Warhammer: Start with a dog

The Emperor's Children's airdrop pods continued to attack this point of Saturnine like colorful fireworks.

Magna Dorn once again stood on the Saturnine Wall, holding a huge sword, with Mathius and other descendants behind him, who were very young for a Space Marine.

Opposite him was still Fulgrim, who was laughing wildly.

In this scene, in the eyes of others, the Terran Guardsman even had the leisure to lean on his sword with one hand and rub his knotted brow with the other hand in front of his fallen Primarch brother, sighing tiredly.

- And decided to keep his mouth shut as much as possible before and during this battle - wisely not to comment too much on the dressing style and beauty preferences of this brother of the original body - based on some experience, if he commented, he would be knocked down by the opponent earlier.

Even though he had a mechanically precise learning ability and mind, and had caught his offspring in the past few times and ignored their strange looks to focus on learning melee skills, Fulgrim, who was blessed by Slaanesh, was still too fast and immortal, and it was really hard to beat him...

The gorgeous and charming Slaanesh darling on the opposite side had already curled up his thin and beautiful lips in dissatisfaction, looking at "Rogal Dorn" with an extremely eager look.

Magnar knew that this was not from those low-level interests, but a remnant of someone's complete madness and despair and depravity left in this lifeless person - perhaps by cutting off the head of the rock-hard Rogal Dorn and tasting the bloody lips with his snake tongue, Zifeng could find a trace of the tremor he felt when he first tasted Ferrus's equally warm death kiss.

This is really not a good memory. It is really troublesome that the human brain circuit cannot delete or isolate its own memory storage.

He sighed again, holding his greatsword with both hands and lifting it from the ground.

This two-handed chainsaw giant sword is really too big. Its shape and weight were originally designed for frontal attacks and confrontations. So it takes more practice and mastery to imitate Fulgrim's light swordsmanship with it, and a little modification, but he has no time to modify it. Now they lack people and time.

--How come except for the ninth brother of the original body who is reliable, the others are all fucking (here, Magna finally couldn't help but secretly learn the swear words of Ramizarn anyway, no one will hear it) not listening to orders? ! Overdue battlefield? ! Free and undisciplined? ! Refusing to communicate? ! What's going on in their brains? ! Let the original body do everything alone? ! Why are you still defending the city if you don't obey orders? ! If I were the original body, I wouldn't treat them so well at that time! Humph! If the original body is unhappy, it will go to join the Queen of Glory and run away! Woo, damn it! Although I know that I was carrying the hope of all mankind, so I couldn't show weakness, collapse, or get angry at anyone... But... No one should bear these things... Damn it!!! I must do it when I get back...!

He glanced at the Templar Knight who had just rushed to stand beside him.

Originally, when Magna was sure that Fulgrim would definitely bring the Emperor's Children to this section of the wall after three attempts, he guessed that there should be a king-to-king battle here.

So he didn't bring too many descendants with him before, but let them wait for an opportunity to encircle and suppress the attacking forces of the Emperor's Children.

After all, only the Primarch can kill the Primarch.

Even though he had seen the future Black Templars with his own eyes, Magna didn't think it was reasonable to let the descendants or anyone else create a chance for him to kill just to delay for a millisecond.

One afternoon, while sitting in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of the Iron Blood, Ramizane told him while drinking Reka coffee: "You asked me what I think... In order to achieve the ideals in people's hearts, sacrifice is inevitable, but those who make decisions must never regard the sacrifices made by others for lofty ideals as dedication to achieving their own personal goals. No matter what the circumstances are, the difference between heroes and dragons will be difficult to define." At that time, the young master controller saw that the Iron Warrior Ahlin, who was adding new cables to the back brain interface of the Iron Lord, showed a very complex, sad and happy expression on his face, but at that time he could not understand the subtle emotional changes of humans. It was just that when he tried different directions and endings countless times, he would always think of this sentence unexpectedly. Therefore, even after repeating the beginning and thinking for a long time in the command center or on the city wall, Magna finally did not take the initiative to try some methods that he actually wanted to try. For example, he could take his offspring and all other people who could make it and jump onto the Phalanx and run away. Magna Dorn knew that this was possible. At least Constantine Valdor would definitely list it as a top option. As long as "Rogal Dorn" said that he could not hold on and was willing to retreat with them, the commander of the imperial guards would immediately mobilize his colleagues to "do extraordinary but necessary things."

For example, as soon as he appeared on the platform garden, he would do nothing and wait for Sinderman to jump down by himself - he didn't even need to do anything, as long as he didn't make a sound, the man would jump down - so that no one would see him - and then quietly run out of the defense range of the void shield to find Perturabo - yes, he already knew that Perturabo and his close Iron Blood were currently anchored near Holy Terra - he also believed that if he just wanted to protect himself, there would be no problem as long as he was willing to find Perturabo.

As long as he was willing to go to Perturabo, coax him like a teacher, beg him, and say the words he liked to hear, the Iron Lord would immediately be furious, but he would definitely not kill him - I don't know why, Magna Dorn has a natural and certain grasp of this.

But others... everyone else... everyone else's soul... the soul and future of all mankind...

The malicious waves formed by the Unliving Ones beat the continental plates and crust of Terra. The magnificent city formed by the Himalayas and the mysterious institutions under it were trembling under the joint impact of material and immaterial forces. This vibration pulled his thoughts back to the battlefield in front of him.

Fulgrim was still smiling at him. Every part of this beautiful Primarch who stretched himself out and let Slaanesh occupy him was the ultimate description of the word beauty, but when put together, there was a strange antonym of beauty.

Too much is as bad as too little.

Magna thought, Ramezan loved to say this word.

Then he recalled what Ramizane had told him, and threw away those other options. This is why Magna Dorn still stood here, ready to deal with the demon lord in front of him.

"Father."

Someone on the side suddenly spoke.

"If there is to be a sacrifice, please let me go first."

Without giving Magna time to question or stop, Sigismund grasped the sword that was tightly locked on his arm by the iron chain, strode forward, and raised his head to face the corrupted primarch who was three times taller than him.

"Before you hurt my father, your opponent is me first."

Fulgrim on the opposite side straightened his twisted waist because he thought he was despised by his brother.

"You little dog of Rogue! You are not worthy to be my opponent! I will immediately disembowel you and take out your heart to show your father! He is my trophy!"

"Oh."

Sigismund raised his sword with an extremely cold but extremely restrained etiquette and saluted the other party.

No one saw his movement.

But he moved.