"My mission is," Olpeson took a deep breath. "First, I had to get to a bridge where four people were waiting for me."

"A bridge." Corus Corax repeated.

Orr's vague description didn't give him any emotional turmoil, and the Killer King remained very calm.

However, his claw blades still had the flesh and blood of the Nightmares, and the decomposition force field should have completely vaporized the flesh, but for some reason it was useless.

He was staring at Orr Persson with his dark eyes.

The ruthless face is like a statue carved out of the day after tomorrow, with a terrifying coldness. Not the mountains, but the abyss beneath them, and the wind that blew across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose came from the howls of the dead beneath the cliffs. His shallow, sharp lips hang from inhuman, fine teeth.

Ur Pesson woke up suddenly.

The Lord of the Saving Stars stared at him expressionlessly.

"A bridge, huh?" He asked softly. "I see, we'll escort you until you reach that bridge."

"But—" Orr instinctively spat out those words.

Of course, this is not his sincere intention, but a turn of intuition. He just wanted to say it, because he still hadn't figured it out.

"—what's the matter, Company Commander Or?" The Lord of the Ravens asked in a voice that could be called gentle.

"No, it's nothing, sir." Orr frowned and replied.

His attitude was undoubtedly very irritating, and although no one cared, he himself was very displeased. This vague style of dialogue has caused him some kind of post-traumatic sequelae tens of thousands of years ago.

He felt that he sounded no different from someone at this time

However, what made him even more angry was the look in the eyes of the apothecary Melos at this moment, and the Holy Blood Angel was carefully looking at Orr from the side. That attitude and look together seemed as if he was not Ur Pesson, but a saint who didn't know where he came from.

Ur Person felt a pang of gag—not for anyone, but only for himself.

I'll let you come back anyway. He said to himself. I swore to drive you away forever, but I let you come back.

Ouranius sneered in his heart.

Orr took another deep breath and returned to the real world, and he looked around, only to realize that everyone was looking at him.

Whether it's Colus Koraks, or the crows behind him. Or Melos and Constantin Valdo.

Why are you like this too? He looked incredulously at the Forbidden Marshal, who bowed his head slightly in impathy and showed complete obedience.

They all seem to have him as their backbone, to do what he commands, and to obey whatever his commands are.

Orr gritted his teeth, and a wave of anger rose from the bottom of his heart, and he began to be angry with himself again. He's always been like this, he's been fighting against himself, and after living for so many years, nothing has changed. He knew in his heart that he was a bastard.

But he's a bastard who knows what's right and what's wrong.

So, Ur Persson began to speak in a certain tone that he had been very familiar with in the past.

"First of all, we have to go back, back to the vicinity of the position on the eastern front of the palace."

He raised his hand and wiped the fine sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. The dirt didn't move from his sleeve, and his heart began to beat, tens of thousands of years had passed, and there had never been a moment so intense as it was now. It's ironic, as if he hasn't really lived until now.

"My destination should be there, and at the beginning, Company Commander Fafnir Rann of the Imperial Fist showed me the way. But I'm lost, and it's too hard to find a clear path to Terra today. ”

"What's more, I have to be steadfast in my journey, I have been with Master Constantin Valdo for a long time, and he can show me the way, and point me to many new paths. Each time we set foot on a path, it seemed like we were one step closer to my goal, but it was just a mirage. ”

"We just looked a little closer to it, we never really got close to it."

Orr paused for a moment, giving himself a breath of fresh air. The chill was gradually coming, and the previous walking and roaring had made his blood boil, and now, they had slowly cooled. The cold wind whistled and blew, and Orr instinctively clenched the jewel on his chest.

All kinds of past events crossed his mind, and in a trance, he seemed to be wearing bronze armor, holding an iron spear in his hand, and as if he was wearing a domed bulletproof helmet, and a few matches and the girl card in the cigarette were placed in the inner compartment.

Every war he had ever experienced rolled out of his shattered memories at this moment, and it was only then that Orl Pesson realized that his memories might never have really been broken.

