Man in Warhammer, starting Primarch

Efilar and the officers were discussing the tactical arrangements for the surprise attack on Abaddon. At this moment, a violent shock swept the entire fleet, and the command center shook.

Behind the saint, flaming wings rose. She alone supported the extremely solid heart barrier, which barely stabilized the decline in this subspace impact.

The nuns sang hymns in unison. With the joint efforts of them and the saint, they finally survived this crazy and raging chaos storm.

If it weren't for the mental matrix they jointly constructed, the entire fleet would probably be scattered by the storm in an instant and lost in the deep subspace. Only depravity or death awaited them.

The fatal crisis came so quickly that all the loyalists were caught off guard.

The empire's reconnaissance ships have not yet discovered where this terrifying attack came from.

The unknown enemy is covered with a mysterious veil, and it is possible to jump out of the sea of ​​souls at any time and launch a fatal attack on the imperial fleet.

Like prey surrounded by wolves, everyone in the Imperial Fleet unconsciously tensed up before the next attack.

The Warp showed its vicious fangs to the invaders who dared to defy it, and indescribable whispers penetrated from the weak points of the force field.

Although such penetration was far from fatal, it still made the crew members wail and groan in pain under the terrible pressure of the Warp.

The terrible nightmare tortured them, and the Warp hurricane, which was so huge that it was unimaginable, made communication between the fleets difficult.

The most terrifying thing was that even the Imperial Astronomican in the astropath's sight began to flicker at this time, and it was possible to disappear completely at any time.

Crazy scenes appeared in the eyes of the psykers, and they also went crazy. Forced to do so, the Space Marines had to temporarily knock them out and send them to the church of the Order of the Void.

Only there could the poor psykers enjoy a precious moment of peace.

In contrast, the flickering of the Astronomican is more worrying. Without the Astronomican, the Imperial Fleet cannot locate the barrier between reality and the Warp in the Warp.

Under such circumstances, it is almost impossible for them to escape from the Warp, and they will only be lost forever in this chaotic and crazy dimension.

The Warp Storm called the Eye of Terror is a very special and terrifying place in the Warp.

This is the intersection of the material universe and the sea of ​​souls, and it is a place where reality and illusion coexist.

Only the power of the Emperor is enough to penetrate here. Without the guidance of the Astronomican, it is still unknown whether they can rely on the virtual realm jump.

Even the latest device developed by Cawl and Gris is difficult to help them locate their coordinates here.

Without coordinates, even if Warmaster Duker wants to rescue them, he can't find them.

What's worse is that it has become extremely difficult for them to pass messages to the outside world at this moment.

If they don't do something, they are likely to die here in silence.

The fleet led by Efilar encountered a trap set by Chaos. The Saint drew out her weapon, and the wings of flames shone behind her. She was ready for a big battle.

But the enemy's cunning was beyond her expectations. Efilar imagined that the enemy who attacked them this time was Abaddon, but as time passed, she quickly overturned this assumption.

The Empire had fought against Abaddon before. It is undeniable that Abaddon was also an excellent commander, but in comparison, he was far less vicious and steady.

Yes, steady. Efilar had experienced hundreds of battles, but it was the first time that she saw a steady and steady war style in the crazy and wanton demons.

These chaotic and blasphemous creatures seemed to have learned to restrain their edge overnight, causing the imperial soldiers to fall into a bitter battle.

The enemy did not rush to launch a fierce attack, but tested them again and again like a wolf pack, looking for their flaws.

In these passive defenses, the soldiers inevitably became tired.

Everyone on every ship was on edge, and was always nervous and uneasy in the face of the sudden attack that could come at any time.

This was a huge drain on the soldiers' physical strength.

In the deep darkness of the warp, it seemed as if millions of beasts were staring at them with malice, waiting for them to slack off. The ubiquitous sense of crisis made it difficult for everyone to breathe.

This situation made them very anxious.

Efilar was trapped in the warp.

