Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

Chapter 320 1453.5.29

Destructive air waves emitted from the tower at the edge of his vision, like a volcano that finally woke up from its slumber. In the briefest of moments, sorrow and pain swept through every inch of the battlefield in sight. .

Zhuang Sen felt that aura: every Dark Angel and Mortal Auxiliary Army soldier around him, even the alien skeletons that had fallen to the ground and lost their heads, were all letting out twisted screams in unison. Twisting their spines unscrupulously, reminding him of the birth of such a terrifying thing.

The Lord of Caliban was even stunned for a moment before he came out of this arrogant illusion. His eyes swept across the worried and twisted face of Coswayne on the side, trying hard to ignore those things that were no different from reality. Vision, focusing all his attention on what is before him.

But the Primarch soon discovered that all this seemed to be in vain.

Just a dozen kilometers behind him, rows after rows of artillery were continuously firing steel barrages that covered the sky. The flames ignited the entire sky, and the fatal speed brought thunderous roars. Hitting the high wall of Ran Dan Palace mercilessly, large chunks of unknown metal slid down like an avalanche, along with the bodies of thousands of alien soldiers lifted up by the scalding air waves.

But in Zhuang Sen's eyes, this scene of harbingers of victory highlighted another unsettling look. Behind him were no longer steel cannons, but rows of wild beasts imprisoned in the furnace. Giant beasts, they spewed out curled-up balls of bone and blood, and kept piling up in Ran Dan's palace: that blasphemous thing that was piled up with countless rotting flesh and wailing souls, beating like a heart. superior.

It's squirming, it's rolling, it's like an egg about to hatch, constantly giving the Calibans tremendous pressure, as if something is going to come out of it in the next second.

"..."

The Primarch paused, and he spent a second observing the troops deployed at the front: the new blood of Caliban and Dawnbreaker, there were obvious signs of stagnation, and the two The Terran veterans of this legion continued the offensive after the briefest pause and turned a blind eye.

Seeing this, the Primarch of the First Legion nodded with satisfaction, but he knew very well that he should not continue to stand here: without the slightest hesitation, Zhuangson pulled out his famous lion sword, with a The alien blood hasn't even had time to dry up.

Behind him, the five hundred people who had lost less than half of their troops, also silently pulled out their weapons, followed their genetic father, and rushed again to the battlefield where they had just left less than half an hour ago: Everyone knows that this charge will end this already boring war.

The Lord of Caliban was walking at the forefront of everyone. His emerald pupils were as cold as icebergs at this time. Countless illusions of destruction passed through the edge of his vision, all of which were enough to drive any Terran veteran into madness. Despair, but unable to shake the Primarch in the slightest.

Zhuang Sen's idea was very simple, as simple as a beast, but full of capable aesthetics: Although he didn't know why such an illusion would come to him, nor why this evil spirit from subspace came to the real universe, But he is convinced that as long as he burns the object of this illusion to ashes, as long as he ends this too long war, these false existences will also go away.

These visions are like a puzzle.

The Lord of Caliban is a problem solver like Alexander the Great.

In the next minute, Jonson rushed into the most tragic battle line. The banner of the Primarch set off a continuous wave of cheers in the First Legion. Countless knights and orders who were blocked spontaneously followed the Primarch. Around them, a mighty main attack wave formed.

Whether it is the Holy Terrans, Gramayars, or Calibans, they all found a common identity and goal at this moment. When they followed behind the original gene, even those chilling The ugly illusion has become as vulnerable as the moon in the mirror.

Only the most elite, even Terran veterans who remember the glorious years of [Six Wings] and [Heavenly Army], will look at their genetic father with indifference, and then go about their own business to fulfill the established rules. A good plan, quite a few of them have even climbed up the high wall of Randan Palace, looking for ways to break through the subspace shield.

As for those horrific visions that are enough to frighten the Astartes warriors, these inner circle veterans can only be given a little shock at the beginning, and the subsequent indifference.

After all, every one of them has witnessed more terrifying scenes with his own eyes, and has created a more bloody hell with his own hands. After the cold footsteps of the Six Wings, there are countless corpses and ruins.