They were simply tossed into a corner by himself as an escape from something he didn't want to think about. And now, he is beginning to take them on his own initiative.

What's wrong with you, coward? Oraniz asked gently. What's the matter with you?

Ur Person didn't answer.

Every man, woman, and old man he had ever killed held his hand. Every man, woman, and old man who had ever fought alongside him held his hand.

Someone was waving the flag, someone was shouting, someone hated him, someone respected him, but now, they were all standing behind him.

They're all humans, and they're now left with only one faction to choose from. There is no longer a distinction, no more enemies or comrades-in-arms, only human beings, only human beings.

He's in it too. Of course, where else could he go?

He was smiling, not approvingly, but

"You're finally here, my friend."

Al Pesson's back straightened slowly, and a change crept in.

"We'll have to find a new way back."

As he dug into his heart and dug up all the graves with his hands, he opened his mouth with great firmness.

"The old ways are no longer useful, and no matter how many roads back to the eastern front of the palace we remember in our memory, they are unlikely to be of any use now. And we have to go back. ”

His head began to ache, his temples pounded with the effect of his heartbeat, and even the nerves in his teeth began to beat together.

In a trance, he almost felt like he was getting new teeth. Orr's head was getting more and more painful, but he was still talking, without stopping, and his words were as clear as he could.

"I'm sure it's there waiting for us." He glared at the void and said word by word.

Orr, of course, didn't know where this speculation came from, and he just followed his instincts and threw this baseless speculation in front of everyone's eyes. They believed him, and he believed in no one, not even himself, but he believed in it.

This sentence is not what he said.

"We've got to go back, then."

"And then what?" Corus Corax asked softly.

Ur Person grabbed his gun and flicked the safety with his fingers to turn it off. The whole process went very smoothly, his fingers no longer trembled, and it was as stable as cast steel.

"We killed it." Earl Pesson said. "Whatever the hell this thing is, we're going to have to kill it, and we're going to kill it."

At all costs.

——

The storm howled, and the rain fell, on the corpses, on the Fist of the Empire, on the corpses of the Iron Warriors, and on the expressionless faces of Roger Dorn and Perturabo.

A fire was erupting inside the trenches, the last trenches, the last land—the land that belonged to humans, not traitors or monsters, the last five hundred meters of five kilometers.

A blood-stained banner was flying high above their heads, and the eyes of countless corpses were staring at the final battle. Something whispered in their eyes, singing, laughing, cheering on the battle of the trapped beasts.

Four lowly things.

Perturabo swung his hammer, and he knocked something flying. It used to be someone's head, but not anymore. Now, it's just a mass of broken flesh. The eyeballs were punctured by bone stubble, and the blood was wrapped in dark parasites.

One corpse staggered and fell, smashing against many more corpses. The trenches have been completely filled, and as a fortification, it is completely substandard.

Is it a design flaw? Perhaps, after all, neither steel nor boulder had ever imagined this to happen.

How would you describe their current situation?

Well, start with the soles of your feet. What they were treading under their feet was no longer dirt, but corpses. A mountain of corpses, with the Bearers, the Sons of Horus, the Demons, the Iron Warriors, and the Fist of the Empire.

The blood of loyalty and betrayal mingled, seeping into the dirt, seeping into the terracotta steel, and then being buried in the black snow.

Then, consider a more realistic question – how many people are left alive?

Steel and Rock didn't think about it for a while, they didn't have time to do it. They don't even have time to observe the battlefield, they can only fight, only fight, they have no army to call on, they are left with this cruel and completely dehumanizing bloody millstone.

The last high walls, the last trenches, the last fortifications.

Themselves.

Is it crumbling?

Rog Dorn makes a proclamation with the fangs of the storm.

No.

Never.

He raised his weapon aloft in the air.

Scarlet, pitch black, roaring, roaring, screaming, crying. The boulder eliminated them all, and he was left with only one thought, and in order to match this thought, he even optimized the way he thought as well.

Now, he's not a builder, a designer, a master of defense, or a war-savvy Genoplasma No. 7, and he's not even Roger Dorn.

He is the embodiment of pure rage.

