The appearance of a Midnight Lord Terminator on the battlefield caused a slight commotion among the Ultramarines - until they discovered that Sevita was heading straight for the Plague Warriors.

-

The command has been updated. - Joan of Arc can only be seen by Sevita herself. The Phantom Alter floating around him said through the spirit base link of the Ortenus Modification - from "Fight off the Plague Warriors" to "Kill Typhons". -

Sevita took a moment to sweep Asclepius, who had fallen to the ground due to a blast fired by the Typhons Terminator Guard, and sneered:

-

I can totally understand why the command turned out to be like this. -

Crimson flames swept into his chainsaw out of thin air, and Savitta swept past the fallen Asclepius at a speed that iron-mounted Terminator armor would normally not do. Aware of this change, Typhons' guards raised their blasters and rained down on him with foul cursed projectiles, but they did not do more damage than the raindrops due to the various force field generators on the armor.

In the blink of an eye, the range of melee weapons from the Chainsaw and the Scythe overlapped.

One of the guards at Typhons' side stepped forward to protect the Nurgle Chosen and another guard brother beside him who was trying to help him free himself from his painful situation. He's confident in his martial arts - and as a massive plague warrior, he has a longer arm span and a wider range of scythes that can be harvested. He didn't know what the source of this midnight lord who suddenly appeared and menaced was coming, but it didn't prevent him from speculating from this: even the midnight lord most likely didn't often come into contact with the alien weapon of the war scythe, and when dealing with the treacherous killing path of this weapon, he was optimistic that maybe the other party would feel in a hurry, and because of this, he would quickly reveal his flaws.

The judgment itself was true, but the problem was that he didn't know where the menacing Midnight Lord came from.

It's true that Yago Sevitaleon doesn't often come into contact with the scythe, but he doesn't plan to deal with it seriously. Truth be told, if he only talked about the technique of using various weapons, he could only get one upper score among the Astarte warriors of the Great Expedition - by no means very good. But he didn't have any incentive to go to the trouble of further refining the technology in comparison with his peers, because for him, it was enough.

Sevita doesn't care too much about technology. He's just, in and of himself, faster, stronger, more powerful.

At such a close distance, the engine roars of both weapons could be heard clearly. At the same time that Taiphon's guard raised his scythe, the tip of the chainsaw's high-speed spinning blade had already slashed into his throat at a dizzying speed. The Plague Warrior instinctively tried to turn his scythe in a fit of rage, and after receiving the blessing of the Plague God, he was accustomed to continuing the battle with what would have been seen as a fatal wound by a mortal wound - but he was not fast enough.

He turned his scythe faster than the chainsaw halberd in Sevita's hand. Although the Plague Warrior's body looks rotten and fragile, it actually has supernatural hardness and tenacity, which is why he dares to continue attacking against the enemy's weapons. He may never be able to figure out how the other party managed to cut his torso in half with the ease of a hot knife cutting butter.

Thou shalt be cut off from the way which thou wast walked. - He vaguely heard the pronouncement.

His still-intact mind felt a definite pain. The false consolation from the gods was forcibly stripped away, and normal perception returned to his limbs. He felt everything about himself burning, and every breath was accompanied by a sharp pain – no, was he still breathing? Will he still be able to breathe with his current body?

The Midnight Lord's batwing helmet walked away from him without hesitation, as if he had completely lost interest in it. Flames of anger and disgust swirled around one of Typhons' guards, fueling him with corpse oil from his fat husk, or some other filth, and completely igniting him into an oversized torch. His flesh melted away like wax in the flames, revealing the bones beneath that had long been deformed from the lesion. At the last moment, the consciousness of returning to clarity because of the pain drove him to scream, maybe there was only pain in it, maybe there was remorse in it, but it didn't change anything.

Two seconds later, his deformed skull fell to the ground. He should have no body to make any more sounds, but the skull continued to scream until his soul was burned with it.

- At this moment, the guard, who wanted to help Typhons get rid of the Emperor's Charm in his chest, also fell to the ground under the swift attack of Sevita.

-

Uh-huh. -Joan of Arc S. Alter let out an undisguised sound of disgust, - you could have split the previous one's head in half as you did with this one. Do you have to deliberately leave his head on purpose to hear him scream? ——

Isn't it possible? -Sevita replied as she quickly dealt with the "leftovers" of the Plague Warrior, - You're going to have to make me have some fun in my boring work - we didn't see what had happened, but judging by the status quo, killing "Typhon" wouldn't be harder than killing a dog. -

The Midnight Lord has never cared much about honor. Someone could make the battlefield easier for him in advance, and Sevita couldn't ask for it.

-

We didn't have much contact, but Dr. Asclepius was an idiot. - he commented, - how can a doctor himself rush to the front without escort? --

Even if he was a fool, he was a Chaldean fool. -Joan of Arc S. Alter replied, and the hatred from Ortenus burned in Sevita's heart as well, - hurry up and finish what you are doing, the real target is still gasping. -

Ideas always communicate quickly, and it doesn't take them a second to complete the transmission of this useless information. Seeing this scene, the remaining five people immediately increased their firepower output to drive away the surrevirate warriors who were still pestering nearby, and managed to free up three of them to help Taiphons.

Typhons himself seems to have recovered somewhat from this endless torture, and has somewhat regained a little of the endurance for pain that he should have as a Space Marine. His guards weren't done removing the foreign object from his chest, but the man had left his rusted dagger on the plate of his chest that was slowly healing. The tendons in his arm had been blessed to recover, but he was still shaking from pain. Instead of continuing to deal with the issue of a cursed amulet at the heart, he first picked up the scythe again:

His guards were still coming, but the unscrupulous Midnight Lord was just around the corner.

