Horst stood motionless against the wall, his breathing soft and long, very imperceptible.

The blazing firelight was reflected in his dark pupils, and it naturally presented a scene of the apocalypse. The screams resounded incessantly, echoing clearly in the firelit night.

The priest was so indifferent to it that he didn't even blink an eye, as if he had completely lost all emotional reactions. He stayed beneath the collapsing wall, his hands tucked into his wide sleeves, oblivious to the noise around him

He has almost become a sculpture, a lifeless being, a part of the scene, without any other meaning. He's just a kind. Natural phenomenon.

Seconds later, a canine-like beast burst out of the fire with a severed hand in its mouth.

It looked extremely excited, the moist skin on its forehead twisted and wrinkled, its four eyes that seemed to flow with lava flashed hideously, and pitch-black saliva continued to drip from its mouth.

It probably couldn't wait to start eating, but as soon as it burst out of the flames, it let go of its clenched mouth, allowing the severed hand to touch the ground.

It's just a matter of seconds, and it can really taste real flesh and blood.

A flash of silver light flashed, and a sharp blade pierced its skull without hesitation, nailing it to the ground.

The creature grunted strangely, limbs twitching over the bony body. Scarlet liquid, so thick that it didn't look like blood at all, poured out of the piercing wound and dripped to the ground, beginning to corrode the stone pavement.

They continued the desires of their masters, and began to rush towards the severed hand under the influence of the laws of nature. At the critical moment, it was another pale hand that picked it up.

Horst stared coldly at the hand, silent.

It had been forcibly torn off, and the sleeves of the blood-stained gray uniform still remained on the arm, which had been corroded by the blood and the saliva of the beast, but fortunately there was no uniform armband involved in its mouth.

Through the armband, the priest was able to know where the owner of the hand came from.

So the sculpture became a living person, a living person full of anger.

"The defenders are already engaged with them." He spoke softly, and the sound escaped in the wind and reached Tujea's ears with unmistakable precision as he walked behind him.

The investigator walked slowly, as he carried a pale-faced man on his shoulder. His right foot was a blur of flesh and blood, and if it weren't for Tujea's support, he probably wouldn't have been able to walk at all.

"How's the battle going?" Tujea asked.

"I'm afraid it won't go well."

Horst said. He bent down and drew his sword, which was straight and bloodless, as if he had never carried out any killing.

Tujea frowned. He understood that Horst's words were correct, and that if the battle went well and the garrison troops could gain the upper hand, the streets would not be completely enveloped in blasphemous flames.

He couldn't help but start thinking about what he should do next.

For him, what had happened tonight had begun to become too bizarre, and if the company of the unjust spirits was still within the acceptable realm of Tujea's sanity, then the tide of unjust souls that filled the sky was something else.

And that name, Erebus.

Tujea was sure he had never heard the name, but for some reason, a great hatred suddenly rose in his heart the first second he heard it.

It's so weird that no one would hate someone they don't know, it's not just that it doesn't make sense.

"Ready." The pastor said.

He interrupted Tujea's thoughts with a sudden remark, and this was not the first time.

Tujea didn't ask why, because he knew it wouldn't be useful to ask. After about two seconds, Horst used his actions to answer the answer to the question Tujea didn't ask.

He raised his hands and swung his blade in advance like an unpredictable prophet. Two small monsters with tattered wings burst out of the flames, spreading their claws like birds of prey and gliding ferociously.

If Horst hadn't raised his blades in advance, he would have been blinded by grabbing them, but he lifted them, and the two monsters were the object of suffering.

Their glittering claws were precisely cut off by two knives, splitting in two from the middle, two monsters, and none of the four claws were spared.

They immediately wailed, spewing blood from the sparks from their claws and blades, and their tattered wings began to flapping at an accelerated pace, trying to get away from the place.

Tujea didn't give them this chance, he raised his gun, and the projectile of the Katahan MK3 pierced their bodies, causing them to fall headlong to the ground in no time.

At this moment, the man with a pale face and injured legs and feet shouted with fear: "The God Emperor is above! ”

"The God Emperor doesn't like cowards." The priest said coldly.

He said yes, but what killed the man was not the wrath of the God Emperor, but a slender bone nail that shot out of the flames at the mouth of the alley.

It grazed Tujea's cheek and sank into the man's forehead in his pain, cutting off his life completely.

Tujea raised his gun at the alley with an ugly face and began to pull the trigger continuously.

The unjust spirits were still helping him, the flames were completely unable to obscure his vision, and ten bullets shook the air at high speed, spun and flew into the flames, and a scream was heard, followed by the sound of some kind of heavy object falling to the ground.

"You're getting more and more proficient." Horst said. "It's already something that you have to train to have, Tujea."

Tujea glanced at him and saw the priest smiling.

He didn't quite like the meaning behind the smile, so he crouched down without saying a word and closed the man's eyes.

He was the only survivor they had saved on their way back from Sector 3 to Sector 2, and the demons spread so fast that most of the Hive's inhabitants were thrown to the ground and devoured before they even left their revelry.

For no reason, Tujea thought about the question again.

How many people will die this time?

The corners of his eyes twitched uncontrollably, as if he was suffering from some disease. The investigator stood up in silence, turned out the magazine, poured out the cartridge case, and began to change the bullets.

He did this very quickly, controlling the bullet with the index finger and thumb of his left hand and rotating the magazine with the thumb of his right hand. With each rotation, the left hand loosens slightly, and a bullet naturally slides into the magazine that was tailor-made for them.

