Man in Warhammer, starting Primarch

Crystal dust spread in the air, drifting across the bridge like a mist.

The sound of the scholar chanting incantations came, and more than a dozen wizard servants in black clothes roared out blasphemous sacrificial runes and strange prayers.

The air above the nine-story altar began to flicker, with strange air currents swirling, and then it returned to calm.

Fars, wearing black armor, gradually emerged from the crystal mist with a twisted tall figure.

Horus looked at the scholar, who understood what he meant, smiled slightly, and retreated into the shadows.

Only after confirming that he had left did Horus look at Fars.

Fars was his descendant ten thousand years ago and was once the captain of the 16th Legion's Luna Wolves.

He was also one of the few senior Luna Wolves commanders who survived the Battle of Terra.

After the failure of the war that betrayed the Empire, Fars fled back to the Eye of Terror with Horus's body.

But not long after that, the Third Legion that fell into Slaanesh joined other Chaos warbands to burn down the Great Memorial Hall that the Luna Wolves valued most, and took away Horus's body.

In order to snatch the body of the Father of Genes, the desperate Fars could only look for the Spirit of Vengeance.

He tried to use Abaddon's power to recapture his father's body.

If Horus could trust anyone now, Fars would definitely be one of the few choices.

"Fars, how is the situation over there?" Horus asked.

"We sent a rescue message in the name of the Imperial Fleet. The Lord of Destruction will definitely arrive as promised. We have fought with him before. Dukel is definitely not the kind of person who will swallow his anger. We just need to wait for his arrival, but in the meantime, we need to strengthen the siege of the Imperial Fleet."

"All directions are ready for hunting. This time we are bound to break the false aura of victory on Dukel."

"As long as the opponent steps into the expected position, there will be no way to escape. In order to curb the opponent's power, we have prepared artifacts excavated from the dark world. With just a small cut, his soul will face the impact of the dark power."

Hearing Fars' words, Horus nodded.

"No one can win every battle in this group of stars. Dukel is just a mortal. He will also fail. If we want to really defeat him, the first thing we have to do is to pierce his aura of invincibility."

"Everything will be as you wish, my lord."

"Everything will be realized as expected." Horus' eyes were firm.

He signaled the Soul of Vengeance to start, and a group of mechanical servants were suddenly activated, flashing a dark red light.

"If Dukel cannot lead the empire to a better future, if he brings everything to destruction, I will spare no effort to stop him, even if the galaxy is set on fire again."

Horus looked at the magic sword Drachanion beside him and declared.

The sword inhabited by the devil made an ugly sound as if responding to him.

Drachanion is a demon, originating from the first murder of mankind.

Originated from the cause, process, and result of one person taking the life of another.

Throughout the history of human civilization, there are countless great moments, the first time to tame fire and divide oneself from the beast.

The first use of the round wheel, the first invention of writing, the first step into the starry sky, and so on.

Many historians regard these great moments as the turning point of the fate of human civilization.

But only the wise who are proficient in human nature know that the birth of the first murder is the beginning of human civilization.

When humans began to calculate and kill their own people in order to satisfy their ambitions, the outline of civilization gradually emerged in this scandal.

But humans originated here and were destined to end here. Born from the magic sword of the first murder, Drachanion was therefore called the end of the empire.

The blood of betrayal and murder is the curse borne by the human group.

The long history of human civilization can also be simply summarized as the history of betrayal and murder. In wars where people wield sharp blades against their compatriots, brothers fight against each other and relatives kill each other.

But what is amazing is that whenever these scandals happen, humans often burst out with wisdom and will that amazes the gods, and this amazing energy is only to promote the birth of murder.

The destruction of all great races can be traced.

The ancient saints were destroyed by the star gods.

The Eldar were destroyed by indulgence.

And humans were destroyed by betrayal and murder.

Whenever human civilization is about to reach the peak of glory, it will be thrown into the abyss by a betrayal.

