The roar of a beast echoed from the Bastion of Stone, as the towering body of an Insect Saint Titan rose from between the fortresses.
Several Insect Saint Tau were simultaneously deployed onto the Bastion of Stone, and the fortress's firepower instantly targeted these mountain-sized bio-beasts.
Artillery fire poured down, and blue ripples emanated from the bodies of the Insect Saint Tau, like waves crashing.
Psionics. The Insect Saints were enveloped in extremely strong psychic shields, and Azrael, with the extraordinary strength of an Astartes, vaguely saw a Azure brain, covered in tentacles and carapace, hovering above each Insect Saint's body.
Around these Azure brains hovered numerous smaller spores, also with exposed brain tissue. These large and small spores seemed to be connected, forming a psychic matrix that, combined with the large amount of psychic tissue within the Insect Saints, wove into a powerful psychic network, transforming the Insect Saints into siege engines armored by psionics.
Tyranids / Tyranid Brain Tyrants, these Hive Tyrants with extraordinary psychic power, combined with the Insect Saints.
Azrael's heart tightened. He involuntarily put himself in the position of the Bastion of Stone's commander, pondering how to break the deadlock.
But he quickly realized his worries were unnecessary.
The head of an Insect Saint Titan flew into the sky, a golden light flashing, and white wings beating.
Sanguinius had joined the battlefield at some point, instantly piercing through the psychic barrier woven around the Insect Saint Titan and severing the head of an Insect Saint Titan with his spear of accomplishment.
That was a Primarch.
Azrael's eyes trembled slightly. This was the first time he had witnessed a Primarch fight at full strength; even bio-Tau with powerful psychic abilities struggled to contend with their might.
Suddenly, Azrael seemed to have some kind of premonition. He slightly shifted his head, looking towards another Insect Saint Titan not far away.
He saw a few fallen leaves drift from the forest, and a figure in deep green power armor appeared on the back of the Insect Saint Titan.
The Brain Tyrant sensed the figure. Its brain tissue pulsed, and sharp psychic lightning bolts materialized, striking towards the figure.
The Ravenwing Shield was wielded, effortlessly blocking the psychic lightning. A sharp power sword swung down, directly cleaving the Brain Tyrant in half.
Then, the sharp blade pierced into the Insect Saint Titan's brain.
Azrael's gaze was deeply drawn to that figure.
Father.
"Brother, it's our turn to move out." Helael stood behind Azrael at some point, speaking in a low voice.
Azrael's body trembled slightly, and he nodded, returning to the formation.
Their ship soon sailed out from the Bastion of Stone, joining the fleet, attempting to break through the encirclement of the Tyranid Swarm fleet.
This was not difficult. The Gloriana-class Battleship Red Tears and the Abyss-class Battleship Dora's Cabinet began to display their extraordinary power.
They tore a gap directly through the bio-fleet, leading the ships like a spear thrust towards the targeted planet, Kiafria.
"It's going smoothly," Azrael said softly.
But no sooner had his voice fallen than Azrael suddenly felt a sensation—a feeling of being watched, of being gazed upon, as if an invisible giant eye in the void was staring at him.
Azrael looked in the direction from which the gaze came, but only saw deep void and… a planet.
A planet?
Azrael had read data on the Tiamat System and knew that the seven planets within the Tiamat System had not been completely consumed by the hive mind, but rather had been reshaped, twisted, and covered with a Tyranid Swarm biosphere by the Tyranid.
Every plant, every blade of grass, every bacterium, every virus on these planets was a branch of the Tyranids / Tyranid genetic tree. Could it be?
As if to confirm Azrael's thoughts, the planet in his vision visibly trembled a few times. The surface of the planet, covered in creep and chitin, slowly opened, revealing a hideous, terrifying fleshy maw. Countless sharp fangs rotated within it, as if to swallow the entire fleet whole.
Azrael's guess was confirmed: it was a planet-sized Tyranid — a World Engine.
Sharp tentacles shot out from the body of this planet, striking towards the Imperial fleet. The entire fleet's formation was warped by its immense gravity, pulling towards that tentacle.
Just then, countless Mini-Dora suddenly emerged among the fleet. These Mini-Dora, holding scarlet cloaks, collided with that tentacle.
The tentacle, shot from the planet-sized Tyranid, was forcibly bounced back.
But it wasn't over. The planet-sized Tyranid Bio-Titan directly charged towards the fleet.
The ship beneath Azrael's feet violently shook, its engines roaring at full power just to resist the pull of its gravity.
"Prepare for impact!" Helael's roar sounded. "Orders from above: the gravitational environment will be exceptionally complex soon."
An exceptionally complex gravitational environment. Azrael was still pondering what could cause such a complex gravitational environment when, high above in this star system, Saint Doraemon, who was locked in battle with the hive mind, moved.
A round hand smashed into the face of the hive mind, causing the hive mind to roar and stagger a few steps into reality. Seizing this opportunity, Saint Doraemon's round hand reached into the pocket on his belly.
Three planets were pulled out of his pocket. They were three planet-sized Necrons constructs, glowing with emerald light and covered in blackstone.
World Engines, the Necrons's planet-sized warships, were thrown into the battlefield.
Instantly, the gravitational environment within the star system became extremely complex. The Tyranids / Tyranid fleet was thrown into disarray by the drastic changes in gravity, while the Imperial fleet, having anticipated this, barely maintained its formation.
But at the same time, all planets except Kiafria trembled simultaneously. Their surfaces, covered in creep and chitinous carapaces, opened, revealing their biological nature.
The six planets other than Kiafria were all planet-sized Tyranid.
The three World Engines quickly began to unleash firepower on the six Tyranid planet-sized organisms, creating a stalemate in the void.
Three against six. Azrael silently watched the battle in the void. At this rate, the World Engine side was clearly at a significant disadvantage.
Just then, scorching light burst forth from one of the World Engines.
On the World Engine, Orikan felt the rhythm of the stars, sensing heat and light surging beneath the dimensions.
A hollow divinity was calling to him.
Orikan knew how to ascend to a C'tan, and had done so more than once, but he disliked that feeling.
It was a sensation of tearing, of emptiness. His original will flowed into the divinity, like a drop of water dissolving and diluting in the ocean.
Especially after he was granted a soul, every time he recalled that feeling, he would experience a piercing pain from the depths of his soul.
Orikan slightly raised his head, looking up at Saint Doraemon, who was battling the hive mind in the high heavens.
He wondered if that individual now felt something similar to Orikan.
A hand gently rested on Orikan's shoulder. Trazyn stood silently behind Orikan.
"Orikan," Trazyn said softly.
Orikan gently placed his hand on Trazyn's, and for some reason, he suddenly felt as if he had gained courage.
He remembered the vision Alexander had once described to him.
A home, a new world, warm, bright.
"Wait for me to come home with you," Orikan said to Trazyn.
Then, bright, warm light bloomed on the World Engine. A burning C'tan was born from Orikan's body, stirring the laws of the material universe to crush the planet-sized Tyranid organisms.
Planets burned, flesh roared. In an instant, half the body of a planet-sized Tyranid was incinerated by the newly born C'tan.
The Imperial fleet seized this opportunity, tearing through the Tyranid Swarm bio-fleet and charging towards Kiafria.
Looking down from orbit, Azrael could see their target.
The towering fleshy spire that sprawled across the surface, occupying an entire continent, reaching straight to the edge of the atmosphere.
The fleshy spire continuously writhed, and the brain tissue on it burst forth with dazzling psychic light. Just a glance made Azrael's soul tremble.
What exactly was that thing? What did the hive mind intend to use it for?
A lighthouse? A beacon? A relay? Or some kind of psychic weapon?
Before Azrael could ponder further, he saw the Abyss-class Battleship Dora's Cabinet in the distance begin an orbital bombardment.
But the distance was too great; Azrael couldn't discern what kind of weapon the battleship was projecting.
"I've brought you a little something special from the 22nd century."
In the Immaterium, Saint Doraemon, who was locked in battle with the hive mind, leaned closer to the shadow and whispered.
Dora's Cabinet simultaneously launched twenty-two earth destruction bombs onto the surface of Kiafria.
The hive mind sensed the danger and let out a sharp shriek.
