Emperor's Bane

Chapter 847 In the Eye of Terror

“Victory comes hard.”

These were the first words uttered by the Primarch after Lorgar's expedition to the Eye of Terror and his hundredth victory.

"These Eldar, their determination to defend their homeland is much stronger than we thought."

"For a moment, they even reminded me of the Ultramarines on Ultramarine."

The Primarch evaluated his opponent with an even more contemptuous attitude: Lorgar was the winner, he was certainly qualified to do so, and he was also qualified to have a happy smile on his face, and to hang the bloody cloak on the dark red shoulder armor, which fluttered against the smelly void waves.

At this moment, if there was a fleet of the Word Bearers Legion that happened to be lost in the warp decades ago and happened to jump out at this moment: they would be surprised that they could not recognize the Primarch, because he had changed so much.

Compared to when the perfect city on the planet Kul was just built, the current Lord of the Word Bearers is very different: he has replaced scriptures and incense with a scepter that resembles a war hammer, and at his feet are no longer believers crawling on the ground, but the corpses of the alien army.

The Primarch's eyes once flickered, sometimes light gold, sometimes brown or light blue, but that was a thing of the past decades ago: soft eyes were only suitable for Lorgar walking among the ignorant or worshiping before the statue of the Emperor, not the current Lord of the Crusade.

Nowadays, the eyes of the Great Word Bearer are a more realistic cold color, occasionally a sticky blood red, but more often a plain black: whenever he escapes from the frenzy of war, black represents the Word Bearer's return to rationality and tranquility.

However, ever since their fleet had marched into the Eye of Terror and crossed the boundary between the real universe and the warp, madness and bloodshed had become the main colors of life, and the blood in Lorgar's eyes seemed to have never faded. , just like the Word Bearers' armor, which was gradually saturated from decorative dark red to real blood.

But despite this, no one thought that bathing in blood was a bad thing, because they were still winning, victories they had never imagined before: hundreds of worlds that believed in aliens and heretics were evolved one after another, and the glory that the Seventeenth Legion achieved in the expedition was several times that of the Great Crusade.

And their leader, Lorgar, is no longer a simple believer, no longer the perfect city lord who is ridiculed behind his back, no longer the last of the Primarchs who is questioned for his inefficiency and has nothing to offer except flattery.

He became the victor, conqueror, destroyer and general, the war bishop who led this bloody crusade: his gaze pierced through the chaos in the Eye of Terror, leaving no mercy or delay in his path, leaving only the wailing and ashes of the unbelievers.

No one would condemn Luo Jia like this: no matter what he actually does.

“I’m just searching.”

The Primarch, alone, climbed to the commanding heights of the entire battlefield, where he could fully appreciate the miracle he and his fleet had created in the past three days: the corpses of the Eldar covered the entire basin, and the pale armor mocked the decline of the ancient empire.

"Following my instincts, following my heart, following what I saw in my dreams and meditations, I came here, to this land where no one dares to set foot: using killing and alien blood in exchange for answers to the truth, to perceive what my God wants me to know."

The Primarch suddenly smiled.

"I have a feeling I'm going to get what I want."

"In this world right here: the hundredth victory will be the greatest victory ever."

After saying this, the Great Speaker narrowed his eyes slightly. The wind carrying sand and blood made him feel a little uncomfortable, but he still straightened his chest and once again looked around at the world he had created with his own hands, and the people on the battlefield who had always fought alongside him.

He saw the Word Bearers first, which was as it should be, since there were more of them than all the others combined: dark red armor stretched endlessly across the snow-white sand, and if one didn't look carefully, a careless person might mistakenly think the world was red.

Indeed, when Lorgar decided to embark on this holy crusade, he did not take the entire Word Bearers into account. It was impossible for him to do such a thing: ever since the City of Perfection ignited the wrath of the holy war, even the Lord of the Seventeenth Legion himself had never assembled a complete Word Bearers Legion.

No one knew how large a force the Word Bearers now possessed. Even Lorgar was not quite sure: in the past half century, he had sent at least thirteen large-scale crusade fleets to various parts of the galaxy and gave them absolute autonomy.

The so-called autonomy means that when each expedition fleet leaves the Legion, it carries with it sufficient mortal servants and members of the Mechanicum, as well as a large amount of gene seeds, so that they can be completely self-sufficient and replenish their own troops anytime and anywhere during the expedition.