This fury has a name, but it cannot be accurately expressed in any language. It is sadness, righteous indignation, regret, powerlessness. It is the bitter tears of a man, the sad sigh of a father, the contrite of a protector of his people.

The enemy is still coming, endlessly, as if some kind of inexhaustible energy source. The ground was shaking, and the strange ground of flesh and metal was slowly rising.

Dorne focused on biting at the flesh with the fangs of the storm, he knew exactly what he was doing, and couldn't have known more. He has reached the limit of his thinking, and if he goes further, he will go into madness. Not yet, because he's fighting alongside his brother.

His brother, Perturabo, Lord of Steel.

Watch him kill.

Watch him raise his hammer high and smash it down. Watch him stand behind Dorne against the incoming tide of demons, watch him drive the twisted beasts back to where they came from again and again, and hear how he roars with defiance to scare the demons

Let's see how he protects his brother.

"Nothing can touch you, you just kill." Peturabo said. "Just kill them cleanly."

Dorne didn't answer, just swung his sword. They have a clear division of labor, which has been discussed in advance. Perturabo takes on the demons, and Roger Dorn kills the traitors.

Their trenches had been completely filled with corpses, but that wasn't enough, the killings weren't enough for the crimes they'd committed against Terra and humanity as a whole.

But they also know very well that if there are no accidents, this is really the final battle. However, the trapped beasts are still fighting, and they still have to fight.

No one knows what happened inside the palace, and it was unknown if anyone survived the collapsed ruins, but the emperor was still there. He's never been far away, he's always been here to fight side by side with them. Then, they still need to do their part.

Yes, they are.

Roger Dorn had made a request to his brother in the underground tactics room of the trenches.

"I want you to join me in defending the palace." Stubborn Stone said. "I can't hold this place alone, I need your help, Perturabo."

Steel bows proudly.

So they are now fighting side by side.

This has never happened and is also considered completely impossible. But how many people really want this to happen?

Just imagine what a great view it would be for steel to fight side by side with boulders. There will be nothing ahead of them that can be called 'enemies'.

But at what cost does it take to make this happen? No one knows, and no one can calculate. Before today, it was only a beautiful illusion until today.

Until Terra is drowning in blood.

You see, that's the price.

Horus Lupecar smiled silently.

I'm so proud of you, Rogge, Peturabo. You are our role model and the pride of our fathers.

So you must die.

"Well done, Ezekell." He praised his son softly. "You've cornered my brother."

Abaddon kept his head down, breathing steadily, not saying a word.

He knew in his heart that this matter had nothing to do with him. He wasn't the one who summoned the demons, and he wasn't the one who deployed the entire Sixteenth Legion here.

From receiving orders to victory, the only thing he could do was to send a steady stream of Speakers and his brothers to the ridiculous trenches that were only five kilometers long to receive their deaths.

That's what he did, and if you don't believe it, just look at the trenches. Just one look at the corpses and you'll understand everything.

"What reward do you want?" Horus asked again. "Promotion? Do you want to be promoted, my son? You are already the commander of my company, and you are also the last member of the Council of the Four Kings. I'm afraid you're no longer able to ascend. Well, weapons? ”

He burst out laughing, his right paw raised high, and the scarlet eyes on his armor turned in unison at this moment.

"Why don't I give you Rog's chainsaw sword? It's a little too big for you, but it doesn't matter, it just takes a while to get used to it and you'll be able to master it completely. It's not something hard for you to accept. You can always adapt to all kinds of circumstances and survive tenaciously. ”

He placed his left hand on Abaddon's shoulder.

"You're my pride."

He was full of love, and it — or rather, they — spat venom with malice and began to burn Adarkel Abaddon's heart, and he could do nothing but accept it in silence.

Everything has its own rules, and some rules were set tens of thousands of years ago. As a son, he should not disobey his father, at least for Ezkell Abaddon.

He would rather soak himself in lies than open his eyes and observe reality in the true sense of the word.

Horus Lupecar couldn't have been happier with this. They couldn't be happier with that.