The bio-spire on Kiafria's surface violently writhed, extending psychic tentacles that stabbed at the earth destruction bombs falling from orbit, enveloping the bombs and teleporting them into the surrounding void.
Planet-sized scorching fireballs formed at the edge of the Tiamat System, like newly born stars that rapidly fell.
But Dora's Cabinet's bombardment was not over. Like dense raindrops, countless earth destruction bombs were launched from Dora's Cabinet.
Some of these were real earth destruction bombs, and many were mere models, but the hive mind had no choice but to expend its psychic power to deal with every single earth destruction bomb.
Countless psychic tentacles pierced towards orbit, and planet-sized earth destruction bombs were teleported to the edge of the star system. Explosions occurred repeatedly, and stars flickered into and out of existence.
In the Warp, on the Moon-Viewing Platform, in the Nobi residence, Omegamessiah Xiao Fu clenched the controller in his hand, chuckled, and then abruptly pushed the joystick and pressed the shoulder button.
In the Tiamat System, Saint Doraemon swung his round hand and smashed it into the face of the hive mind. The hive mind's movements paused for an instant.
At the same time, in orbit around Kiafria, a psychic tentacle shifted, and an earth destruction bomb slipped between the tentacles, smashing into the planet's surface.
Scorching fire erupted from the planet's surface. Creep burned away, chitin carbonized, and the ground melted. The hive mind reacted quickly, extending countless tentacles in all directions before the explosion spread, teleporting the newly erupted fireball and casting it into deep space.
Although it failed to destroy the entire Kiafria in one blow, it did tear a hole in the planet-spanning Tyranids / Tyranid biosphere. Azrael understood that now was the chance to board the planet.
An anywhere door also appeared directly in front of the formation at this moment.
Azrael did not hesitate, rushing directly through the door. He stepped onto the molten, superheated ground, his power armor helping him resist the surrounding heat.
Upon entering the battlefield, the first thing Azrael saw was the Archmagos Belisarius Cawl of the Adeptus Mechanicus, standing five or six meters tall on the scorching earth, and the Clone Primarch Fulgrim, standing beside Cawl.
Then, what Azrael noticed was the dark clouds pressing down from the sky. Without needing to think much, Azrael understood that Tyranids / Tyranid flying beasts were surging towards this location.
There were no cover or fortifications on the battlefield at this moment, and Azrael understood with a thought what kind of brutal battle they were about to face.
If Azrael were in command, he would probably, without hesitation, drop a ship from orbit, letting it crash onto the ground, and establish a stronghold using the ship's wreckage as cover. Hmm?
Just then, Azrael saw the body of Archmagos Belisarius Cawl suddenly shift, his bent form straightening up, changing from five or six meters to over ten meters tall. Countless Mini-Dora began to emerge from beneath his cloak.
Those Mini-Dora extended their round hands, pulling out pieces of steel, pipes, and anti-aircraft weapons from their pockets.
The Mini-Dora began to dig a moat around them, filling the river with large quantities of Water of Thirst from Baal. Inside the moat, the Mini-Dora began to assemble steel and building materials into the shape of a fortress, centered around Archmagos Belisarius Cawl, encompassing all the Astartes within the fortress's perimeter. At the same time, Archmagos Belisarius Cawl rapidly began welding, and in the blink of an eye, a fortress capable of housing the first wave of Astartes was created on the spot.
Azrael's movements stiffened. He had never imagined that Archmagos Belisarius Cawl could construct a fortress in the blink of an eye.
But he didn't daze for long. His battle instincts quickly led him to his designated position, where he began to cooperate with the anti-aircraft weapons to combat the Tyranids / Tyranid flying beasts surging in the sky.
These flying beasts seemed endless, pressing down like dark clouds, but relying on the anti-aircraft weapons designed by Belisarius Cawl, the Astartes still withstood the pressure.
But Azrael remained vigilant. He knew that these flying creatures were only the vanguard of the hive mind; the true main force had not yet arrived.
He stared intently at the ground, but after a long while, there was still no trace of Tyranids / Tyranid ground forces on the already slightly cooling surface.
Heat shimmered, and Azrael felt slightly dizzy.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his head, and at the same time, he saw a figure appearing in the swirling heat.
He… he saw a man in dark green power armor, with a weathered face as formidable as an old Lion, walking step by step towards the fortress.
Lion?
A Primarch?
Azrael was momentarily stunned. How could a Primarch be here?
Even more terrifying, Azrael clearly saw the Lion raise his head and look at him.
"Azrael." The Lion's voice seemed to come from hell; Azrael almost felt his soul being pulled out.
How could Lion suddenly appear here, looking at Azrael so abruptly, with eyes full of anger and hatred?
He had actually thought in his heart that he might encounter Lion on the battlefield, that he might not be able to hide his identity from Lion, and that he might face Lion's wrath head-on.
But such a sudden appearance, and at such a moment, made it truly difficult for Azrael to react.
"Lion... How can this be?" Azrael couldn't help but ask, his voice not loud, but he believed that Lion, as a Primarch, would surely hear him.
But Lion's response was only an even angrier roar.
"Azrael!" Lion's roar reached Azrael's ears, and Azrael felt his soul shattering, as if his soul was about to be pulled from his body, dragged towards Lion.
This feeling was as if his Primarch wanted to reclaim the extraordinary gene-sequence he had bestowed upon him, and even his life, his soul, were to be taken away with it.
"Get down here! Azrael!!" The roar grew louder, and Azrael instinctively wanted to step forward, leap from the fortress, go to his Primarch's side, and accept the Primarch's punishment.
But... Azrael chose to follow his heart; he silently took a step back.
This was not because he was cowardly, but because the situation was too strange, and the timing was not right; it was definitely not because he feared Lion's anger.
But Lion continued to advance step by step, staring intently at Azrael with angry eyes, and a strong sense of being pulled constantly surged from Azrael's body, making Azrael's head increasingly dizzy and unbearable.
Bang!!!
A Deathwatch Astartes next to Azrael tilted, falling heavily to the ground, his body twitching gently, like a frog undergoing electrocution.
Not just this one Astartes; around Azrael, more and more Astartes inexplicably collapsed, either lying on the ground convulsing, or falling from the high walls of the fortress, landing on the still-hot ground.
They were like diseased grain, stalks fragile, falling to the ground with a cold gust of wind. How could this be?
Azrael's confusion and bewilderment grew deeper, but his mind felt as if it was being silently gnawed by a swarm of small insects, becoming increasingly chaotic, and the scene before him began to fragment.
The scene before him was sliced into many pieces, as if viewing things through the compound eyes of an insect.
He saw a cave-dwelling child, just like him in his childhood, emerging from a cave, staring intently at him.
"Heed the Primarch's call," the child said to him, "How can you, as a son, refuse your father?"
He saw the first Fallen Angel he had personally killed, the corpse of that Fallen Angel staring at him with wide eyes.
"You judged me," the Fallen Angel said, "Why do you not dare to accept judgment yourself?"
He also saw Ezekiel, the Psyker staring at him with eyes that seemed to see through his soul.
"You ran away once," Ezekiel said, "Are you going to run away again?"
"This isn't running away, this is a strategic retreat!" Azrael said with almost no hesitation.
Ezekiel's expression before him froze, seemingly not understanding what Azrael was saying.
Then, Azrael turned to look at the Fallen Angel who was staring intently at him.
"It's not that I won't judge, it's a deferred judgment, a slow judgment, a judgment based on loyalty to the Emperor and humanity, a judgment that fits the actual situation."
The Fallen Angel tilted his head slightly, seemingly not quite understanding what Azrael was saying.
"Chogoris has a saying: 'Accept a small beating, run from a big one.' This is true filial piety! If Lion were to punch me to death now, wouldn't that put the Primarch in an unrighteous position?"
Azrael had learned this from a White Scars Deathwatch, and he found the saying very reasonable.
Among the Chapter Masters with illustrious reputations in the Imperium,
Grand Master Kaldor Draigo of the Grey Knights was the most powerful in psychic abilities; Azrael had met him once and knew his terror.
Old Wolf Logan Grimnar of the Space Wolves was the strongest in martial arts; that alpha wolf of Fenris could even wound Primarch Magnus with his crimson axe.