Although the enemy had not launched a general attack.

But from time to time, several giant ships on the edge were harassed. When the large forces wanted to rescue, they found that the opponent's attack had been completed.

Under such circumstances, the Imperial Fleet was inevitably damaged.

Although the damage to the fleet was not serious for several weeks, everyone knew that as time went on, the number of damages would increase exponentially.

Once the wolves really bit their wounds, their defeat would be in an instant.

In this depressing atmosphere, mortal soldiers have gradually lost control of their emotions.

Even the Space Marines who had undergone the Primaris surgery showed a tired look due to long-term vigilance.

And the mortal servants, who were the largest in number within the fleet, also inevitably suffered negative effects due to being under high pressure for a long time.

From vomiting and diarrhea to mental depression, there were many symptoms.

The enemy had not really attacked them yet, but the fear brought by them had crushed the spirits of the mortals.

The nuns also looked exhausted. The sisters of the Psychic Order walked among them every day, using sacred songs to bless the mortals in groups to prevent them from completely collapsing.

The result of doing so was just to allow the mortals to sleep peacefully.

After several weeks, the enemy's general attack still did not come. The Psychic Matrix almost reached its limit, and more and more unclean energy penetrated in.

The ubiquitous illusion made the imperial soldiers unable to distinguish between reality and illusion.

There was no way out, and they lost their way. Even the imperial officials were filled with despair.

During this period, Efilar could only trek hard in the disordered time flow and the turbulent subspace storm.

But she did not despair in her heart. Even if she fell into such a situation, her connection with the Psychic Network still existed.

Through the network, she could keep in touch with Dukel and the members of the Psychic Network at any time.

But this did not mean that she could break through the predicament in front of her at any time. Without knowing the specific coordinates, even Dukel's eyes could not see them.

Efilar needs to use the telepathic sensor to lock the chaotic time and space where she is, so that the reinforcements of the Empire can find her location.

Before the enemy launches a fatal attack on them, lock the current coordinates.

This is a race against time.

But Efilar wants more than just to get out of trouble. She wants to thoroughly understand the enemy who attacked her before being rescued.

Such a vicious and steady enemy must not be allowed to hide in the warp.

And somewhere in the warp, the huge Spirit of Vengeance floats silently in the void. Unlike the vortex storm on Efilar's side, the place where the Spirit of Vengeance is located is calm.

Horus stood on the bridge, looking at the peeping eye opened by the wizards with a cold expression.

The peeping eye is looking at Efilar's fleet.

The enemy is struggling to escape the trap he set.

Horus's burly body stands like a mountain, wearing the heavy armor of the Ultimate.

There was a sound of footsteps, and the heavy breathing of the captive echoed in his ears, interrupting his thoughts.

Horus glanced at the fallen Primaris Space Marine.

His armor was broken, and his scapula was pierced by an iron hook.

The handsome broad face of the loyalist was covered with blood, and his unwilling eyes were filled with tangible anger.

But when Horus looked at him, he smiled, and was not angry at his eyes.

The warriors of the Empire are becoming stronger and stronger, even comparable to those famous demons.

These powerful and wise warriors will one day recognize his good intentions, and Horus has no doubt about this.

He walked in front of the loyalist, and the yellow paint and legion symbol on his body made him see his identity clearly.

He belonged to the Seventh Legion of the Empire, and was the descendant of the Primarch Dorn.

"It turned out to be you, the son of betrayal." Every time the loyalist said a word, a lot of blood would flow out of his mouth, but this still could not drown out the shock in his tone.

He looked seriously injured, but in fact, it was not fatal. The tenacious vitality of the Primaris Space Marines was repairing those terrible wounds bit by bit.

"It doesn't matter if you betray, poor child, you don't know what kind of person you are following."

Horus looked down at the warrior.

"Dukor can only bring war and destruction. You will not get any glory by following him, and will only usher in eternal nothingness in regret." He said to the heir of Dorn.

If possible, he hoped that the other party would follow him and help him stop Dukor.

