40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 379 108. The Burning of Five Hundred Worlds (18, 5k)

The war hammer fell, and the steel mercilessly smashed the smelly fur and flesh. The bones were not to be outdone, and completely shattered under the weight of the steel. The demon roared, then fell to the ground and stopped moving.

A burst of green smoke emerged from its corpse. Perturabo turned a blind eye to it and just stepped on it coldly, raising his hands high. A monster with a bull's head faced him head-on at the next moment.

The crimson skin was engraved with lines of depravity, which were flickering with its breathing. A skull ornament came from nowhere and wrapped around its neck. It was strong and dangerous, as was immediately apparent; there were not many that could rival the Primarch in size.

But the Lord of Steel still didn't pay too much attention to it. He simply swung the warhammer down, holding the tail with his right hand, and his left hand naturally slid down the handle. His strength followed this attack without reservation. The attack spurted out, shaking the air like a volcanic eruption.

The bull-headed demon roared and tried to dodge, but was hit in the eyes by a hail of fire. The bomb exploded cruelly on its face, and its flesh and blood were swallowed up by the fire. In that moment, its life or death was decided.

A tattered head flew out, with half of its spine attached. Perturabo calmly drew back his weapon, but did not stop moving. The war hammer began to roar along with the rotation of the wrist, and hit the other hound who was trying to sneak attack with broken flesh and blood.

It immediately twitched and sank into the ground, and its entire body was split into two with the war hammer as the boundary.

"Come closer to me," said Perturabo.

His voice was extremely calm, as if he didn't care about the bloody and joyful killing - and that was indeed the case.

"I'm trying, primarch." Dantioch's hoarse voice came from the communication channel, and the war blacksmith sounded as if he was suffering from a serious illness.

More sounds followed, coming from the channel. There are the Ultramarines, there are the Salamanders, and there are the Death Guard. Their voices were either extremely weak, or so fanatical that they cried blood every word.

And this is probably only the most insignificant impact. The Lord of Steel thought ruthlessly.

If the curtain of reality continues to be shaken, if this spiral of hatred continues to spread, what will happen? When the targets of revenge are slaughtered or disappear, who will the crazy Avengers aim their blades at?

"Your attempts can only be called futile, Dantioch," said Perturabo. "You are still affected by that emotion, and so are you, the Ultramarines, the Salamanders, the Death Guard."

"It's ridiculous that all of you are blinded by hatred. So many prestigious warriors behave like fledgling recruits, abandoning discipline and tactics so easily."

"I'm sorry, Primarch," the Warsmith said with difficulty. "I'm coming to you."

The others remained unapologetically silent, shame spreading through the channel, knowing exactly what they had done - Perturabo's accusation was entirely accurate and far from an insult.

In fact, if they were allowed to evaluate this kind of thing themselves, the language they would use would probably be a thousand times more violent than the Lord of Steel.

"Try to tune out the emotion." Perturabo offered his help as he continued toward the Death Guard.

He remained focused, extremely focused. He could even wade through knee-deep bloody rivers while viewing the current battlefield situation through the neural connections inside the suit.

"Try to regard all of this as a necessary job, a part of saving the world, rather than a pleasurable journey of revenge. Those dead do not need you to help them avenge themselves."

He smashed through the mist, stepped over the broken corpses of daemons and Astartes, and finally reached the Death Guard. There are quite a few of them, and they are fighting side by side with their company commander Jialuo.

For ordinary commanders, this is good news, but for Perturabo, this incident can only make his expression become colder.

They were facing a huge demon together. Its body was extremely huge. It looked like a huge insect, but its joints and long limbs were made up of endless human hands.

It relies on these hands to move and attack. Black mist lingered and spread behind it. Terrifying ripples that transcended the mundane world slowly spread out in it, adding more teeth-chattering evidence to the existence of this demon.

For example, its huge body is comparable to a tank, and its deformed body has a human face that has been stitched onto it.

Their screams were really loud.

Perturabo calmly raised his left hand, and the bolt gun hanging underneath finally came into use at this moment. Although it was not as good as his original double-row parallel precision bolt gun, it was enough.

He squeezed the trigger and fired all the bullets. Twenty-four explosive shells spun out of the barrel one after another, hitting the demon that the Death Guards were facing. But it did not cause any real damage. Seeing this scene, the Lord of Steel immediately changed his original thoughts.

He began to stride forward, and finally, one of the Death Guards noticed him - and the man's expression looked extremely surprised, as if he had never received a communication broadcast from the Lord of Steel before.

Jialuo also quickly discovered him. The battle company commander gritted his teeth, but had no chance to speak. He was on the front line of the battle, unable to free his hands to do anything else. The demon's body might be huge and clumsy, but its hands were not.

They are pulled by nerve-like bright red meridians. They can stay in place or suddenly shoot out. It is difficult to judge their intentions. The more important point is that they are endless.