Commander Dante of the Blood Angels was the most skilled in command; even 罗伯特.基里曼 acknowledged this, entrusting half the Imperium to him and giving him the title of Regent.
Calgar of the Ultramarines possessed both formidable combat prowess and unparalleled command abilities; on one hand, his mighty martial arts struck fear into countless enemies of the Imperium, and on the other, his administrative skills were sufficient to govern the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar.
And Azrael?
Azrael's martial arts were not outstanding, and his command was limited to the Unforgiven, but Azrael's strength lay in his clarity and flexibility; for the Imperium, for humanity, for the Chapter's interests, Azrael could always discard or adopt certain concepts, sometimes even manipulating the concept of "loyalty."
Azrael could confidently say that if circumstances required, he would even dare to secretly deploy troops to the Terra Imperial Palace.
Such an act, if discovered, would certainly be called treason. But it's only treason if it's discovered.
Azrael's clarity and flexibility had not only protected the Unforgiven over the years, but he had even secretly helped many other Chapters conceal their little secrets.
Leaving aside the Inquisition, within the Custodes' intelligence organization, the Eyes of the Emperor, some Custodes had more than once discovered the secret of Fenrisian Space Wolves' lycanthropy, historical records of the remnants of the Second Empire, the bloodlust and mutations of some Blood Angels successor Chapters, and even the Dark Angels' own little secret of the Fallen Angels. In the end, Azrael had silently eliminated these Custodes, ensuring that everyone's little secrets were not leaked, and also ensuring that the Imperium would not be fractured by the exposure of these secrets.
The current situation was the same; Azrael's clear intuition told him that he should not surrender, should not submit to Lion's judgment.
Lion was roaring, the cave-dwelling child was shrieking, the Fallen Angel stared intently at him, and Ezekiel was angrily rebuking him.
Amidst the intertwining of these voices, he even felt the fortress itself trembling and shaking.
No, this was not an illusion.
The wall of the fortress facing Lion collapsed and disintegrated, bricks and stones flying up, shattering into dust in the air. Many Astartes were swept into the sky by an invisible force, then trembled and fell heavily as if their souls had left them, crashing to the ground.
A certain force seemed to swirl around Lion, crushing everything in its path like tentacles.
Completely incomprehensible, Azrael completely failed to understand what Lion was doing.
This was their defensive position against the Tyranid Swarm, how could Lion destroy the fortress?
Azrael became increasingly unable to comprehend what Lion was doing.
Lion strode towards Azrael, the oppressive aura emanating from him growing stronger, wrapping around Azrael like tentacles, making it difficult for Azrael to move.
"Lion..." Azrael let out a whimper, feeling his muscles and bones humming as Lion El'Jonson approached.
His blood, bones, and even his soul felt as if they were being slowly pulled from his body.
Lion stopped in front of him.
"Why? Lion?"
Azrael looked up at Lion El'Jonson and asked.
He wasn't asking why his fate had fallen to this, but why Lion was destroying this fortress, why the other Astartes around him were falling like wheat before a storm.
However, Lion remained silent, his face hidden beneath his beard, monstrous and terrifying like a giant beast of the forest.
He extended his finger towards Azrael's head.
Azrael felt a sense of suffocation; he felt his soul being stripped away, devoured, crushed.
And the boundless fear brought by Lion's presence pressed down on Azrael's body, the feeling of death gradually becoming clear, Azrael's breathing growing heavier—
Slash!!!!
Azrael grabbed the sword at his waist, pulling it out abruptly; his body moved before his mind could even process the thought.
A gash appeared on Lion's arm, and a wound was carved into his face.
Azrael was horrified by his recent actions; he had actually swung his sword at his own Primarch.
"Lion?" Azrael asked somewhat guiltily, "I accidentally activated my battle instincts just now; I didn't mean to."
Although he said so, he felt a slight sense of oddity.
Lion slowly raised his head, a wild growl escaping his lips, and his fist smashed towards Azrael's face.
Then...
Azrael's body once again moved faster than his mind. Perhaps the instinct for survival controlled him, or perhaps his flesh detected something strange; he suddenly leveled the blade in his hand, thrusting it directly at Lion.
Lion's chest was pierced by the blade, and his body froze in place.
"Ah..."
Azrael very guiltily pulled out the sword, and blood flowed from Lion's chest.
Azrael hastily reached out to wipe it clean for Lion, then smiled at Lion with a hint of awkwardness. Wait, the touch felt a bit...
"Eeeek!!!!" A sharp shriek erupted from Lion's mouth, accompanied by dazzling psychic light.
The scene before Azrael flickered repeatedly; one moment it was Lion, the next it was a twisting, convulsing psychic tentacle.
Sharp shrieks echoed incessantly, and the psychic tentacle writhed, attempting to smash into Azrael.
From Azrael's perspective, it looked as if Lion was swinging his sword to stab him.
"Get out of the way!" Helael's voice rang out beside Azrael.
A blade thrust out from behind him, plunging into the psychic tentacle. The psychic tentacle writhed and trembled a few times, then shattered with a bang, turning into a small whirlwind that blew over Azrael and Helael.
"You actually saw through that this was not Lion; what a resilient will," Helael said in a lowered voice, "And thanks to your sensing something was wrong, causing a brief fluctuation in this monster's psychic energy, I was able to escape the illusion."
As Helael spoke, many other Astartes around them suddenly shook, seemingly having just woken up.
Azrael turned his head slightly guiltily, looking in the direction from which the psychic tentacle had extended.
It was a Neurothrope, but its appearance differed significantly from an ordinary Neurothrope.
Its brain was even larger, two or three meters thick, supported by a spiraling vertebral structure growing from its back. The vertebrae extended around its massive brain tissue, enveloping it like a crown, while its body appeared slender and fragile, curled beneath it like a coiled snake.
With just one glance, Azrael felt his blood boil, and fear spread through his heart. That was... that was...
Azrael recognized the monster, not from Deathwatch or Imperial archives, but from a play performed by the Eldar Harlequins.
The play was titled "The Doom of Malan'tai."
The Eldar Craftworld named Malan'tai encountered a severely damaged Tyranid battleship. Before dying, the battleship launched a volley of spore-pods towards the Craftworld Malan'tai.
Initially, the Eldar paid little heed to these; they easily slew the Warrior-Broodlords within the spore-pods, cut down the rampaging Executioners, and crushed the Broodmothers and their Tyranid, leaving only one seemingly insignificant Neurothrope.
That Neurothrope was later called the Doom of Malan'tai by the Eldar. This Tyranid, born from Eldar genetic sequences and specially designed by the hive mind, could not only prey on flesh and blood, but also draw upon the essence of life, gnawing at the souls of its victims and drinking the will of its prey.
This monster drank the immortal souls of the Eldar, growing stronger with each meal. Eventually, she even consumed all the Eldar souls lingering within Malan'tai's infinity circuit, which allowed her psychic power to grow to a strength almost impossible for the material universe to contain.
She merely released a fraction of it, a psychic shriek, and it tore Eldar warriors to shreds, disassembled Eldar Tau into atoms, shattered Malan'tai's spires into fragments, and turned the entire Craftworld into a cold, desolate husk.
Her existence had even carved an indelible mark into the racial memory of the Eldar; every Eldar trembled when speaking of the Doom of Malan'tai. Azrael had even believed for a time that it was an Eldar horror story, because the description of Malan'tai's doom was too terrifying and incredible.
But now, the protagonist of the horror story stood before him. Looking around, at least a third of the Astartes had their souls devoured in that last attack, lying within the damaged fortress.
Had Azrael not damaged one of her psychic tentacles, exposing a momentary weakness, the casualties would likely have been even greater and more numerous.
The Doom of Malan'tai suddenly raised its massive head, and a magnificent psychic force erupted from the Warp, projecting into reality.
The earth began to crumble apart.
The ground disintegrated inch by inch, the surrounding air temperature violently rose, the smell of ozone was sharp and pungent, roaring lightning surged from beneath the ground, and neatly cut stones floated in mid-air.
What terrifying psychic power! The moment that psychic power was released, Azrael felt reality evaporate like dew in the sun, becoming thin and fragile.
That terrifying creature, the giant beast known to the Aeldari as The Scourge of Macragge, clearly raised its head and looked at Azrael.
