Killiman frowned slowly and solemnly.

"Is that what he said?" The Primordial restrained certain emotions with his extraordinary calmness, and asked the person on the other end of the communication channel. "Are you sure, Second Company Commander?"

"I'm sure." Miro's voice came from the other end. "I have ordered all the brothers of the Second Company to be restrained, the Primordial, and we are not acting in our style."

"You said that Instructor Carlil is trustworthy, and I don't know what the weight of that trust is, but I don't think he will be a man of purpose, so I followed his advice and reported the matter to you as soon as possible."

Robert Killiman rubbed his eyebrows, sincerely glad for Miro's slightly stubborn character.

He was careful with a communication device that did not fit his size, and gestured to the communicator on the bridge for him to leave for the time being.

After doing this, Killiman propped up his hand on a cold iron table on the bridge of the Glory of Macurag. His gaze swept over the emblems, the cables, the ivory-encrusted joysticks and buttons, and finally, he looked up at the vacuum outside the porthole, as if with a premonition.

"Primordial?" The second company commander asked over there. "What do you instruct?"

Kiriman didn't answer.

A strong glare hit Robert Killman's face, and he straightened up, staring at the swirling glow that began to grow stronger, without saying a word.

The commotion on the bridge rang in his ears, and Killiman calmly raised his left hand and made a gesture to make it all disappear. He stood where he was, and it was three minutes before he spoke to the commander of the second company on the other end of the communication channel.

"Evacuate." He said calmly. "Stay away from that plain, and no one will be allowed to approach until I give the order. The same was true of the air power, which changed the route of the airships transporting supplies, and imposed martial law, leaving all the inhabitants of the city closest to the plain at home. ”

"Understood, Primordial."

The communication hung up, and Killiman gently placed the communication device on the table. Twelve minutes earlier, there had been a plane crash on Nukeria. It has greatly disrupted the communication systems of the Ultramarines.

That's why Robert Killiman would be able to communicate with his second company commander with such an awkward device - if it weren't for the constant efforts of the channel's correspondent, he might not be able to communicate with the ground right now.

"Primordial." Marius Gage stepped forward. "It's confirmed, it's a-"

His voice was interrupted by a violent light, a violent light that would make ordinary people lose their sight flickered, and a huge ship appeared not far from the dark vacuum.

The hull was huge, the Imperial Aquila shone peacefully in its aft half with iron-gray armor, and the emblem of the war hound rested quietly on the side of the ship.

But that's not the case in the first half. The savage and brutal bloody ornaments were clearly visible in the first half, huge hooks almost the size of a small escort ship waiting hungrily at both ends of the hull, and a bloody symbol flickered dimly on the bow of the first half.

Killiman turned his head sharply, his gaze so determined that Gage was speechless.

At my command, all crew members immediately evacuated the deck and returned to their rooms to wait. Close all portholes on the ship, Marius, and inform the 1st, 3rd, 4th, and 5th companies to prepare for the jump. The captain, told the artillery positions that they were allowed to use lethal force. ”

"But, the primordial—"

"—I can't explain that to you right now, Gage." Robert Killiman spoke to his First War Commander with an unprecedented gloom. "What about my brother?"

Still waiting in your study."

"Very well, I'll go find him, you wait here, I'll be back soon."

"Yes, Proto."

Killiman hurried away, Gage staring at his back and beginning to recall the look on his face as he had just said every word—he soon realized that there was another emotion brewing in Robert Killiman's gloomy solemnity.

Another emotion that Marius Gage is reluctant to admit.

Are you afraid, the original? He looked at the distant figure in disbelief and asked himself.

——

The flickering light was wrapped in a misty mist, and the stars flickered blimbly. The mist was thick and viscous, as if it were the blood of some kind of creature.

Carlil stared at it all with a blank face, and for some reason, he was no stranger to this sight, as if he had experienced it countless times a long time ago.

The ocean of chaos led him to the location of the fragment. At the same time, he began to think.

He didn't know where he was at the moment, but he could vaguely guess something. Separating the subspace from the physical realm is a curtain of stability that isolates the hungry gaze of the monsters behind it, and also protects humans from direct gaze.

These things were able to happen in the physical realm because the bloody false god poured too much power into it and paid an unimaginable price - Carlil didn't know how he did it, but he had to take advantage of it.

There are countless monsters in the subspace, but the subspace itself is the biggest monster.

It had accepted him a long time ago, and even if he had left and become a betrayer in the mouth of the monsters, it would welcome him back for a short time, because it had no emotion or intellect, it was just a being, it had only some instinct, nothing more.

This instinct made the dark power whisper in Carlil's ear. It calls out to the power that lies beneath the skin of Karil Lohals, and it longs for him to unleash his authority completely.

Let him sit on the throne of God.

Sounds wonderful, doesn't it? However, the reality is that every second of breathing here, this body of Carlil Lohals, is bleeding, losing some irreparable life.

But the will that dominates this body doesn't care.

Go on. He gave the order. The darkness complied, and the burning flames raged from the other side of the veil, carrying the white giant to the other end where he could not have reached.

Behind the curtain, a being dressed in monstrous armor and sitting on a brass throne let out a terrible roar, and the chaotic world shook endlessly, and the stars died and rolled away in the long river of blood.

He couldn't accept it, but He had to. The other, who had been watching the place, gave an undisguised mockery of what had happened to him.

A strong squeezing sensation came from the hundreds of limbs, and Carlil snorted, feeling several bones in his body broken during this 'jump'.