The Primarch also discovered the unique behavior of some of his descendants, and he did not want to control their actions: more than these, Jonson was more concerned about how he could get rid of this alien version of Theodosius' Wall. , cutting a gap that could end this war.

He soon fell into a completely immersive single-threaded thinking, and could not tolerate anything that had nothing to do with fighting: but at the last moment, the instinct of the Primarch still allowed Jonson to put the current subspace wave into perspective. Summarized into a brief message, sent to his silver-haired blood relatives in low-Earth orbit.

Since it is about psychic powers, let Morgan handle it. She can always handle anything within her scope: in the mind of Lord Caliban, this understanding has now become a kind of truth. .

But as he roared into the final battle, the Primarch of the First Legion ignored one tiny detail: the message he had sent to Morgan.

It seems that it has never been accepted.

——————

The air trembled.

It was as if the tower was burning.

Conrad from Nostramo was swept by the sudden scalding air waves. The fierce storm pulled his long black hair mercilessly and dragged his cloak. The smelly bloody raindrops made him Can't keep my eyes open.

When the storm just started, Midnight Ghost had to stride back. He left his original position. It was not until he retreated to the 222nd floor that he stabilized his steps: On this floor, The originally ferocious storm seemed to become particularly docile.

The alien high priest's intoxicated smile, wrapped in blood, madness, hysteria and broken internal organs, arrived with the sound of wind, and Conrad clearly saw its actions and everything that happened on the altar.

Above the boiling pool of blood, the darkest light and thousands of shrill wails were constantly gushing out, soaking every trace of air into blood and death, as if everyone in this war was The souls who slept in eternal sleep woke up in unimaginable pain and once again suffered eternal suffering.

Conrad could see that countless energy vortices were constantly pouring into the abyss emerging from the blood pool. They were rapidly cutting open the skin between the real universe and the subspace, rolling and boiling. , flowing, condensing into an endless darkness as far as the eye can see, in which countless dense fogs are roaring wantonly, shaping a grand staircase that is enough to welcome a demon king.

Under the gaze of the Primarch, as the Alien Lord coughed up blood, the subspace passage opened its maw, and elements that only existed in the darkest nightmares were salivating out of it. Their eyeless and noseless faces looked directly at the Primarch, showing him a bloody smile. Then, these sinful substances suddenly exploded and turned into countless disgusting pieces of meat that were like digested by gastric juice. creation.

Their thoughts formed countless things that the Primarch could not understand: whether it was half-formed teeth, limbs of unknown creatures, or fangs of beasts devouring each other, they were all repeatedly melting, fighting and condensing. They rolled around and eventually evolved into face sculptures that looked like the faces of the dead. Each face sculpture symbolized a face, a face that even the Primarch of the future would not know who they belonged to. Pale face.

It was only at this moment that Midnight Ghost opened his hands, allowing the pair of adamantine claws made by the best craftsmen on Holy Terra to fully emerge in the air, and the Primarch used them to peel them off and scatter them on his face. His black hair was tucked behind his ears: this was one of the insignificant habits among the many habits he had inherited from his carrion blood relatives.

It was also a sign that Midnight Ghost had entered a fighting state. It was not until this moment that he became truly serious, because from the moment the blasphemous vortex appeared in front of him, it was something that the future had never revealed to him.

He must be serious: just as at certain other moments he must be mad.

The Primarch raised his head, and he quietly stared at the ever-expanding whirlpool: it was like a black hole, continuously swallowing the alien blood pool, but there was far no sign of being filled, and Ran The high priest of Dan is kneeling in front of the deepest whirlpool. Its limbs have been torn to pieces by the wanton wind, but it seems not to notice. The hysterical laughter is the only thing it can send out now. the sound of.

But Conrad could see clearly: at the edge of the old alien-shaped pupils, there were a few turbid tears shining brightly. They were firmly occupied there, and even the storm did not sweep them away: maybe it was fear, maybe it was because of fear. Regret, but definitely not tears of joy, the Primarch was sure of that.

The midnight ghost moved forward slowly. The closer it got to the storm, the more it could feel the strange aura coming towards its face: it was the broken soul of injustice, it was the future that was constantly burning, it was a kind of power that could make people He felt absolute shock and...

kind?

