40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 379 108. The Burning of Five Hundred Worlds (5, [-]k)

The war hammer fell, and the steel mercilessly smashed the smelly fur and flesh. The bones were not to be outdone, and completely shattered under the weight of the steel. The demon roared, then fell to the ground and stopped moving.

A burst of green smoke emerged from its corpse. Perturabo turned a blind eye to it and just stepped on it coldly, raising his hands high. A monster with a bull's head faced him head-on at the next moment.

The crimson skin was engraved with lines of depravity, which were flickering with its breathing. A skull ornament came from nowhere and wrapped around its neck. It was strong and dangerous, as was immediately apparent; there were not many that could rival the Primarch in size.

But the Lord of Steel still didn't pay too much attention to it. He simply swung the warhammer down, holding the tail with his right hand, and his left hand naturally slid down the handle. His strength followed this attack without reservation. The attack spurted out, shaking the air like a volcanic eruption.

The bull-headed demon roared and tried to dodge, but was hit in the eyes by a hail of fire. The bomb exploded cruelly on its face, and its flesh and blood were swallowed up by the fire. In that moment, its life or death was decided.

A tattered head flew out, with half of its spine attached. Perturabo calmly drew back his weapon, but did not stop moving. The war hammer began to roar along with the rotation of the wrist, and hit the other hound who was trying to sneak attack with broken flesh and blood.

It immediately twitched and sank into the ground, and its entire body was split into two with the war hammer as the boundary.

"Come closer to me," said Perturabo.

His voice was extremely calm, as if he didn't care about the bloody and joyful killing - and that was indeed the case.

"I'm trying, primarch." Dantioch's hoarse voice came from the communication channel, and the war blacksmith sounded as if he was suffering from a serious illness.

More sounds followed, coming from the channel. There are the Ultramarines, there are the Salamanders, and there are the Death Guard. Their voices were either extremely weak, or so fanatical that they cried blood every word.

And this is probably only the most insignificant impact. The Lord of Steel thought ruthlessly.

If the curtain of reality continues to be shaken, if this spiral of hatred continues to spread, what will happen? When the targets of revenge are slaughtered or disappear, who will the crazy Avengers aim their blades at?

"Your attempts can only be called futile, Dantioch," said Perturabo. "You are still affected by that emotion, and so are you, the Ultramarines, the Salamanders, the Death Guard."

"It's ridiculous that all of you are blinded by hatred. So many prestigious warriors behave like fledgling recruits, abandoning discipline and tactics so easily."

"I'm sorry, Primarch," the Warsmith said with difficulty. "I'm approaching you."

The others remained unapologetically silent, shame spreading through the channel, knowing what they had done - Perturabo's accusation was entirely correct and far from an insult.

In fact, if they were allowed to evaluate this kind of thing themselves, the language they would use would probably be a thousand times more violent than the Lord of Steel.

"Try to tune out the emotion." Perturabo offered his help as he continued toward the Death Guard.

He remained focused, extremely focused. He could even wade through knee-deep bloody rivers while viewing the current battlefield situation through the neural connections inside the armor.

"Try to treat all of this as a necessary job, a part of saving the world, rather than a pleasurable journey of revenge. Those dead do not need you to help them avenge themselves."

He smashed through the mist, stepped over the broken corpses of daemons and Astartes, and finally reached the Death Guard. There are quite a few of them, and they are fighting side by side with their company commander Jialuo.

For ordinary commanders, this is good news, but for Perturabo, this incident can only make his expression become colder.

They were facing a huge demon together. Its body was extremely huge. It looked like a giant insect, but its joints and long limbs were made up of endless human hands.

It relies on these hands to move and attack. Black mist lingered and spread behind it. Terrifying ripples that transcended the mundane world slowly spread out in it, adding more teeth-chattering evidence to the existence of this demon.

For example, its huge body is comparable to a tank, and its deformed body has a human face that has been sewn onto it.
  Their screams were really loud.

Perturabo calmly raised his left hand, and the bolt gun hanging underneath finally came into use at this moment. Although it was not as good as his original double-row parallel precision bolt gun, it was enough.

He squeezed the trigger and fired all the bullets. Twenty-four explosive shells spun out of the gun barrel one after another, hitting the demon that the Death Guards were facing. But it did not cause any real damage. Seeing this scene, the Lord of Steel immediately changed his original thoughts.

He began to stride forward, and finally, one of the Death Guards noticed him - and the man's expression looked extremely surprised, as if he had never received a communication broadcast from the Lord of Steel before.

Jialuo also quickly discovered him. The battle company commander gritted his teeth, but had no chance to speak. He was on the front line of the battle, unable to free his hands to do anything else. The demon's body might be huge and clumsy, but its hands were not.

They are pulled by nerve-like bright red meridians. They can stay in place or suddenly shoot out. It is difficult to judge their intentions. The more important point is that they are endless.

