Man in Warhammer, starting Primarch.

Chapter 239:46, Siege

Efilar and his officers were discussing the tactical arrangements for the surprise attack on Abaddon. At this moment, a violent shock swept through the entire fleet, and the command center shook continuously.

Blazing wings rose up behind the saint, and she alone held up an extremely solid barrier of heart, which barely stabilized the declining situation in this subspace impact.

The nuns sang hymns in unison. With the joint efforts of them and the saints, they finally survived this crazy and raging chaotic storm.

Without the mental matrix they jointly constructed, the entire fleet would probably be scattered by the storm in an instant and lost in the deep subspace, with only corruption or death waiting for them.

The deadly crisis came so quickly that all loyalist fighters were caught off guard.

The Empire's reconnaissance ships have yet to discover where this horrific attack came from.

The unknown enemy is shrouded in a veil of mystery and may leap out of the Sea of ​​Souls at any time and launch a fatal blow to the Imperial Fleet.

Like prey surrounded by a pack of wolves, everyone in the Imperial Fleet became unconsciously nervous before the next attack.

The Warp showed its vicious fangs to those invaders who dared to defy it, and indescribable whispers seeped in from the weak points of the force field.

Although such infiltration was far from fatal, it still caused the crew to wail and groan in pain under the terrible pressure of the warp.

Terrible nightmares tormented them, and the unimaginably huge Warp hurricanes made communication between fleets difficult.

The most terrifying thing is that even the Imperial Star Torch in the astropath's sight began to flicker at this time, and it is possible that it will disappear completely at any time.

Crazy scenes appeared in the eyes of each psychic, and they also became crazy. With no choice, the Space Marines had to knock them out temporarily and send them to the church of the Void Order.

Only there can the poor psychics enjoy a moment of precious peace.

In comparison, the flickering of the Astronomican is more worrying. Without the Astronomican, the Imperial fleet cannot locate the barrier between reality and the subspace in the subspace.

Under such circumstances, it is almost impossible for them to escape from the subspace, and they will only be lost forever in this chaotic and crazy dimension.

The warp storm called the Eye of Terror is an extremely special and terrifying place in the warp.

This is the intersection of the material universe and the sea of ​​soul, and the place where reality and illusion coexist.

Only the Emperor's might is enough to penetrate here. Without the guidance of the Star Torch, it is unknown whether one can rely on the virtual realm to jump.

Even the latest device developed by Kaul and Gris would hardly help them locate their coordinates here.

Without the coordinates, even if War Marshal Dukel wanted to rescue them, he would not be able to find them.

What's worse is that it has become extremely difficult for them to convey messages to the outside world at this moment.

If nothing is done, they will most likely die here in silence.

The fleet led by Efilar encountered a Chaos trap. The Saint drew her weapon, and wings of fire bloomed behind her. She was ready for a big battle.

But the enemy's cunning was beyond her expectations. Ephilar imagined that the enemy who attacked them was Abaddon, but as time passed, she quickly overturned this assumption.

The Empire had fought against Abaddon before, and it was undeniable that Abaddon was also an excellent commander, but in comparison, he was far less vicious and steady.

That's right, it's steady. Efilar had been through hundreds of battles, but this was the first time she saw the steady and cautious style of war in the crazy and wanton demon.

These chaotic and blasphemous creatures seemed to have learned to restrain their edge overnight, causing the imperial soldiers to engage in a difficult battle.

The enemy did not rush to launch a fierce attack, but instead tested them again and again like a pack of wolves, looking for their weaknesses.

In these passive defenses, the soldiers inevitably became tired.

Everyone on every ship is on edge and in a constant state of anxiety due to the possible attacks that may come at any time.

This is a huge drain on the soldiers' physical strength.

In the deep darkness of the warp, it seemed as if millions of wild beasts were staring at them with malicious intent, waiting for them to slack off. The omnipresent sense of crisis made it difficult for everyone to breathe.

This situation made them very anxious.

Ephilar is trapped in the Warp.

