The Emperor’s Angel of Death

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"Go ahead, I'm ready here."

Hearing Tubek's voice, Gar Mozejie stepped forward with stiff four legs and began to pass through the huge stone gate in front of him. Ritual of the blood of a million mortals.

This is one of the legacy of the Primarch's past, hidden deep on an unnamed dead planet called the Shinrao Miwo Gate - and according to the records left by the Legion in the temple, this thing seems to have something to do with the Emperor. , but the details are not recorded.

When approaching the gate, a sense of numbness surged through Gar Mozejie's body, the runes on the gate glowed, and the many twisted faces carved on it seemed to come to life, flying out of the stone to greet him, dragging behind him. with a comet-like tail.

At the same time, he felt a sharp howl in his ears.

The ghosts surrounded him as he walked towards the arch, and they burrowed into his long mouth and nose, and he felt a gust of air pass through his throat and fill his lungs.

Although he was full of anxiety, he still forced himself to move forward, getting closer and closer to the majestic arch...

In the blink of an eye, Gar Mozejie thought he had passed.

He briefly glimpsed a terrifying figure, clad in ornate armor full of lotus and orbs, with four heads and eight arms with different expressions, under which sat a crawling black demon, with a The eight weapons sent a chill to the bone.

Before he could see it carefully, the surrounding time and space distorted and transformed, and his body seemed to be boiling and melting.

When he woke up, he was already in another place.

Gar Mozejie was standing on a blood-colored plain. He looked up and saw a group of people and machines in the distance. Some were wearing the purple armor of the Soul Drinker, while others were wearing blood-red armor with lifelike inlays on it. Brass skull, but oddly similar in overall design to the purple armor.

Those in purple armour fought these men in red armour in the cold light of a pale sun.

Gar Mozejie bowed his head and found himself standing on a pile of corpses, a severed head rolled away from his feet, limbs creaking under his feet, and then found himself wearing the armor of the past, above. There are thousands of cracks and cracks, and the legs are still the same.

Oil and liquid mixed with his own blood and the flesh of his enemies, clung to its once-smooth surface, and in each of his hands he held a power sword and a chainsaw, the power sword no longer working. , the blade is badly damaged, the chainsaw sword is still working normally, moving from time to time, vibrating and screaming in the hand, and then stopping again, as if the spell that made it move has failed.

He looked around and saw Ictinos, Caen, Pallas, and even the corpses of Gorgri and Maximilian.

At last he was surrounded by men in red armor, some with their helmets thrown back, those exposed faces contorted into the ugliest appearance of human nature, intense hatred glowing red from others' helmets out of the eyes.

Gar Mozejie knew that they were far more numerous and stronger than him, and he also understood that he was only a moment away from death.

One of the men in red armor motioned for his followers to stop, and they stopped there like hounds obeying their master's orders, but Gar Mozeje knew they would not endure long.

They still thirst for his blood, and not even their fearsome leader can keep them in check.

The leader began to speak, with a deep and sincere voice.

"You are a mighty warrior, Gar Mozeje, a great killer, you are qualified to join us, lay down your weapons! Join the blood ritual, dedicate your soul to Khorne, and you will live forever Go down and enjoy the thrill of endless battles!"

Gar Mozejie knew it was a good proposition, and part of his body was excited about it.

The warrior in red armour assured him of never-ending **** battles, knowing that if he joined their rituals and donned their red armour, he would rejoice in slaughter like never before, an eternally powerful The existence will reward him for it.

"Blood sacrifice to the blood god! Skull offering skull seat!"

And he knew that as long as he shouted this slogan, the soldiers around him would roar in response to him.

For a moment, he felt an urge.

Why not join these mighty warriors? Why not dedicate your soul to this Khorne? Why not have eternal life?

But as he thought about it, another part of his body spurned the thought with disgust.

He saw the loss and corruption of these blood followers, what they were missing, something important - their twisted bodies reflecting their twisted souls, and no matter how beautiful their armor was, it couldn't hide it.

Yes, they are slaves, and Gar Mozeje is to be his own master!

"You're just a bunch of dogs! I'm not in the company of dogs and slaves!"

Gar Mozejie laughed and spat into the leader's face, then jumped into the fray and slashed left and right, not even the blade that cut through his bones could make him regret his decision.

Just as he was about to be beheaded, a pitch-black pit unfolded under his feet, and before he could understand it, he came to a different time and place.

"Well done, man, you made it through the first level."

A faint voice sounded in Gar Mozejie's ear~www.readwn.com~ but he was almost ignored because the scene in front of him was too shocking.

Surrounded by walls of bruises and bruises of flesh and blood, huge pipes like venomous snakes pass through them, strange liquids flow inside, yellow skeletons like rotting teeth support the ceiling, and a disgusting mucus covers everything, Caused his boots to make an unpleasant sucking sound every time they were pulled from the tongue-like ground.

When he breathed, he felt the air tight and sticky, as if he had been swallowed by some kind of giant monster.

He put on the armor of the past again, and the weapon appeared in his hand.

In his ears, for some reason, he suddenly heard voices he knew: Tubek, Iktinos, Amon...

Some force brought their voices, flat and emotionless.

He could hear them talking.

Is this real?

He repeatedly asked himself, and repeatedly denied, this was the key to keeping his mind and not being swallowed up.

Although it all felt real, the floor beneath his feet vibrated with the beast's breath, and he could smell the stench of internal organs, the odd scent lingering in his mouth like venom.

Mighty soul, what do you desire.

A voice roared in his head, he couldn't recognize the voice, but it sounded old and wise.

Almost as soon as he heard the words, he felt a force flow into his will, allaying his doubts, changing his memory, forcing him to live in his present circumstances.

At the last moment when his thoughts were stagnant, he tried to open his mouth and roared:

"What I want...you can't give it!!!"

In an instant, the strange force pouring into his body poured out like a landslide, and those thoughts of obedience disappeared.

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