There was only silence at this moment, and no one or any demon dared to make the slightest sound in front of Horus at this moment, and even his breathing became cautious. There was not even any blood or gold in the sky anymore, only darkness.

There is only darkness.

Horus smiled.

Father, Father.

Of course you know what he's up to. You have tolerated him all the time, and you have tolerated his concealment, his deception, and all his intrigue.

But soon it won't have to be.

Whether it's a wandering deity or a flaming torch, they will come to an end soon. The gods will cease to exist, and His authority will be entirely yours, to Horus Lupecal, to the King of kings, the God of gods.

And the star torch will be completely extinguished, and you have even figured out how to extinguish it.

First of all, you will kill the relic called Thunder, he has lived too long, a person should not live so long, not to mention that he is just an abandoned test subject.

Then there's Fogen's son, Saul Tavitz, who is in pain, and you certainly don't mind giving him rest. However, this should be done in front of Fugen. That's what it's fun to do, that's what tragedy is, to destroy good things to others. What's more, Fugan needs some stimulation.

The third one, give it to Björn. You hear the story he told about the icebreaker by the fire. You don't like that story because it's not focused at all, from start to finish. Björn's story makes you sick.

The fourth is Azek Ariman and you will kill him quickly and painlessly. If he hadn't been behind it, the plan would never have gone so smoothly. In a sense, he did what you had to do ahead of schedule, so he deserves a quick death.

And the last one is the real highlight.

Dorne's son, Sigismund.

How are you going to kill him? Let's play with him first, and let Rogge take his attention, how about it? It's a shame that you used to like him, and you don't like him now, but you're going to have to make Dorne lose something.

His heart is too strong, and you have to be so cruel to find an opportunity in his psyche to find a crevice that is too small to be called a gap

You know Dorne won't waver, but he'll grieve.

With a moment of grief, Dorne will cease to be himself, for you will pierce your claws through his chest and send him to the Temple of the Ancient Four.

Will the old four be excited about this?

Probably, they've poured enough into this drama. They are the writers of the scripts, the directors who have worked hard to find actors, and the workers who have built the stage with their own hands.

Their shoulders were covered with white ash and their knees were stained with paint. They have designed such a wonderful place and have given it to you so that you can be crowned King here. Therefore, they deserve to be rewarded.

The reward is you, Rogge. Horus smiled. But it's also your promotion.

He patiently looked at Roger Dorn, who was fighting on the mountain of corpses, turned his gaze to the man behind him, and sighed.

Alas, Peturabo.

In a world that has never existed and is genuine, you should have stood by my side and been my best aid in attacking Terra. I don't blame you for holding back at the last minute, it's just that everyone has their own ambitions.

But why are you on your father's side? I thought you hated him enough and the abominable thief who made you discredit your own children.

Thief ——!

Horus's eyes suddenly turned red, thunder rolled in the sky, and the wind howled, and Ezekael Abaddon looked up to see his father's armor flickering. Terrifying black smoke was spewing from every crevice, and a raging flame burst into the eyes with cruelty.

He stared into those eyes for a second, just a second, and then began to scream, without even realizing he was screaming.

By the time the screams had subsided, the world had changed completely.

The bloody mud on the eastern front of the Terra Palace was gone, the positions where countless people had fought and the smoking Titans and tanks of all kinds were covered in darkness and light, the ivory pillars supported the dome, the glass and gold paved the ground, and a throne appeared not far away, and the upside-down corpse looked at everyone with open eyes

A few seconds later, a few rays of light lit up in the darkness, not the light of a torch, nor the light that was ignited for illumination, but the four rays of light that originated from the chaos.

Four pairs of eyes looked at this place in unison.

Mirth. Laugh aloud at the end of the day.

For the first time, Azerkell Abaddon felt fear in Lupecar's court, but that was only the beginning, for he suddenly noticed five more men on the ground, one of whom was being carried by his father, looking at it carelessly.

"Thunder?" Horus asked with a smirk. "Good name."

He carried him and began to walk, with a firm step, as if he had been designed. But the direction he faced was empty, not even half a pillar.

