Robert Killiman could hear the warning signals coming from the engine of Marcurag's Flare, and a steady stream of thousands of other warnings.

At this moment, the main bridge has been completely engulfed by the flickering red light, and everyone's face is illuminated by the light that represents danger, and the former reason and order have disappeared here, and the emotions are high, the steps are frenzied, and the expressions are serious or urgent.

There is only one primitive and purest thought left in their minds.

Rush out.

It has to be so, and it must be done at all costs.

Engines can be overloaded to incineration, decks can tremble to the point of disintegration, and Void Shields can even be temporarily shut down to power the engines. Even the screams of the navigators have become an acceptable thing.

Since entering the subspace, three navigators on the Glory of Macurag have fallen into madness and fainting while guiding the way. At first it was reported that the brilliance of the torch was growing. Then there are hallucinations, as if you are somewhere underneath Terra.

Finally a scream and a constant chanting of Terra's name

Someone once asked a question, but the answer was only one word.

Burn.

What's burning? Tyra? As a result, the issue was quickly listed as a prohibited matter. The fainting navigators began to be taken away and kept under strict guard, this was a subspace after all, and who knew what they were seeing?

There have also been objections that the navigators should no longer follow the instructions. Rightfully so, this proposal was vetoed by Robert Killeman himself.

The answer given by the Lord of Maculag leaves no room for argument - without relying on them, can it be that the naked eye can discern the scene in the subspace?

Of course, this is not the main reason, and Robert Killeman does not say it. He trusts his instincts, which others don't.

Let's move forward. Robert Killeman thought. Keep going and don't stop.

He uttered it almost in his heart with a pleading, he was not weak, but there was something behind this plea that could destroy his sanity completely.

He was afraid of being late, and he was afraid that they would end up somewhere else if they jumped out. He was terrified to see Maculag in flames, civilians slaughtered, defenders nailed to the ruins screaming to death, and, of course, Talasha Yutun.

The Whisperer and the thing in the Loja Aurelian skin would not spare her, in fact, not a single Makurag man.

This matter had been thought of by him as early as when Kiliman entered the subspace, and they had done so much cover-up and so much foreshadowing, just to get to Maculag before Kiliman.

Why?

Because of that bloodbath, because of that damn perfect city.

You have destroyed what was once most dear to a group of fanatical believers, and even brought them to shame in front of the gods they believed in at the time. Now that this group of believers has returned with the blessings of their new gods, and is even more fanatical, what do you think they will do?

Robert Killeman is too lazy to guess the answer.

He thought too seriously about these things, and suddenly he didn't notice that the furnace in his chest was agitated again, and a bright light lit up from his eyes.

Marius Gage looked worriedly, but suppressed the urge to remind.

At this moment, a violent jolt came from the right side of the ship, and the force was so strong that it felt as if it had been hit by ten rounds of battleship's cannons.

The crew immediately staggered, and it was to no avail that the magnetic boots were turned on, and some even clashed with the effects of the magnetic boots due to the excessive impact, resulting in fractures.

Even the original body inevitably skewed its body in this level of impact. The furnace jumped at the same time, as if it had been summoned by some kind of summons, and suddenly it shone brightly, and the world in front of Killiman exploded in the light at this moment.

But in the blink of an eye, he left the impatient bridge of Marcurag's Glory and came into the mist.

Immediately after, he smelled a burning smell, but the air was so cold that it was like a knife slitting his throat.

Where is this?

Instinctively, Kiriman pulled out the dagger at his waist, his expression cold. Wherever he was, he had to leave

The power that belonged to the forged furnace began to accumulate, and this power that even he didn't know what it was roared in his chest—if it weren't for the sound of that voice, Robert Killiman would have blasted them out without hesitation in the next moment.

"Stop." The emperor said. "Listen to me, Robert."

The man with a cold anger turned sharply and saw his father—not false, not illusional, not deceitful by others. The Emperor stood here, his armor made of gold covered with blood.

"Father?"

"You know the answer, why do you call me repeatedly?" The emperor asked.

He looked like he had just come down from the battlefield, and he was still smiling and making a little joke. This did not comfort Killiman, but made him even more uneasy. In his memory, the Lord of Humanity had never behaved like this.

