It is an entangled cause and effect, an abominable karma, a haunting curse, an abominable and contemptible disgrace.

In the depths of his heart, Marcan Ferros, the Father of Steel, defined the son of the Emperor in this way.

Of course, if they had met in person on the battlefield, he would not have described the incident so gently and tactfully. But in terms of words, that's enough. Language and phrases are used to convey to recruits the grand history of the warband since the Great Expedition, so rhetorical restraint is required. After seeing the history, the recruits of the Iron Hand will naturally understand things that are not in the words.

Then they will understand how to choose to tell the rest of the evaluation on the battlefield in front of the enemy with weapons bombs, just like their countless predecessors.

As one of the few members of this overly rational and logical warband who did not add an emotional suppression protocol to himself, Markan Ferros is rightfully filled with anger when confronted with the current situation:

The Talon of Destruction battle barge was attacked by a small group of Emperor's Sons as it sailed through subspace. If such an attack took place in the physical universe, then their chaotic and arbitrary "salvo" of macro cannons would not even be worth a bit. But the tricky part is that this is happening in subspace, and this battlefield is clearly more favored by the betrayed and degenerate who are protected by the Chaos Masters.

Although the Claw of Destruction managed to tear apart the enemy's formation and sink two desecrated and disgusting ships that had been modified and infested, it was not unscathed, and was jumped by the enemy. The brothers of the Daffuk clan are not afraid of such battles, whether they are firstborn warriors or original new bloods. All the warriors were filled with anger and hatred at the enemies who staggered into the ship from the breach, laughed lewdly, and fiddled with weapons or instruments with their mutated limbs, and were covered with colorful decorations that even disgusted the descriptions.

As in the past, the precise calculations of mathematics and logic always found the way for the Iron Hand to win. The Emperor's Sons Jumping Gang had carved many small holes in the Claw of Destruction, but under the accurate and fast command of the precise detection and data link of the divination runes, the most suitable forces were dispatched to the most suitable location in an instant. The battle brothers poured out their hatred and anger on the enemy like a storm, and it cannot be said that the battle was easy, and it cannot be said that they were unharmed, but they did most of them complete their tasks beautifully in accordance with logical calculations.

Except for the two teams that were sent to the bilge. Something must have happened there that was not something to be observed and predicted.

Something happens in subspace that is beyond the prediction of logic and common sense, so Phyllos is not overly surprised. After receiving the runic signal that both teams had been wiped out, he chose to dispatch a team of Steel Think Tank, Primordial Scouts, and a heavy firepower team, hoping that the team would understand what was going on there, so that the command system could make a more accurate judgment. In addition, he had made the decision to awaken some Dreadnoughts before a rainy day - the complex environment and narrow aisles of the bilge were not suitable for the massive Dreadnought to use their abilities and firepower, but he chose to do so due to some kind of intuitive emotion.

This decision saved their lives after a short period of time.

It's hard to say which happened first: whether it was the newly sent investigation team to the Bilge that sent back some kind of vision of a chaotic ritual, or the main power room warning, or the angry and painful roar of the Claw of Destruction's mech. Video intelligence revealed that the slaves and mortal servants in the bilge had been desecrated in a rather creative way by the Scarlaanesh wizards, and that the energy extracted from their souls by their painful wails had no doubt a definite destination:

The plasma reactor in the main power chamber, the heart of the Claw of Destruction.

The evil and filthy hand of Chaos managed to stealthily grab it before anyone in the warband knew it, and a filthy invisible venom was injected into it, causing it to produce some kind of annoying mutation. Infected by the chaos and profanity of consciousness, it let out a cry of comfort and euphoria at the moment of "coming to life", which even disturbed the thoughts of the nearby Astarte monks for a moment - and then, in this chaotic moment, a dozen combat brothers near the defense line of the main power room were dragged into the reactor by the activated metal.

Then, the contamination of chaos began to spread along the pipes of the ship's heart to the limbs of the Talon of Doom. The enraged machine screams to stop this, but the machine itself cannot completely defy the laws of its operation, and the machine soul's efforts are in vain.

Then the equally enraged Ferros rushed out of the command room, leading the battle brothers and the newly awakened dreadnought battle group to rush towards the newly generated battlefield - and then, after a fierce battle that could have been a day or a year, they succeeded in completely cutting off the erosion of the main power room on the ship itself and advancing to the vicinity of the lesion itself.

During this time, the tactical dispatch of the rest of the Decom Claw was done by his lieutenants. As the surrounding pipelines and transmission mechanisms were violently cut off, Ferous gradually became unable to receive messages from other parts of the ship. But he believed that his lieutenant was at least capable of holding the situation aside. As long as he can deal with this most difficult problem, all other difficulties will be solved.

All he and his team needed was a way to safely disable the reactor - unfortunately, considering that the demonic reactor seemed to have a consciousness of its own, it would take some ...... to disable it without causing serious consequences Fine tricks.

The Iron Father and the Master of the Forges have no shortage of such delicate skills, but to use them in the face of a vast amount of outside interference, and not being able to use their best fire suppression to clear the outside interference, is another serious test: everyone knows that if the reactor is destroyed, then the whole ship will be finished. Whether it's a Combat Brother or a Dreadnought, fighting in front of the door of the main power room is constrained by this.

But the damned "interference" always comes in waves, the animated cables are wrapped in flesh and blood, the mutated and fused machinery is mixed with the remains of the Iron Hand Brothers, and the weapons worn by the victims are twisted and deformed by the forces of chaos, and then their effectiveness is poured out on their original colleagues under the control of the abominable enemy. Fellos led his warband brothers around the reactor from all sides, trapping its effects as much as possible in the main power room, but never really getting close to it—it shouldn't have been that hard, but the damn thing kept changing its structure.

Even after crossing the Rubicon River, Markan Ferros was still irritated and anxious by the stalemate of the battle. Although he believed in the abilities of his lieutenants, the fact that he was isolated on a single battlefield and could not see all the battles still made him unconsciously think that "things could get out of control".

It is said that the original Space Marine is always more consistent in the face of Chaos Pollution, but he is still not 100% sure whether this idea comes from himself, from Chaos, or from some kind of "premonition of war" based on the experience and probability of previous battles. He turned to his battle brothers, hoping to get more direct data and information from them, but he looked in that direction and found that his battle brothers were not there.

A giant with a dark blue impression took his place, and no one knew how he came to be here. His body was tall, unassuming, his armor was rich, his shadows were like a midnight cut off, and even his very presence made the already dim lighting of the ship even more dim. The darkness bowed down to him, the thunder bowed to him, and his inky eyes locked on Markan Ferros, who at that moment felt as if he had been completely dissected, and was forced to reveal all his secrets to the other.

The giant didn't make a sound, but for a moment Philos was seized by a ridiculous fear: he hadn't seen the giant, he hadn't seen the armor on the other, he didn't know how the giant had appeared, he didn't know who the other person was, whether he was a man or a ghost—but a legendary name had uncontrollably surfaced in his mind from the bottom of the data, desperately clamoring for his existence. Both Ferus and Physiology wanted to reject this conclusion at the same time, but his intuition told him that it was the correct answer.

Conrad Coetze's pale face hung before his eyes, and he asked him in a high Gothic accent with a soft hiss:

"Are you the commander of this team?"