Azrael felt a bone-chilling malice; the psychic monster's feeding was interrupted by Azrael's sword, and it now wanted to vent its anger on Azrael—
Bang!!!!
Sharp psychic tendrils suddenly shot out, and powerful psychic energy instantly tore through Azrael's pauldron.
A soul-deep pain swept through Azrael's entire body. If anyone's will had been slightly weaker, they would have fallen into madness and mental breakdown at this very moment.
Just a hair's breadth! Azrael was thankful that his reaction speed had once again played its part; he dodged an attack that could have instantly shattered his soul.
But the moment the tendril grazed Azrael's shoulder, it immediately changed direction, arcing at a ninety-degree angle, and lunged towards Azrael's face.
Helael's figure flashed; he once again displayed a speed even greater than Azrael's. The broad greatsword in his hand actually managed to block The Scourge of Macragge's psychic tendril.
"Attack!!"
Without Helael needing to say more, Azrael's figure moved, his blade slashing, forcefully cleaving the psychic tendril. The resulting intense psychic shock caused Azrael's arm to ache and his face to contort for a moment.
The Scourge of Macragge let out a sharp shriek, and the stones suspended in mid-air by its psychic power immediately burst into dust. Intense psychic energy transformed into a raging tide, mixed with sharp pressure, bearing down on the Imperial forces.
Many Astartes who were closer to The Scourge of Macragge, having already lost their souls and only their bodies remaining, were directly pulverized into fragments by this psychic tide.
The Deathwatch, Blood Angels, and Dark Angels Librarian squads timely erected psychic barriers. The Librarians' psychic powers merged, intensely like a roaring wildfire.
But in contrast, The Scourge of Macragge's psychic power was like a scorching star. In just two or three seconds, the psychic shield supported by the Librarian squads shattered with a crash.
But at this moment, a psychic power even more intense than the combined souls of all the Librarian squads surged from within the ruined fortress.
A warrior, clad in unpainted power armor and taller than a regular Astartes, emerged from beside Archmagos Belisarius Cawl. This Astartes exuded four distinct styles of psychic energy.
Like a cold hurricane, like a clear sky, like scripture ciphers, like feudal superstition—four psychic powers surged forth simultaneously, colliding with The Scourge of Macragge's psychic energy. For a moment, they were evenly matched, both shattering, tearing several grotesque rifts in the void, exposing the Immaterium hidden beneath reality.
Many daemons in the Immaterium detected the existence of this Warp rift. They let out exultant cheers, poking their heads out of the rift, attempting to flood into the real world.
For daemons, this behavior was simply instinct. Breaking into the real world was a risk-free, highly profitable endeavor for them; even if there were dangers in reality, at most they would just die and return to the Warp to be reborn.
But as soon as they poked their heads out, psychic tendrils suddenly shot out, piercing through the bodies of these daemons.
The physical forms these daemons had just acquired rapidly withered, and what terrified them even more was that their intrinsic essence was also rapidly being devoured.
The daemons let out terrified wails. Those fortunate enough not to be pierced by the psychic tendrils frantically fled towards the Imperial side.
Their thought was very simple: be killed by the Astartes, then escape back to the Warp to respawn.
However, what greeted them was a whistling warhammer.
Fulgrim's face was twisted, the three scars on his face grotesque and terrifying, making him resemble a venomous snake that had just been used as a pleasure object. His resentment was almost solidified into substance.
That bug dared to make him see, make him almost personally experience, impersonating the person he loved. Fulgrim let out a roar.
In just one encounter, the daemons charging towards the Imperial forces were shattered by the heavy hammer, their limbs broken. But they were not banished back to the Warp; they merely lost their ability to move.
Then, from behind Fulgrim, Mini-Doras emerged one by one, shaking the pockets on their bellies, and flew towards the daemons with smiles on their faces.
The daemons shivered, fear appearing on their faces, twisting their bodies, trying to struggle, but they were grabbed by the Mini-Doras' round hands and stuffed into their pockets.
The Scourge of Macragge sensed the chilling aura of danger emanating from Fulgrim. It immediately changed direction, twisting a large number of psychic tendrils towards Fulgrim.
The forgebreaker warhammer in Fulgrim's hand vibrated, and furnace-like orange-yellow flames burst forth. Those psychic tendrils were instantly shattered into streaks of azure fragments.
Violet eyes, filled with rage, stared fixedly at Fulgrim.
The humiliation suffered in the illusion just released by The Scourge of Macragge now all turned into anger, attempting to burn The Scourge of Macragge to ashes.
The Scourge of Macragge's body trembled slightly, and powerful psychic energy wrapped around its body, pulling it back sharply.
Fulgrim stepped forward, giving chase. Behind Fulgrim, the Astartes also rapidly unleashed ammunition upon The Scourge of Macragge.
The Scourge of Macragge's brain pulsed like a worm, and indistinct roars and wails resounded incessantly.
Everything around The Scourge of Macragge suddenly dimmed, as if everything nearby had been devoured by it.
A sharp insectoid cry rang out, and a whistling psychic wind surged from around The Scourge of Macragge. The ammunition shot at it rapidly spontaneously combusted, disintegrated, and vanished into ash under the psychic wind's blast.
This psychic wind crossed the entire battlefield in an instant, directly blowing upon the Astartes.
These psychic winds seemed to contain countless tiny burning insects. ceramite-forged armor was stained red by the high temperature, intense heat tore through the power armor, drilling into the flesh and skin of the Astartes beneath the power armor, instantly igniting all the nerve synapses in their bodies.
Wails resounded. The Astartes caught by the psychic wind spat out scorching flames, their bodies instantly incinerated, turning into withered bones and collapsing.
Azrael and Helael were alert enough; the moment the psychic wind began to blow, they retreated with their squad to a safe position.
But this was because they were far enough away and had enough time to react.
The Clone Primarch Fulgrim, charging at the very front, had no time to dodge and directly collided with The Scourge of Macragge's terrifying psychic power.
The magnificent armor of purple and gold was ignited by the roaring psychic energy. Scarlet patches spread like fungi across the metal. Fulgrim's power armor bubbled like an effervescent tablet soaking in water, dissolving inch by inch.
The sound of burning and the howl of psychic energy drowned out other sounds. The scene before Fulgrim's eyes also blurred. The deadly psychic energy, like trillions of tiny insects, drilled into his power armor, between his flesh and blood.
Fulgrim's skin began to burn inch by inch, the nerves embedded in his flesh like lit fuses, conducting terrifying psychic energy throughout Fulgrim's body.
Accompanying this were intense hallucinations. Everything Fulgrim had just seen in the illusion woven by The Scourge of Macragge reappeared.
The Scourge of Macragge unearthed the darkest memory, the one Fulgrim feared most, was most afraid of, and dared not face, from the depths of his heart.
That memory had always existed in Fulgrim's brain tissue, but it had been concealed and buried by Fulgrim.
Fulgrim saw Ferrus's head. He saw his own pale, sickly self holding Ferrus's head in his hands, murmuring confused words to Ferrus, expressing apology and love to Ferrus, expressing the shattering of his spirit.
He began to rub his face against Ferrus's head, leaning close to Ferrus's ear to whisper, then laughing hysterically, as if he had just told Ferrus a touching joke.
Then, then he saw himself holding Ferrus's head, drawing closer, closer.
+How can such humiliation be tolerated?+
A voice inquired in Fulgrim's ear.
A voice answered before Fulgrim, a degenerate groan born of humiliation. She felt pleasure at the memory of that blasphemous debauchery.
Fulgrim, however, replied that he could not endure this humiliation, could not endure this depravity, could not endure any of it. He was furious, wanting to wash away this shame.
A silence resonated from the Warp. Fulgrim felt a sense of affirmation.
He vaguely saw a purple-gold figure similar to him, standing in a purple tide of depravity, looking at him with a sorrowful gaze.
+You are very much like I once was+
+You are even more like me than I am now+
Fulgrim let out a sharp wail.
The Scourge of Macragge seemed to interpret this as a sign of Fulgrim's imminent collapse, and more frantically unleashed psychic energy upon Fulgrim, tearing at his nerves, excavating his dark, degenerate memories.