A brief moment of doubt passed through his heart, and the laughter from the depths of the warp came as promised. The tentacles of the gods tightly grasped the cracks in the Primarch's heart. The deep ecstasy, filled with blue and purple, penetrated all pervasive. Haunting the edges of midnight ghosts, they longed for his surrendered soul: just a little bit.

"..."

Even Conrad had to spit out an extremely dirty curse: so dirty that if Morgan heard it, it would blow his Nostramo's head.

Midnight Ghost's pace couldn't help but speed up a bit, but in the end, he stopped before the six hundredth step: whether it was the stern admonishment from Morgan in his mind, or the whispers lingering in his ears. , all of which made the Primarch dare not take that step.

So, he looked at the alien with only a little torso left.

"How many sacrifices did you make?"

He asked, and his voice penetrated the raging storm and reached the alien's ears, and the mangled head, although only the white bones and some skin remained, was still able to slowly turn its head towards the Primarch. Showed a terrifying smile.

"all."

It's smiling, maybe.

Under the infiltration of subspace, its every move has long been unable to explain its true thoughts. When the wills wandering in the darkness laugh wildly, it can only laugh wildly from the depths of its heart.

"..."

At this moment, Conrad felt that he still had a lot of room for improvement in terms of visual fear.

The Primarch grinned. He sensed that the thing being greeted by the vortex was about to appear in front of him, because the reality reorganization phenomenon was constantly appearing at his feet, just like these countless souls. It is hitting the wall of the tower, expanding the field a little wider: some big guy is about to come here, maybe it only takes a minute.

The midnight ghost raised his head. He felt the dangerous atmosphere all around him for the last time. Like a small beast that wanted to go to the river to drink water, he carefully observed the situation and movement around the grass by the river. He must know that he was about to face it. Is that thing within his ability to handle?

If it goes beyond that, the Nostramos have only two choices.

Or run away: this was his instinctive first priority.

Either...

A brand-new idea that had never appeared before quietly emerged in Conrad's mind: it was about courage and choice, it was about sacrifice and glory, in short, it was completely unlike a Nostra like him. Something that Mo Ren can obtain.

…

If fate had arranged for him to die here, it wouldn't seem so unacceptable.

"..."

Conrad showed a bitter smile. He watched the flowing subspace energy converge into a luxurious door worthy of any palace. He slowly lowered his body and took a charging stance. .

When the last few wisps of the storm scratched his adamantine claws, the voice from the alien, that clear, painful, incomprehensible and distorted voice, flowed to the ears of the Primarch and poured into it.

——————

"That's all, you human."

"This is all we have, this is our thousands of years of history, countless sufferings and perseverance, countless sins and flashes, countless heroic explorations and desperate efforts, all the power that can be gathered together, they go round and round, and come to My hands, and I, just make them work the best they can.”

"Let them burn one last time."

This is like a withered Ran Dan sacrifice, or in other words, it should have fallen to the ground long ago, no longer making a sound, but amid the constant surge of subspace energy, the slowly crawling withered bones actually used those broken palms inch by inch. , "stand" up.

It looked straight at the increasingly perfect door, and the fanaticism and madness in its words made the Primarch frown subconsciously.

"Among them, I have long foreseen this scene. Humanity, I have long seen the curve of the future in the subspace: I know that my emperor cannot win the war with you. It has invested all its strength and is eager to attack. The act of bringing Holy Terra into your mouth is nothing but its wishful thinking and its grand funeral, which no one will remember."

"But I can't stop it. After all, it is the emperor, it is my lord! It is the creator of our empire! It pulls us out of foolish fratricide and spreads true hope and wisdom in the world. On our land! Allow us to see planets beyond the world, allow us to kiss the possibility of ruling the galaxy."

"It gave us everything, it made us so great, it made us rulers, nobles, and a civilization destined to go down in history and never be forgotten."

"..."

"We should have been able to do it."

The alien corpse named High Priest Randan was coughing, and in its increasingly distorted voice, there was burning some kind of flame that made the Primarch stay away.