Authentic.

"I don't think it matters, though." The Emperor said, raising his right hand, and the fog cleared in an instant, at least the fog in front of them.

Then, a burning planet appeared in front of Killiman.

His eyes were split.

"The Bearers are doing iniquity." The emperor came to him, far taller than him, but his voice was unusually gentle. With a wish for revenge, they arrived at Ling's hometown. Very smart, but also shameless. Good thing you still help. ”

Help? What helps?

The Emperor gave him an answer in the next second, and the fog began to continue to dispel, and some people appeared in his field of vision. He recognized them, they were Iron Warriors, Death Guards, and Salamanders.

In the burning Maculag, they face up to death and fight desperately.

Life has never seemed so cheap for a moment, the Astartes are dying, the guards are dying, the civilians are dying—killed by demons, killed by artillery, killed by stray bullets, brutally disemboweled by the Bearers

All of this poured into the original body's mind like flowing water, and in this instant, he saw countless dead. From the court to the suburbs, from the ruined ruins to the burning forest. Rivers pour back, waterfalls flow backwards, and oceans dry up.

The Maculag is dying, everyone, is dying, it's just sooner or later, that's all.

Two seconds later, Robert Killiman's hands began to tremble.

"They—" He began, his words stumbling. "-them?"

"Yes." The emperor said. "Three legions, two primitives."

"Two?"

Why only two?

"Because Motarian is dead." Neos said. "He calls himself the Lord of Death, what a haughty child. In my opinion, though, he did. ”

Kiriman stared blankly at the slightly unfamiliar golden-armored giant and the fleeting smile of sadness, but was not explained.

The Emperor simply waved his hand calmly, letting the fog clear again, and another image began to slowly take its place, and in the ripples of waves, Killiman saw Perturabor.

His brother's gloomy power armor was gone, tattered. Every scratch shows how hard its owner has been, and every dent is dangerous, and the enemy shows no mercy.

Well, what about Peturabo himself? And what about him?

Before talking about this, you need to know that Robert Killiman has never liked the Lord of the Fourth Legion, never. In fact, it's almost disgusting.

He didn't like Perturabo's reaction to his own legions and other military forces, nor did he like his overly twisted personality. And all these things have been left behind by him.

For he saw Perturabo fighting Lorja, facing countless demons, and facing the monster standing behind the demons using evil spells.

He didn't take a step back.

He would rather be covered in bruises than stubbornly protect a stump lying behind him.

A purple flower was shattering with the fall of his hammer, a tulip from Macurag, which Kiliman immediately recognized.

"That's Vulcan." The emperor said. "You know what, Robert?"

Suddenly, he talked about a legend.

"Once upon a time in Terra, people thought that creatures like dragons would not die."

"Father." Kiriman interrupted him.

"Huh?"

"Send me over." Robert Killiman, with his eyes as bright as flames, said. "You must have summoned me here to have a task to give me, and you have shown me these images, the cause and effect."

He slowly sheathed the dagger of Sincerity, the light in his eyes fading, but the sound in his chest that did not look like his heart beating began to sound.

"So send me there, father." He said. "While it's still too late."

"Nothing is in time, Robert." The Emperor shook his head. "You can come over, and in fact, that's what I paid to summon you for. But you can't save Maculag anymore. ”

"I can." Kiriman stubbornly retorted.

Then the emperor raised his right hand again and dispelled the fog in front of him for his son.

Once again, the flaming Maculag appeared intact before Killman's eyes, and this time, it was different.

The planet is still the same planet, being ravaged by war, but it suddenly changes color, as if stuck in a black and white world, and everything is simply divided into two colors.

And then Killiman saw the truth—he saw the pervasive power of chaos. It's pitch black, it's greedy.

It has sunk deep into the heart of Maculag, and the hatred of loyalists and betrayers alike is perfectly fueling this power. There is only one opportunity and an introduction, and this chaotic power will completely explode

Then came destruction.

"The Bearers are prepared, Robert. They want a new perfect city, and they come with a desire for revenge. So, what could be better than this? ”

He didn't say which thing it was, but Kiliman knew. He had already guessed what the Whisperers were about to do to Maculag through simple logic and his knowledge of subspace, but.

