The hammer fell, and the steel ruthlessly smashed through the stinking fur and flesh, and the bones were not to be left behind, completely shattered under the weight of the steel. The demon let out a low roar and fell to the ground.

A puff of green smoke rose from its corpse, and Perturabo ignored it, only trampling coldly, his hands raised in the air, and a monster with the head of a bull confronted him the next moment.

The crimson skin was engraved with the lines of depravity, and it was dying with its breath, and a skull ornament from nowhere wrapped around its neck. It's strong, it's dangerous, and it's clear that there's not much to compete with the original in size.

But the Iron Lord still didn't pay much attention to it, he simply swung the hammer down, his right hand gripped the tail, and his left hand naturally slid down the handle, and his power unreservedly erupted along the attack, shaking the air like a volcanic eruption.

The Minotaur let out a low roar and tried to dodge, but was hit in the eye by a shower of fire. The bomb brutally exploded in its face, its flesh was consumed by the flames, and in an instant, its life and death were decided.

A tattered head flew out sideways, with half of the spine in it. Perturabo calmly withdrew his weapon, but did not stop. The warhammer began to whizz with the rotation of its wrist, smashing its shattered flesh into another hound that tried to sneak up.

It immediately convulsed and sank into the ground, its entire body split in two by the warhammer.

"Move closer to me." Peturabo said.

His voice was calm, as if he didn't care about the bloody, thrilling killing—and it was.

"I'm trying, Proto." Dantiok's hoarse voice came from the communication channel, and the war blacksmith sounded like he was suffering from a serious illness.

More voices followed, coming from within the channel. There are Ultramarines, there are salamanders, and there are death guards. Their voices are either weak or feverish.

And that's probably only the most insignificant impact. The Lord of Steel thought ruthlessly.

If the veil of reality continues to be shaken, if this spiral of hatred continues to spread, what will happen to things? When the object of revenge is slaughtered or disappears, who will the mad Avengers turn their blades on?

"Your attempts can only be called futile, Dantiok." Peturabo said. "You're still suffering from that emotion, and you, Ultramarines, Salamanders, Death Guards."

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

"I'm sorry, Primordial." The war blacksmith said with difficulty. "I'm approaching you."

Others remained irrefutably silent, shame creeping through the channel, and they all knew what they had done – Peturabo's accusations were completely correct and far from insulting.

In fact, if they were to judge such things for themselves, they would probably use a language a thousand times more intense than the Lord of Steel.

"Try to get the emotions out." Perturabo offered his help as he continued his way towards the Death Guards.

He stayed focused, incredibly focused. He could even wade through knee-deep rivers of blood while checking the current situation on the battlefield through the neural connections within the armor.

"Try to think of it as a necessity, as part of saving the world, rather than a thrilling journey of revenge. Those who are dead do not need you to avenge them. ”

He shattered the mist, stepped over the shattered corpses of demons and Astartes, and finally reached the Death Guards. There were still quite a few of them, and they were fighting alongside their company commander, Garo.

For ordinary commanders, this was good news, but for Perturabo, it only made his expression even colder.

Together, they were facing a giant demon with a huge body that looked like a giant worm, but the joints and long limbs were made up of an infinite number of human hands.

It relies on these hands to move and attack. Black fog hovered and spread behind it. Terrible ripples beyond the mundane slowly spread out in it, adding more teeth-chattering evidence of the demon's existence.

Like its tank-like body, or the human face on its misshapen body that has been stitched shut together.

Their screams were really noisy.

Perturabo calmly raised his left hand, and the underneath blaster finally came in handy at this moment, although it was not as good as his original double-row parallel Seiko blaster, but it was enough.

He pulled the trigger and ran out of bullets, and twenty-four rounds of explosive bullets spun out of the chamber of the gun one after the other, hitting the demon that the Death Guards were facing. But it didn't cause the slightest substantial damage, and seeing this scene, the Iron Lord immediately changed his original thoughts.

He strode forward, and at last one of the Death Guards noticed him - and the man looked as surprised as if he had never received a communication from the Iron Lord before.

Garo also quickly discovered him, and the commander of the combat company gritted his teeth, but there was no chance to speak. He was on the front lines of the battle, and he couldn't do anything else, and the demon's body might be clumsy, but its hands weren't.

Pulled by nerve-like bright red meridians, they can stay in place or catapult out suddenly, making it difficult to tell what they intent is, and more importantly, they're simply endless.

