Angel Tay realizes that the timer in his power armor is dead. Before he killed Garlan Kusa, the timer gave him four hours and twenty-two minutes, but when he killed Garlan Kusa, the number became an incomprehensible series of characters.

It was constantly beating, changing every second, and the chaos was terrifying. So Ingrell Tay took the initiative to turn off the timer, and the effects of chaos always start to exert their power from the minutiae, just as all evil adds up.

He walked up to Garlan Kusa and drew his power sword.

The Nightblade gave the Sons of Aurelian more weapons to choose from, but not out of compensation, but overall, because of Angle's stubbornness.

He insisted on taking part in the battle, and of course the Nightblades disagreed, and Conrad Coates made a special trip to him three times for this, as well as the venerable Robert Killiman, who not only allowed him to recruit on the Glory of Maculag, but also offered to supply them.

Ingrell Tai guiltily rejected the two primitives, and the reason he gave was simple.

"He'll be here." Said the son of Aurelian. "And there is no reason for us to be absent."

Thus all rebuttals, arguments, and dialogues disappear completely, like a closed window on the contemplative. Of course, they can't really come in full, there are always people who have to plan for the future. So the 'hermit' was forced to stay.

Enraged by this, he publicly cursed Angler Tay several times, only to silence him until others vaguely reminded him of Angle's reasons for doing so.

Reason?

The Son of Aurelian sighed.

There is no reason for this, just because you are the most pious, hermit, and you are so pious that you can completely ignore any gossip, and your loyalty to the emperor is unmatched by all of us. Therefore, the newborn son of Aurelian needs you.

The idea was fraught with brutal political considerations, and Ingres Tay knew it was dirty, but he didn't have time to think about it more. He raised his sword and turned to leave, only to hear a strange grunt.

Turning around, he saw a pair of eyes that had opened at some point. So Anglel Tay turned back and walked over to the eyes. He bent down to lift the decapitated head, raised it, and looked at it.

The head, formerly known as Garlan Kusa, was the priest of the 66th Commando Company of the Whisperers. And now, he is one of the hundreds of thousands of traitors who need to be killed one by one by the sons of Aurelian.

"He's watching you." Garlan Kusa, or something else, opened his mouth and squirmed with his jet-black lips spitting out the words.

The chaotic eight-pointed star on his forehead was faintly brightening, bringing an ominous glow. Angel Tai's eyes narrowed, he shouldn't have had any superfluous conversation with this monster, but since it mentioned him

"We will give him rest." Angel Tay replied in a low voice, resolute in his voice.

To this, Garlan Kusa's head only showed a cruel smile. His lips cracked slightly, and his teeth slowly fell out on his dark gums.

"There is no rest here, O foolish son of Lorja. There is nothing but war, death and torture. This place has become a man-made hell, and you have chosen to step into it. Soon you will see your own demons. ”

Angler Tai let go of his hand and crushed it with his foot. Very hard, very careful, very meticulous. He didn't feel any more touch under his feet before turning to leave, and Nightblade and his brothers had been waiting for a long time.

Dressed in gray armor, the last of Loja's loyalists stood in the fog alongside the dark blue blades of the night, waiting for him to finish.

Shen Ying of the Fourth Company stepped forward.

"What did it say?" The young sergeant asked, but his tone did not change.

"It's just a rehash of the same old tune." Angel Tay shook his head. "Devil, warning, the religious atmosphere is very strong, like a three-generation clergyman with poor speech."

"Interesting description." Shen smiled slightly. "You seem to have learned a lot from Savitarion."

"He could teach me a lot, but he taught me how to tell these horrible jokes." Angel Tai couldn't help but sigh. "Do you really think these jokes are funny?"

They began to march through the fog to the next place where the smell of depravity was thick. The fog has become a sort of safeguard for their high-speed movement, like a special individual rapid delivery mechanism, or a occult version of the airborne warehouse.

