Emperor's Bane

Chapter 176 The Blonde Beast ([-])

There were countless feats of being in the chamber that remained unfinished, for Horus knew they had no chance to accomplish them.

——— Horus, the impression after seeing No.11's training cabin

------

Apple.

Morgan suddenly thought of the word.

Apple, an apple.

A delicacy belonging to the Angiosperm phylum, Rosaceae, Malus genus, long extinct on Sacred Terra and most of the worlds in this empty galaxy, or is the same as most things in this universe now. As usual, it becomes a matter that has nothing to do with the original definition thousands of years ago.

After all, how many existences can withstand the baptism of the years and stand proudly at the end of the long flow of time?
……

Apple.

She forgot what it looked like, she forgot its luster and color, as if she had never seen it before.

But Morgan remembers the taste of it, she remembers how the slightly sweet flow would moisten her when her teeth bit through the thin and crispy skin, finely cutting and sucking the flesh and juice Tongue, played between her teeth, and then ordered her throat to move every muscle, swallowing it little by little.

How delicious.

How sweet.

Not to mention the accompanying, countless wailing and crying.

Such delicious delicacy is rare in the world.

So rare, so rare, she tried her best, but she only tasted a few superficially. On the battlefield of the fall of blood relatives and the end of the world, she picked apples and put them into her mouth.

That seemed like a long time ago.

Or... the next thing.

Morgan opened his eyes.

She is in the dark.

She heard a call: a feeble dream, a cold invitation.

In that darkness.

The blond beast, or rather, part of the beast, was waiting for her.

She opened her eyes.

She smiled.

She moves forward.

She is salivating.

------

"This is a spacious place, why didn't we discover it before."

On that wall made of pure steel, Abaddon saw a detailed map, which clearly marked all passages and rooms within tens of kilometers.

This is a huge kingdom, which is almost completely hidden underground. On this detailed map, a corner of it is revealed at random: intricate passages, spacious rotundas and underground plazas, densely packed storage rooms of all kinds The dormitory is like a hive of compartments, so tight that it is terrifying, and at the end of the map, there is a large area that can be blurred.

Abaddon nodded, he knew what this ambiguity meant: it seemed that they were lucky, and they were not far from the core of this huge underground kingdom.

Thinking of this, his eyes glanced at the sign in the lower left corner of the map: this sign is also the only decoration and light source on these empty walls: they exude a more terrifying gloom than the icy cold air here.

It was an eagle, an eagle that was too sharp and solemn.

That's the logo of the No.11 Legion.

This is their place. If he guessed correctly, this should be one of the main command centers of the No.11 Legion in the previous Randan War, and it is the remains of the legion that mysteriously disappeared during the war.

Perhaps they could find some clues here, or even survivors, to know what happened. Thinking of this, Abaddon looked at the figure looming in the darkness, dominating the Second Legion.

Presumably, Mr. Morgan also had the same purpose, but...

It's really gloomy here.

The most reckless son of the Wolf God touched his dry cheek embarrassingly: Abaddon didn't like this place very much, it was dark, cold, and there was no smell of war, sweat, or blood.

But he still came: after all, the Primarch, whom his genetic father had instructed him to protect, was the first person to step into this underground labyrinth.

At this time, it was already the fourth hour of the landing operation, and the war on the ground was basically over. Under the onslaught of the two Primarchs and [-] Luna Wolves, all the soldiers belonging to the alien army Fortresses and fortresses didn't last even three terra standard hours, and the war changed from assaulting fortifications to purely sweeping activities.

After losing their emperor, these formerly terrifying opponents seem to have lost some kind of core strength: they are still fighting furiously and fighting to the death, but they are no longer worthy of the Astartes' cherishing treatment. Formidable warriors, they have gone from throne-chasers capable of battling the Empire of Man to an unremarkable alien threat: a threat like the one the Luna Wolves have razed over the past 70-odd years. No less than a hundred.

Abaddon even felt a kind of disdain from the bottom of his heart: If this is Ran Dan, the so-called strongest enemy who caused the Dark Angels to bleed all over the ground, then it can only mean that the famous Six Wings Army But that's all.

Perhaps those inner rings who have been famous for a long time are just a group of guys who are proud of their past achievements. If he can mobilize a group of Justalins, he will definitely be able to defeat the so-called inner ring veterans who are several times their size.

So thought the Son of Horus, he was so proud: of course he had good reason to be so arrogant,

After all, with the end of the so-called Randan War, Zhuang Sen's knights could no longer challenge the prestige of the Shadow Moon Wolf.

