The Emperor’s Angel of Death

Terminating the gang-jumping plan, Lucius took people to the Poppy that was "jumped" immediately, but the communication from this ship was completely cut off ten minutes ago.

Although it was hard to believe, Lucius' rationality told Lucius that the hundred Slaanesh warriors on the ship, who were able to move freely through the hail of bullets and swords and halberds, were all finished.

And the one who did all of this, if the message he received was correct, was only one person.

Interesting, very interesting, even his intuition faintly told him—

That's who he was looking for.

So he ignored the dissuasion of some people and insisted on going there in person. Cleon even wanted to sink the ship, but Lucius stopped the demon. He didn't know why the other party was so afraid, but this was what he had to do. something to fix.

It is something that he must end in order to be truly perfect...

The regret left on Isstvan III must also come to an end.

Soon, several Thunderhawks carrying Lucius' most trusted fighters arrived on the Poppy whose engine had stopped. Along the way, the servants wailed for their master's tragic death, but Lucius ignored them.

But the bones told him a useful piece of news.

The other party was waiting for him at the bridge.

Very good, that will save a lot of trouble.

This style made him more and more convinced that it should be that person.

The Poppy's bridge was more of a lair than a command center, with battered flags from various companies of the Third Legion hanging from the ceiling, undulating in the air stirred by ventilation fans, and the luxurious carpets made of human skin As Slaanesh's warriors strode past, eyeballs seemed to grow out of the sockets of those shattered skulls, and jaws full of fangs laughed silently.

On the dome, bells made of human bones and skins, wind chimes and shackles tinkled rhythmically, and slaves with tattoos and branded Slaanesh marks on their bodies were lying on the ground, holding plates of rotten meat in their hands and other unpleasant consumables laced with stale perfumes and various stimulants and addictive drugs.

The observation window in the distance is shaped like a screaming mouth. The faint light of the lavender explosion-proof glass combined with the smog in the room makes the whole environment seem dreamlike. At the same time, in the corners and walls, you can still see The rest of the succubi wailed shrilly, filled with pity for the tragic death of their lovers, their vicious claws crackled along with the cries, their bodies flickered, like candles flickering in the wind, Struggling to maintain its physical form.

In front of the observation window is a huge commanding throne, covered with cushions and silk, a tall figure leaning on the throne, surrounded by many snake-like things, coiled under his feet like pets, Those were the slaves of the original Slaanesh warriors, but they were forced to serve another existence by force. The high platform under the throne was completely piled up by those destroyed Slaanesh warriors. Their armor was stripped off and turned white. His flesh was split open to serve as a stepping stone for former slaves.

As he got closer, Lucius saw the guy clearly. He didn't look very tall. He was wearing plain power armor and a helmet. He propped his head with his left fist as if he could feel the mocking gaze through the black eyepiece. , two swords leaning on the side of the throne, a red power sword, the other wrapped in yellow silk.

Seeing this, Lucius frowned slightly, as if thinking of something, his expression gradually changed from mocking to serious at the beginning.

At this time, the man nodded slightly, as if he was looking Lucius up and down.

"I must admit that your parody piqued my interest."

When Lucius stopped, dozens of the most elite veterans of the Nashikai Brigade spread out in a fan shape, aiming their guns at the people on the throne. They no longer had the original gorgeous and clean purple armor, no The part covered by human skin reveals very different colors and patterns, mixed with black, silver and rose, and some armors change different hues like iridescent every heartbeat, and a few people still wear purple power armor to step on. Entering the battlefield, but all the glory of the past is lost, and instead covered with blackened flesh.

The Emperor's Children Legion was long dead, and the Nashikai Battalion was but a fragment of a corpse, assembled only by the Legion's corruption.

The Immortal glanced at the dead Slaanesh warriors, then sneered.

"When did you become so...artistic?"

The man didn't answer, but sat up straight and looked at another man without a helmet, the pharmacist Caesar—his face was flawless, without any battle or self-mutilation scars like other brothers, and his hair was thick and black. With hair combed back, eyes dark amber, and a pale face with a perpetual cold and gloomy gaze, the pharmacist looks incredibly young, and it's impossible to imagine that his qualifications are almost as long as the legion that bears the same name.

He has seen the legion decline, rise, and then fall again. He has fought against assassins, participated in the purification of the Isstvan killing field, and spread screams on the throne world. His long life has witnessed the past of the Emperor's Children. look, and what they look like now.

Afterwards, the mysterious man on the throne sighed and shook his head.

"You shouldn't be like this, Caesar. You once said that you may not be able to become the most perfect swordsman, but you will create the most perfect heart for yourself. Is this the perfection you are after?"

His voice was distorted by the adjustment of the helmet, but when the former Legion apothecary heard those words, he took a step forward as if electrocuted.

"You... who are you!"

The other party didn't answer, and Caesar turned to look at Lucius.

"Immortal, you know him, right? Who is he!? Why does he know me...what I said!"

Lucius took a deep breath, and the rest of Nashikai's brigade were also whispering in secret. Everyone is not an idiot. Some of them have already guessed that the person above might have been a member of the legion

Loyalists who should have been slaughtered~www.readwn.com~ Put away your sowing tricks, I don't want to lose my apothecary just like that. "

Caesar froze for a moment, then he looked at the sword wrapped in yellow silk, his pupils shrank suddenly, and some almost forgotten things emerged from his mind that was nearly numb by the surrounding environment.

"Yes, could it be—"

"He is not!"

Lucius stopped talking after Caesar loudly, as if it was something terrible, his scarred face was already twisted, and his breathing became more and more rapid.

"He's not, that person died a long time ago, 10,000 years ago."

Afterwards, he put his hand on the hilt of Lal's Blade, staring at the figure on the throne.

"This game is boring, Saul Tarvitz."

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