For example, at this moment, Jia Luo obviously used his giant sword to cut down dozens of pale hands with one sword, and the results were remarkable, but in the next second, he was forced to defend by more attacking manpower.

The hands gripped his greatsword with excitement at the screams of human faces, fingers tapping against the steel, disintegrating the force field and reducing their flesh to nothingness, but useless, so numerous that they could completely ignore ordinary weapons.

Perturabo took in the scene, narrowing his eyes and approaching the giant demon from the side. Some of the thousands of faces saw him, eyes with their eyelids cut out staring at the Iron Lord, screaming in their mouths.

Perturabo signaled his arrival with a series of violent explosions, and also gave the noisy faces a warning.

His threatening demonstration made the demon's bulky body tremble briefly, and it was clear that even if it was terrifying enough, it couldn't stand indifferent from the explosion of twelve hot melt grenades connected together.

Perturabo sneered, and his stride turned into a rapid run. The Death Guards were immediately aware of his tactical intentions, and for some reason, after Perturabo's arrival, they were able to think for a moment.

So, under the leadership of Garo, they began to redouble their efforts to attract the attention of this demon. Tactical goals may be easy to achieve, but winning battles is never easy.

The Lord of Steel rushed at the demon, but the hammer didn't even bother to lift it. He knew in his heart that ordinary attacks could only be an itch for something of this size, and that if he didn't use heavy weapons or had enough firepower, he would have to find some risky way to win.

With the screams of the human face, Perturabo rushed into the black mist behind the demon.

I don't know what he did, but in a series of violent explosions like lightning, Garo found that the demon's body began to shrink rapidly like a deflated balloon.

It didn't take long for it to change from the size of a tank to the size of a jet ski.

Still not small, but

The Death Guards raised their weapons in unison.

In the screech of thousands of human faces, they dismembered it. Blood splattered, and Peturabo finally emerged from the black fog.

Garo met him with his weapon, bowed his head, and the first thing he said was to apologize: "I'm sorry, my lord"

"Don't put him to shame any more." Perturabo replied coldly, in a rather blunt voice, but one that the Death Guards couldn't refute.

"One loss of mind is enough, and I don't want to hear any more news of you getting out of control. My brother Motarian fought to the death, always with a clear goal. ”

"He hasn't lost the reason on which humanity depends, and you shouldn't. Succumbing to death is simple, and you don't have to endure any more torture. But you are the children of the Lord of death, understand? Don't say I expect too much from you."

He strode past them.

"Follow me now." Peturabo said without question. "The salamanders are still fighting, and they need support."

——

"Kneel before the gods and beg for their mercy!" One of the Bearers roared, pointing the still bloodstained butcher's knife at a group of civilians.

Their protector had fallen, his body in tatters, his nails riddled with holes, and a trembling shadow began to grow in the ground watered by his blood.

The sky was dark, and only the fires lit by the Whisperers shone brightly throughout the city, and the sneaky things were stirring in the mist. The chainsaw sword in the bearer's hand looked beyond the realm of a weapon, it was already attached to his body.

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

They had no effect on his armor, which had begun to deform, and it did nothing to stop the Bearer from slaughtering with a sinister grin.

By the time Sergeant Bono of the 12th Regiment of the Makulag Defense Army rushed in with his soldiers, the civilians were dead. And the bearer was still laughing, his voice almost frantic with excitement.

Sergeant Bono could only let out a furious growl, cursing or swearing was superfluous, his face was like a whirlpool, and endless resentment consumed his thoughts.

The Bearer turned, his blade swinging, a single blow beheading a dozen loyal soldiers. He noticed the emotion on the sergeant's face, and his smile grew.

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

He smiled happily and rushed into the guards like a flock of sheep and began to kill, even slowing down to keep the blood flying longer.

The thirst for killing and revenge was satisfied, and he rejoiced. All the people of Maculag should die, and here the Bearers will rebuild a new perfect city, a true perfect city.

It is no longer dedicated to false gods, it is built for a true deity

The killing continued, and he deliberately saved the sergeant for the last, for whom it was always pleasant to kill the officer. What's more, the blood shed here is enough.

Ultramarines, civilians, defenders of the Guard, innocents, brave, the irrigation of blood is enough, and he will sacrifice them all to the darkness. The gods will give him more power, more blessings, and he will use this power to commit more murders.

Such a wonderful cycle. The Bearer couldn't help but laugh out loud.

The sergeant looked at him with red eyes, and the new light gun from the Veredian foundry in his hand opened fire repeatedly, but the Bearer did not hide, and strode towards him. His mutant armor was able to ignore attacks of this level.