From the moment the war ended, the Wolf God and his pack of gray and white wolves were the most glorious force in the Empire, and will continue until the end of the Great Crusade and everything.

Abaddon thought so, and was so proud, but his eyes did not indulge in such honor for too long: Although Abaddon may not be a very intelligent person compared with his companions, he is still Is an excellent commander: in some respects.

The First Company Commander looked away from the detailed map, he looked at those cold and empty passages, and estimated whether they could support Gastalin's activities, and in his mind, he repeated He recalled every detail of that map over and over again: the more he recalled, the more emotional he felt, this is really a giant hidden underground.

This unremarkable and undecorated passage alone is enough for six Gastarin Terminator to advance side by side, and there is still some surplus.

No wonder those aliens wanted to build a special fortress to block the entrance, and if the Lord of the Second Legion hadn't firmly walked towards the hidden door, the Shadow Moon Wolves would never have found this place.

But then again, why did those aliens completely seal the entrance?If it wasn't for the mighty power from Lord Morgan, they wouldn't be able to come in in a short time.

Abaddon blinked his eyes, and he ordered himself to observe the surrounding situation and things once again: this underground kingdom has obviously been abandoned for a while, all its lighting facilities have been destroyed, leaving only the A darkness that the most vicious sunlight cannot reach.

In this bleakest environment, even the Astartes warriors can only rely on the automatic sensing system and optical imaging system on their helmets to move forward cautiously in this shadow. Under the exquisite control of the sons of Horus, the sound of the thick armor stepping on the steel floor is no harsher than a lightly thrown stone, but in this extremely quiet situation, it can still make people feel uncomfortable. I can hear you clearly.

In this way, this team: one Primarch, six Morgan's sons, fifteen Gastarin warriors, and 27 experienced Luna Wolves, plus the first company commander Abaddon himself , this team of 50 people is advancing in this empty and uninhabited underground world, walking in a corridor that is too long.

Abaddon blinked, accurately counting the time, and at the same time keeping an eye on the communicator in his hand: long before he entered, he had sent a message to his genetic father, and if something happened, he needed to ensure that Horus would Be the first to know.

But so far, everything looks fine.

Until the group of people came to the end of this wide passage, and walked into a darkness that was too deep, even the Astartes warriors could not see too far here with the naked eye if they did not use the visual instruments on the helmet, but even In this way, Abaddon was still able to barely recognize the environment here: this is a hall, a hall big enough to accommodate a mortal legion, its magnificent arc dome is at least a hundred meters away from the [ground] they are standing on, just like a reflection in the underground palace.

But in front of Abaddon, the Lord of the Second Legion could see more clearly, she knew what was in front of her with just one glance.

This is a hall, an unimaginably huge hall, enough to accommodate tens of thousands or even more people standing here, listening to the voice of the master of this underground kingdom.

It consists of a five-story grandstand, a wide central square and a 50-meter-high arc-shaped embedded curtain wall. The arc dome, the iron stone floor, and countless seats and station signs exist in the tightest order. There is a perfect but unshakable distance between each other.

Standing anywhere in this palace, the scenery you can see will be exactly the same: empty fields, cold walls, and the flag of the Imperial Skyhawk will be hung on the highest or most conspicuous place, as the only one. Decorations, and on the left and right sides of this grand hall, there are one hundred identical Doric marble stone columns, starting from the entrance of the hall, they are neatly arranged, and will have an area of ​​tens of thousands of square meters. The subterranean realm wraps around and extends to the end of this magnificent building and the most noble place: the auditorium.

The podium is the highest point in this great auditorium. It stands on a base with two hundred steps, relying on a huge and gorgeous statue of the emperor who is almost exaggerated. Standing on it, you can easily overlook the In any corner, when the people below raise their heads and look up at the figures above the podium, a kind of status gap and contrast will make anyone produce a kind of obvious admiration and emptiness.

Authority, collective, obedience, greatness.

Words like these would seem to ring in anyone's chest at the sight of this synagogue.

Morgan gazed at the statue that belonged to the Emperor, imagining her brother standing there, addressing his Legion.

Everything here is so cold and realistic: whether it is the almost undecorated walls and auditorium, or the ground that wishes to be completely molded with steel, or even the plain scratches on the statue of the emperor, it all shows that at this point.

But on the other hand: in the vast auditorium with a height of [-] meters and an area of ​​tens of thousands of meters, it is a huge waste of resources and space, and the wide and meaningless passage they just passed, and It seems to be telling the master's incomparable obsession with formalism and grand narrative.