"We should have allowed our civilization to be passed down forever, and to have ruled the galaxy as our race's manifest destiny: This is how it should be, and it should be like this if it weren't for you."

"..."

"But now, we have failed, and we will be wiped out by you. All our civilization and pride, all our hardships and sacrifices, our joys, sorrows, and joys, or our glorious epics will be completely turned into scorched earth. Your existence will be completely wiped out by you humans."

"……No!"

"It shouldn't be like this!"

"We are the destiny of the galaxy! We are the voice that should ring throughout the world!"

"We are the ones who should stay! The ones who should be remembered forever..."

"By any means."

It said and smiled. The face whose pupils had been burned out and only the black eye sockets were left turned to Conrad and showed a miserable smile: all the teeth were exposed with the departure of the skin. , the half-burnt Achilles tendon clinging to it, like a piece of half-cooked meat that was forcibly cut open.

"We deserve to survive, humans."

"Existence at all costs: not as a miserable remnant, lingering in the darkness at the edge of the galaxy, competing with wild beasts for food, as our Emperor said, but should be in the center of the galaxy, in what will never be There is an upright existence in the erased history books. We were once half the masters of the Milky Way, we were the pursuers of the great destiny, and we should leave our mark and our voice forever."

"Since Ran Dan can never exist as the overlord of the galaxy, then it should at least exist as the nightmare of the overlord of the galaxy and exist in your deepest nightmare."

"Rather than lingering for tens of millions of years, we would rather have the flames of death before our death!"

"I will do this. No matter what the price is, I will make my race a nightmare in your hearts, a sorrow that will never go away, and a hegemony that will accompany you and echo forever. The immortal ghost above the Milky Way!"

"Just as Slaanesh did to the Eldar, I will use my entire race to awaken a new god, one of the most terrifying, greedy, and most intoxicated with anything in reality, and sacrifice our race Pin, I will curse you forever! Curse mankind! Let this existence that wakes up from its slumber watch you forever with its eyes full of malice and greed!"

"When you are running away in fear, remember! This eternal curse comes from your greatest opponent, from another possible master of the galaxy! From a civilization that has never surrendered to your cavalry."

"It was great!"

"It would rather be crazy!"

Finally, the alien high priest opened his mouth: if it could still be called a mouth, its laughter even drowned out the wind that gradually died down. The wanton madness made the Primarch think of something very strange. A bad scene, that was what he saw in the phantom of the future, the scene after being completely embraced by the subspace.

Midnight Ghost took a deep breath.

"You've been to the depths of the Warp and believed the voices, right?"

Conrad asked softly, his tone was absolute certainty, not doubt. He did not expect to get the answer: after spitting out the cry of tears and blood, the last trace of rationality of the alien was also suppressed by the maniacal laughter. The hurricane tore it into pieces. Like the humblest maggot, it pounced on the slowly opening door, piously like a fanatic.

And behind it, in front of the Primarch, those wanton laughs have peeled away the last layer of skin. Their laughter has become so clear and harsh, and it is clear that it comes from those onlookers who have no compassion. Ridiculing the intoxicated clowns on the stage.

Conrad felt that he was one of the buffoons, but he had no time to dwell on these things.

The door opened.

The Primarch raised his head, and he watched as the terrifying aura turned into a ferocious giant tentacle, and brutally opened the door. The thick blue fog swept away all the blood and souls in an instant. The ecstatic alien priests were surrounded.

Conrad saw clearly.

He saw a foot, or an iron boot without mercy: it was exactly the same as the laughter in his ears, so similar that it made his hair stand on end.

The iron boot was raised high.

Then.

He crushed the alien's head with one foot.

——————

The wind blew wildly.

The monster revealed its form.

——————

Conrad took a deep breath.

——————

He saw it.

He saw the invisible body, with thousands of huge tentacles wrapped around each other, entangled into indestructible threads, either inserted into the blood pool, or pulling countless subspace energy.

He saw those cold pupils, colder than an entire white dwarf star that had burned wantonly and left only a hollow remnant. It was a sin that despised sacrifice and nobility, and it was a thug who coveted civilization and empire.