Fulgrim's epidermis was almost entirely burned away, his muscles exposed to the air, and very quickly they too ignited. Only his violet eyes grew sharper and sharper.
The burning pain of his nerves swept through Fulgrim's entire body, but his speed as he charged towards The Scourge of Macragge grew faster and faster.
The Scourge of Macragge's will froze for a moment. Its mind struggled to process this scene.
Psychic feedback told it that the creature's nerve synapses were all ignited, yet he was still moving. This completely defied basic biological common sense.
Suddenly, The Scourge of Macragge's Warp senses detected something.
Something, a certain current in the Warp, was continuously pouring into Fulgrim's body. That current seemed to be Fulgrim's own reflection, yet it also seemed subtly different from Fulgrim.
The hive mind received the information The Scourge of Macragge saw. It realized the danger within it and quickly projected a will, issuing an order to The Scourge of Macragge.
Psychic sniper shot, move up five centimeters.
The psychic wind blowing on Fulgrim instantly dissipated. Fulgrim seized this momentary opportunity, fiercely pouncing on The Scourge of Macragge.
The Scourge of Macragge slightly raised its head, all its psychic energy converging to a single point—
A psychic beam, only a finger's width, shot from The Scourge of Macragge's crown, instantly piercing Fulgrim's left forehead, passing through Fulgrim's brain tissue, burning half of Fulgrim's brain to ashes.
Fulgrim's body fell heavily to the ground. The air was deathly silent.
The Scourge of Macragge slightly raised its head, and under the control of the hive mind, let out a shriek that was clearly a celebration of victory.
Fulgrim lay on the ground, his head tilted, his eyes empty and lifeless.
+More alike now+
That voice once again sounded in Fulgrim's ear. It seemed he too had once been shot through the head. A sense of resonance flowed between the voice and Fulgrim.
Fulgrim gripped the forgebreaker warhammer, leaped up, and brought the heavy hammer down on The Scourge of Macragge's jaw.
A dull sound rang out. The Scourge of Macragge's jaw tore and broke, the lower part of its brain tissue shattered by the heavy hammer's impact, and thick fluid splattered out.
The Scourge of Macragge's thoughts stalled again. Fulgrim's brain tissue was clearly destroyed, but he was not dead.
The hive mind's reaction also slowed for a moment at this point, but this was actually a good thing for The Scourge of Macragge. Its biological instinct made it do the right thing.
Powerful psychic energy enveloped The Scourge of Macragge. It instantly vanished from its original spot, its whereabouts unknown.
Fulgrim gasped for breath, the grotesque hole on his forehead healing and regenerating at an unnatural speed.
He felt that more and more things were accumulating within him. Some grim, blasphemous, cold destinies began to flash and swirl before his eyes.
The perfect ending was so filthy, ugly, and depraved.
He wanted to vomit, but in the end, he only let out a terrifying whimper, and tears involuntarily streamed from his violet eyes.
Slaanesh let out a sharp shriek. She realized that some of her essence had been stolen.
A part of Fulgrim had been drawn away, flowing into the body of that clone.
Slaanesh's resentment surged towards Tsukimi-dai, colliding with Alexander's will. The two intertwined incessantly.
Slaanesh accused Alexander of playing tricks and stealing the Primarch that rightfully belonged to her.
Alexander, however, smiled and slapped Slaanesh across the face, insulting her for not even being able to control her own Daemon Primarch.
It is very foolish to separate the essence of a Primarch from the Primarch itself; the essence of a Primarch is the Primarch itself.
The fact that a part of Fulgrim's essence flowed towards Fulgrim can only mean one thing:
In the deepest recesses of Fulgrim's heart, beneath those corrupted wills, there still existed the proud and noble purple phoenix of old.
That part of Fulgrim could not accept his current self; deep down, he believed that Clone Fulgrim was closer to his true self.
The Warp is a world of will; the heart that believes is your magic. What you believe to be true, reality will be twisted into that form.
It was a part of Fulgrim himself that chose to let his essence flow towards Fulgrim, and not that Fulgrim stole Fulgrim's essence.
"Why don't we let the two of them duel at Lion's Gate? The winner is the Primarch, the loser is the clone."
"Extraordinary healing ability. This is no longer within the realm of biology," Belisarius Cawl's remaining eye shimmered with points of light as he observed Fulgrim's opened forehead with interest, watching the slowly spasming brain tissue within.
During the recent battle, Fulgrim's brain was clearly pierced by The Scourge of Macragge, which was controlled by the hive mind, yet he healed himself in the blink of an eye, coming back to life as if he had suffered no damage.
This was very strange, very peculiar, and Belisarius Cawl requested to examine it.
Fulgrim agreed. He even allowed Belisarius Cawl to open his perfect forehead to examine his previously pierced brain tissue.
Because Fulgrim also felt a constantly approaching sense of crisis, a feeling that something was closing in on him, a sense that a fallen end was drawing near. Between faint glimpses, Fulgrim could even feel the figure of Fulgrim intertwining and merging with him.
What chilled Fulgrim the most was that he himself felt no resistance to this intertwining and merging.
Six electrodes sparked faintly, stimulating Fulgrim's brain tissue to continuously writhe. A normal person would have long been weeping from the unbearable pain.
But Fulgrim merely raised his eyes slightly, looking at Belisarius Cawl.
"If it's not within the realm of biology, then what is it?" Fulgrim asked, though he already vaguely had an answer in his heart.
"It's within the realm of the Warp, or more specifically, within the realm of the bio-alchemy created by the Omegamessiah Emperor."
Belisarius Cawl removed the electrodes from Fulgrim's brain tissue and buzzed, saying to Fulgrim:
"I once read the Emerald Tablet written by the Human Emperor in his youth in the Black Library, seeing the nascent form of bio-alchemy. I also communicated with Omegamessiah Xiao Fu and learned about some experiments conducted by the Dragon of Mars back then."
"The Dragon of Mars once attempted to fuse humans with the Warp, to create a race that existed in both the material and Warp dimensions, just as he himself tried to become a god of both dimensions. He failed to achieve this, but instead, he made humans repel the Warp, creating the Untouchables."
"Afterward, the Human Emperor took over part of the Dragon of Mars' research, using it to complete the nascent form of bio-alchemy, which is the technology to reshape or create humans through the Warp, from the cellular level to deeper aspects."
"This nascent form alone shaped the Thunder Warriors, the Astartes, and the Custodes, but none of them were the crystallization of all bio-alchemy's wisdom."
"The crystallization of all bio-alchemy's wisdom is the Primarchs?" Without Belisarius Cawl needing to continue, Fulgrim realized what Belisarius Cawl wanted to say.
"Precisely. After obtaining the source-blood stack, I had a conjecture, and after obtaining Fabius Bile's Clone Primarch technology, which is entirely based on biology, I further confirmed this."
"The Dragon of Mars once tried to ascend from a god of the material universe to a god of the Warp, but he failed."
"The Emperor did the opposite, and to some extent, succeeded."
A few lights flickered slightly in Belisarius Cawl's eyes:
"Since it is not feasible for a god of the material universe to become a god of the Warp, why not reverse it and have an unborn god in the Warp be born first in the material universe?"
"Our Emperor succeeded. With his genius wisdom, using his own and the Primarch Mother's extraordinary gene sequences, combined with bio-alchemy, he successfully delivered the unborn gods from the Warp into the material universe, transforming them into twenty-one infants."
"These are the Primarchs." Fulgrim's expression shifted slightly: "The Clone Primarchs created by Fabius are so far from true Primarchs precisely because they are merely biological products, clones of the physical bodies of those twenty-one infants, and not Warp gods guided into the material universe."
"Indeed, you understand very quickly." Belisarius Cawl stitched up the wound he had made on Fulgrim's forehead, "But you are different now."
". Hmm?" Fulgrim raised his violet eyes, looking at Belisarius Cawl.
"I'm not sure when it started, and I'm not sure why it's happening. Perhaps it's because Fabius Bile made you too perfect."
"Undoubtedly, you are becoming a true Primarch. A part of Fulgrim's essence is flowing into you."
"But I don't think you are truly taking that part; rather, you are becoming Fulgrim."
"He will find you sooner or later. You cannot escape," Belisarius Cawl took two steps back, shaking his head at Fulgrim as he spoke.
