Man in Warhammer, starting Primarch.

Chapter 240:47, Plague

Crystal dust drifted in the air, floating across the bridge like a thick mist.

The sound of scholars chanting spells could be heard, and a dozen wizard servants dressed in black roared out blasphemous sacrificial runes and strange prayers.

The air above the nine-story altar began to flicker, with strange air currents swirling, and then it returned to calm.

The twisted tall figure of Fars, wearing black armor, gradually emerged in the crystal mist.

Horus looked at the scholar. The scholar in the blue feather robe understood what he meant, smiled slightly, and retreated into the shadows.

Only after making sure he had left did Horus turn his gaze towards Fars.

Fars was his descendant from ten thousand years ago, and was once the captain of the Sixteenth Legion's Moon Wolves.

He is also one of the few senior Luna Wolves commanders to have survived the Battle of Terra.

After the failed war against the Imperium, Falz fled back to the Eye of Terror with Horus's body.

But not long after that, the Third Legion, which had fallen into Slaanesh, joined forces with other Chaos warbands to burn down the Great Memorial Hall, which was the most important to the Moon Wolves, and took away Horus's body.

In order to snatch the body of the Father of Genes, the desperate Fars can only look for the Soul of Vengeance.

Trying to use Abaddon's power to regain his father's body.

If Horus could still trust anyone now, Fars would definitely be one of the few choices.

"Fars, how is the situation over there?" Horus asked.

"We have sent a rescue message in the name of the Imperial Fleet. The Lord of Destruction will surely arrive as promised. We have fought him before, and Dukel is definitely not the kind of person who will swallow his anger. We just need to wait for his arrival, but in the meantime, we need to strengthen the siege of the Imperial Fleet."

"We are ready to hunt in all directions. This time we will definitely destroy Dukel's false aura of victory."

"As long as the opponent steps into the expected position, he will have no way to escape. In order to curb his power, we have prepared artifacts excavated from the dark world. With just a small cut, his soul will face the impact of the dark power."

Hearing Fars' words, Horus nodded.

"Among all the stars, no one can win every battle. Duker is just a mortal, and he will fail too. If we want to truly defeat him, the first thing we have to do is to pierce his aura of invincibility."

"Everything will be as you wish, my Lord."

"Everything will happen as planned." Horus' eyes were firm.

He signaled the Spirit of Vengeance to start up, and a group of mechanical servants were suddenly activated, flashing a dark red light.

"If Dukel cannot lead the Empire to a better future, if he leads everything to destruction, I will spare no effort to stop him, even if it means the galaxy is set on fire again."

Horus declared as he looked at the demon sword Drachanion beside him.

The sword that was inhabited by a demon made an ugly sound as if in response to him.

Drachanian is a demon that originated from the first murder of mankind.

It originates from the cause, process, and result of one person taking the life of another.

Throughout the history of human civilization, there have been countless great moments, the first time fire was tamed, the first time a boundary was drawn between ourselves and wild beasts.

The first use of the wheel, the first invention of writing, the first step into the starry sky, etc.

Many historians regard these great moments as turning points in the fate of human civilization.

But only those wise men who are well versed in human nature know that the birth of the first murder was the beginning of human civilization.

When humans began to become calculating and began to kill their own kind just to satisfy their own ambitions, the outline of civilization gradually emerged from this ugly incident.

But humanity originated here and was destined to end here, born from the magic sword of the first murder, and Drachanion was therefore called the end of the empire.

The bloodline of betrayal and murder is the curse that the human race bears.

The long history of human civilization can also be simply summarized as a history of betrayal and murder. In wars where people wield swords against their compatriots, brothers fight against each other and relatives kill each other.

But what is amazing is that every time these scandals happen, humans often burst out with wisdom and will that even the gods would marvel at, and this amazing energy only serves to lead to the birth of murder.

The destruction of all great races has traces to follow.

The ancient saints were destroyed by the star gods.

The Eldar were destroyed by indulgence.

