The Emperor’s Angel of Death

The hunter appeared from his lair, his hungry eyes swept across the mess around him.

He quickly adapted to the new environment, like a predator entering a fertile hunting ground, and then a mysterious smile appeared on his pale corpse face.

He opened his arms, embraced nothingness, and enjoyed the darkness.

This shadowed chessboard, this black jungle, this empty mountain, here, he is like his hometown.

But hometown--

But it was not a good place in his memory, Aprisis Nest, an overly vast city.

On its crumbling foundation, scarred stones and snow-covered ridges are connected with neatly arranged reinforced concrete and steel. The city is built in a deep crack on the planet, and the iron base is like a rusty giant tree. Like roots, coiled in a dark cave, countless industrial grinders continue to expand behind, the cracks are billowing with smoke like the breath of the devil, and a toothless mouth stretches out to the devastated ground.

On it, the polished rock grows the lowest towers and levels like a mold, and there are many heavy gates in parallel, and countless roads through the wilderness, and finally enter a closed space to seal against the cold.

Then, it was destroyed-it was destroyed by his own hands, just as the Primarch had done to its home planet.

After awakening, with urgency and excitement, he left, jumped into a turbulent shadow, and turned into a ghost that flickered in the shadow.

This is the rear of the enemy. He should be more careful, but he knows that there will be no real enemies here.

He climbed over the vertical support, scratched with his claws, stopped with hooked feet, jumped between the silent suspended ladders, and then hung upside down like a dead body.

He heard the noise from the passages on both sides, so he stopped and pretended to be a rag on the wall.

In such a messy building pile, a huge giant turns into an invisible figure with unimaginable flexibility, just like a midnight addition.

Then, he drew his claws, stared at the sharp blade and trembling, waiting, every muscle tightened.

With the rush and alertness of every sense, his mind found that he could wander freely. The past penetrated his memory like oil soaked in a sponge: hesitated in the night like death.

When the attack came, the palace was in chaos. His fake father persuaded him to stay there, but he chose to escape, passing through halls and corridors crowded with screaming servants and roaring guards, and rushed into the force field generator room. Although the old technical priest tried to stop him, he pierced the only remaining organic eye of the old monster with the ritual dagger given to him by the fake father on his tenth naming day, and took away his forged gene key-the fake mother The gift given to him represents who shouldn't be him-the shutdown procedure of the palace shield was initiated.

After a few minutes, the shield was put down, and destruction came.

The voice faded away, and he returned to his ruthless mood.

He pierced his claws, as if inserted between ribs, and slid into a crack in the rock, letting the darkness engulf him.

There is no logic in this place. All kinds of simple houses are piled on top of each other. Between each other is a messy stairwell. On both sides are pious statues and missionaries' pulpit, but they are still chaotic and disorderly.

The ancient stairs don’t know where to lead. The tunnel passes through knotted girders and plastic garbage. Twisted and twisted cables gush out from the messy clapboard, coiling all the way up, and the collapsed tunnel is re-drilled or bypassed, bulging. The sluice opened, there was a gurgling sound, and the floor was full of scaled slime.

This place is the largest refugee camp in the Red Sands Mountains. It is said that nearly one million people have accumulated.

These people are hopeless, useless, and have nothing, split into large and small criminal gangs, looking for fungus and carrion in the dark——

In his opinion, these are not people, but animals, but mice.

The hunter felt sick for a while. If this was a return of loyalty to the emperor, then he chose his side wisely.

He retracted his thoughts, focused all his attention on the footsteps of the upcoming prey, and let go of his right hand-at its tip, the claw of the handguard was slightly bent.

Two men came out of the tunnel next to him. They wore jackets and iron rugs, whispering softly, and walking restrained, as if they had been liars for a lifetime.

In these caves, caution is as natural as breathing.

This is not good for them.

After at least two breaths, the first one was dead. His brain hadn't even realized the threat, and a pair of sharp blades rushed into his face from the shadows and slid through his eye sockets like icicles.

The hunter threw off the body and emerged from the niche, facing the second person.

In his memory, the voice of the owner he killed was hissing, like pouring sand, overwhelming his mind:

"Let them see what you can do to steal their hope, just like the shadow steals the light and show them yourself... Weapons are the same, but their effects are the same. Fear and fear are weapons."

In the hallway, standing in a pool of blood of his fallen friend, the second man looked at his nightmarish face, trembling, choking and screaming.

"look at me."

The hunter said, reaching out to the opponent.

Of course, this man can't see anything, he is simply blind.

They are all.

By the end of the second day, there were already twelve prey, seven men and five women.

Their reactions are so diverse, which surprised the hunters, most of them screamed from the beginning, when he met them, when he bends his paws and growls, when he paints their horror with a brush like an artist, in When the suffocating horror gouache was meticulously added to the fear of the oil, his heart was maddened by the justice of what he had done.

And they threw their little heads back and screamed.

However, some people were silent, staring in shock, like silent animals-black eyes protruding ~www.readwn.com~ lips twitched and their faces pale.

In these situations, hunters use their claws to abduct them, sliding through the layers of debris to a hidden place, where they can restore their sound leisurely.

Then you can start screaming.

One of the women impressed him, she knelt down and began to pray, some murmured to the emperor.

The angry hunter cut off her fingers one by one, enjoying the change in her expression.

One of the men tried to fight him, but he had nothing to say in the process.

He lurked in this ruin, in the corner of a settlement full of refugees, thinking about this palette of fear, like a painter planning to mix new colors.

But always, this joy is always consumed by hatred, anger, and anxiety about failure.

He asked himself, what did he learn from his killing? What did he discover from his numerous works and numerous depictions?

there is nothing.

He painstakingly described everything he had witnessed at the hunting grounds, carve it affectionately on the skin of each victim, but their ignorance remained intact.

Ever since he killed his former master and truly took control of the war gang, something has always swallowed him and gnawed his soul.

He staggered in the darkness, lost in thought, and vented his anger on the broken bricks of the ancient building.

But all this can't help much.

So, once again, after the hunt, emptiness struck, he left here, spanned a long distance, and returned to the place where he started.

The servants said, Sal Bodong, or Garmo Zejie, seems to have something to look for him?

But he didn't care, and didn't care much about it.

It's dawn and he is tired--

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