"I've built an anti-psionic force." He spoke hoarsely. "They might be able to—"

He could not finish the sentence, and under the emperor's pitying gaze, Robert Killiman clenched his fists and slowly closed his mouth.

yes, maybe, just maybe.

What use can a 10,000-strong anti-psionic force be in a disaster of this calibre?

What effect can the anti-psionic equipment that was specially improved to target the psionics, and the Amatus necromantic technology device that was exchanged from the treasury of Ferus Manus, have an effect on the death of a planet?

The answer is, there is no use or impact.

"I've said what I had to say, Robert."

The emperor spoke slowly, his voice low, not as before.

"What I have to do, I have done it to the end according to the plan. I have to tell you here that the Great Expedition failed. However, the reason for failure cannot be simply attributed to one person or one thing. ”

"There is no one for us to blame, no one for us to blame. This is a collective disaster, forged by us together, and it is innocent ordinary people who have paid the most blood."

"The empire is about to fall into darkness, savages and superstitions are coming back, I have seen them, but I must welcome them first."

He smiled, his smile full of pain and self-reproach.

"I vowed to stop living in fear, but I failed to do so, and I brought even greater terror. Coincidentally, my son, while Maculag is burning, Terra is also burning, and Nostramo is burning, Olympia, save the star."

"The human galaxy is burning."

"So, it's not war anymore, I wouldn't call it that word, do you know why?"

Killiman couldn't make a sound, his eyes welling up with tears, and he could only shake his head.

"Because the war will end." The emperor said. "Go now, go and save your brothers, your people. It has always been the case that people have lost land. We'll wait in Terra, we'll fight until the very end."

He smiled suddenly, and there was no trace of sadness or remorse in it, only the purest anger.

He raised his hand, grasped the shattered vain ambition, closed his right hand, clenched his palm into a fist, and swallowed the blood-stained ambition calmly in one gulp.

The Lord of Mankind has a golden light in his eyes, and he coldly orders as an emperor.

"Kill them all, Robert Killman."

The thirteenth son roared and drew his sword, and the light struck and engulfed him.

——

"Give up, give up, give up"

The voice of Lorga Aurelian whispered in his ear, noisy and stupid.

The demons pounced on him.

This time, the first monster to come up and lead the dead had a twisted, erratic figure, like a shadow, and he ignored it, swinging his hammer to smash it.

What about shadows? The same can be killed.

The second was a blood-red, strong, battle-armor demon who swooped down on him with a maniacal chuckle as he read something he didn't bother to hear.

It's a formidable enemy, he admitted. It took a few minutes to fix it, and there was one more scar on the breastplate.

It doesn't matter, who is the third?

He grabbed the demon's head and lifted it aloft, alone in the face of the tide of darkness, with nothing but peace on his face. He is the Thunder Pool, and any demon who tries to touch Vulcan's body through him will die.

Perturabo spoke slowly.

"Who's next?"

He threw his head off and trampled it to pieces.

"Come on."

He raised his hammer and waved it demonstratively, causing the minced meat to spill. Some of the weaker ones in the demon tide immediately rushed to come, trampled on, or trampled on, just to lick a little blood. So confusing, so disgusting

He laughed contemptuously, ripped a string of grenades from his belt and threw them into the tide.

"Come on!" In the boiling light of the fire, he roared.

The demon tide stared at him with a greedy gaze, each gaze condensed with the power of evil.

Perturabo felt a splitting headache, and a sticky nosebleed was staining his pale lips red—it was Loja, no. It's the thing that takes over Luo Jia's body, it's its sorcery.

It was already completely surrounded by the power of the subspace, so the curse became a fairly easy thing to do.

The thing hid behind the horde of demons he had summoned, unhurriedly waiting for Perturabo to run out of energy. The Lord of Steel could certainly see its intentions, but he didn't bother to laugh.

For now, he's focused on one thing.

"Brother!" Through the demon tide, Luo Jia called out to him from afar. This time it was its own vocalization, not the disgusting spell. Finally, as soon as he stepped into the storm, Perturabo finally had a moment to shake off the whispers that kept ringing in his ears.

Sadly, the words spoken by the pseudocreature are still disgusting, clichéd, and not even enough to be noticed.