Although the enemy has not launched a general attack.

But from time to time, several giant ships on the edge were harassed. When the large force wanted to rescue them, they found that the enemy's attack had already been completed.

Under such circumstances, the Imperial Fleet inevitably suffered damage.

Although the damage to the fleet was not serious for several weeks, everyone knew that the damage would increase exponentially as time went on.

Once the wolves really bit their bodies, their defeat would be imminent.

In this depressing atmosphere, the mortal soldiers have gradually lost control of their own emotions.

Even the Space Marines who had undergone the Primaris transformation surgery looked tired due to being on guard for a long time.

And within the fleet, the largest number of mortal servants were inevitably affected by negative effects due to being under high pressure for a long time.

Symptoms range from vomiting and diarrhea to depression.

Before the enemy actually attacked them, the fear it brought crushed the spirits of the mortals.

The nuns also looked exhausted. The sisters of the Spiritual Order walked among them every day, using sacred songs to bestow collective blessings on the mortals to prevent them from completely collapsing.

The result of doing this is just to allow ordinary people to sleep peacefully.

Several weeks passed like this, and the enemy's general attack still did not arrive. The mental matrix had almost reached its limit, and more and more unclean energy seeped in.

The omnipresent illusions made it difficult for the imperial soldiers to distinguish between reality and illusion.

There was no way out and they had lost their way, and even the imperial officials were filled with despair.

During this period, Efilar could only trudge hard in the disordered flow of time and the turbulent warp storm.

But she did not despair in her heart. Even though she fell into such a situation, her connection with the mental network still existed.

Through the Internet, she can keep in touch with Duke and other members of the Heart Network at any time.

But this does not mean that she can break through the difficulties at any time. Without knowing the specific coordinates, even Duker's eyes cannot see them.

Efilar needs to use telepathic sensors to lock onto the chaotic space-time where she is, so that the Empire's reinforcements can find her location.

Lock on to your current coordinates before your enemies deliver a fatal blow to them.

It's a race against time.

But Efilar wanted more than just to escape from the predicament. She wanted to thoroughly understand the enemy who attacked her before being rescued.

Such a vicious and steady enemy must not be allowed to hide in the subspace.

And somewhere in the subspace, the huge Spirit of Vengeance was floating silently in the void. Unlike the vortex storm on Efilar's side, where the Spirit of Vengeance was, there was peace.

Horus stood on the bridge, looking at the prying eyes opened by the wizards with a cold expression.

It was Efilar's fleet that the prying eyes were watching.

The enemy was struggling to escape the trap he had set. Horus's burly figure stood like a mountain, wearing the heavy armor of the Ultimate.

The sound of footsteps and the heavy breathing of the prisoner echoed in his ears, interrupting his thoughts.

Horus glanced at the fallen Primaris Marine.

The opponent's armor was torn and his scapula was pierced by an iron hook.

The loyal man's handsome broad face was covered in blood, and his unwilling eyes were filled with tangible anger.

But when Horus looked at him, he was smiling, not angry at his look.

The warriors of the empire are becoming increasingly powerful, even rivaling those famous great demons.

Horus had no doubt that these powerful and wise warriors would one day recognize his good intentions.

He walked up to the loyalist, and the yellow paint and legion symbol on his body allowed him to see his identity clearly.

Belongs to the 7th Legion of the Empire and is the descendant of the Primarch Dorn.

"It's you, the son of betrayal." With every word the loyalist spoke, a large amount of blood flowed from his mouth, but this still could not drown out the shock in his tone.

He looked seriously injured, but actually his injuries were not fatal. The tenacious vitality of the Primaris Space Marine was repairing those terrible wounds bit by bit.

"There is no such thing as betrayal, pathetic child. You don't even know what kind of person you are following."

Horus looked down upon the warrior.

"Dukerr can only bring war and destruction. You will not gain any glory by following him. In the end, you will only face eternal nothingness in regret." He said to the descendants of Dorne.

If possible, he hoped that the other party would follow him and help him stop Duker.