The sergeant's little sanity saw this. He threw down his gun, drew his combat knife from his belt, and rushed towards the Bearer with a howl, only to be kicked to the knee in the middle of the way.

The Bearer picked him up, but the sergeant left the pain behind, and he frantically brandished his dagger in a frenzy, creating many scars on the 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.

"It's not enough, mortal." He shook his head regretfully. "Compared to us, your hatred is far more than-"

"-Bang!"

Like a lightning strike, or a cannon fire, a warhammer tore through the fog, roared, and struck the Bearer away. A tall figure walked silently with boundless rage, and behind him a torrent of steel was marching together.

The Ultramarines and Salamanders fought side by side, the fog shattered by their arrival, revealing the killing machines behind them as the tanks' guns began to roar and the assault boats sped past, running over the ruins and heading straight ahead.

The Bearer laughed again, blood foaming from the corners of his mouth, mixed with stubbles of internal organs. Vulcan walked over in silence, pressed one hand on the counterweight ball at the tail of the warhammer, and began to press down.

The sudden increase in power caused a rapid muffled grunt to erupt in the Bearer's throat, causing his body to sink suddenly. The ruins of the destroyed city sent smoke and dust beneath him, and a small crater appeared.

"Where's Luojia?" The Lord of the Fire Dragon asked.

"You"

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

Picking up the hammer, he turned and walked away. The Whisperer's corpse began to bleed, and his flattened armor and body shouldn't have been bleeding so much. Immediately afterward, the mist suddenly emerged from the ground and enveloped his body

There was a slight chewing sound coming from the darkness, and Vulcan turned his head expressionlessly, his hands raised, and he stepped out, pure violence stretched out in his body—like thunder, like a furious god, and his great strength made the ground tremble for a moment.

The smoke and dust scattered, and this was not the end, for the corpse of the Bearer was still deforming. Vulcan lifted the hammer and began to smash it further.

It wasn't the first time he had dealt with this group of beasts that could cause trouble after death, and he didn't care about their subspace magic. For the Lord of the Fire Dragon, if he can kill them the first time, he can kill them a second and third time.

He will kill them until they are completely dead, and he will not give up until then. But the monsters in the darkness always swarmed, and there were ripples in the mist, and several huge beasts barked wildly and rushed out of them, shadows behind them.

Immediately the rain of bombs descended, and the Astartes turned their guns and began to respond to the sudden encounter. They are used to it, and in just half an hour since the start of the war, they have seen everything.

Macurag is now wrapped in war, with gunboats and birds biting at each other in the skies, and the Titans fighting the dark Titans of the Whisperers in the south outside the city. Tank to tank, army to army

Ground-based weapon platforms were firing incessantly, making the mountains tremble with each resound. Some of the artillery fire hit the tracks, and some fell to the ground. What was once a beautiful sight is now dust, blood, and corpses.

Realizing this is painful for the Ultramarines, but it also activates their primal instincts that are hidden deep in their genes. It was a majestic rage, inhuman, cold, and derived from their genes.

This anger has been manifested in countless people in the past, and no one has been able to master it because it is enough to destroy everything.

And you need to know one thing.

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

It was Robert Killiman who transformed them with his charisma and mental strength, and Maculag played a major role in this. And now?

They were transformed by a brief period of peace and beauty, and became the embodiment of justice for hope and ideals.

Now, these are gone. Now, the only war left in Macurag.

And so the sons of war made a comeback.

Vulcan watched this happen, and he couldn't do anything to change it. War is like that, you either get tempered in it, or you wear out humanity in it. Nothing else.

The Lord of the Dragons silently lifted his hammer and threw himself into another slaughter, unbeknownst to him, a ship that wasn't supposed to appear was leaping out of Mandeville Point above Macurag's orbit.

It wasn't a giant warship, it didn't even have a single Bearer on it, and its crew was all fallen mortals. They were still prostrating themselves as Macurag's orbital weapons platform was aimed at the ship and was about to spit out a deadly deathlight.

They were sacrifices with only one purpose.

Summon.

In subspace, Lorja Aurelian smiled happily, he was now very different from what he used to be.

Through the ocean of subspace, he stared at his brothers. After a few seconds, the surface of his oversized body began to glow brightly.

Through the sacrifices of tens of thousands of devout believers, he arrived in Macurag.

There is also a chapter, which is also 5k

(End of chapter)