For example, at this moment, Jialuo clearly used his giant sword to cut down dozens of pale hands with one strike, with great results, but in the next second he was forced to defend with his sword by more attacking hands.

Those hands excitedly grabbed his giant sword as the face screamed, their fingers tapping on the steel, the disintegrating force field turning their flesh into nothingness, but it was useless, there were so many of them Already able to completely ignore ordinary weapons.

Perturabo took in the entire scene, narrowed his eyes, and approached the huge demon from the side. Some of the thousands of faces saw him, their eyes with their eyelids cut off stared at the Lord of Steel, and screamed in their mouths.

Perturabo announced his arrival with a series of violent explosions, giving these noisy faces a warning.

His threatening demonstration made the demon's bulky body tremble briefly. Obviously, even if it was so terrifying, it could not remain indifferent to the explosion of twelve melt grenades connected in series.

Perturabo sneered, and his long strides turned into a rapid run at this moment. The Death Guard immediately noticed his tactical intentions, and for some reason, after Perturabo arrived, they were able to think briefly.

So, under the leadership of Jia Luo, they began to redouble their efforts to attract the attention of this demon. The tactical goal may be easy to achieve, but winning the battle is never easy.

The Lord of Steel rushed towards the demon, but he didn't even bother to lift the hammer. He knew in his heart that ordinary attacks could only be described as scratching an itch for a thing of this size. Without heavy weapons or sufficient firepower, he could only find some risky ways to win.
  With the face screaming, Perturabo rushed into the black mist behind the demon.

I don’t know what he did. In short, in a series of violent explosions that exploded like lightning, Jialuo discovered that the demon’s body began to shrink rapidly like a deflated balloon.

It didn't take long for it to go from the size of a tank to the size of a motorboat.

Still not too small, but
  The Death Guards raised their weapons in unison.

Amid the screams of a thousand faces, they dismembered it. Blood splattered, and Perturabo finally walked out of the black mist.

Jialuo faced him with his weapon in hand, lowered his head, and the first word he spoke was an apology: "I'm sorry, sir."

"Stop embarrassing him." Perturabo replied coldly. The words were quite straightforward, but the Death Guards were unable to refute.

"It's enough to lose your mind once. I don't want to hear about you losing control again. My brother Mortarion fought until his death and always maintained a clear goal."

"He has not thrown away the reason that human beings rely on for survival, and you should not do it. It is easy to succumb to death. It is over once and for all, and you don't have to endure any more torture. But you are the descendants of the Lord of Death, understand? Don't say that I expected anything from you. high."

He stepped past them.

"Follow me now," said Perturabo incredulously. "The Salamanders are still fighting and they need support."
-
  "Kneel before the gods and beg for their mercy!" a Word Bearer roared, pointing his bloodstained butcher knife at a group of civilians. Their protector had fallen, his body in tatters, his power armor riddled with holes, and trembling shadows began to grow in the ground watered by his blood.

The sky was dark, and only the fires lit by the Word Bearers shone brightly throughout the city. Sneaky things were ready to move in the mist. The chain sword in the Word Bearer's hand seemed to be beyond the scope of a weapon. It was already connected to his body.

The power of darkness surged on that pale face. He came with the fire of revenge, but the foundation was forged by falsehood. He raised the blade, and several scarlet lasers burst out from the darkness behind him.

They hit his armor, which had begun to deform, without any effect. This could not stop the Word Bearers from carrying out the massacre with a grin on their face.

By the time Sergeant Bono of the Twelfth Regiment of the Macragge Defense Forces rushed over with his soldiers, all the civilians were dead. And the Word Bearer was still laughing, his voice almost frantic with excitement.

Sergeant Bono could only roar furiously. Cursing or swearing seemed unnecessary. His face was like a whirlpool, and endless hatred swallowed up his thoughts.

The Word Bearer turned around, swung his sword, and killed a dozen loyal soldiers with a single blow. He noticed the emotion on the sergeant's face and his smile widened.

"Don't thank me, mortal, you deserve this."

He smiled happily, rushed into the defense troops like a tiger into a flock of sheep, and started killing them. He even slowed down his speed just to let the blood spread longer.

His thirst for killing and revenge was satisfied, and he was filled with joy. All Macragge should die, and the Word Bearers would rebuild a new perfect city here, a truly perfect city.

It no longer worships false gods, it is dedicated to a true deity
  The killings continued, and he deliberately saved the sergeant for last, for whom it was always a pleasure to kill an officer. What's more, enough blood has been shed here.

The blood of the Ultramarines, the civilians, the protectors of the Defense Force, the innocent, the brave, has been watered enough, and he will sacrifice them all to the darkness. The gods will give him more power and more blessings, and he will use this power to create more murders.

Such a wonderful cycle. The Word Bearers couldn't help laughing.

