La Endymion stopped swinging his twin swords, very abruptly. The two swords were supposed to stab the demon in the throat and the other in the chest, but he stopped.

There is no need to swing a sword anymore.

Flames slammed down from behind the stunned demon. Gold, rising like the sun, but it only appeared before the fog dissipated and the darkness faded.

The demons began to scream - Calamity!

They roared incessantly, in pain as if they were being dismembered.

Ra silently lowered the blade in his hand, and was not surprised to hear the voice of his lord. Forever, he would greet each of the Praetorian soldiers at the beginning of the war, talking to them individually.

+ Evacuate the network and garrison at the entrance. Konstantin will tell you what to do. +

+ Lord! +

+ The time has come, pull. You had another fate, but you don't need to suffer it again. +

His sovereign's voice came from the depths of the net, cold, with ruthlessness. But he was still explaining that that was enough.

+ Go and kill. The depths of the network are crumbling, and I don't even know what it will be like, but we can still hold on to this last section, and there is hope. Go and wipe out the demons for me, pull. +

"Yes, my lord."

The tribune, La Endymion, replied in a low voice, and he sheathed his swords, turned and began to run, as before, as everyone else.

Hours ago, without saying a word, this brave army had rushed into the tunnels in an attempt to save the Lord of Humanity. Now, they will also retreat to the front of the gate to wait for a triumphant victory.

Some people are full of doubts and worries, while others are as calm as the cold iron of the abyss, and they don't care about the screams of the demons. Among them, the guards of the Golden Armor were the most numerous, and in fact, each of them knew what was happening right now.

The irascible mechs within the Titans fell silent for the first time, the priests and servants chanting their binary language followed, the Sisters of Silence turned away with tears in their eyes, and the roar of hoverboats, armored vehicles, motorcycles, and other vehicles was more uniform than ever.

The Wanfu group ran at the back, they had a tacit understanding and understood what they should do and what they should not do, but they also had a little selfishness.

At least at this moment, at least at this moment, they have such a small bit of selfishness—they want to witness the power of the Lord.

The emperor allowed it.

And they saw.

Millions of demons turned into a tide around them like melting wax figures, and the once nightmarish lifeless were now puddles of crumbling and dissolving blood in endless pain and contraction.

If you can't resist, the end of resistance is death, but if you give up resistance, you will die faster. The most powerful of them can also roar in rage, one of the shards of the evil god's power, barking and profaning the lords of the forbidden army.

The flames didn't seem to answer, but just scorched each demon, turning them into blood and smoke—and then, suddenly, the flames changed color.

From gold to pitch-black flames, dark red as a base, dark as blood. Black snow began to drift through the mesh, and strong winds began to rise, accompanied by thunder. The ground turned into a sticky mire, as black as the extinguished sun.

Countless unjust souls stretched out their claws and carried the fragments of these evil gods to the world that belonged only to the wronged dead

At this point, even the powerful began to stop being arrogant. They know what it is, and no one knows better than them what this extreme power, also from Chaos, means.

However, it was already too late.

They come here thinking they can feast and vent every extreme emotion that belongs to them, but they are wrong. There is no food for them in the current networks, and there are no living people to kill or torture

There is only killing, only revenge.

The wails began to change, and in the gale, the sound of roaring and cursing calamity was gradually replaced by another, a stiff one. In the burning flames, the dead slowly stood up at this moment.

Skeletons melt away, armor shatters, and some lose half of their bodies or limbs, which are replaced by flames. Others are headless corpses whose heads have been bitten off by demons, but they can continue to fight, and Flames have fabricated their original appearances, revealing them as if they were alive.

One after another angry faces wrapped in flames, one after another faces of the dead with hideous smiles, even servants and civilians existed in them.

Vengeance is fair, and it gives everyone a chance.

And that's not the end, not even the beginning. The golden flames returned, and countless phantoms rushed out of them, and the figures had become solid in a matter of seconds, and the fire of psionic energy that belonged only to the emperor burned on their bodies.