Typhonse barely raised his scythe, blocking the slash of the chainsaw halberd with its seemingly fragile but sturdy handle, and then struggled to get up from the ground again under the attack, and asked in a hoarse and painful voice, "Who are you?" Why side with the lackeys of the damned? ”

He didn't get an answer, but a low, terrifying voice that had been processed by the voice-changing mechanism still flowed from the other's breathing grid:

"'Kalas Typhon', I'm here for you."

He got a reply from a very midnight lord. And among them, the title of him also made him angry and alarming at the same time.

"My name is 'Typhonse'!" Three of his guards had stepped forward, allowing Typhons to continue his ramblings as he slowly retreated, "Great Plague Lord—"

"Yes, yes. I've heard about your name change. Even though the Midnight Lord's voice had been turned as terrifying as thunder by the machinery, Typhons could hear an undisguised sense of nonchalance and impatience, "Your new master gave you the name 'Typhons', right?" But for me, I've only heard of a company commander of the Death Watch called 'Kalas Typhon'. ”

Typhons freed up a hand and grasped the hilt of the short knife stuck in his heart, once again trying to dig the foreign object out of his body. The pain caused by this injury was negligible compared to the torment that flowed through the rotting veins that flowed throughout his body. The Ultramarine's bullets rained down on him, failing to penetrate the force field to damage him as usual, and his two guards struggled to prop up a small safe area for him with psionic spells, but the other three who stepped forward—

- They only managed to delay for him for seven seconds. Under the scorching flames of red lotus, they were easily chopped into pieces, ground into a pulp, or melted away in black smoke.

Their sacrifice was not meaningless, at least in the past seven seconds, Typhons had managed to dig the damn amulet out of his heart, at the cost of an extra jagged hole in his chest. But as long as the Emperor's psionic energy stopped hurting him continuously, such a wound was no big deal for a favored plague warrior.

He was a pioneer of the Loving Father in the mortal world and an important messenger for spreading the blessings of the garden. A loving father would not just watch him die. Typhonse is so convinced.

In fact, he was already thinking of quitting. The soldiers he brought with him were almost pointlessly lost on the battlefield of the harbor, not even approaching the temple of the Damned. It was undoubtedly a grave and contemptible failure, and he could well have imagined that he would be severely punished when he returned to subspace—but he would be punished when he returned, and that he would only be left here with death. The lesser of two evils, everyone knows how to choose.

Nurgle's Chosen One invoked a spell in an attempt to forcibly tear open a rift in its place that led to the subspace. It was on the periphery of the Imperial Temple, and similar spells should have been interfered with, but Typhonse got the touch of success. This proved that the loving father was still watching him and still not giving up on him, and he was ecstatic. It only took one more second for him to hide himself behind the curtain and get out of this damn place-

He didn't have another second. The Midnight Lord Terminator, who had stepped on the flames, had stabbed the chainsaw into the unhealed hole in his chest with a speed that was too fast to react, and with a horizontal pull, the monomolecular chain blade accurately wrestled his other diseased heart into rotting flesh.

Another pain, similar to the previous one, but slightly different, began to explode in Typhonse's body. The flames of anger and vengeance burned mercilessly and violently over him. Father's Gift was used by him to open the subspace rift at this time, and his recovery speed could not keep up with the speed of the raging flames for a while. Even though his opponent had no intention of stopping, even with such a severe, near-fatal psionic damage inflicted on him, the Midnight Lord still quietly swung his weapon, and the next blow from the chainsaw would obviously fall on his neck.

With the scythe now, Typhonse might be able to resist, but he has completely lost all fighting spirit. He voluntarily freed his soul from the body that would most likely end up here, hoping that at least a part of himself would escape unobtrusively back into his father's garden. But almost at the same time, slender stakes of wood and iron sprouted from the ground beneath his feet, crucifying him to death almost at the speed of a spear, before he could react - and his broken spirit and flesh at the same time.

A second passed, and the subspace rift opened normally, but he was no longer able to successfully escape into it. Crimson flames began to swirl up from the ground, engulfing him in an instant. A few seconds before it completely melted into the heat, Typhonse asked the question again with a scream of his soul:

"Who the hell are you?!"

The Midnight Lord, who had cornered him, just sneered:

"I am anger, revenge, judgment." Sevita said.

Nurgle's Chosen One, Lord of Disease, Lord of Flies of Destruction, Typhons the Traveler, one of the great enemies of the Empire for 10,000 years, was utterly killed in the port of Tyros - but Sevita was still a step too late, and behind him, Asclepius's real-life body had already dissipated into the air in a few seconds earlier.

With the death of the Chosen One, the Plague God's touch could no longer reach the outskirts of the city protected by the Emperor. The two remaining plague warriors, the Terminator Guard, lost their backbone and blessing at the same time, and for a moment they wanted to avenge their leader. Unfortunately, they weren't much better than their fellow brothers, and it took Sevita less than three seconds to finish off the weakened two.

But then, after the common enemy is gone, he has to face the various weapons of the high-spirited Ultramarines around him. And in this regard, Sevita happened to be experienced some time ago:

"I surrender!" Without hesitation, the midnight lord's company commander threw down the chainsaw halberd in his hand, raised his hands, and announced loudly to all the hostile eyes around him.

-

Poof. -Joan of Arc S. Alter sneered in a way that only he could hear, - so fast. -

Miwoo (six o'clock)

(End of chapter)