He adjusted his stance in the air, and finally landed smoothly, and when he looked up, he saw an Astarte in blue and white armor staring at him solemnly, holding a chainsaw axe in his hand.

"Who are you?!" He snapped, his hand holding the axe not trembling at all, even as he was facing a giant far taller than him. "Report your name!"

Carlil didn't speak, just slowly folded his hands together and made an Aquila salute.

Astarte was stunned, and although he still hadn't put down his axe, his tone had softened a lot when he spoke again: "Who are you?" ”

"Carlil Lohals. From the 8th Army Corps. ”

Astarte was silent for a moment and raised his arm again: "My cousins can't be so tall. ”

Carlil still didn't answer his words.

His horizon was still under the influence of darkness, which had taken his eyes away from the simplicity of mortals and reached a terrifying other. He stared at the Astarte in front of him, saw all his past, and even saw a blood-red collar around his neck.

One. Symbol of the slave.

Carlil sighed softly, his anger fleeting, and the cold light lit up in the next moment, and Astarte roared in alarm.

"Psyker?!"

He tried to resist, but the enemy was gone, and he couldn't find any trace of the giant. Karil vanished into thin air, leaping out from behind him in a way that Astarte couldn't understand, and ripped off his helmet, lifting him up.

"Don't move." Carlil whispered.

He stretched out his right hand and grabbed Astarte's neck, the cold temperature flickered, Astarte's eyes widened, the confusion in his mind dissipated at this moment, and he finally remembered everything.

Carlil let go of his hand and let Astarte fall to the ground, feeling a terrible exhaustion himself, the consequences of purging the false god of power were worse than he had thought.

Exercising authority as a human being that belongs to the gods.

If it was just to summon the dead to take revenge, what he was doing right now was truly walking in the realm of the gods.

"You, who are you?" Astarte looked at him in disbelief. "What did you do to me?"

"I've cleared the fog for you. Like I said, I'm from the Eighth Legion and you can not believe me, Karn of the Eighth Company of War Hounds, but," Carlil said slowly. "I'm just here to help."

My cousins are as pale as you, but their eyes are not as dark as yours." Karn frowned. "And it's nowhere near as tall as you."

Carlil shook his head calmly, "I never said I was Astarte. ”

"You're not Astarte, why should you join—" Karn stopped, looking at Karil in disbelief, not speaking for a long time.

Carlil sighed, knowing that he had misunderstood, "I'm not the genetic prototype of the Eighth Legion, Karn of the War Hounds, and as for now I need you to recall one thing. ”

What's the matter? What are you doing? Karn asked nervously.

"Think about your ship." Carlil said calmly. "It's called Resolve, isn't it?"

"Yes, but how do you know?"

"Think about it, Karn." Carlil slowly exhaled a breath of cold air with silence, and vomited a large mouthful of blood in the next instant.

The backlash has already manifested.

"You-"

"—stay calm." Carlil straightened up and held out a right hand to him. "Think about your ship."

Karn looked up, staring at the pale giant, not knowing what to say. He still had a lot of questions to solve, and yet, in those dark eyes that stared at him calmly, Karn saw his own reflection.

He could clearly see the wardog insignia on his right shoulder.

Then he reached out, took the cold hand, and began to do as he was told.

——

Two seconds before that light was about to bloom, Angron was reading. Although the process was often accompanied by the pain imposed on him by the Butcher's Spike, he loved the feeling of acquiring knowledge.

He was reading a makulag that detailed how an ordinary soldier who had been discharged from the army because of his disability had witnessed the collapse of his country in just two years, and that soldier had killed himself.

Angron especially liked the part where the soldier was insulted because of his disability, got drunk in the bar, and was thrown out of the bar to lie in the cold alley to fight the imaginary enemy, which he memorized.

He stared at the cold, dark alleyway, and a wave of anger welled up in his heart. He sat up, leaned against the mouth of the alley, and began to curse his right leg angrily. ’

'You fuck, you useless lame! You've caused me to fall into this kind of hellish place! What a place this is! I am a soldier, I was discharged from the army for protecting them, but they called me a murderer, and even the children on the street looked down on me! ’

He looked at the alley again, and the excess alcohol had worn away his eyesight, making him feel like someone was watching him in the darkness—his eyes widened and he could see some shadows after a few minutes in the cold. ’

There are people there! It's his enemy! It's the people of the Principality of Orvador, they're marching here in crisp uniforms, with guns on their shoulders! How did they get here? What about the guards, what about the guards in the city? Why didn't they warn ?! Could it be a mutiny? No, no! ’

He reluctantly got up, staggered to his feet in the cold wind, raised his staff, and shouted angrily into the darkness. ’

And now.

Angron stood in front of the porthole, the book closed by him, and placed on Kiliman's coffee table. The gladiator stared at the huge battleship that was waiting quietly in a vacuum, and a complicated feeling rose in his heart that he couldn't even explain.

Then, someone pushed the door open and walked in. Angron looked back and saw Robert Killiman with a serious face.

"You need to come with me, brother." He said it short but forcefully. "Something happened, did you see the ship?"

"I see it."

"That's the flagship of your legion, the Steadfast." Killeman had a deep wrinkle between his eyebrows. "At least the second half is."

“.”

Angron nodded without saying a word.

The update is complete, push a book, the same hammer text seedling, "Warhammer 40K: Shattered Steel Soul", the writing is very good, the ruffian boss, go and see!

(End of chapter)