Perturabo glanced at him coldly, raised his hammer, and smashed it down in a terrifying manner. With a single blow, five or six demons died at the same time. The minced meat is tumbling, but their numbers are still not decreasing.

Luo Jia spoke again, and there was already a little more anger in her voice.

"Why don't you still want to listen? Damn, there's no way you're going to win! I'm tired of saying this, one or two of you are stubborn, what's the matter? All of a sudden it's all Roger Dorn? Why do you keep fighting when you can't win?! I just want you to see the truth, that's all! ”

"Save it"

Between the killings, Perturabo finally responded.

"Keep the truth of your bullshit to yourself, brute."

The Iron Lord sneered and raised his hammer in his hand towards it.

"I've always despised cowards, especially things like you."

"I don't know exactly what happened to Lorga Aurelian, but he's clearly not a piece of waste like you that can't even make a fool of yourself. You're stupid enough to see who you really are, and you're weak enough to be a puddle of mud, so you're nothing. ”

"Shut up, and come and die."

Luo Jia's expression finally turned to resentment.

"You'll pay for it, I swear!" It roared. "What do you know, and how do you dare to evaluate me? Where were you when the City of Perfection was burned by the Puppet Emperor's orders? Do you think he's going to love you? No, he's just-"

"- Love? Is this what you crave? ”

Peturabo sneered and grabbed a hound that tried to sneak up on him, twisted his neck with his backhand, threw it at his feet, and trampled his head. His ridicule was like a sharp knife, piercing deep into the rotting heart of the mocked.

"How naïve. Is it a great child, self-righteous and powerful, but so mediocre that he does not even dare to have ambition? ”

"You ——!"

"-Shut up!" With a louder voice, the Iron Lord pressed over. "Cowards have no right to confront me! Get out and die! ”

"I'm going to kill you——!" The artifact roared sadly.

The body flew up, the robe swelled, and floated from the dark distance, and the golden staff in his hand was raised high. The demons reluctantly fled into the Void by its power, and for a moment, it and Perturabo were the only ones left.

The Iron Lord smiled as he wished, a smile that should not have been on his face, but he was so happy now.

He couldn't stop himself from smiling.

In the next second, with a loud bang, the golden scepter and the war hammer collided with each other.

The air was 'shattered', and the dust covering the ground was lifted in an instant, as miserable as if it had been bombarded by a missile. The glassy ground shattered again, and Vulcan's body shook twice, a faint flash of light flashing from what was supposed to be a scorched black chest.

"Peturabo!" The thing roared and pronounced his name. "You will suffer, you will perish, you will be tormented - the gods will taste every ounce of your memory!"

Steel shut his mouth and did not answer. Wordlessly, he swung his hammer and crushed Luo Jia's golden staff with great force.

The latter, realizing that something was wrong, tried to flicker away, but was firmly grasped by the shoulder by an iron hand.

Laughing unconsciously, the steel threw it to the ground, and the hammer then smashed, turning Luo Jia's right leg into a puddle of flesh from below the knee.

The Great Speaker waved his golden scepter in astonishment and rage, and left the place. With a missed blow, he appeared behind Perturabo and his magic was already at work as if it were instinctive.

Vulcan's wreckage floated slightly, and Perturab had already turned—but he was still a little late, and Loja's hand was already outstretched, about to touch the corpse of the Lord of the Fire Dragon.

From the smile that slowly bloomed on that pale face, you can probably tell his mood at the moment.

Everything seems to be going to the worst, irretrievable, irretrievable, and the oath is broken again. It was as if Perturabo saw the tulips shattering.

Until a bright light shines in the darkness.

Then there was the heat, and the sound of a pounding heartbeat.

A giant emerges from the golden mist.

His eyes were as bright as the sun in the sky. The face is distorted, like a demon from hell. The teeth were clenched, the pieces were shattered, the eyes were wide open, and the blood was red. The Sincere Short Sword in his hand turned into a pillar of light at this moment, and the mere whistling sound was enough to destroy all darkness.

Robert Kiliman, Lord of Maculag, returned to his homeland.

"Dead ——!"

The blade fell, and a head flew high.

After the update, please send more book reviews, the author needs some feedback. I don't know how I wrote.

(End of chapter)