For example, at this moment, Jialuo clearly used his giant sword to cut down dozens of pale hands with one strike, with great results, but in the next second he was forced to defend with his sword by more attacking hands.

Those hands excitedly grabbed his giant sword as the face screamed, their fingers tapping on the steel, the disintegrating force field turning their flesh into nothingness, but it was useless, there were so many of them Already able to completely ignore ordinary weapons.

Perturabo took in the entire scene, narrowed his eyes, and approached the huge demon from the side. Some of the thousands of faces saw him, their eyes with their eyelids cut off stared at the Lord of Steel, and screamed in their mouths.

Perturabo announced his arrival with a series of violent explosions, giving these noisy faces a warning.

His threatening demonstration made the demon's bulky body tremble briefly. Obviously, even if it was so terrifying, it could not remain indifferent to the explosion of twelve melt grenades connected in series.

Perturabo sneered, and his long strides turned into a rapid run at this moment. The Death Guard immediately noticed his tactical intentions, and for some reason, after Perturabo arrived, they were able to think briefly.

So, under the leadership of Jia Luo, they began to redouble their efforts to attract the attention of this demon. The tactical goal may be easy to achieve, but winning the battle is never easy.

The Lord of Steel rushed towards the demon, but he didn't even bother to lift the hammer. He knew in his heart that ordinary attacks could only be described as scratching an itch for a thing of this size. Without heavy weapons or sufficient firepower, he could only find some risky ways to win.

Amid the screams of the human face, Perturabo rushed into the black mist behind the demon.

I don’t know what he did. In short, in a series of violent explosions that exploded like lightning, Jialuo discovered that the demon’s body began to shrink rapidly like a deflated balloon.

It didn't take long for it to go from the size of a tank to the size of a motorboat.

Still not too small, but

The Death Guards raised their weapons in unison.

Amid the screams of a thousand faces, they dismembered it. Blood splattered, and Perturabo finally walked out of the black mist.

Gallo raised his weapon to meet him, lowered his head, and the first word he spoke was an apology: "I'm sorry, sir."

"Stop embarrassing him." Perturabo replied coldly. The words were quite straightforward, but the Death Guards were unable to refute.

"It's enough to lose your mind once. I don't want to hear about you losing control again. My brother Mortarion fought until his death and always maintained a clear goal."

"He has not thrown away the reason that human beings rely on for survival, and you should not do it. It is easy to succumb to death. It is over once and for all, and you don't have to endure any more torture. But you are the descendants of the Lord of Death, understand? Don't say that I expected anything from you. high."

He stepped past them.

"Follow me now," said Perturabo incredulously. "The Salamanders are still fighting and they need support."

——

"Kneel before the gods and beg for their mercy!" a Word Bearer roared, pointing his bloodstained butcher knife at a group of civilians.

Their protector had fallen, his body was in tatters, his power armor was riddled with holes, and trembling shadows began to form in the ground watered by his blood.

The sky was dark, except for the fires lit by the Word Bearers, which shone brightly throughout the city. Sneaky things were about to move in the mist. The chain sword in the Word Bearer's hand seemed to be beyond the scope of a weapon. It was already connected to his body.

The power of darkness surged on that pale face. He came with the fire of revenge, but the foundation was forged by falsehood. He raised the blade, and several scarlet lasers burst out from the darkness behind him.

They hit his armor, which had begun to deform, without any effect. This could not stop the Word Bearers from carrying out the massacre with a grin on their face.

By the time Sergeant Bono of the Twelfth Regiment of the Macragge Defense Forces rushed over with his soldiers, all the civilians were dead. And the Word Bearer was still laughing, his voice almost frantic with excitement.

Sergeant Bono could only roar furiously. Cursing or swearing seemed unnecessary. His face was like a whirlpool, and endless hatred swallowed up his thoughts.

The Word Bearer turned around, swung his blade, and killed a dozen loyal soldiers with a single blow. He noticed the emotion on the sergeant's face and his smile widened.

"Don't thank me, mortal, you deserve this."

He smiled happily, rushed into the defense troops like a tiger into a flock of sheep, and started killing them. He even slowed down his speed, just to let the blood spread longer.

His thirst for killing and revenge was satisfied, and he was filled with joy. All Macragge should die, and the Word Bearers would rebuild a new perfect city here, a truly perfect city.

It no longer worships false gods, it is dedicated to a true deity

The killings continued, and he deliberately saved the sergeant for last, for whom it was always a pleasure to kill an officer. What's more, enough blood has been shed here.

Ultramarines, civilians, defenders of the defense army, the innocent, the brave, the irrigation of blood is enough, and he will sacrifice all of them to the darkness. The gods will give him more power and more blessings, and he will use this power to commit more murders.

Such a wonderful cycle. The Word Bearer couldn't help laughing.