The betrayal of the Iron Man and Horus trapped humanity in a long night.

The more painful the blow, the more it often comes from the betrayal of the closest people.

The Iron Man was once the most trusted helper of mankind, but a terrifying rebellion still occurred, leaving mankind with a fear of intelligent AI.

The Emperor personally taught Horus for decades, like a real father, giving him companionship and wisdom.

In the Great Crusade, because of the victory in the Battle of Ullanor, Horus took over as the Imperial Warmaster, and the Emperor personally crowned him.

Because of the contract between the man who was about to become a god and the gods, as early as the beginning of the Emperor's creation of the Primarch, he had anticipated that some Primarchs would leave him.

Some people even speculated that some of his inhumane actions were deliberately promoted by the Primarchs to betray them in order to prevent the Empire from suffering greater losses.

This speculation may be false, but the Empire's debt to several Primarchs is real.

But the Emperor owed nothing to Horus. The Lord of Mankind placed all his patience on Horus and taught him carefully.

But in the end, Horus betrayed him for various reasons, leading the traitorous Primarchs to fight the loyal Primarchs.

Even in the face of the most vicious enemies, human civilization has never been destroyed in the war against foreign enemies. Every fatal blow to mankind comes from within.

Betrayal and murder are the suffering of mankind, the beginning and end of fate.

No matter how much mankind has achieved and how powerful it has become.

Their hands are always inevitably stained with the blood of their loved ones.

The Imperial fleet trapped in the Great Vortex Storm is still struggling hard at this moment.

In order to prevent the fleet from being overwhelmed, Efilar has personally put on the Navigator Helmet.

The psykers of the Astronomican formed a circle, chanting obscure spells.

Using the Navigator Helmet, Ephilar amplified his own mental force field, forming a ball of light burning with hot flames in the warp.

The fire of the mind burned fiercely, radiating energy like a supernova. Under the protection of the flame, the warp storm could no longer engulf the Empire's fleet.

Humanity seemed to have stabilized the situation again and occupied the advantageous side.

However, the price was that Ephilar felt that her body was about to be burned every minute and every second.

Every minute and every second was a painful pain. At this moment, the saint almost felt the situation of the Emperor.

Just maintaining the navigation of the fleet in the warp storm has caused her such a hardship.

And the Emperor has to maintain countless times more than her. It is hard to imagine what kind of torture the man trapped on the throne has suffered for thousands of years.

Asmodai, the chief interrogator of the Dark Angels, watched the saint's pain from the side, and a trace of self-blame inevitably emerged in his heart.

It can almost be said that he was the one who caused the Imperial Fleet to fall into the predicament at the moment. He had persuaded the Saint to continue to go deep into the warp several times, which led to the Saint suffering such hardships.

In the Saint's pain, he finally realized his extreme paranoia about Chaos and betrayers.

Perhaps this is why the Lion King hates him.

This extreme paranoia made him lose his rational judgment, resulting in the meaningless sacrifice of innocent soldiers.

Perhaps it was because of this that the Lion King dismissed him from his post and let him reflect calmly.

In the chaotic sea of ​​souls, it may be realized that the warp storm can no longer cause any damage to the Imperial Fleet.

The ships hidden in the chaos began to appear little by little.

They broke up into small pieces and attacked the Imperial Fleet from all directions in the mode of hunting teams.

The loyalists fought again and again, exhausted.

When passing through the acid mist cloud belt condensed by jealousy, a vicious swarm of flies comparable in size to the frigate group launched an attack on the Imperial Fleet.

The vicious flies gathered into a blasphemous storm, and several frigates were about to fall.

Even more terrifying was that the unclean plague carried by the vicious flies infected the sailors of the fleet and spread rapidly within the fleet.

The psykers built a shield to resist the plague in the warp.

Under the protection of several Primaris Space Marines, Asmodai personally went to the ships that suffered from the plague.