For example, the Word Bearers' First Expeditionary Fleet began their holy war in the second year of the Perfect City incident. The team had a total of 25,000 people when it set out, and by the time of the Warmaster Ceremony of Ullanor, the expeditionary fleet had at least 70,000 troops.

Why is it at least? Because during the expedition, they imitated the Primarch's actions and divided their troops twice: 70,000 was only the strength of the First Expeditionary Fleet itself, while their squadron was another number.

By the way: only the Crusader fleet with more than 20,000 Word Bearers can be called large-scale, and the largest scale is the two armies of 50,000 Word Bearers warriors each that Lorgar sent to the Far East Star Region and the Silent Star Region before heading to the Eye of Terror.

That sounds exaggerated.

But for those who bear the Word, it is just a matter of going with the flow.

After all, the Word Bearers had already entered into a troop explosion mode long before the Emperor enfeoffed the various Primarchs on Ullanor: ten years after the end of the Perfect City, Lorgar and his staff had already decided to use the entire Pacific Segmentum as the base for the Seventeenth Legion in order to launch a grand plan for a galactic expedition.

By the time of Ullanor, the effects of this plan had begun to take shape: the Word Bearers were undoubtedly the largest regiment, and their numerical advantage over the other legions would only increase over time.

In addition, Lorgar used the method of continuously sending support fleets to various parts of the galaxy and paying sufficient taxes to make the high lords of Terra turn a blind eye to his massive expansion in the Taiping star field.

Compared to the Ultramarines who encountered fierce counterattacks as soon as they reached out to the Maelstrom, the Word Bearers were much smarter: they turned an entire star field into private land without causing any criticism or backlash from the outside world. Even Jonson didn't say much.

Moreover, unlike the Sons of Vengeance who are more concerned with people's livelihood construction, the Word Bearers Legion has never considered long-term development in terms of conscription and military construction: the large number of undeveloped worlds in the Pacific Segmentum and Terra's policy inclinations also allow them to wantonly encourage childbirth and use extreme religious policies to maintain social stability.

Even if the price of doing so was that the living standards of the civilians under Lorgar's rule would be far inferior to those of other Primarch fiefdoms, in the face of countless victories and expeditionary fleets, no one would want to challenge the Word Bearers on this issue.

Luo Jia himself didn't care.

In fact, the Great Bearers of Words have never enjoyed the joy of ruling a vast territory. For Luo Jia now, accepting the worship of the people of an entire star field is far less than leading 200,000 elite Bearers of Words to fight all day long in the unknown eyes of fear, which can make him feel more inner joy and satisfaction.

That's right, two hundred thousand: this number already exceeds the total strength of most Astartes Legions so far, but for Lorgar and the Word Bearers, it is only the number of carefully selected backbones of the army.

After the Primarch won a hundred victories in the Eye of Terror, the number had dropped to 140,000, but it was still boundless when spread out: it was difficult for mortal armies to achieve better results in the harsh land of the Warp, where only powerful warriors who had been transformed were trustworthy.

So, in addition to the Word Bearers who could dye the land dark red, Lorgar could also find the golden color of the Guards of the Imperial Army in the ranks of the Empire: these people did not often participate in battles, but existed more as supervisors of the Primarchs and other Astartes.

There were also the Space Wolves, the Dark Angels, the Imperial Fists and even the Emperor's Children: several Primarchs near Terra sent part of their troops to join the Word Bearers' expedition. They witnessed the bloody rebirth of the Seventeenth Legion and also made their own contributions on this land.

But to date, these elite expeditionaries have suffered considerable losses: even the most determined Dark Angels have begun to consider whether to continue this expedition that is destined to not receive any subsequent supplies, or simply turn around and return.

Their reserve troops and material supplies have been basically exhausted. The chaotic time and space in the Eye of Terror means that they will never be able to wait for the transport fleet from the real universe. Every world they encounter along the way is either inhabited by aliens, or abominable cultists and mutants. No one dares to recruit new soldiers in these lands.

They are not the Blood Angels.

This was an expedition that was destined not to achieve a perfect victory. They had to give up and return the same way after gaining another victory: the artifact bestowed by the Lord of Mankind himself was always placed at the core of the Law of Faith. It not only protected the fleet and saved them from being swallowed by the waves of the Eye of Terror, but also pointed them in the direction to return.