The sergeant looked at him with red eyes, and the new laser gun from the Viridian Foundry in his hand fired repeatedly, but the Word Bearer didn't dodge and strode towards him. His mutated armor can already ignore this level of attack.

The sergeant's remaining little reason also saw this clearly. He threw down the gun, pulled out the combat dagger from his waist, howled and rushed towards the Word Bearer, and got his knee kicked halfway as he wished.

The Word Bearer picked him up, but the sergeant threw the pain behind his head, and he waved the dagger crazily, creating many scars on the face of the Word Bearer.

His enemies watched him with interest, assessing the extent of his hatred. After a few seconds, he threw the sergeant to the ground.

"Not enough, mortal." He shook his head regretfully. "Compared to us, your hatred is far less-"

"- Bang!"

Like a thunderbolt or a cannon shot, a warhammer tore through the mist, whistled in, and fiercely knocked the Word Bearer out. A tall figure walked silently with boundless anger, and a torrent of steel was marching behind him.

The Ultramarines and Salamanders fought side by side, and the mist was broken by their arrival, which also fully revealed the killing machine behind them-the tank's artillery began to roar, and the speeder rushed past, rolling over the ruins, and rushed straight ahead.

The Word Bearer laughed again, with blood foam overflowing from the corners of his mouth, mixed with fragments of internal organs. Vulkan walked over silently, pressed one hand on the counterweight ball at the end of the warhammer, and began to press down.

The sudden increase in power caused the Word Bearer to utter a quick groan from his throat, and his body suddenly sank. The ruins of the destroyed city emitted smoke and dust under him, and a small pit appeared.

"Where is Lorca?" asked the Lord of Fire Dragons.

"You"

The Word Bearer panted and uttered a broken voice, but he only had time to say this one word. Vulkan raised his foot and crushed his head the next moment. He could see that this man would not give him an answer.

Picking up the warhammer, he turned and left. The Word Bearer's body began to bleed. His flattened armor and body should not have shed so much blood. Then, mist suddenly appeared from the ground and wrapped his body.

There was a slight chewing sound coming from the darkness. Vulkan turned his head expressionlessly, raised his hands, and took a step forward. Pure violence stretched out in his body - like thunder descending to the world, like a furious god, his huge power made the ground tremble for a moment.

Dust and smoke spread, but this was not the end, because the bodies of the Word Bearers were still deforming. Vulkan picked up his hammer and continued to smash down.

This was not the first time he had to deal with these beasts that could cause trouble even after death. He did not care about their warp magic. For the Lord of Fire Dragons, if he could kill them the first time, he could kill them the second and third time.

He would keep killing them until they were completely dead, and he would never stop before that. But the monsters in the darkness always came in groups. Ripples came from the fog, and several huge beasts roared out of it, with shadows behind them.

The rain of bullets came immediately, and the Astartes turned their guns and began to deal with this sudden encounter. They were used to it. They had seen everything in just half an hour since the war began.

Macragge was now wrapped in war, with gunboats fighting with bird demons in the sky, and Titans fighting with the dark Titans of the Word Bearers in the south outside the city. Tanks against tanks, armies against armies

The ground weapons platforms were constantly firing, and every time they sounded, the mountains trembled. Some of the artillery fire hit the track, and some fell to the ground. The once beautiful scene is now only dust, blood and corpses.

The realization of this made the Ultramarines painful, but it also activated their primitive instincts hidden deep in their genes. It was a magnificent rage, inhuman, cold, and derived from their genetic father.

This rage has been revealed in countless people in the past, and no one can master it because it is enough to destroy everything.

And you need to know one thing.

Before the Ultramarines became the "Ultramarines", they were called the Sons of War.

It was Robout Guilliman who changed them with his personal charm and spiritual power, and Macragge played a great role in this. And now?

They changed because of the short-lived peace and beauty, and became the embodiment of justice for hope and ideals.

Now, all of this is gone. Now, Macragge is only left with war.

So the Sons of War made a comeback.

Vulkan watched this happen, and he could not do anything to change or stop it. War is like this, you either get tempered in it, or you lose your humanity in it. There is nothing else.

The Fire Dragon Lord silently raised his warhammer and plunged into another killing. What he didn't know was that in the orbit of Macragge, a ship that should not have appeared was jumping out of Mandeville Point.

It was not a giant battleship, and there was not even a Word Bearer on it. The crew were all fallen mortals. When Macragge's orbital weapon platform aimed at the ship and was about to spit out a deadly death beam, they were still kneeling devoutly.

They are sacrifices, and their purpose is only one.

Summoning.

In the warp, Lorgar Aurelion smiled happily, and his appearance was very different from before.

Through the ocean of the warp, he stared at his brothers. After a few seconds, the surface of his overly large body began to shine with brilliant light.

With the sacrifice of tens of thousands of devout believers, he arrived at Macragge.

There is another chapter, also 5k