He saw it, he saw that...

"..."

"..."

Each of those silver hairs drank in the spiritual energy in the air.

The indifferent pupils were constantly flashing with a crazy dimness.

The pale pink tongue gently licked the thin pale lips, hooking the crying soul that fell at the corner of the mouth into the lips, and dissipated into the boundless darkness behind it.

He saw it.

He saw Conrad's blood relative, the descendant of the Lord of Mankind, Curze's sister, the Primarch of the Second Legion, the Lord of Avalon, the Midnight Ghost of Midnight Ghost, slowly walking out from behind the door. , she stepped on countless innocent souls and cries, her breath was more terrifying than this entire war, and her will was more blasphemous than every future he had ever seen.

——————

Conrad sees Morgan.

A Morgan that he didn't dare to recognize, didn't dare to believe, didn't even dare to look directly at.

She exuded an aura that made him fear, and a...kindness that made him tremble.

"..."

That was his blood relative, no doubt about it.

——————

Once again, Conrad took a deep breath, looked at the high priest Ran Dan whose head had just been trampled, and softly uttered a word that could not be described as emotion, sarcasm, or admiration.

"you……"

"It is indeed a remarkable thing that has been summoned."

"..."

"..."

"my sister."

"Your figure and inner being are really more profound than I imagined..."

——————

Conrad was silent for a moment.

Then, he laughed suddenly, and the adamantine claw was thrown aside casually, with a drop of Midnight Ghost's tears falling on it, full of irony and absurdity.

He raised his hand and wanted to point at Morgan's face, but after seeing the same face as usual, neither sad nor happy, Conrad was just stunned for a moment, and then he laughed even more crazily and loudly, hoarsely. His voice even made people worry about his throat.

The Midnight Ghost laughed, laughed wildly, he stumbled to the side, smashed an altar like crazy, and then sat down on the rubble-strewn ruins, like a stone sinking to the bottom of the water, he suddenly stopped He lowered his voice.

After a long time, a sigh of relief from Nostramo came quietly.

——————

"So, I don't see a future for you: it all makes sense."

He said without making any more sound.

——————

【……】

The Spider Queen was silent. She glanced at her brother, but ignored him because she didn't have time yet: just like she didn't have time to deal with the alien souls there that hadn't been swallowed yet, she couldn't swallow them either.

Too many Ran Dan souls were pouring into her mind without restraint, and the originally balanced situation was already on the verge of crumbling: she had to abandon the large part of the impurities that she could not extract, as before, and now she also There is a corresponding goal.

The Lord of the Second Legion bent down and grabbed the mangled torso with his own hands: The alien may be dead, but its last trace of soul is still attached to the body that only has shriveled bones. Considering that Its importance in rituals, then there is a job that is perfect for it.

You know, the army of the Human Empire is still blocked from Ran Dan's palace by the subspace barrier: What could be more powerful than the soul of High Priest Ran Dan and the cries of countless Ran Dan aliens? Is it suitable to crush the last protection of this alien empire?

Thinking of this, Morgan even showed a smile. Her eyes glanced at Conrad, and in the silence she got a reply from the Midnight Ghost: His mission was completed, all the power sources supporting the subspace barrier, They had all been destroyed in advance before he came to the tower, and now he only needed the final blow.

The Spider Queen nodded: In several years of education, if Conrad has learned anything from her, then the first thing that bears the brunt is determination for the mission. No matter how desperate, crazy, or excited the mood is, they must be as The machine is in general, quality and quantity are guaranteed to ensure that the task is completed on time.

Conrad learned this: Morgan could even be proud of him.

As for the rest...

Let's go back and talk, the Dark Angels' cannon fire has been ringing in vain for too long.

The Spider Queen withdrew her gaze from Conrad who was hiding in the shadows. A trace of guilt appeared in the surge and frenzy that Morgan could not completely control for the time being. She grabbed the remains of the alien and appeared with a snap of her fingers. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of the tower.

Behind her, Midnight Ghost stood up silently and came to her side. He was looking at his blood relatives with a brand-new look, like looking at new things.