And humanity is destroyed by betrayal and murder.

Whenever human civilization is about to reach its glorious peak, it is plunged into the abyss by a betrayal.

The betrayal of the Iron Man and the betrayal of Horus have trapped humanity in a long night.

The more painful the blow, the more likely it is to come from the betrayal of one's loved ones.

Iron Man was once mankind's most trusted helper, but a terrifying rebellion still occurred, leaving mankind with a fear of intelligent AI.

The Emperor himself taught Horus for decades, offering him companionship and wisdom like a true father.

During the Great Crusade, Horus took over as Warmaster of the Empire because of his victory in the Battle of Ullanor, and the Emperor himself crowned him.

Because of the contract between the man who was about to become a god and the gods, when the Emperor first created the Primarchs, he had anticipated that some of them would leave him.

Some even speculated that some of his inhumane actions were intended to facilitate the Primarch's betrayal in order to prevent the Empire from suffering greater losses.

This speculation may be false, but the Empire's debt to several Primarchs is real.

But the Emperor owed nothing to Horus. The Lord of Mankind placed all his patience on Horus and taught him carefully.

But in the end, Horus betrayed him for various reasons and led the traitorous Primarchs to fight with the loyal Primarchs.

Even when facing the most vicious enemies, human civilization has never been destroyed in a war against foreign enemies. Every fatal blow to humanity has come from within.

Betrayal and murder are the suffering of mankind, the beginning and end of destiny.

No matter how much humanity achieves or how powerful it becomes.

Their hands are always inevitably stained with the blood of their loved ones.

The Imperial fleet trapped in the whirlpool storm is still struggling hard.

In order to prevent the fleet from being overwhelmed, Efilar had already put on the navigator's helmet himself.

The psykers of the Torch Court formed a circle, chanting obscure spells.

Using the Navigator Helmet, Efilar amplified his own mental force field, forming a ball of light burning with hot flames in the subspace.

The fire of the soul burned fiercely, radiating energy like a supernova. Under the protection of the flames, the warp storm could no longer engulf the Imperial fleet.

Humanity seemed to have stabilized the situation again and was gaining the upper hand.

However, the price he paid was that Efilar felt as if his body was about to be burned out every minute and every second.

Every second was excruciating pain, and at this moment, the Saint almost felt the Emperor's situation. Just keeping the fleet afloat in the warp storm had already caused her such suffering.

And what the Emperor had to maintain was countless times more than what she had. It was hard to imagine what kind of torture the man trapped on the throne had endured for tens of thousands of years.

Asmodai, the chief interrogator of the Dark Angels, watched the saint's suffering and inevitably felt a sense of self-blame in his heart.

It can almost be said that he was the one who caused the Imperial Fleet to fall into the current predicament. He had persuaded the Saint to continue to go deeper into the warp several times, which led to the Saint suffering such hardship.

In the saint's pain, he finally realized his extreme paranoia towards chaos and betrayers.

Maybe this is why the Lion King hates him.

This extreme paranoia caused him to lose his rational judgment, resulting in the meaningless sacrifice of innocent soldiers.

Perhaps it was because of this that the Lion King dismissed him from his post and allowed him to reflect calmly.

In the chaotic Sea of ​​Souls, perhaps it was realized that the Warp Storm could no longer cause any damage to the Imperial fleet.

The ships hidden in the chaos began to appear little by little.

They broke up into small groups and formed hunting teams, attacking the Imperial fleet from all directions.

The loyalists fought again and again, exhausted.

Passing through a cloud of acid mist condensed from jealousy, a vicious swarm of flies, comparable in size to a group of frigates, attacked the Imperial fleet.

The vicious flies gathered into a blasphemous storm, and several frigates were on the verge of collapse.

Even more terrifying was that the unclean plague carried by the vicious swarms of flies infected the fleet's sailors and spread rapidly within the fleet.

The psykers built shields to ward off the plague of the Warp.

Asmodai himself made his way to the plagued ships, protected by several Primaris Space Marines.