All it takes is one command from the Primarch.

While celebrating the victory, whispers like this were circulating among the soldiers of each legion. Even Lorgar could not ignore this matter: after all, too many representatives had come to him and mentioned the suggestion of retreating, either explicitly or implicitly. In addition, the Primarch also discovered a detail in these discussions: after he led this somewhat mixed army to victory after victory, those soldiers who originally despised the 17th Legion began to give the Word Bearers due respect.

Even as arrogant as the Dark Angels, they would forge friendships with the Word Bearers soldiers and cheer for their fearless sacrifices. And even for the extremely proud Custodians, when their leader spoke to the Primarch, Lorgar could feel the respect based on strength.

It's really interesting, he has hardly had this kind of novel experience before.

And there can be no doubt: when they return with victory, the entire galaxy will know that the Word Bearers have been transformed and are a force worthy of trust and respect.

The Primarch smiled, put such a small matter behind him, and began to think seriously about the more serious issue: this expedition should indeed come to an end, but he did not want to end it now.

In other words, he didn't want to end the expedition in this way: it took him a lot of effort to step into the Eye of Terror. If he didn't find the revelation in the dark and withdrew with a series of monotonous victories, it would be a loss.

What's more, he could feel that what he was pursuing was not far away.

Maybe on the next battlefield: or maybe even in this world right here at our feet.

Now is not the time to give up.

Think about it, Luo Jia, how much hardship you have endured over the years: although I don’t know how much time has passed in the outside world, but in the chaos of the Eye of Terror, a hundred bloody wars cannot be erased.

He fought against countless cultists, enough to overwhelm an entire expeditionary fleet, and crushed millions of skulls with his own hands, while his legion fought its way through billions of mutant phalanxes, burning mountains of blasphemy with bullets and fire, and reducing entire heretical worlds to ashes.

Behind every glorious victory, there is a price to be paid.

But all of the above is nothing compared to the victory they just achieved.

A Crone World: This means that the former overlords of the galaxy will use all their power to defend this land, and the Word Bearers Legion is determined to do the same.

Thousands of Eldar and Astartes warriors fell one after another on the pale crystalline soil. The expeditionary fleet suffered the heaviest casualties in history, but defeated the most powerful opponent they had ever encountered.

That's right.

The most powerful opponent.

The Great Bearer's gaze glanced towards the core of the entire tragic battlefield. The flames rising into the sky were enough to illuminate everyone's face. Thousands of warriors on guard surrounded them, representing their greatest achievement in this war.

It was a statue, with ferocious armor and a magma-like appearance. The huge sword of Doomsday in its hand could split mountains with just one blow. The blazing flaming eyes were enough to make the bravest warrior retreat: the towering helmet alone was as big as three Luojia stacked together.

This is an Avatar of Khaine: the ultimate weapon that the Eldar only awaken in their most desperate moments.

And Luo Jia killed it.

In front of everyone, at the core of the entire battlefield, the Primarch, who had lost his weapons in the previous war, killed the symbol of killing that the ancient empire was proud of with just his anger, blood and fists: it was this victory that completely drained the fighting spirit of the Eldar people, and they withdrew from their land like they had lost their parents, leaving behind thousands of corpses of their compatriots.

It was a glorious feast worthy of being carved in front of the Imperial Palace of Terra.

Luo Jia smiled proudly.

But his happiness did not penetrate his eyes.

Not enough, not enough. Glory and victory are enough to satisfy the warriors on the battlefield, but the followers of the God-Emperor disdain this: the reason why he seeks guidance and comes to the world of the old women is that he feels that there is something more important here.

A prize worthy enough for him to risk his life and shed the blood of countless soldiers.

It's right here on the land.

And the Primarch was about to get it.

Thinking of this, Luo Jia laughed: he felt a new direction.

This time, he won't be disappointed again.

And at this moment, the Great Speaker happened to hear footsteps.

"Angleterre."

There was no need to look back, because Luo Jia knew that there was only one person who dared to walk up to him at this time.

And the reason why Anglete came here must be for that matter.

"How is your considering?"

There was a gentle smile on the Primarch's face, and he turned around: As expected, Angertai showed unusual hesitation.

"I must admit, my Lord: few could resist your offer."