"Is there such a possibility," Fulgrim said, "that I defeat him and become the true Primarch?"
"I'm not sure," Belisarius Cawl merely continued to shake his head: "I even think that by the time you two truly clash, whether there will still be a true distinction between 'you' and 'him' is questionable."
Fulgrim fell silent. He lowered his violet eyes slightly, muttering to himself, "What is the perfect endpoint?"
"Malcador believed that the result of an extreme pursuit of perfection must be corruption, because humans can never achieve true perfection. The more one pursues perfection, the more one magnifies one's flaws. The jealousy of not achieving perfection will inevitably burn oneself, leaving only corruption, defilement, and darkness."
Belisarius Cawl said in a calm and severe voice.
"Is that so?"
Fulgrim clenched his fists:
"Then just watch."
"I will snatch chestnuts from the fire, take good from evil, and be reborn in fire, Belisarius. I am the Phoenix."
Fulgrim turned and walked out of the room, heading towards the fortress where battle was raging outside.
Belisarius Cawl shook his head slightly. Just then, the Primaris Head slowly walked up behind Belisarius Cawl.
"Are you feeling better?" Belisarius Cawl turned and asked the Primaris Head, "The first phase of treatment should have taken effect."
"Yes, the pain has subsided a lot, but…" The Primaris Head slightly extended his hand and squeezed it a few times.
After Belisarius Cawl obtained the Clone Primarch technology, he began attempting to cure the flaws in the Primaris Head, treating the constant pain in his body.
"But, let's stop here, Cawl," the Primaris Head said in a low voice: "I now believe that my inherent flaws are not a curse, but rather a blessing."
"Think about it, Cawl, you integrated the gene sequences of twenty-one Primarchs into my body. If I had no flaws, if I were perfect, what would I be?"
"I can already vaguely see it."
The Primaris Head lowered his head:
"I see an angel, an angel named Destruction, imprisoned in a coffin, waiting to spread its wings and burn this world to ashes."
"I see an idol, an idol named Self-Destruction, piled high with corpses, waiting to acquire a body and torment this world."
"I see a sun, a sun with darkness as its fire, held high by suffering, waiting to be born into the world and end this world."
"Cawl, you told Fulgrim that the pursuit of perfection ends in being burned to ashes. You know this, so why do you invite disaster upon yourself?"
". I never wanted to heal you out of a pursuit of perfection," Belisarius Cawl's voice became somewhat weak.
After seeing what was happening to Fulgrim, Belisarius Cawl knew that he could no longer continue to heal the flaws in the Primaris Head by making him more perfect.
"You…" The Primaris Head raised his head slightly, looking at Belisarius Cawl with a hint of surprise.
"I will find other ways to heal you." Facing the gaze of the Primaris Head, Belisarius Cawl's tone suddenly became agitated.
He continued, "Now, get out. I need to organize the data for my research."
The Primaris Head did not move. He watched Cawl for a moment, then softly opened his mouth and said, "I appreciate your efforts, Cawl."
With that, the Primaris Head exited the room.
Belisarius Cawl sighed deeply, pained by his past arrogance and conceit.
The Bolter in his hand unleashed a torrent of fire. Azrael moved with the agility of a black cat in the forest. He weaved through the Tyranid, and a whistling Bolter round struck a Lictor's eye, spewing thick bio-fluid.
The Executioner let out a sharp shriek. He changed his target and charged at Azrael like a bio-tank.
Helael, beside Azrael, reacted incredibly fast. The veteran Black Shield's figure flashed, his broad blade instantly slaying two Hormagaunts, then he leapt up, his blade piercing directly into the Executioner's eye socket, which had been torn open by the Bolter.
The Executioner struggled violently, trying to shake off Helael, but Helael merely twisted the blade in his hand, precisely severing the Executioner's central nervous system.
The Executioner's massive body crashed to the ground. Helael lightly withdrew his blade and, with abnormal speed, cut down the enemies around him that were trying to pounce on him.
He truly was incredibly powerful. Azrael admired his brother's astonishing swordsmanship.
Even within the Dark Angels Chapter, such sword masters were rare. Perhaps even in the history of the Dark Angels Chapter and the entire Imperium, such excellent swordsmen were few.
Azrael involuntarily compared Helael to Calth, a renowned swordsman in the Chapter's history, who once pierced Konrad Curze's spine with a single sword.
Azrael shook his head slightly. Such a legendary figure from history would probably be difficult for even Helael to match.
Just then, Azrael heard a sharp, terrifying shriek. A sense of dread swept over Azrael. He abruptly looked in the direction of the sound.
He saw, on the horizon, amidst the Tyranid, a Tyranid Bio-Titan several meters tall. This Tyranid Bio-Titan was long and slender, somewhat similar to a Lictor. Its carapace was like a semi-circular hood over its head, and a gruesome, gaping maw opened on its chest. Its upper limbs were a pair of scythe-blades, but unlike typical Tyranid, this terrifying creature had overlapping double-blades on each arm.
Psychophant. Azrael instantly identified the giant beast's identity: the Tyranid's despairing assassin, the Psychophant.
Although the Psychophant's appearance was somewhat similar to a Lictor, and its role in the Tyranids / Tyranid was also to decapitate enemies like a Lictor, this monster lacked the Lictor's elegance, stealth, and intelligence, possessing only savage brutality and terrifying bestiality.
And its method of decapitation and assassination was quite simple and crude: it would hack and slash its way through troop formations with its blades, leaving a trail of ghastly bloodstains in its wake.
Blades ripped through the air. An Astartes was instantly cleaved in half, power armor and all, by its claws. The surrounding warriors tried to stop the Psychophant, but all were instantly cut in half by it. This Tyranid Bio-Titan thus advanced rapidly, slaughtering as it went, leaving behind a Styx forged of blood and corpses.
A Leman Russ Tank aimed at the Psychophant, but the Psychophant's reaction speed was so fast that it completely exceeded what its size should allow.
It leapt up, stomping on the Leman Russ Tank, its blades quickly tearing through the armor, easily killing the driver inside.
Then the giant beast leapt down, continuing its slaughter, expanding that ghastly river of blood. Throughout the entire process, the Psychophant's speed did not slow down at all.
But soon, the giant beast encountered an obstruction.
Its blades swung down, but this time there was no sensation of cutting. A broad, thick greatsword was held horizontally before Helael, squarely blocking the Psychophant's twin blades.
The Psychophant roared wildly. Two pairs of limbs, four blades, wielded and wove a net of swords at a speed invisible to the average person.
But Helael's sword-wielding speed was no less, and for a short time, he actually fought the Psychophant to a standstill.
Just then, the Psychophant's gaping maw on its chest opened, and gruesome thorns suddenly shot out, directly at Helael's chest.
Azrael's figure flashed, hewing open the thorns with his sword, then his blade unsheathed, pressing directly towards the Psychophant's head.
But the Psychophant's body moved slightly, suddenly retreating, its hands, one left and one right, respectively slashing at Azrael and Helael.
Helael and Azrael made almost identical movements, holding their power swords horizontally to block the fierce blow.
"Get out of the way." Just then, a voice rang out from behind Azrael and Helael.
Fulgrim's figure swept past the two, the forgebreaker warhammer in his hand heading straight for the enemy's head.
The Psychophant had no time to react. Its head burst into pulp under the heavy impact of the forgebreaker warhammer.
It was just one blow.
Azrael and Helael were both stunned for a moment by Fulgrim's power.
"Is he truly a clone? He's just like the real Fulgrim," Helael muttered, looking at Fulgrim with a hint of wariness.
Azrael, meanwhile, turned to look behind him. The fourth fortress was being forged in the hands of Mini-Dora.
And in the distance, that blood-and-flesh tower was clearer than ever before.
It looks like the war is going smoothly! Azrael thought to himself.
Perhaps he could end this war peacefully, and then escape without attracting the Lion's attention!
Hehe, I will definitely survive!
The ground was trembling slightly, a tremor that didn't seem to originate from the planet itself, but rather from the distant pull of some massive object.
This situation further disrupted the gravity within the entire system. Hive Fleets, Imperial Fleets, World Engines, and Tyranids / Tyranid planet-sized organisms swayed chaotically. Orikan, who had already torn apart three Tyranids / Tyranid planet-sized organisms, was transforming into a cloud of flickering electrical sparks, frantically drawing energy from the star to replenish his emaciated body.
