40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 419 145. Terra (twenty)

There are no words to describe the melee - at least not for Gabriel Santo.

He rotated his waist, moved his arms, swung the war hammer, and smashed the heads of several zombies. This wasn't the first time he'd fought something like this, but it was the first time it felt tricky. Their heads are much harder than before, and even the power of the Thunder Hammer cannot destroy them with one blow.

But he had no time to think. He quickly turned around and stood with a white-scarred psyker. They have their own name, the Stormseers, but Gabriel prefers to simply label them as psykers.

There are so many kinds of psychic powers, expressed in different ways, but in the end, aren't they all still psychic powers? Just like the killing at this moment, he used a hammer, and the man used lightning, different routes to the same end.

The storm prophet's eyes lit up with blue light, and he roared angrily. His hands suddenly became as bright as daylight, and terrifying chain lightning burst out from his fingers. At first, it was just an electric current, but soon it formed a real storm.

Where lightning raged, countless walking corpses turned into corpses, but more corpses swarmed in from the darkness.

"Stand up!" Gabriel pulled up the Storm Prophet who was kneeling on the ground due to lack of strength. "Stand up quickly, it's time for you!"

The Storm Prophet raised his head and looked at him solemnly, blood flowing from his nose.

The White Scars psykers have a peaceful reputation within the Empire. Although not many have interacted with the mystics of this group of mystics, they are different from ordinary psykers or think tanks. But it is a consensus.

Thousand Sons once commented that they had tied their own hands and feet, and it was not until this moment that Gabriel realized the regret hidden behind these words.

"I suggest you turn back." Storm Prophet said, the blue light in his eyes still not extinguished.

The Iron Hands captain dropped him with a sullen face, turned around and struck without hesitation - bang!

In the strong wind, an obscene evil beast bit the hammer head and ferociously raised the six spikes on its abdomen toward him.

Its power is truly powerful, and the quality of its flesh and blood is beyond the comparison of ordinary demons. Even the Thunder Hammer was in a stalemate with it for a while, but Gabriel didn't panic. He just calmly let go of his hand, took out the plasma from his waist and shot it with his backhand.

He will no longer be surprised by this turn of events. He is someone who will not fail a second time.

"That's right!" He growled, and the plasma punched a hole in the thing's head.

The Storm Prophet rushed behind him, not using his spiritual power anymore. He had already used it too much, otherwise why would he be so weak? He swung his scimitar and chopped off the demon's head with a series of truly stormy chops.

The thunder hammer fell straight down and was firmly grasped by Yesugei's left hand. He turned around, used the reaction force to quickly exert force, and threw the thunder hammer into the sky. Gabriel spontaneously spun his steps and began to spin back to back with him. The plasma in his hand fired thirteen times without overheating.

He raised his right hand without warning, caught his weapon, and then smashed it down with one hand.

"boom--!"

In the sound like a bomb explosion, the huge kinetic energy accumulated violently raged in the darkness, and the brilliant brilliance that exploded even made Ferus Manus on the other side of the battlefield look sideways.

Of course, he didn't expect that his first company commander would cooperate so well with the White Scars' think tank, but now is not the time to care about it. That thing—the thing that the snake demon called its master—had been mentioned for thirty minutes, and also mentioned Him.

Ferus already had a guess in his mind, but they still needed to survive these thirty minutes before He actually arrived.

Countdown: 25:05

"What are your plans, brother?" Ferrus asked.

"No," Jaghatai said. "At least not yet."

Khan narrowed his eyes slightly and whirled and slashed with the white tiger sword, creating a hellish scene. It was unknown how many demons had died under his sword in the past few minutes.

Absolute precision, absolute speed, like a proud eagle constantly descending from the sky to attack its prey. Its sharp claws can take away life with just a single scratch.

He was fast enough, at least dazzlingly fast, but compared to the obscene things that were constantly rushing out of the dense pink mist, he was not killing fast enough.

Of course Khan didn't understand what happened, and he never heard the words of the black figure - but Ferus knew, Iron Hand understood, that thing was desperately trying to tilt the battle in the direction he wanted.

He couldn't help but look up to the other side, just in time to see a burning flame falling on the shoulder of a strong arm.

The pink fingers were slightly white at the tip, and a curved blade went straight down, slashing towards the Chemos man's head without mercy.

Fulgrim defended with his sword horizontally, the tip of the sword shook slightly, the blade was tilted, and he made a fierce thrust with his backhand. However, at the same moment, three other sharp blades thrust forward and forcibly blocked the Sword of Raging Flames.

The wrestling happened naturally, and a pair of eyes as moist as agate stones began to stare into another pair of dry, cracked, burning eyes.

"I can't believe it." The beautiful snake demon suddenly spoke. The smell was like orchids, and the voice was like a seductive song. "I can be so righteous"

"This is not justice." Fulgrim corrected him seemingly patiently.

"Really? What is that?"

Phoenix didn't answer, he just turned his wrist and took a step.

