Warhammer: I live under the watchful eyes of the gods

Chapter 151 Fearless Assault, Corrupted Ship

At the same time that Drake and his party discovered the plague of tears, Karl also felt the change on the entire Devin satellite.

It seemed that those four existences simultaneously set their sights on this inconspicuous little place in the galaxy.

"This is fated death, and the Warmaster must fall."

This is the bottom line of the Four Gods.

At this moment, the entire Devon satellite is a different kind of cage.

And the Warmaster is a gladiator thrown into a cage.

It's a pity that he has no chance of surviving this time.

Once Karl tries to touch this bottom line in vain, he believes that the four gods will not stand by and watch.

Even the huge expedition fleet could not face the wrath of the Four Gods regardless of the cost.

Of course, having said that, even if he wanted to interfere at this moment, there was nothing he could do.

As he had expected, stealing half of the warmaster's soul was already a wild temptation on the verge of the four gods going berserk.

And the "price" of this temptation is extremely huge.

If it weren't for the entire swamp in the control area to share the damage, he would have gone crazy at this moment.

It was also at this moment that Karl seemed to have tasted a corner of the emperor's plan amidst the endless pain and the sense of tearing and corrupting his soul.

It was a series of trials, a series of trials for him to stand tall in front of the Four Gods in the future.

In the past, just a little bit of effort could make Karl lose his combat effectiveness in pain and corruption.

After entering the dungeon many times, it seems to have become a little accustomed or numb.

Numbly looking at the many Astartes and mortal auxiliaries within the "sight" range, with blood and tears in their eyes, while enduring the pain of blood and tears, they fought against the rotting corpses that flooded in like a tide.

The yellow mist in the sky began to become thicker.

All distress signals will become meaningless gibberish.

None left alive before the Warmaster fell.

No matter the consequences, no matter the cost.

It is true that Calda can help part of the auxiliary army relieve the plague of tears, but that will only harm them.

Only in this way will Horus be forced to go deep alone and make a last-ditch effort.

Rather than being destroyed by the four gods' defense-breaking big moves together, it is better to boil the frogs in warm water by making some small concessions occasionally.

After all, the face can be left to the four gods, and half of the face has been stolen by Petronilla who is holding the "Urshe Chronicle".

While battling the flood of corruption in my head, I was busy with the machine in my hand.

Karl, who had reached the state of ecstasy, even had some spare time to come out and take care of Horus' situation.

"The glorious days of mankind are not far away, and the hateful traitor on the corrupt throne has already launched a challenge to us. Respond to me, my children, are you afraid?"

"We are back! Slaying the False Emperor! We are returned! Death to the False Emperor!"

It seems that Karl's corruption has entered an "incurable stage", and at this moment, the words shouted from the mouths of the Sons of Horus, who are still loyalists for the time being, have reached his ears and have changed their taste.

He passed a mirror next to him and took a picture.

Sure enough, what appeared in front of his eyes at this moment was already an extremely deformed monster.

The wrinkled skin with cracks is glowing with five ever-changing colors at this moment.

The only good news is that he is now bald like Erebus.

At least wait a while, so you won't be at a disadvantage because of the reflection on the scalp.

Looking up, on a piece of intertwined metal ruins, a giant deep purple eye seemed to span the endless void, locking its terrifying gaze on this destined place.

They need a crazy sacrifice, and the Dark Lord needs a mature sacrifice.

Any existence that stands in the way of their plan will be ruthlessly torn apart.

Until then, there won't be any reinforcements.

After sighing, he returned his attention to the work at hand.

Time passed in the ruthless sound of nails.

When Karl finally finished all the preparations and set his sights on Horus again, the Warmaster was alone.

The Warmaster, who was in the wreckage of the Glory of Terra, was advancing alone in a dark and oppressive inner passage.

Even though the years have changed, he can still accurately recognize that this is the interior of the Glory of Terra.

At this moment, the battleship named after Terra has fallen in a sense.

At the bottom of the twisted metal channel, rancid sewage flows.

Corrupted diseased molds still crawled all over the inner walls of the passage, and even the drooping tentacles of these molds would leave wet and greasy marks on the Warmaster's freshly painted giant green armor from time to time.

This is a conspiracy.

The Warmaster at this moment already knew everything.

The just-right strong earthquake has already explained everything.

Just enough to separate him from the other Sons of Horus, and just enough to leave him with a path to the bridge of the Glory of Terra.

That strong earthquake was no accident!

It's a bad feeling.

This feeling of being immersed in some unknown conspiracy has been lingering in his mind for a long time since the failed negotiation with Interex.

He wished he could immediately catch those ghosts and monsters hiding in the shadows next to the emperor's psychic torch and roast them into mummified corpses.

With the dim light of the fire, he first checked his sidearm.

It was a golden long sword.

The golden blade is like a burning flame. This long sword was cast by Ferus Manus, the Primarch of the Tenth Legion, and presented to him. It was a gift he received when he became the Warmaster.

Yes, he is the Warmaster of the Empire.

All the demons, conspiracies and schemes will be deciphered by him.

This is the duty of the Warmaster, the destiny of the Warmaster.

The heavy footsteps hit the long-rotten deck passage, making a penetrating sound.

Enduring the sharp pain in his chest, the Warmaster came to a deck junction.

He knew that the bridge was not far away.

Looking down at the dented armor on his chest, he guessed that the steel bar just now seemed to have hurt his lungs.

Turning his attention away from the pain in his body, listening to the approaching roar in the distance, the Warmaster steadily raised the golden long sword in his hand like a burning flame.

Looking at the group of rotting corpses rushing towards him in the distance.

The Warmaster couldn't help mocking: "You guys are really a bunch of handsome boys."

Completely ignoring the pain from his body, he waved the golden long sword in his hand and rushed straight into the crowd of carrion corpses.

Swinging the sharp blade, ugly and corrupted heads soared into the sky.

And those fish that slipped through the net under the long sword attack were directly beaten into puddles of corrupt juice by the kicks or elbows that had already calculated the attack angle.

Apparently, this horde of rotting corpses was no match for a true Primarch.

And in the slightly narrow passage, these carrion corpses cannot be effectively deployed at all.

Primarchs themselves are users of a Warp power.

Thus, for the first time, the claws of corruption, so omnipotent against the auxiliaries, were deflated before the Primarch.

They couldn't do anything except for a series of shallow white marks.

Of course, the Primarch is not an absolute superhuman.

At least such continuous combat can indeed consume a certain amount of physical strength.

But as far as the current situation is concerned, as the hormones in the armor are automatically injected into the Warmaster's body, this war of attrition does not seem to be able to effectively cause any effective damage to him in the short term.

It seems that Sishen is tired of such "foreplay".

After a few minutes of impact like a tide, those carrion corpses began to recede in an orderly manner.

And at the end of the passage, he saw that familiar yet unfamiliar figure—Yugan Tamba.

It was an abominable monster that was swollen all over, dragging its viscera like sticky ropes.

Caressing the cursed blade that gleamed with cruelty and hunger in the blade, Tamba opened his stinking mouth and greeted in his stagnant and slippery voice: "Warmaster, you also come to seek the greatness of the Lord of Corruption." A man of glory?"

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(End of this chapter)