Vanfu, Astarte, Auxiliaries. Servants, civilians, mechanical priests. Fury and golden flames mingled, and hateful Avengers and Loyalists laughed.

Those who died in the forbidden army were all draped in golden flames, and their spears were like the blazing sun in the sky. They began to charge, crushing the corpses and stepping into the depths of the web to meet their lord.

The Emperor's Sons, wielding their banners, once fought against their fathers, now fought side by side again. Their armor is no longer gorgeous, it has become molten and charred, and the blades in their hands are sharper than before, and slaughter is born in the middle of a knife.

The war dogs and their gladiator units worked together as ever, and the Nukerians stood with their brothers and sisters, from the mountains, from the snow, from the forests, who had fought for injustice, for liberation, and now only for humanity and revenge.

At this moment, they are in Terra, in the land of demons, but they are still brave and loyal.

Beside them are the deadly killers of the Raven Guard, who can escape into the shadows even after death, carrying out brutal raids in the flaming waves of fire. The claws poked out to kill them, and the rancid aether splattered their inky armor with nothing to leave behind a single stain.

The Ultramarines are on the flanks and are the most numerous. Or from Coos, or from another world back home. They have nothing to say, they have all that needs to be said, they just need to kill. They didn't keep their home, but they were able to give Terra a moment of peace.

They are surrounded by Iron Warriors and Death Guards, Steel Hammers and Death Scythes walking side by side, slaughtering the enemies of humanity with absolute ruthlessness. The two legions, which had rarely fought side by side in the past, were now terrifyingly acquiescing, and the hammer smashed down on its front foot, and the death scythe followed.

The elite of the auxiliaries followed, and a stripped sergeant, replaced by Black Flame, waved his company's banner and led the souls of the dead to follow in the footsteps of the Astartes. They walked briskly, as if they were carrying nothing.

The salamanders rushed to the front, the deadly promethine flamethrower in their hands now gone, and they could ignite a flame with a single glance, and the dark green armor of the sons of Vulcan was now charred, but the dragon scales on it were still shining.

The mechanic priests and servants followed them, and even those who didn't have language modules were now spitting out the name of the Om Messiah and chanting for revenge.

Almost everyone was armed and armoured, except for the civilians—but don't think they're going to stop there.

If you don't have a weapon, use your fists. If fists fail to defeat the enemy, use teeth.

Savage, primitive, murderous. But isn't this the weapon that humans would use in the wilderness?

In the days when spears and stone axes were not invented, humans used them to protect themselves. It just so happens that there is no need for any so-called civilization and morality now, so let's degenerate.

Degenerate to the age of barbarism, to the age when three or two barbarians dare to chase herds of beasts. Degenerate to a time when everything is afraid of fire and humanity.

If you see a human being, you will run, and if you don't run, you will die. The body is devoured, the head is shaved clean as a souvenir, and the bones are sharpened and sharpened into weapons, which can then be used to kill more of their kind.

That's it, that's all it can be.

Run. They smirked. Just as we did at the beginning.

They swarmed up and threw down the burning beast, grabbing the burning body to their wails, gnawing or punching and kicking them comically.

The demons never imagined that they would one day suffer such a great disgrace, and they were furious and tried to continue killing, but the civilians seemed endless.

Kill one, and the other two will pounce. Kill two, and the other four pounce. Never stop and never back down. Fearless to the point of intimidating even demons.

After all, having already died once, what is there to be afraid of? The hatred of the father, the hatred of the mother, the hatred of the child—these hatreds weighed heavily on the heart and turned into a black flame.

The flame told them that there was no need to be afraid.

Civilians were killed the most in this evil war, but now they are also returning the most. Some people are dressed in brocade clothes, some people are dressed in shabby cloth clothes, some people are covered in blood, and some people are covered in dust.

They used to have names, but the names don't matter anymore, they're humans, they have only one goal.

Revenge.

Divine, righteous, sweet, and cheerful revenge.

With supreme hatred in his arms, he endured torture, returned from the world of the dead, stood waist-deep in a sea of blood, and faced the beast of the evil god with his bare hands-

- "Come on! ”

A man shouted, his voice broken to the point of almost barking.