He felt that he needed to do something to atone for his sins, and when he walked out of the message room, Asmodai clearly felt a vicious emotion.

The plague is spread on the emotional level, and the experienced Asmodai quickly made a judgment in his mind.

The plague not only infected human bodies, but also ships.

Asmodai saw disgusting pustules growing on the alloy walls of the ship.

Faint whispers echoed in the air, and the buzzing of flies obscured the nuclear-powered wall lamps.

The smoke-like fungus lingers on electronic equipment everywhere.

The soldiers, armed with flamethrowers, went back and forth again and again, trying to eliminate them all with fire.

But they always hide in the gaps of machinery before the flames come. These cunning flies look for any gaps they can pass through and block the ventilation ducts in swarms.

The humans in the entire fleet did not dare to take off their protective clothing even when sleeping, but they still could not stop the spread of the plague.

Those infected patients had large abscesses that festered and caused excruciating wounds at the slightest touch.

Asmodai looked at these unfortunate mortals, who groaned in pain and muffled groans.

"Kill me, my lord, please."

A mortal soldier prayed to Asmodai, saying that if the soldier was not weak at the moment, he might have killed himself with his own hands to free himself from this suffering.

From his mask, Asmodai saw wriggling black spots, and some disgusting flies crawled out of his wounds, vibrating their wings and making buzzing sounds.

The blasphemous creatures have already used the soldiers as their breeding grounds, and the weak and powerless soldiers can only passively wait for death to come.

A ship's doctor came over, festering wounds on his face.

The doctor comforted the soldier, injected him with a large amount of sedatives, and sent him to a slightly cleaner place.

Large numbers of doctors and legion pharmacists were running around, trying to heal their compatriots.

But they themselves had been infected with the plague.

Such scenes have appeared more than once in Asmodai's memory, which is why he hates chaos.

Seeing Chaos torturing loyal warriors in such a cruel way, who wouldn't feel anger rising in their heart?

But this time, Asmodai decided to control his anger. He reminded himself to learn to exercise rational restraint to avoid more tragedies.

Fortunately, although the plague is still raging, it has been generally under control.

Amid the prayers of the nuns and the virtual priests, the loyalists infected by the vicious plague fell asleep one by one.

They fell into a blissful dream, in which they saw a huge golden eagle spreading its wings and falling from the top of the sky.

The pollution from Chaos was expelled and turned into screaming and howling monsters.

The soldiers are receiving treatment, but it will take time.

But Efilar reached her limit at this moment. Due to the excessive burning of psychic and mental energy, she became extremely weak.

The saint's girlish skin now had barely noticeable wrinkles, but she still couldn't stop, otherwise the terrible warp storm would engulf them in an instant.

Once they are scattered in the storm, there will be no recovery.

At this moment, the saint was also tormented by endless illusions because of excessive overdraft.

It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to concentrate. In her vision, she saw the Warmaster she followed fall, and countless warriors killing each other with his brothers.

The powerful imperial fleet no longer faced the enemy in unison, but instead pointed its guns at each other.

She saw that those worlds that had once shown some signs of improvement were once again shrouded in the shadow of chaos, with humans holding weapons and killing each other.

The bright future that millions of people around the world had been looking forward to became a bubble, and the glory they had been pursuing was extinguished and disappeared.

With the foreshadowing of various illusions, Efilar understood what the enemy was going to do and why they had been reluctant to launch an attack.

The imperial fleet she led has now become bait for the enemy.

Confused whispers echoed in the saint's mind, day and night.

These illusions whipped Efilar's soul like the most vicious torture.

Those voices kept repeating themselves, trying to completely break down her defenses and lead the saint to fall.

Let her completely become a member of the subspace.

On the other side, Dukel had already set sail, the Sky Eagle flag of Destiny was lit again, and the red flames of destruction were burning fiercely on the Sea of ​​Souls.

Countless dark beings who had no time to escape were drawn into it, becoming victims of the Warmaster's physical wrath.

(End of this chapter)