Attack and defense occurred at the same time in an instant. The sword rotated and took the initiative to leave the wrestling. The flames rose and swallowed the three sharp blades, forcing them to leave the duel. He exerted force again, the tip of the sword passed through the body, and the sword of wrathful flames pierced the snake demon's chest harshly.

"Ah" it vomited blood, sighed, whispered, and prayed. "I don't feel happy. This is because I was killed by myself. My Lord, what are you thinking about?"

The Phoenix ignored its blasphemous words and simply rotated its wrist again - the basic principle of swinging a sword, waving the arm, rotating the wrist, and moving the steps. Every step is so important and every part is indispensable.

With the simplest sword movement, Phoenix cut off the head of the snake demon.

And it's still not dead.

The flesh and blood healed quietly, and it turned around, its lips covered with its own blood slightly curved, revealing a slightly jealous smile.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" it asked suddenly. "Look at me like this, why don't you value yourself? Stop fighting me and go out and save your empire or your brothers."

"The fallen bastard is not worthy of teaching me how to do things." Phoenix replied calmly. "You look absolutely disgusting."

"No, I'm serious."

It said, its expression turned serious. The four hands let go, letting the blade fall to the ground.

"Russ was trying to die. When Jaghatai was besieged by Horus's fleet, he quietly boarded the ship from the rear and gave Horus new fun. Otherwise, why do you think he let Jaghatai go? ? He is no longer the shining person you and I know, just like me."

It raised its hands, cried again, and covered its face.

"Let me die, let me die." It wailed into the darkness. "My Lord, why are you so cruel! Deprive me of my pleasure, deprive me of my degradation, deprive me of everything, leaving me with only the purest love, forcing me to be jealous and sorrowful in the tide of sorrow!"

Phoenix's cheek twitched.

He couldn't stand it anymore - he couldn't stand it anymore, what he had seen in the ocean on the Vengeful Spirit now appeared before him in an even more horrific form: a corrupted version of himself.

Although he had expected its appearance, and even appeared in his dreams several times, turning his peaceful meditation dream into a nightmare. However, when he actually faced such a thing, he still felt furious.

"Maybe you're just scared."

The four hands opened quietly, and between the fingers, those agate-like eyes looked at him quietly.

"But you don't have to be like this, you can no longer be like me." It said quietly. "I am the product of mistakes, a monster defeated time and time again by desire. You are not, you defeated yourself, Fulgrim."

The phoenix cuts down the angry flames.

The head was tilted, and a horrific wound appeared on the tall but half-kneeling body of the snake demon. It stayed there quietly, waiting for death to come - and then, once again, its wounds healed.

"You can't kill me." It smiled sadly. "None of you can kill me. My master is staring here. I'm afraid there are only two ways to kill me. One is to wait for Him to arrive, and the other is to satisfy Him."

"I choose the third option," Fulgrim replied.      Again - he did something he knew he couldn't do.

He had done this many times.

Phoenix had done this as early as on the Vengeful Spirit, and what had his actions brought about?

Angron cut off his arm, and his father, brothers and sisters all perished. Corvus Corax begged with earnest words, feeling the pain he felt. And the disappearance of the last remaining soul of Horus Luperkar.

The same was true on the way back to Terra. He asked again and again to participate in the battle while he was still seriously injured, but time and again his movements slowed down, and he watched his son die in front of his eyes in order to prevent himself from being injured.

If you have the strength or will, doing something you know cannot be done is a kind of courage. If not, you are stupid, imbecile, and an unforgivable incompetent waste.

It's Fulgrim of Chemos.

But not now, he has power - even if this power requires him to spend the rest of his life and soul in exchange for it, he is willing. He can no longer bear the pain of watching everything happen but being unable to do anything about it.

He knew he was crazy, and he knew the logical confusion evident in these thoughts, which he had contradicted himself hundreds of times. He tried to convince himself: You did nothing wrong and you deserve to be forgiven.

But, no.

He couldn't forgive himself, otherwise he would become something even lower than trash. Otherwise, he would never dare to face the departed souls again, and never dare to walk with his head held high again.

Just be crazy.

Phoenix laughed ferociously, his hands suddenly released, and the giant sword disappeared. He rushed away, grabbed the snake demon by the throat, his eyes brightened, and black angry flames spurted out, almost forming a surging shadow behind him.

The dead people once again stretched out their arms, and Fulgrim handed pieces of bone fragments to his head willingly. But this time, no matter how much Lalhe roared, they did not stop.

Because this time, it was the agent of revenge who took the initiative.

Lalhe understood desperately that it could not stop it—in fact, it even began to passively contribute to this ritual.

Power answers all calls, it cannot defy power, it is born of it and of someone's will, both are Lord.

And this means that it will break its promise.

"I am going to kill you."

Fulgrim didn't know anything about it, or in other words, he heard Lalhe's scream, but he didn't want to pay attention to it. He just leaned close to the snake demon's ear and whispered softly.

"I'll kill you right here."

"What."

The snake demon gasped and spit out its long pink tongue, and its eyes began to roll up. It failed to say the second half of the sentence, and Fulgrim choked back the remaining two words with both hands.