He grabbed a demon and threw it to the ground. The thing pierced his chest in order to survive the distance, and he struggled to his feet, trying to escape. The man laughed heartily, and he chased after him, holding the demon to death, and was taken away by Black Flame.

Next to him stood two mothers, one weeping and the other laughing.

But neither the weepers, nor the laughers, let go of their hands. They were holding a hound in their hands, and the latter tried to escape, but the mothers forcibly stuck their hands in their mouths, and they could not move, but could only watch the flames burn themselves.

Behind them, a boy in a noble robe smashed the head of a rotting corpse with all his might, as if he were smiling.

Two fighter servants followed closely behind the boy, Coos's mark on their chests. The servant, who wasn't supposed to have any self-awareness, was now roaring with vent, a throbbing flame swirling around his dead gray skin.

They may have been condemned or clones without consciousness or reason in the past, but now they have everything, at least, they have everything they should have as human beings.

Joy, anger, sorrow, joy – and most importantly, the one thing that makes human beings human.

Unite.

Kill one of us, and you will pay back. Ten times the repayment, a hundred times the repayment, and if it is not enough, go on until the anger in my breast is subsided

Such a fearless spectacle should be rare, but at this moment, it is constantly being staged everywhere on the battlefield. Can it be called a miracle? I'm afraid not, because what is happening in this ancient ruin is not a miracle, but a release of anger, and it is a natural thing.

Humans are going crazy.

You push them to the extreme, and they're going to go crazy. Adrenaline, anger, red eyes – and violence.

So, what about this war? Some will call it justice or justice, or holy battles.

But at the end of the day, it's just a revenge.

Avenging parents, avenging children, avenging homeland, avenging all those who have shed blood – rightfully so.

And the depths of the network are still shattering, and the ancient creations that were built by the Spirit Race in the past are now shattered, and they have all turned into ashes along with the blood and sweat of the Mechanics.

Only a few labyrinthine twists remained, and the battlefield became crowded as demons rushed into the shattered depths.

Run, must run, only run away from this terrible sight - they did not know fear in the past, but they know now. And so this feeling was immediately engraved in their hearts.

The most cunning of the beasts tried to escape through the mist, self-righteous and trying to bait their own kind to get back through the mist to the place where they had first poured into the labyrinth, and from there back to the storm of chaos.

But they didn't stand a chance, for their kind were already waiting in the mist.

The Demon Leader, formerly known as Phil Zaloster, is now a large, humanoid demon with two hideous horns on his head.

His skin was pale, his armor twisted, and it fit snugly against his current torso. The ashes hung upside down, each one a terrible bullet waiting to be fired.

The bladed bat's wings stretched out fiercely on both sides of his back, his eyes were like two black holes, and the dark red fine lines quietly bloomed on his face that had been broken once, like a bloody flower.

He sneered silently at the face of the demons, followed by his trademark whisper. The mourning birds began to mourn for them, for their own mourning.

"There is nowhere to run."

"Come and receive your death."

——

Machado snapped his eyes open.

He knew that one of his plans had succeeded. He felt a cold joy at this—he almost wanted to laugh at the evil gods behind the veil himself.

Cruelty to loyalty, sacrifice to the world, full of schemes, all kinds of tricks. And how?

After all, you are just parasites hiding in subspace. Four unsightly things also want to destroy the hope of mankind with a group of filthy lifeless, so-called demons, and so-called shards of evil gods?

In the palace, the palm printer smiles silently.

Outside the palace, strong winds blow and the land flips and turns into glaciers. Everyone could sense that something was happening, right here, right above this sacred Terra.

I woke up early and couldn't sleep, so I wrote a chapter of 4k to make up for yesterday's first, and then wrote the rest when I woke up.

Please comment a lot, it's important to me.

Three other books are recommended, Shadow of the Holy Sepulchre, Iron Forsaken and Immortal Steel, and Fabilis Battle. They are all works of translation court bosses, so if you are interested, you can take a look. In this way, the author made up for sleep.

(End of chapter)