He still didn't speak, just watched quietly, watching the Spider Queen lift up the alien skeleton as a temporary prop, lingering in the tower and even in the waves of spells that he had never heard but could feel its great power. The rushing aura on the entire battlefield once again converged on the two Primarchs.

They had not dispersed in the first place, and now they showed no complaints towards their new owners.

Morgan didn't say anything. She raised the alien skeleton, just like the soldiers loyal to Augustus and Basilius during the ancient Roman Empire raised their javelins. She aimed at the city wall. The most suitable place: where the shouts of death are the loudest, where the fighting is the most intense, and where the double-headed eagle flags are the most numerous.

That's it.

It may be the Golden Horn, it may be Kokpota, or it may be the door that cannot be closed.

【but no matter……】

【This should all end. 】

The Spider Queen murmured to herself. She threw her first and last blow in this war. When countless souls roared out along with her soul, she heard the admiration of her brothers behind her.

"It's time to finish."

Conrad said.

Morgan didn't look back, she just nodded slightly. As a brother and sister, there was no need for more words to acknowledge each other.

In front of her vision, there was only endless light and blood, as well as the roaring laughter of the gods from the highest heaven. They were cheering for her, just like the wealthy gold owners cheering for the money they held in one hand. star.

【……】

Somehow, Morgan came up with this hilarious metaphor.

She hated this metaphor.

——————

storm.

roar.

pain.

Shattered.

Everything is like thousands of hungry poisonous snakes, tearing at the few nerves it can still feel, like an anesthesia operation that was not completely successful, dragging it into a hell called stagnation. .

It seems to be flying.

It seemed to be breaking.

It seemed to be hitting, it seemed to hit something, something very important...

But it couldn't remember.

It only saw the broken barriers, which were fragments that should not exist in the real universe. It only saw Ran Dan's flag, but they seemed to have fallen to the ground. It only saw the last warriors, but behind them There seemed to be only shock and despair in his pupils.

"..."

It can't see anything anymore.

It seemed to have stopped breathing.

It seemed to be aware of its death.

It seemed to hear laughter, the laughter from the gods. They guided its path and led it to this day. After its emperor died, their laughter has been lingering in it. 's ear.

In the past, it had never understood them.

But now, it seems to understand.

Those laughs, those wild laughs, those things it once regarded as guidance...

"..."

They don't exist, not at all.

——————

They are laughing at it.

They laugh at it all the time.

——————

"..."

"..."

"Is that...a rift?"

Coswayne opened his mouth and spat out these intermittent words dryly. Beside him, neither the Terran veterans of the Dark Angels nor the Dawnbreakers such as Bayar laughed. Him: Because they are doing the same thing.

Everyone is looking up, everyone is looking up, silence spreads like a virus between the attackers and defenders, they all raised their heads, looking at a corner of the palace wall, a place that had not On the inconspicuous small tower: Now, a clear gap, a sign that the subspace barrier is broken, and a passage that is large enough for warriors to enter, suddenly appeared there.

No one could even tell how it appeared: they just saw a phantom like a meteor and a unique explosion sound.

At that moment, the entire battlefield fell silent. Both the Dark Angel and the Ran Dan soldiers were stunned on the spot, looking at the gap with fear. Only the artillery fire behind them continued to sound.

No one knows who acted first: maybe it was because of an extraordinarily loud explosion, maybe because of a war roar that sounded early, maybe because of a bullet that accidentally misfired, or maybe because of those who rushed to the front The veterans of the inner ring did not hesitate in their footsteps.

When that moment of silence ended, when the warrior's thoughts fell to the ground, when the next second came, everyone: whether they were soldiers of the Human Empire or soldiers of the Randan Empire, they were roaring, crazy, and desperate. Rushing towards that crucial gap.

There is no need for so-called command or any coordination. Everyone, as long as they are warriors who can see the gap, are spontaneously flocking to the small door of Constantinople, like spiders on the tower. The Queen was regrouping her strength, suppressing the chaos in her mind, and thinking about the next move. At the end of her vision, around her creation, an unprecedented bloody battle was taking place.