But Horus was destined to be disappointed, for the warriors of the Imperial Fists were as stubborn as their genetic father.

Every word he said at this time was regarded as instigation and deception by the other party.

"You will pay the price, son of betrayal." The Imperial Fists said with hatred.

"Perhaps." Horus showed an indifferent attitude, "I am a dead soul returned from the underworld. Maybe I will return there eventually, but before that I have to complete my mission."

After Horus finished speaking, he ignored him and shifted his gaze to look curiously at the captured imperial ships.

Without the protection of its force field, the Imperial ship was exposed to the invasion of the Warp, and unclean flesh and pus grew on the surface of the hull.

At this moment, the mechanical priests could even clearly hear the wailing from the machine soul. The terrible blasphemous energy was polluting this loyal warship.

Horus looked at the configuration of the ship with a hint of amazement in his eyes.

After being transformed with the Empire's latest technology, this Imperial battleship has performance far superior to that of the Empire's old model battleships.

Dense arrays of light spears were piled up on the edge of the battleship, and no one dared to underestimate the firepower of the ship with its densely packed macro cannons.

When seeing some innovative technologies, a hint of jealousy flashed in Horus' eyes.

He knew clearly whose wisdom these were. Apart from Dukel, Horus could not think of anyone else in the current empire who had such ability.

Horus even publicly admitted that he was jealous of the talents of the Second Primarch. In terms of scientific research and personal bravery, the Second possessed talents far beyond his fellow Primarchs, and had been the undisputed number one besides the Emperor ten thousand years ago.

But Horus would not feel ashamed of himself because he was confident that he could do better than Duker in many other areas.

Most importantly, in Horus' eyes, Dukir's radical character was a very serious character flaw.

Horus remembered that ten thousand years ago, when Dukel had just returned, his legion had not yet been recalled.

Under such circumstances, the other party dared to take only two soldiers to suppress a world that dared to go against his will.

At the time, Horus thought he was crazy.

But Dukel succeeded in the end. He used martial arts that surpassed everything in the mortal world and conquered that world almost single-handedly.

In that war, the always arrogant Horus had to admit the gap between him and the enemy.

It was also after that war that the perfectionist Fulgrim decided to emulate the other side, but was blocked by his Primarch brothers.

Even Number Two gave him sincere advice using a proverb from his hometown.

But such behavior made Fulgrim feel insulted, and No. 3 felt resentful about it and thought that Dukel was hypocritical.

Horus recalled the details of the past.

But at this moment, the magic sword Drachanion behind him began to tremble in anger.

Horus's failure to kill the Imperial Fists aroused the dissatisfaction of the demon sword.

It longs to devour the soul of a powerful warrior.

But what met him was a heavy blow from Horus.

"Behave yourself!" Horus roared at the sword, "If you don't learn to surrender, I will break you in pieces and bury you deep in the dark stars, sealing you for eternity!"

As he roared, the magic sword calmed down.

A feeling of resentment rose in Drachanian's heart, but he knew that Horus was different from Abaddon, the other was more powerful and kept his word.

Feeling the sword calm him down, Horus ignored him.

He originally disdained to use this magic sword that originated from the first murder of mankind, but in this contest with Dukel, he understood that he had to use all the power he could.

At his call, new warbands arrived every day from various demon planets in the Warp and the Hellforge to join his fleet.

But this is far from enough.

Horus strictly requires the demons to abide by the discipline he has set, and anyone who disobeys his will will be severely punished.

If he had done it alone, it would have been difficult to accomplish this, but with the help of four friends, everything was implemented smoothly.

"Help me get through to Fars." Horus said to the scholar beside him.

"Let me hear how things are going over there."

"As you wish." The scholar in blue robe agreed.

Then he turned the nine-sided crystal in his hand and carved a magic circle with nine runes on the table.

Horus watched him act, and the previous events had caused a rift between him and his four friends.

This person is not trustworthy, but still useful.

Horus said to himself.

(End of this chapter)