He felt that he needed to do something to atone for his sins. Asmodai walked out of the communication room and clearly felt a vicious emotion.

The plague spread from the emotional level, and the experienced Asmodai quickly made a judgment in his heart.

The plague not only infected the human body, but also the ships.

Asmodai saw that disgusting pustules grew on the alloy walls of the ship.

There were whispers echoing in the air, and the buzzing flies covered the nuclear-powered wall lamps on the wall.

Fungi like thick smoke lingered on electronic equipment everywhere.

The soldiers held flamethrowers and went back and forth again and again, trying to use flames to eliminate them all.

But they would always hide in the gaps of the machinery before the flames came. These cunning flies looked for any gaps that could pass through and blocked the ventilation ducts in groups.

The humans in the entire fleet did not dare to take off their protective clothing even when they were sleeping, but they still could not stop the spread of the plague.

Those infected patients had large abscesses ulcerated, and the slightest touch would cause heart-wrenching wounds.

Asmodai looked at these unfortunate mortals, who groaned in pain and low voices.

"Kill me, sir, please."

A mortal soldier begged Asmodai, if the soldier was not weak at the moment, perhaps he would have killed himself with his own hands and freed himself from this suffering.

From his mask, Asmodai saw wriggling black spots, and some disgusting flies drilled out of his wounds, vibrating their wings and making buzzing sounds.

The blasphemous things have already used the soldiers as their incubator, and the weak soldiers can only passively wait for death.

A ship doctor came over, with rotten wounds on his face.

The doctor comforted the soldier, injected him with a large amount of sedatives, and sent him to a slightly cleaner place.

A large number of doctors and legion pharmacists were running around, trying to heal their compatriots.

But they themselves had been infected with the plague.

Such a scene had appeared more than once in Asmodai's memory, which was why he hated Chaos.

Seeing Chaos torturing loyal warriors in a cruel way, who wouldn't have a nameless fire in their heart?

But this time, Asmodai decided to restrain his anger. He reminded himself to learn rational restraint to avoid more tragedies.

Fortunately, although the plague was raging, it was generally under control.

In the prayers of the nuns and the priests of the virtual world, the loyalists infected by the vicious plague fell asleep one by one.

They fell into a happy dream, in which they saw a huge golden eagle spreading its wings and falling from the top of the sky.

The pollution from Chaos was expelled and turned into a screaming and screaming monster.

The soldiers were receiving treatment, but it would take time.

Efilar reached her limit at this moment. Because of the excessive burning of psychic energy and mental energy, she became extremely weak.

The saint's skin, like a girl, now had barely noticeable wrinkles, but she still couldn't stop, otherwise the terrible subspace storm would engulf them in an instant.

Once they were scattered in the storm, they would be doomed.

At this moment, the saint was tortured by endless illusions because of overdrawn.

Her mind was getting harder and harder to concentrate. In the illusion, she saw the warmaster she followed fall, and countless soldiers killing each other with his brothers.

The powerful imperial fleet no longer faced the outside world in unison, but pointed its guns at each other.

She saw that those worlds that had already improved were once again shrouded in the shadow of chaos, and humans holding weapons and killing each other.

The bright future that the humans of millions of worlds had been looking forward to became a bubble, and the glory they were chasing was extinguished and disappeared.

Under the foreshadowing of various illusions, Efilar understood what the enemy was going to do and why they had been reluctant to launch an attack.

The imperial fleet she led became the enemy's bait at this moment.

The whispers of chaos echoed in the saint's mind, day and night.

These illusions whipped Efilar's soul like the most vicious torture.

Those voices kept repeating, trying to completely destroy her defenses and lead the saint to corruption.

Let her completely become a member of the warp.

On the other side, Dukl has set sail, the Eagle of Destiny is lit again, and the red flames of destruction are burning on the sea of ​​souls.

Countless dark beings who could not escape were involved and became victims of the Warmaster's real wrath.