In just two seconds, he loaded all twelve rounds into the magazine.

It may seem useful, but it's a fancy and impractical trick that not many people actually use in real combat, as long as you shake your hands a little, the bullet won't fit into the magazine, and Tujea is probably the first person to use it in real combat

Without saying a word, Horst walked out of the alley, followed by Tujea. They returned to the streets of the 2nd arrondissement, which, as expected, had become an indescribable hell.

Flames, demons, bloody, bloody corpses can easily be imagined with just a few keywords.

Looking at this hell, Tujea felt that he had been struck by some inexplicable feeling, his heart began to beat faster, his face naturally distorted, his blood vessels bulged out, and his eyes bulged as if they were about to fall out of his sockets.

He began to gulp down the air that smelled of sulfur and blood, slumping over as he struggled to breathe. An icy fury robbed him of his mind, forcing an unparalleled frenzied impulse to rise in his heart

At the critical moment, it was Horst who shoved a knife into his hand.

"Stay calm." The priest said calmly. "I know it's hard, but now you have the tools to help, take a deep breath and calm down. The difference between humans and beasts is that we can use tools to help ourselves, don't let yourself become a beast, Tujea. ”

The investigator nodded without saying a word, not that he didn't want to speak, but that he couldn't. The muscles in his throat were still tense, and he could barely breathe

At that moment, his body crossed the limits of his brain and turned into a crazy machine with full power and eager to kill, and the things flowing in his veins seemed to have changed from blood to ice taken from the extremely cold land, freezing so much that he began to blur his consciousness.

If it weren't for Horst shoving the knife into his hand, I'm afraid he would have lost consciousness and was left with only instinct.

But this knife

Tujea moved his left hand in disbelief, feeling a warm, endless rush of heat. It dispels the cold, holds out the rage, and keeps him sane. But isn't this a knife? How could a weapon do such a thing?

"What is this?" Tujea asked with difficulty.

Horst didn't answer, but raised his free left hand and pointed to a Gothic spire not far away, which was the bell tower of the chapel.

"Ready." He said.

Tujea had never heard him speak in such a tone.

——

Keul Sahora stepped onto the boarding deck of the Night Soul with a heavy face, his feet barely touching the ground, and a vague murmur began to emerge from the darkness around him.

The fog was deep, the lights were dim, and there were shadows in all directions, but no one spoke. It should have been a rather frightening sight, but Keur was completely indifferent.

He knew that the murmur was nothing more than the Night Soul welcoming him, as for the fog and the faint light.

It is also natural that some of the equipment of an old ship that has been in service for more than 10,000 years has fallen into disrepair. Even if the fog is cold enough to freeze the ground, it's still just a natural phenomenon.

"Captain." Someone called out in the dark. "You're finally back."

"I'm sorry I wasted a little time." Kaeul said as he turned to the side, allowing one of Astartes, who was standing behind him, to step out.

The man was clad in iron-gray armor, with words inscribed on his left shoulder armor, and a long mark of purity extending from the neck armor and wrapping around the front of his breastplate. A drop of golden blood was engraved on his right shoulder armor in the form of a colored relief, with red edges on a white background, and it looked very solemn.

"Plus, Sergeant Ulmet of the Children of the End and his team will be acting with us."

Silently, Astarte, known as Sergeant Ulmit, raised his right fist and gently hammered himself in the chest.

With a dull thud, the transport planes that had followed their shuttle to the boarding deck lowered their hatches, and a total of sixty giants in full armor and iron-gray armor slowly stepped out of it.

The darkness surged, and the Shadow Knights also left the darkness and began to take their cousins to other decks, and they had a very tacit understanding with each other. Only Keul and Ulmit remained where they were.

"Be prepared, sergeant." Keur spoke solemnly.

"We've always been prepared, Lord Kayor." The sergeant replied calmly.

He raised his hands and took off his helmet, a drop of golden blood glistening between his brow. Kaul glanced at it, then hastily looked away, and he felt the urge to sigh.

"Well, wait a moment."

He said this, but suddenly changed his language, and a hissing language was softly confided by him. A thick and cold fog drifted from the darkness, enveloping them completely, and the surrounding scenery began to blur.

The sergeant frowned and whispered, "I thought what you said last time was just a joke"

"I'm never kidding, sergeant." Keul said. "The Night Soul is haunted, and at least for thousands of years."

Ulmit was speechless, and nodded silently.

I don't know how long it took, but in the extreme cold of the forest, the fog gradually dissipated, and they appeared in a dark corridor.

A large door, which had become incredibly heavy after being reinforced many times, rested quietly in front of them, wrapped in several chains that were about to break, only a few of them remained intact.

Keur stepped forward and pressed the door with his left hand.

In an instant, flames lit up, and a gust of wind blew through the corridor, and the chains began to tremble violently, and their charred shells fell, forming an upside-down cloud of dust. The true face under it was also exposed, scarlet and beating like a vessel

Ulmit felt a parchment in his throat, and he couldn't help but take a step back - the relationship between the Children of the End and the Midnight Blade and the various sub-groups had always been very close, and he had heard a lot of rumors, but he didn't expect that the truth of the matter was really so weird.

The sergeant shook his head violently, hurriedly dispelling the irreverent thought. Kaul paid no attention to his actions, and simply pushed the door open with all his might. In the hoarse voice of the mechanical structure, a man with his head bowed and bound by iron chains appeared before them.

"Come with me." Kaul whispered.

Following him, the sergeant walked into it in awe.

(End of chapter)