This star system was enveloped by the thick Warp Shadow of the Tyranids / Tyranid hive mind. The Warp held absolute dominance in this system, and for Orikan, a god of the material universe, wielding power in this quagmire was like moving through thick mud.
His authority was ultimately based on reality itself, and here, reality was riddled with holes. Each exertion of power meant immense consumption, and he could only slightly replenish himself by gnawing on the star's energy.
Just then, Orikan also detected the disturbance caused by that immense gravitational pull.
It was a gravity well, an unprecedentedly vast gravity well pressing towards the Tiamat System.
This was a unique Warp travel method of the Tyranid Hive Fleet. They would use a large gravitational source to carve out a gravity well tunnel, using it to rapidly move towards their target.
This gravity well was so enormous, it was as if an entire Hive Fleet was about to descend on the edge of this system. What gravitational source did the Hive Fleet use to accomplish such a massive gravity well jump in one go?
Orikan couldn't think of a giant gravitational source that could meet this condition for a moment, but he knew what he had to do.
He had to distort this gravity well and stop the Hive Fleet's advance.
The star's light instantly dimmed considerably. Intense light and heat were converted within Orikan's body. His will connected with the very fabric of reality, piercing towards that gravity well, and also towards the gravitational source beyond the gravity well.
A nearly physical question mark appeared above Orikan's head.
He could hardly believe that what he saw wasn't an illusion. He looked along the gravity well and saw... a sun.
That, that was a star, surrounded by an almost infinite amount of light and higher-dimensional matter. These things were woven into geometric shapes so complex that even the minds of nascent Star Gods would struggle to comprehend them. These geometric shapes constantly flickered, seemingly reflecting the star's insane thoughts onto its surroundings.
Insane, the hive mind, it actually dared...
Orikan felt that his prying had been discovered.
The Dark King sensed his presence. A hungry, impulsive, insane, and despairing gaze transmitted along the skeleton of reality, piercing towards Orikan.
Before that gaze even arrived, Orikan felt the madness it contained. He felt those thoughts were like whistling razors, tearing him apart from the most microscopic level, shredding him, bringing him a series of frenzied illusions.
He saw molten black-grey plastic, dice bouncing, scriptures written in unknown characters, worlds inch by inch, pens, keyboards, screens, everything.
Incomprehensible scenes leaped and splattered, his thoughts stretched into a fine line, swirling, swirling, swirling.
"Holy crap, the outsider!" At Tsukimi-dai, in the Nobi residence, Omegamessiah Xiao Fu screamed, his controller slipping from his hand.
Alexander took the controller, continuing to play in Omegamessiah Xiao Fu's stead, while Omegamessiah Xiao Fu looked at the reality dimension with horror. After Orikan, he was the second to realize what the hive mind was using as a gravitational source.
His last complete brother, the madman driven insane by Tzeentch.
The Laughing God had deceived him, making him devour too many other Star Gods. The wills of these Star Gods had not completely vanished; they resided within him, constantly strengthening his power, tormenting his mind, and ultimately driving his will insane, causing him to drift to the outskirts of the The Galaxy / Milky Way and fall into self-isolation.
He was the outsider, Saranoga, a god of autism, a Dark King, a complete Star God who had merged with a large number of Star Gods. Theoretically, no existence in the entire material universe could rival him; even if the gods of the Warp acted, their might in the material universe might not be as strong as his.
All beings should be grateful for Tzeentch's high skill in deception. After creating such a monster, he actually calculated that it would be driven insane, falling into self-isolation, self-sealing itself. The countless races in the The Galaxy / Milky Way have been fighting each other for tens of millions of years, tacitly agreeing not to touch this self-isolated bomb.
But the hive mind, in that very instant, actually used the outsider's immense gravity to open a gravity well directly to the Tiamat System, attempting to send the main tendrils of the Leviathan Hive Fleet into the Tiamat System.
"These foreign gangs are so impolite!" Omegamessiah Xiao Fu cursed.
Oh, a medieval knight's backside is up, this is truly too much of a maneuver, so much so that Uncle Omegamessiah Xiao Fu is going to kick the hive mind's backside with his big boot.
Omegamessiah Xiao Fu's hand reached into the real universe. His main body was the Dragon of Mars, or rather, he was essentially the Dragon of Mars.
His hand rested on Orikan's back, and in an instant, he pulled Orikan's will back, quickly cutting off his prying gaze towards the outsider from the past.
the outsider's gaze fell into a brief confusion. Confusion quickly turned into bewilderment, bewilderment into irritation, irritation into restlessness, and the frenzied geometric shapes began to spread in all directions.
Just then, mocking, playful, and derisive sounds echoed from the void. A clown's mask appeared before the outsider, constantly attacking the outsider's existence with words, inducing his mental illness, and intensifying his autistic tendencies.
Moments later, under the clown's mockery, the outsider seemed to have a mental breakdown and quickly returned to a state of self-isolation, no longer reacting.
During this process, no faction in the The Galaxy / Milky Way, or even the entire Warp, dared to lay a hand on the clown. All held their breath, watching the clown's actions.
In the Black Library, Tzeentch wiped the sweat from his pale forehead with a handkerchief.
Today was another day of saving the world, truly exhausting.
At the same time, Tzeentch secretly cursed the hive mind's madness and stupidity in his heart. It was completely gambling, betting that the outsider would not lose control, betting that it could successfully use the outsider's gravity to send its fleet to the Tiamat System without provoking the outsider's reaction.
What made Tzeentch and Omegamessiah Xiao Fu uncomfortable was that the hive mind actually won the gamble.
The Leviathan Hive Fleet tore open a gravity well, rushing directly to the edge of the Tiamat System. A massive number of Hive Fleet organisms poured directly into the system, replenishing the Tiamat Hive Fleet that was almost defeated. Dense swarms of Tyranid began to continuously surge towards the Rock Fortress, surging towards Orikan, who was entrenched in the center of the system.
Orikan's body was emaciated, his power fading. The thin reality, the outsider's mad whispers, and the ebbing of energy were all consuming his power. He violently drew energy from the star, maintaining his Star God state, squeezing out bursts of power from the thin framework of reality.
Anti-matter meteors appeared out of thin air around Orikan, tearing through the void and crashing into the Hive Fleet. The dazzling flames formed by matter-antimatter annihilation created a scorching wall of fire between the star systems, blocking the Hive Fleet's advance.
But with the arrival of more Hive Fleets, the Warp concentration in the entire system immediately rose another level. The entire system was as if immersed in Warp Shadow.
The thick shadow directly extinguished the fire and heat in the void, as if swallowed by the shadow. The oppressive force of the Warp struck, and Orikan increasingly felt his link with reality weakening. He had ascended by relying on reality; in the Warp, he had no position, no power.
And the Leviathan Hive Fleet was flying towards Ziaphoria at an extremely fast speed for a Tyranid swarm. The battle situation had changed due to a micro-operation, a gamble, by the hive mind.
Although Tzeentch and Orikan cursed loudly, Alexander's emotions were very stable.
Even after more than twenty-two thousand times, the hive mind's micro-operations could still bring him some surprises.
He had no intention of condemning the hive mind's actions as gambling too much, after all, Alexander himself was doing something similar.
It's just that the hive mind gambled on the outsider, betting that the outsider would not wake up due to its actions.
And Alexander gambled even bigger. Alexander bet that the Dark King would not be born due to his actions.
In this world, if you don't take a gamble, how can you seize an opportunity?
This gamble by the hive mind not only won an opportunity for itself, but also for Alexander.
The urging voices of the gods echoed incessantly around him, urging him to deal with the hive mind as soon as possible.
It's about to be born, the shadow is about to take form, no more delays.
The voices of the gods grew more urgent. They could also feel and perceive that in the Warp, the shadow's body was slowly taking shape.
Essentially, the hive mind was also an unborn god, an incomplete god. It couldn't even be called an individual.
It was discrete; its existence was both in the The Galaxy / Milky Way and at a nearly infinitely distant end. No single Tyranid organism could fully contain it; they could only store a part of it like cells, dispersing, scattering, and disintegrating its existence.