The sergeant looked at him with red eyes, and fired continuously with the new light gun from the Veridian Foundry in his hand, but the Word Bearer did not hide and strode towards him. His mutated armor can already ignore this level of attack.

The sergeant's remaining sanity also saw this clearly. He dropped the gun, pulled out the combat dagger from his waist, howled angrily and charged towards the Word Bearers, and got his wish when his knees were shattered by a kick on the way.

The Word Bearer picked him up, but the sergeant forgot about the pain. He waved the dagger wildly, creating many scars on the Word Bearer's face.

His enemies looked at him with interest, assessing the extent of his hatred. Seconds later, he threw the sergeant to the ground.

"Not enough, mortal." He shook his head regretfully. "Compared to us, your current hatred is far away——"

"--boom!"

Like a lightning strike or an artillery fire, a war hammer tore apart the fog, roared in, and knocked the Word Bearer away. A tall figure walked silently with boundless anger, with a torrent of steel moving behind him.

The Ultramarines and the Salamanders fought side by side, and the fog shattered with their arrival, fully revealing the killing machines behind them - the tanks' cannons began to roar, and the speedboats galloped past, rolled over the ruins, and rushed forward. And go.

The Word Bearer laughed again, blood foam spilling from the corners of his mouth, mixed with pieces of internal organs. Vulkan walked over silently, placed one hand on the weighted ball at the tail of the war hammer, and began to press down.

The sudden increase in power caused the Word Bearer to let out a rapid groan, and also caused his body to sink suddenly. The ruins of the destroyed city scattered smoke and dust beneath him, and a medium-sized pothole appeared.

"Where is Luojia?" the Fire Dragon Lord asked.

"you"

The Word Bearer gasped and let out a broken voice, but he only had time to say one word. Vulkan raised his foot and crushed his head in the next moment. He could see that this man would not give him an answer.

Lifting the war hammer, he turned and left. The Word Bearer's corpse began to bleed, more blood than should have flowed from his flattened armor and body. Immediately afterwards, the mist suddenly appeared from the ground and wrapped his body
  There was a slight sound of chewing coming from the darkness. Vulkan turned his head expressionlessly, raised his hands, and took a step forward. Pure violence spread out in his body - like thunder coming to the world, like a furious god, His great strength made the ground tremble for a moment.

Smoke and dust dispersed, but this was not the end, for the Word Bearer's body was still deforming. Vulkan picked up the hammer and began to smash.

This was not the first time he had to deal with these beasts that could cause trouble even after death. He didn't care about their warp magic. For the Fire Dragon Lord, if he can kill them the first time, he can kill them the second or third time.

He will kill them until they are completely dead, and he will not stop until then. But monsters in the darkness always come in groups. There are ripples in the mist, and several huge beasts rush out of it barking, with shadowy figures behind them.

The rain of bombs fell immediately, and the Astartes turned their guns and began to deal with this unexpected encounter. They are used to it. It has only been half an hour since the war started, and they have seen everything.

Macragge is now wrapped in war, with gunships and bird demons fighting each other in the sky, and Titans fighting each other with the Dark Titans of the Word Bearers in the south outside the city. Tank against tank, army against army
  The ground weapons platform fired continuously, and every time it resounded, the mountains trembled. Some of the artillery fire hit the track, and some fell to the ground. What was once a beautiful scene is now nothing but dust, blood and corpses.

Realizing this made the Ultramarines extremely painful, but it also activated their primitive instincts hidden deep in their genes. It was a majestic rage, inhuman, cold, and originating from their genetic father.

This kind of anger has manifested itself in countless people in the past, and no one can master it because it is enough to destroy everything.
  And you need to know one thing.

Before the Ultramarines became 'Ultramarines', they were called the Children of War.

It was Robert Guilliman who used his charisma and spiritual power to change them, and Macragge played a major role in this. But now?

They were changed by the short-term peace and beauty, and became the embodiment of justice for hope and ideals.

Now, these are gone. Now all Macragge has left is war.

So the children of war came back with a vengeance.

Vulkan watched helplessly as this happened, unable to make any changes or stop it. War is like this, you either get tempered in it, or you lose your humanity in it. Other than that, there is nothing else.

The Fire Dragon Lord silently raised his warhammer and threw himself into another killing. What he didn't know was that on Macragge's orbit, a ship that should not have appeared was jumping out of Mandeville Point. .

It's not a giant warship, it doesn't even have a Word Bearer on board, its crew are all fallen mortals. They knelt in reverent worship as Macragge's orbital weapons platform targeted the ship and was about to spit out its deadly death rays.

They are sacrifices with only one purpose.

call.

In the warp, Lorgar Aurelion smiled happily. He looked very different now than before.

He stared at his brothers across the vast ocean of the Warp. After a few seconds, the surface of his overly large body began to glow brilliantly.

Through the sacrifices of tens of thousands of devout believers, he reached Macragge.

　There is another chapter, also 5k
  　　
  　
  (End of this chapter)