However, walking in the fog is not very comfortable, and staying in it feels like being frozen in ice, and every second is quite torturous.

"Sometimes, whether a joke is funny or not depends on where and when it's said, and the tone you choose." Shen began to explain to him intently. "These jokes are essentially just a kind of self-mockery after being re-selected by us, and few people can accept the quirky sense of humor in them, and you are one of them, Anglel Tay."

"Are you saying in disguise that I have a quirky sense of humor?"

Shen smiled and stopped answering. They stepped out of the fog and saw a half-ruined procession avenue. Terra used to be full of these majestic buildings, but now she's ruined, as is the parade avenue.

The bridge deck was blown up, and burned vehicles and dead defenders could be seen everywhere along the roadside. The gun emplacements on the artillery positions had been twisted with their barrels, and the statues of heroes at the ends of the bridge had been deliberately preserved and defiled one by one. It was filled with blasphemous words and was transformed with blood and minced flesh.

Take, for example, the statue of General Gonzalo, the combat hero of the Auxiliaries, who Ingres Tay was also familiar with, his majestic and gloomy face was now comically covered in blood, his bronze eyes had been hollowed out, and two real eyeballs had been put inside.

At the moment, they were in Gonzalo's eyes, staring at them quietly.

"I smell something." Shen said softly. "I also heard something talking."

"Demons?" Anglel Tay raised his sword, and Nightblade and the Sons of Aurelian began to disperse, alert.

Needless to say, everyone knows what they are supposed to do.

Shen didn't answer, just sniffed intently, like a beast looking for a trace of its prey. The Nostramo's pale complexion and high, narrow nose add a terrifying metaphor to the act, as if he were really a beast in human form.

Ingrell Tay couldn't help but rub the hilt of his sword with his right hand, and a thought that shouldn't have come about crossed his mind - did Conrad Coetze do this in the night of Nostramo?

hunt

His thoughts ended with Shen raising his gun, and the plasma burst into a blinding mass of energy after a brief warm-up. It rushed to the crumbling bridge, but it sank into the air like flowing water.

A great vein of nerves was revealed, and the world was flipped in an instant, and veins, nerves, bones, and severed arms were crudely stitched together, forming a huge wall in front of them, blocking the bridge and them.

Tens of thousands of carefully concocted faces filled the gaps between the blood vessels, and the victims were men and women, old and young. They were breathing in pain, as if they weren't dead.

If you look closely enough, or know enough about human anatomy, you can see that this wall of flesh and blood is actually their vanished corpses.

It's ironic, it's terrifying, but it's the right amount. However, there is another thing that needs to be noticed.

Shen slowly put down the plasma in his hand.

"I have to tell you, cousin—" He turned his head to glance at Angel Tay. "—I'm probably going to do something very irrational later."

"I understand." Angler Tay said. "Trust me, I understand very well."

He stared at somewhere on the Wall of Flesh, where an arc of electricity was already lit up on the power sword. There was a deliberate blank space in the place, and someone had written a name, or rather, a signature, in building materials instead of flesh and blood.

That name was Samus.

At the same time, a chuckle rang in their ears.

The "Samus" demon turned laughter into wild laughter. "Samus is coming!"

——

There are times when Gavier Loken would wish he could turn back time and use some impossible force to turn back the time of the universe to the day when Horus Lupecar was injured.

In this way, he can change all that.

He can turn the tide before everything is irretrievable, thwart Erebath's plots, rebuke Azerkell Abaddon for his stupidity, and turn little Horus's hesitation into true courage.

He can save everything, can he? He can let it

"Come back to your senses!" Someone roared in his ear. "Eleven o'clock!"

The Shadow Moon Wolf turned silently and severed a head with his power sword. After doing this, he realized that he was wheezing, and it was very violent, as if he had been fighting continuously for more than ten hours.

Maybe that's really the case. Lorcan thought absentmindedly. Maybe we've been fighting for tens, hundreds, or even centuries?