Abaddon's mind was in disarray, and he thought that the Spirit of Vengeance had crashed and buried deep in Terra. But what about now? Why did Lupecal's court reappear?

"Because I want to." Horus said mildly.

Abaddon looked up and saw a face completely enveloped in darkness. He looked over him and saw Horus carrying the man on, and then he withdrew his gaze to see Horus looking down at him.

That gaze made Abaddon feel so small.

"Because I want to, my son." Horus repeated. "I've told you I can do anything, the laws of physics are just a boring game and I'm far more powerful than you think, look, Ezekell, see what I can do to spice up the play."

He smiled and raised his hand to the other him, the one who was carrying the thunderbolt towards the middle of the empty court—and then, the smell of the wet earth from the forest flickered.

A greatsword emerges from the air, slicing through the darkness and Horus Lupecar's breastplate. Lion - Leon Al Johnson, the lion of Caliban, roared and slashed Horus to the ground with his greatsword and impaled him with his spear.

A large knife followed, slashing at Horus's legs and hands without hesitation. The Eagle Chagatai Khan of Chogoris's eyes coldly executed a great act of rebellion.

The furnace breaker in Ferus Manus's hand was lifted high and smashed straight down to Horus's head with the simplest and most direct blow.

Only two people didn't get their hands dirty, one was St. Giles and the other was Fogham. The former stared blankly at the place, while the latter's blazing black eyes stared at Abaddon unblinking.

No, it's not.

It was the man staring at him.

Ezekel Abaddon looked up slowly.

"Do you understand?" Horus winked at him. "A little trick, a little scam, Fogen noticed, but this was just the beginning."

He was right, and just behind the lion, in the forest that emerged from the air, an army roared out of the woods.

Abaddon's eyes were stinged, this was really an army covered in bruises, everyone was wounded, and all the armor was mottled to an embarrassing embarrassment. But they have a burning fighting spirit, a clear anger.

Abaddon didn't dare to look any further, and before he knew it, the veil he had put over his eyes had been burned clean by the terrible truth—but a hand reached out from the side and forced him to look up.

"Why don't you look at it, Ezekell?" Horus asked softly. "Behold, behold, they were united with all their wrath. Look at their Titans, their armaments, their fighting spirit, and what they're about to face. ”

He smiled and raised his right paw, then slowly closed it.

Abaddon didn't hear anything, there were so many sounds happening at the same moment that his ears couldn't take in such a loud and violent wave, he was already deaf. But it doesn't matter, because he can still see.

He saw at least dozens of Titans turn into twisted scrap metal in an instant, as well as other tanks, assault boats, or any vehicle, and anyone sitting on it. There is some kind of force that easily crushes them, destroys, destroys.

Dead and destroyed.

The initiator's voice reached his deaf ears with unmistakable precision.

"And then, how do you think they'll react, my son?"

Abaddon couldn't answer.

Horus laughed, and Shi Shiran stepped out of the darkness. The space began to boil, and the shattered structures began to be squeezed, destroyed, and reforged in accordance with his will. Anyone alive on Terra felt a tremendous pressure at this moment, as if summoned or pulled.

The first to bear the brunt are the genetic protogens.

Robert Killman, who roared and beheaded the traitor, Angron who regrouped and led the army to break up the demon formation, Perturabo and Roger Dorn who fought side by side, Vulcan, who cleansed the demons with flames, and Colus Corax, who was heading to the palace

In this moment, they all felt it.

Is anyone absent? No.

Not even Conrad Coetzes. He paused and paused, staring into the darkness, a flash of genuine anger on his pale face.

And this is not the end, it begins to creep in until everyone begins to feel it with certainty and no doubt. From civilians to soldiers, from priests to believers, from the 1st to the 19th Legion

Horus Lupecar smiled and opened her arms.

It was as if the world was burning with a flash of red light.

"You're welcome." He bowed slightly, and his voice resounded through the royal court, reaching everyone's ears. "Welcome to the royal court of Lupecar."

Ur Pesson took a deep breath and tightened his grip on his gun.

(End of chapter)