The flames followed his hands and began to burn the snake demon's body. However, this is just an external form of expression. The act of killing in the true sense is actually those brutal hands.

Death by suffocation is almost a form of punishment, coming from the ancient past of mankind. Countless Avengers have used this method to kill their enemies, and now, it was Fulgrim's turn.

——If the hand that belongs to Ferrus Manus does not reach out.

Countdown: 18:25

"Stop, Fulgrim," Ferrus Manus said solemnly, holding the Forgebreaker. "Don't do it."

"I have to do it."

"Listen to his hand and put it down, Fulgrim!" Jaghatai roared not far away, the sword in his hand still flying up and down. "I don't know what's going on here, but you'd better not be impulsive!"

"What do you know, Chagatai?" Phoenix asked with a sad smile. "Have you been through what I've been through?"

"Of course I don't know what you've been through—" Khan laughed angrily. "——But I know you are a willful bastard! You always follow your own temper, and every time you do this, something bad will happen!"

"You're right, but it won't happen this time, Chagatai, trust me." Phoenix insisted, his voice almost whispering. "Believe me"

His hands were still exerting force, and the crown was about to heal. Lalhe helplessly called for help - although it was a demon, it was born to understand the weight of an oath.

Seeing that it was about to collapse under this terrible weight, Ferrus Manus reached out to help. He couldn't hear Lalhe's cry for help, but he could judge the current situation clearly and simply. After all, Fulgrim didn't hide anything during the days when he returned to Terra.

Therefore, Iron Hand's method to solve the problem was actually very simple. He just took a step back, raised the Furnace Breaker, and hit the snake demon's head with a hammer.

Flesh and blood splattered.

"No!" Fulgrim roared. "No!"

Iron Hand glanced at him and said nothing. He just kicked away the healing corpse and pulled Fulgrim up from the ground with his backhand. A punch followed, then he was pulled up, followed by another punch.

Phoenix looked at him in shock and hurt.

"The first punch was for you to abandon the perfect path we chose together." Ferus said calmly. "The second punch was because I simply couldn't stand it, you idiot."

"but I--"

"-Shut up!" Ferus cursed. "Summon that damn sword of yours and get through the remaining seventeen minutes!"

"But, but."

Fulgrim was helpless and his lips trembled, but he summoned the giant sword according to instinct. If it had substance, its heavy weight suddenly entered his hand, forcing him to regain his senses immediately.

"Stop it, damn it." Ferus cursed again, but stood behind him. "Don't let down my armor."

A sigh came from not far away, and the snake demon stood up slowly, looking at them jealously.

There is chaos all around, but there is a deliberate blank space here. The demons summoned according to the power of the Prince of Joy abide by the wishes of their masters. There is no past to interrupt this whim, but there is a carefully prepared drama.

A rotten giant wanted to go over and join the battle, but its body, which had just recovered from the putrid miasma, did not support its progress in the baptism of bombs from the White Scars.

It could only stay where it was angrily, clumsily swinging its scythe, pushing the walkers forward, acting as its own shield, completely forgetting that it could use the power of the disease to easily destroy the White Scars' defenses.

In the tide of chaos, there are fat and rotten people sighing helplessly.

"Stubborn." He commented. But he didn't make any other moves, and he was surprisingly easy-going.

At this, the Prince of Joy smiled cheerfully - yes, yes, don't interrupt my fun.

What war, what Terra? But it's all just part of the drama. He has ascended to God and victory is within easy reach. Naturally, I want to enjoy it.

The heart of his body began to beat, and a throbbing that had not occurred for a long time forced the heart to beat rapidly. He knew what it felt like—fear.

Naturally, He will not be afraid, but His body will. Going to watch in person was originally a casual act, but now it brings a whole new kind of enjoyment

In just ten minutes, the pleasure He derived from this mortal body was even more exciting than the boring enjoyment it had brought over the past thousands of years.

come quickly! He laughs wildly into the darkness and calls. Come and kill my body, come and cut open my chest, gouge out my heart, devour my flesh and blood, eat me dry and clean bit by bit, and let me become your food!

Bliss. He thought so, and tremblingly shed a pool of dirty blood.

At the far end of the darkness, the god who has shed his human skin and only has his skeleton is walking.

He was in no hurry because he could hardly feel any emotion except pure peace. Fear jumped for joy in his hands, celebrating his return, but He paid no attention to it. He is the God of hatred and vengeance, and his throne is confirmed forever, and fear is not included in it.

So why can He use it?

The answer may lie in asking the winter armor named Blade, and asking an ancient Terran who is burning his own power.

　This chapter costs 5k, and I owe 1k, which I will pay back tomorrow. I have to get up at noon to attend the banquet, which is unbelievable ()

　　Ah, by the way, please hurry up and take a look at the collection of settings created by Mr. Katashiro for this book. From the specific settings of the Yarenko Group to the various worldview introductions currently being written, the former is in the book review area. The latter is in the settings set on the book details page.

　　Thank you for your support!

　　

　

(End of this chapter)