But Horus was destined to be disappointed. The warriors of the Imperial Fists were as stubborn as their genetic father.

Every word he said at this time was regarded as bewitching and deceiving by the other party.

"You will pay the price, son of betrayal." The Imperial Fists said with hatred.

"Maybe." Horus showed an indifferent attitude, "I am a dead soul returning from the underworld. Maybe I will eventually return there, but before that I have to complete my career."

After saying this, Horus no longer paid attention to him, but shifted his gaze and looked curiously at the captured imperial ship.

Without the protection of the force field, this imperial ship was exposed to the invasion of the warp, and unclean flesh and abscesses grew on the surface of the hull.

At this moment, the mechanical priests could even clearly hear the wailing from the machine soul. The terrible blasphemous energy was polluting this loyal warship.

Horus looked at the configuration of the ship, and there was a hint of amazement in his eyes.

After the transformation of the latest technology of the Empire, the performance of this imperial warship is far superior to that of the old model of the Empire.

The dense array of light spears is piled on the edge of the warship, and no one dares to underestimate the firepower of the dense macro cannon.

When seeing some innovative technologies, a trace of undetectable jealousy flashed in Horus's eyes.

He knew whose wisdom these were. Apart from Duker, Horus could not think of anyone else in the current empire who had such ability.

Horus even publicly admitted that he was jealous of the talent of the Second Primarch. In terms of scientific research and personal bravery, the Second Primarch had talents far superior to his brothers. Ten thousand years ago, he was the undisputed number one except for the Emperor.

But Horus would not be ashamed of himself because he was confident that he could do better than Duker in many other fields.

Most importantly, in Horus' eyes, Dukor's radical character is a very serious character flaw.

Horus still remembers that ten thousand years ago, when Dukor had just returned, his legion had not yet been recalled.

Under such circumstances, the other party dared to take only two soldiers to suppress a world that dared to go against his will.

At that time, Horus once thought he was crazy.

But Dukor finally succeeded. He conquered that world almost single-handedly with martial arts that surpassed everything in the mortal world.

In that war, the always arrogant Horus had to admit the gap with the other party.

It was also after that war that Fulgrim, who pursued perfection, decided to imitate the other party, but was blocked by the brothers of the original body.

Even No. 2 used the proverb of his hometown to sincerely advise him.

But such behavior made Fulgrim feel insulted, and No. 3 was upset about it and thought that Dukor was hypocritical.

Horus recalled the details of the past.

But at this moment, the magic sword Drachanian behind him began to tremble in anger.

Horus's failure to kill the Imperial Fist caused dissatisfaction with the magic sword.

It was eager to devour the soul of a powerful warrior.

But what it received was Horus's heavy punch.

"Behave yourself!" Horus roared at the magic sword, "If you can't learn to surrender, then I will break you and bury you in the depths of the dark stars, and seal you forever!"

Amid his roar, the magic sword calmed down.

Resentment rose in Drachanian's heart, but it knew that Horus was different from Abaddon, the other was more powerful and kept his word.

Feeling the magic sword calm down, Horus no longer paid attention to him.

He originally disdained to use this magic sword that originated from the first murder of mankind, but in this competition with Dukel, he knew that he had to use all the power he could.

At his call, new warbands came from various demon planets in the warp and the Hellforge every day to join his fleet.

But this was far from enough.

Horus strictly required the demons to abide by the discipline he set, and anyone who disobeyed his will would be severely punished.

If he relied on himself alone, it would be difficult to do this, but with the help of four friends, everything was implemented smoothly.

"Help me connect to Fars." Horus said to the scholar beside him.

"Let me hear how things are going over there."

"As you wish." The scholar in the blue robe agreed.

Then he turned the nine-sided crystal in his hand and carved a magic circle with nine runes on the table.

Horus watched him act, and the previous incident caused a gap between him and his four friends.

This person is not trustworthy, but he is still useful.

Horus said to himself.