Rationality and fanaticism, precision and waste.

There is no conflict.

And judging from how rigorously everything has been shaped, the owner here has undoubtedly received a lot of support: There are many forces who support his ideas from the bottom of his heart, so he has shaped this grand but wasteful underground kingdom .

The Spider Queen even wanted to laugh. Once upon a time, she even thought that these Astartes warriors were the most steadfast existences, but looking at it now, the method her blood relatives use to control her legion is actually not new.

The Lord of the Second Legion even took about a second to think about what he could learn from that blood relative he had never met.

In fact, she's been wondering how to deal with her legion lately: she's not going to be a bad mother.

At the very least, she didn't want anyone to see the bad side.

This also shows that those warriors who are loyal to the Emperor: No matter how much she dislikes them, she cannot let them go out in a bloody or overly obvious way. She must be a kind mother of genes, a relative to her The other blood relatives, a character who is easier to talk to, appeared in front of everyone.

As for those stubborn Terrans who are destined not to let her use too well: they can retire, they can be in the second line, and they can get a share of possession before her growing desire to control swallows the entire legion. With a position of respect and decency, they would be the best testimonies of her gentle rule.

As for those who are not reconciled to this: her blood relatives seem to have demonstrated to her how to use worship and community, glory and hardship to reasonably consume them on the battlefield.

Let those diehards walk into the battlefield and the smoke of gunpowder to their heart's content, let them throw themselves into the craziest flames of war, die dignifiedly under the curtain of the Great Crusade, and gain those useless posthumous names, let their The name will only be in the mouths of all successors, and the so-called wall of merit will last for a long time.

She will put them on the fiercest and most glorious battlefield, and let those Terrans enjoy the closest kiss of death as the pinnacle of every critical moment, and what they can get is a copy of the truth. Unknowingly, cold death.

She had that patience and let them die in battle one by one.

Then the Legion was hers.

Morgan thought, laughed, and moved on.

But then, she frowned.

What did she feel.

Without thinking too much, Morgan pushed her will and stepped into an invisible door in the darkness: someone was inviting her.

There is food talking.

------

Hector felt nothing but a trance.

He patted himself on the head to keep his sanity clear. This action took him only a moment.

Then, when he opened his eyes again.

His genetic mother is gone.

……

……

？ ！！

------

Chaos hit the team and lasted a few seconds.

Just when Abaddon and others were stupefied, Hector raised his head, felt the connection between him and his gene mother, and ran all the way out: five swift shadows flashed beside him.

"...Keep up!"

Abaddon didn't hesitate, and all the Shadow Moon Wolves immediately started to fight. Their heavy breathing and chaotic footsteps exploded in this dead hall, and countless invisible waves of air came out, like a ghost under the moon. The wolves howled in the valley.

The company commander of Horus rushed to the front of all the Luna Wolves, and the heavily armed Justalin stood behind him on guard, while the lighter Sons of Horus slowly dispersed while running. Draw an arc.

The auditorium was very wide, maybe tens of thousands of square meters, but at the speed of the Astartes running at full speed, it was quickly passed through.

At the end of Abaddon's field of vision, he passed the majestic podium, and his perspective caught some problems: at the foot of this exquisite building made of marble and precious wood, there seemed to be some objects that were particularly disruptive to the beauty and overall harmony. Bloodstained: They look like they've been there for a while, in a sort of exploding shape, as if something was ripped apart here.

They crossed the podium and swept over the steps in three steps, only to see more and more blood along the way, and even some broken armor fragments and bones: obviously, some very bad things happened here. things.

In front of them, Hector was still advancing rapidly: the moment he lost the figure of his genetic mother, he felt some kind of burning object exist in his brain and will, guiding his steps .

He didn't hesitate: until he saw something behind the curtain wall of the podium.

There were doors, ten of them, and they were very wrong.

Abaddon's team followed one after another, and the beloved son of Horus only adjusted his breath and felt something in sequence.

He stomped his feet, only to feel that his iron boots seemed to be stuck by something sticky, and with a little effort, he trudged to Hector's side.

He was facing a gate and hesitated there.

Abaddon walked over, and he glanced at the gate: the gate was steel, taller than two Astartes stacked, but there was something on it.

That thing: it occupies more than half of the door, has a dense texture, and looks very sticky to the touch, it seems...

moving.

Shadow Moon Wolf froze for a moment.

He touched it.

The next moment, he knew what it was.

"Gudong."

Abaddon swallowed his saliva, which was a sign that a cold sweat was about to flow.

------

That's meat.

It's breathing.

(End of this chapter)