Nail was more than a mere instrument of torture.

Robert Guilliman, the Primarch of the Ultramarines, had revealed a few words to him about this incident. He still remembered the expression on the Lord Macragge's face at that time. The complicated look in his eyes that was mixed with sadness and respect was something he would never forget.

They continued upward, and after another period of fighting and trekking, they arrived at the entrance gate of the eighth deck. The scale of the Vengeful Spirit is so huge, and its owner's attention to pomp and circumstance is rare in the world.

This pursuit is in all aspects. Even if it is just an entrance door, it must be as majestic and brilliant as possible. It was placed under an arch, and fragments of armor and weapons were fused into the door itself.

Its surface is rough and unpolished, and the broken fragments of the armor and the broken blade of the chain sword are even clearly visible. The dim red is smeared on the edges, forming a strongly directional metaphor with the ashes-like gray-white.

Angron and the warhounds stood before it, the latter awaiting the primarch's orders, but the former fell silent.

Blood.

He smelled blood.

Familiarity, disgust, hatred.

Blood

Angron closed his eyes. In his perception, the world fell into darkness, and only this door still illuminated.

He began to imagine - he pushed open the door without hesitation, and in an instant, he was drowned by the blood pouring out from behind the door. A voice began to whisper, promising something, such as power to defeat Horus.

But Angron smiled.

He is smiling in reality, and he is also smiling in imagination.

"You have become weaker." The Lord of the Twelfth Legion said. "Your voice is not like thunder. You are a weak god."

The river of blood hung upside down, and boundless rage roared wildly, but Angron calmly opened his eyes, raised his hands, and held the blade high.

With the sharp sound of the air being cut, the door was instantly destroyed. He walked in with his head held high, as if he was victorious, and the war dogs followed closely behind.

However, the scene behind the gate of the eighth deck is not gentle. The stench here is stronger than that in other parts of the Vengeful Spirit. If other decks can still maintain the most basic rational structure, this is a place of complete disorder.

Stairs were revealed on the walls, and the ceiling was carpeted in red, rippling like a river of blood. The ground was empty, not a single thing existed. Only the thick black fog escaped, and behind it, some shadows were faintly moving.

"Be prepared." Angron reminded his warriors for the first time since the war began. He turned his head and Kahn saw that he was smiling.

"We are about to face a tough battle. We may die and sacrifice. But it doesn't matter."

Kahn answered.

"We will pay tribute with the blood of our enemies," he said.

Angron laughed and dashed off into the darkness.

——

You sit on your throne, you smile, content. You couldn't be more content than right now that everything is going according to your plan.

Yes, you need despair, so you have to give them hope first.

Let Loken and Torgadon plot secretly, they can't leave the Spirit of Vengeance anyway. Just let Angron move in the direction of Fulgrim. The Phoenix can't wake up anyway. Let Corus Corax approach you and gang up on you.

He is just a bird that thinks it is free and will eventually fall.

You thought, considering whether to kill them all here. This is not a difficult option. You are so powerful that you can shake the basic laws of physics with just a thought, not to mention that you are on the Vengeful Spirit.

This is your royal court, and you are the only king here. If you let it, it will comply with all your ideas. You can turn this place into a killing field, or you can turn it into a vortex filled with the power of chaos.

Ah, temptation, really temptation.

A thirst for blood fills your chest, your eyes turn red, and you begin to desire to kill—until another thought appears in your mind, and you hear a soft scraping of feathers, and that changes. ideas.

Yes, it would be too wasteful to kill them now, might as well make the situation bigger. Why not let them escape? You could pay a small price to summon a warp storm to trap them here, making it impossible for them to escape.

There will be people to help them and support them. Then you can sow more hope and reap more despair.

You smiled and stood up from your throne. You heard a footsteps and you knew who it was without looking back.

"Ezekiel." You said his name gently. "It's great that you are still standing by my side."

There was no malice in your words, but he bowed his head in shame at your words. You know what he's thinking - two men from the Council of Kings have betrayed him, and Ezekiel Abaddon can't stand it.

You also understand what he wants to do, but now is not the time.

"Primarch."

You hear his call.

"How's it going? Are you all ready?" You asked nonchalantly about your order.

Ezekiel's emotions are just the most insignificant thing at the moment, and you need to arrange some elaborate surprises to welcome your brother who likes to stay in the shadows. He is an ungrateful person, but you still love him.

"Everything is ready, Primarch. We have sealed off all the boarding decks and hangars. We are ready at the places you have marked as likely to be jumped, and the melta bombs have been installed. However, Is it really a good thing to use such a chain of bomb traps on the Vengeful Spirit?”

He is questioning you, kill him.

That thirst for blood was back. You narrowed your eyes and suppressed the desire, feeling filled with displeasure. You turned your head and looked at Ezekel. You made him lower his head just by looking at you.

"The Vengeful Spirit has evolved, my son." You told him gently. "It is no longer the battleship it once was. It is now something else, an incarnation, a source of destruction."

"Primarch?" There was fear in Ezekiel's voice. He was shaking. He was afraid of you.

Well, be afraid, my son. Your fear is also what I need.

"Get down there," you told him. "Be careful, Ezekiel, and don't die. If you die, I will be very sad."

You didn't lie.

Ezekiel's mood recovered a little.

You walked forward slowly and came to the tall and huge porthole. From here, you can clearly see the fleet approaching you.

Emperor's Shadow. A special battleship. Your brother relied on its special reflection shield to hide it among the stars countless times. How similar is this to his own talent?

Unfortunately, this special equipment derived from the void shield also has shortcomings. Although it can make the ship undetectable, it will also reduce the ship's own perception and defense capabilities. Void Shield and Reflective Shield cannot even be used at the same time

What does it mean that your brother didn't use his usual tactics to sneak up on you?

Interesting.

You thought of Konrad Coates again, perhaps because of some of his reminders? You know all his vague madman talk.

prophecy? How ridiculous.

Any one-sided interpretation of the future is wrong, and no one can truly observe the future. Except you, yes, except you.

You smiled.

You hope Alpharius is doing his job.

Nostramo, what a wonderful planet.

You stared at the stars, looking forward to the day you could return to Terra. Your desire never ends, and having just met Angron, you begin to long for more of your brothers. This longing will never end unless you

"Father." Horus Luperkar's voice sounded in the darkness, like calling, but also like crying.

What just happened to you?

It doesn't matter, just keep staring.

update completed.

I got stuck yesterday and forgot to send a single chapter notice, sorry.