A raid team formed by a mixture of Dark Angels and Dawnbreakers was the first to occupy the gap. They planted a dilapidated flag in the metal ruins, causing cheers like waves: but before they could put their backpacks back on After the jets of air dissipated, thousands of Randan soldiers completely submerged these warriors who had arrived first. Dozens of Terra veterans disappeared silently into the alien wave, and those who fell with them There are hundreds of times more enemies and a broken double-headed eagle flag.

But this is by no means the end of the battle, because at least one million people are rushing towards this gap that can only accommodate one company. The wave of massacre is sweeping over, and the sound of fierce exchanges of fire can be seen at any time and becomes more intense every second. Countless warriors fell, their hundreds of years of fighting experience dissipated like snowflakes in the bloody hand-to-hand combat. The raging screams even tore a vortex in the air, and in the center of the vortex were countless people. Thousands of death row prisoners imprisoned in armor and honor.

In the first few moments of the battle, at least fifty Dawnbreakers disappeared into Morgan's pupils, and the number of fallen Dark Angels was four times that number, and the number of aliens was at least dozens of times higher. The glorious armor of the empire and the sharp bone spurs belonging to the aliens took turns fighting for every vital inch of soil, until the warriors at the front fell, and the reserves standing on the city wall took over without hesitation.

I don’t know how long this chaos lasted: maybe a few seconds, maybe a few minutes. When Morgan suppressed the souls that were stuffed into her mind, she was so slow to the passage of time. , Conrad even became her silent guard, until the dark and furious figure appeared in the sight of the two Primarchs.

Johnson is here.

The furious Lord Caliban may have crossed the entire battlefield before arriving at the place where his legions had suffered heavy losses. He didn't even wait for his guards, and just like the god of war descending from the sky, amid endless cheers and In desperation, he rushed to the battlefield.

The first swing of the lion sword killed at least a hundred aliens guarding the front, and in the next second, he killed all the idiots who dared to stand in front of him, and even cleared out A bloody land, the Dark Angels behind them did not care about the friendly forces on the ground, and quickly advanced their battle line, until more aliens let out desperate wails and blocked the First Legion's pace with their bodies.

Jonson roared and raged, his anger reaping the lives of thousands of Randan soldiers again and again, until they piled up into a hill that even the Astartes needed to climb, but even so, he still A steady stream of Randan soldiers rushed towards the Primarch fearlessly, dyeing the iron boots and blond hair of the Calibans red with their blood.

From the luxuriously dressed senior generals and Ran Dan's imperial army to the ragged Ran Dan conscripts, the Primarch killed countless opponents every second. Every second, he could only move forward with difficulty. further.

One second, two seconds, three seconds...

When her strength returned, Morgan also counted the carnage that happened in front of her: with their despair and madness, Randan held back the Primarch for a full fifty-seven seconds. Their empire and race gained fifty-seven seconds of life.

But, that’s it.

Up on the tower, Morgan held out his hand.

She smiled.

she sighed.

The corners of her mouth quirked up.

Tears fell from her eyes.

She sings the hymn of destruction.

She destroyed the last barriers.

In her whispers, the last barrier guarding the alien emperor, the enemy who surrendered to her in the realm of warp, slowly breathed his last.

Silent and silent.

The Primarch lowered his head.

She heard a whimper hidden in the subspace. The whimper came from the land beneath her feet. It couldn't be said to be sadness or anger, just a kind of... helplessness.

【……】

When Morgan raised her head again, she happened to see that on the once unattainable wall of Randan Palace, a brief silence was covered by the flickering light of the sword. The metallic luster was even brighter than the cold sun. To be even more eye-catching, it was ten thousand Dark Angel warriors raising their war blades high, launching another charge against the Emperor's enemies.

They had no war cry.

The charge is the battle cry.

The next moment, a rolling black wave came overwhelmingly. They held up the flags of swords, wings and double-headed eagles, and mercilessly devoured everything that dared to stand in front of them.

In front of this wave, a group of silent alien warriors stopped their instinctive escape steps. They stood there, quiet for a while, and then raised their weapons.

Roaring and charging, they quickly disappeared into the frenzy of the Dark Angels, and could no longer be seen at the place where they once stood.

The imperial eagle hangs high.