But now, it could first descend into the material universe through a body similar to, yet surpassing, a Primarch, existing in a complete form in the real universe, completing its first feeding, and then in turn ascending in the Warp.
This was why the hive mind sought to seize the source-blood stack. The lighthouse on the Tiamat System was a relay station, gathering the hive mind dispersed throughout the universe and injecting it into a single body, becoming a complete existence.
All of the hive mind's current actions were to buy time, preparing for the completion of the blood-flesh lighthouse's gathering of the hive mind and that body.
Alexander was also waiting, waiting for the hive mind to complete this step.
Only when the hive mind completed this step could he possibly seize the godhood of greed dissolution.
Alexander slightly closed his eyes and then opened them. He silently calculated the time in his heart, trying his best to ensure the timing was just right.
Neither too early to prevent the hive mind from completing everything, nor too late such that the hive mind had already ascended.
It had to be precise.
"Let the Lion and the Archangel abandon the Rock. They can go to Tiamat now."
Alexander lowered his voice and gave the order.
This meant that the Rock Fortress would face immense pressure, but Alexander chose to make the Dark Angels suffer a bit; let the infamy be a secret.
The reason Alexander chose the Rock Fortress instead of the Phalanx was precisely for those little secrets within the Rock Fortress.
After all, the Phalanx's firepower would eventually run out, but the Rock's little secrets were endless.
The moment the Primarch left the Rock Fortress, the hive mind seemed to sense it, and the Tyranid Fleet surged towards the Rock Fortress.
Ezekiel, guarding the Rock, remained expressionless, looking at the ancient xenos weapon floating before him.
On this xenos weapon, the xenos will that the Dark Angels had destroyed for ten thousand years still lingered.
+Surrender to us+
+Slave+
+Slave, obey your master's will+
This terrifying will even attempted to burrow into Ezekiel's cells, transforming Ezekiel into a slave at the genetic level.
But Ezekiel's psychic energy subtly surged, and terrifying illusions emerged around him. The will on the xenos weapon let out a wail, shrinking into a terrified ball.
If one were to discuss who was the most terrifying person in the entire Chapter, some would think of Azrael, some would think of Asmodei, but those who truly knew some past secrets would say Ezekiel.
When Azrael was still crying and making a fuss because he was illiterate, Ezekiel was already undergoing fear tests by the Dark Angels Librarian.
This was a tradition of the Dark Angels Librarian: Librarians would use fear-filled illusions to test new recruits. Those who could withstand the test would become Librarians.
And in this test, Ezekiel, in turn, scared the Librarian testing him to death.
"Surrender to me, Rangdan!" Ezekiel uttered the forbidden name, and boundless fear, along with his psychic energy, pressed down on that xenos weapon.
That fierce weapon from the ancient xenos Rangdan submitted to Ezekiel's will. An invisible wave was released from that weapon, carrying Ezekiel's psychic energy and spreading in all directions, spreading towards the Hive Fleets in the void.
In just an instant, the Hive Fleets surrounding the Rock transformed into a distorted black shadow, and then vanished into the void with the wave spreading from the Rock Fortress.
Azrael slightly raised his head, looking into the void. He saw the shadows caused by that Rangdan weapon dissipating in the star-space.
Had Ezekiel already begun to use one of the fourteen hundred and fifteen secret weapons the Dark Angels had captured from the Rangdan?
It seems the war in the void is becoming increasingly urgent. Azrael turned his head to look into the deep blood-flesh hive. This was the only way to rush into the blood-flesh spire. He hoped everything would go smoothly.
Just then, Azrael saw a few fallen leaves hanging in the forest, and a man in dark green armor appeared in the blood-flesh passage before him.
"Oh, Tyranid, still playing these tricks!" Azrael laughed in anger.
Azrael saw that dark green figure, grim, strong, and terrifying; just a distant glance filled Azrael with bone-deep dread.
Lion El'Jonson had appeared in the deep flesh tunnel before him at some unknown moment, so suddenly, so inexplicably.
Azrael almost instantly believed that this was the hive mind employing its old tricks again, that the special Norn Queen named The Scourge of Macragge was trying to confuse his mind, entice him, and devour his soul in this manner.
Thus, the former Chapter Master of the Dark Angels hesitated for only two seconds before drawing the blade from his waist.
Before Helael, who was beside Azrael, could react, Azrael flashed like a black cat in the forest, swiftly moving to the side of the figure and silently crouching down.
Helael noticed this scene; he too saw the Lion.
He wanted to stop Azrael's actions, but the thought that Azrael had seen through The Scourge of Macragge's illusion last time made Helael hesitate for a moment.
In that very instant, the Lion standing in the flesh tunnel seemed to sense Azrael's presence; he slightly turned his head, about to look behind him.
Opportunity!
Azrael let out a low growl, the blade in his hand sharp as a cat's fangs, stabbing directly at the Lion's body.
The Lion turned his head, reacting faster than Azrael's sword.
Those grim eyes hidden beneath the dark golden mane locked onto Azrael's body in an impossibly short instant.
Azrael instantly felt as if he had been pierced through by thousands of rough obsidian blades; intense pain burned every nerve ending.
His expression trembled slightly; he recalled his childhood, when he was a cave-dwelling child on a cold planet, hiding beneath the snow, waiting in the bitter winter for a snowfield beast with thick fur, holding only a short dagger made from animal teeth.
He had done this many times; he had to win back the fur needed for the tribe to survive the winter.
But that time he failed.
Perhaps the old beast was too cunning, or perhaps his young body trembled slightly from the cold; in any case, he was exposed just before he made his move.
That winter beast looked down at him with grim, cunning, and fierce eyes, watching him as if to tear his body apart inch by inch to see his warm insides.
The feeling then was similar to now, yet completely different.
Azrael could feel that the gap between him and the man before him was far greater than the gap between him as a child and that giant snowfield beast back then.
Back then, Azrael fought to the death and killed that giant snowfield beast, but he now had no chance of killing this man.
Bang!!!!!
A slap landed on Azrael's helmet.
Azrael's head, along with his body, flew backward, crashing heavily against the fleshy wall of the flesh corridor.
Azrael's head was a mess, dizziness sweeping over him; he felt that the part of his brain responsible for balance had been precisely destroyed by the Lion's slap.
At this moment, a bitter smile crossed his lips.
How could it really be the Lion? That slap just now, without a doubt, was from the true Lion El'Jonson, the First Primarch, the Emperor's eldest son.
He had actually swung his sword at the Lion just now; Azrael could sense the anger emanating from the Lion.
How could the Lion not be angry that an Astartes dared to ambush him from behind just as he entered the battlefield, an act almost akin to betrayal?
"No!" A figure stood between Azrael and the Lion, Helael raising his broad greatsword, directly blocking Lion El'Jonson.
What stunned Azrael even more was that Helael's grip on the sword was completely different from before, yet it was incredibly familiar to Azrael.
It was the opening stance of Caliban's swordsmanship.
"My son." The Lion's tone held no question, only certainty.
"Ah…" A dizzy Azrael opened his mouth slightly, somewhat bewildered and surprised, but on second thought, he realized it wasn't unexpected.
"Sorry, brother, I've become somewhat accustomed to vigilance, concealing the fact that I am like you; I am also one of those 'Fallen Angels' in the words of the younger generation."
No, actually, we are not the same; I am not a Fallen Angel. To be honest, Azrael wished he were just a passing Fallen Angel right now.
"Move aside." The Lion drew his longsword, which surprised Azrael.
Could it be that in the Lion's combat instincts, Helael was a worthy opponent to draw a sword against?
The Sword of Loyalty cut through the air, so fast it made Azrael's scalp tingle.
But Helael raised his longsword, tilted the blade, and slightly bent his legs, actually deflecting the power of the Lion's strike and blocking it.
"Oh?" The Lion's voice slightly rose, as if he had noticed something interesting.
Sword met sword several times at extreme speed, and the smile on the Lion's lips grew clearer.
And Helael was actually sparring with a Primarch using an Astartes body.
The Lion slightly raised his sword, grasping a momentary flaw in Helael's swordsmanship with an extremely subtle change, forcing Helael back two or three steps.
"So it was you, my little brother." The Lion seemed to recognize Helael, and his tone softened a little.