Time has no meaning here, just as we exist.

Attempting to kill the son of his father

His idea proved wrong after just six minutes, and the wave of traitors was found and killed one by one in the trenches. Then there were the post-war statistics, the Fist of the Empire, sixty-five, a detachment of war hounds, two hundred and twenty, a heavy firepower squad of the Iron Hand, thirty-three.

And they, the Shadow Moon Wolves, twenty people.

Twenty people. It's a joke in a battle of this magnitude, but it's not all numbers, there are other Shadowmoon Wolves fighting in other parts of Terra.

There were only three hundred of them, and they were all involved in the battle - it wasn't a smart move, but you couldn't ask a bunch of Astartes who had lost their genetic father to keep any sort of sanity.

Especially when their 'father' is still active here.

"We're going to have to shift our ground." Harronkosen, the commander of the 3rd Company of War Hounds, said. "Damn traitors don't care if they win or not, these brutes just storm the ground again and again. I repeat, brothers, their purpose is not to win, they just want to fight us. ”

Half of his face had been replaced by the machine, and the only remaining eye contained a great deal of rage, a terrifying contrast to the red glow of the mechanical prosthetic eye.

"I'm afraid there isn't another position with reliable fortifications within a few kilometres of the vicinity for us to transfer, Company Commander Harun." An Imperial Fist said. "Probably in a few days"

He paused, looking a little confused, but continued: "Or maybe a dozen hours ago, the nearby positions had already been bombed. ”

"Bombing?" The war dog frowned. "You mean they have air supremacy?"

"No, it's an artillery projectile." Fist of the Empire said. "It started as a horde charge of cultists, and they used this tactic to force us to be distracted. By the time the deadly artillery attack came, not many of us had time to move into the dugouts under the trenches, and many positions were destroyed in this way. ”

"It sounds like a tactic." The commander of the war dog company said thoughtfully. "And in my observation, all the traitors we've met so far have been nothing more than a bunch of beasts driven by instinct. This means that the initiator still has a clear mind to exercise tactics and subordinates who can carry out his orders. ”

He inevitably glanced at Lorcan, and the Shadow Moon Wolf nodded silently, agreeing with his unspoken speculation. He was grateful for Harronkosen's obscurity, but there were some things that had to be explained.

"I think the sons of Horus did it." Lorcan said.

His first words began to turn the mood to freezing point, and the venerable warriors—whether they were the Fist of the Empire, or the Hounds of War, or the Destroyer of the Iron Hand, or even his own brothers—began to stare at him with a complex look.

"It's not hard to speculate." Lorcan continued. "Out of the three legions of betrayal, the Whisperers have been utterly destroyed by their own depraved beliefs, reduced to beasts, manipulated by demons into becoming the walking dead."

"The Alpha doesn't seem to be in Terra at all, and even if they were, the style didn't belong to them. The sons of Horus are different, I think, they probably have a complete company formation, and the strength is very complete. Only they have the strength and discipline to carry out similar tactics. ”

"But if it's really their hands, I hope you will be vigilant from now on. Because their attacks are often linked one after the other, and they never leave the enemy any respite. ”

"Understood." Harronkosen nodded. "Thank you, Company Commander Loken."

Lorcan's words were fulfilled just as the next battle was approaching, six hours later, if his biological clock perception wasn't wrong.

The first to notice the arrival of the enemy was Herald of the Imperial Fist, who was also the first to die, his head smashed into a mist of blood by a precise sniper bullet.

Lorcan, on the other hand, glanced up as he was busy strangling a Whisperer, and before he could grieve for the Sons of Dorne, Lorcan saw a group of figures he knew very well through the bloody peep holes in the trenches.

And someone he knows very well.

Ezekel Abaddon.

Anger swelled up immediately.

After the update, take a break for two days, and then turn on the blast mode.

(End of chapter)