Man in Warhammer, starting Primarch.

Chapter 251:58, State Religion Priest: The Emperor is God, so he is not God

"I see through that man's superficial gold suit, but you are still deceived by it." Luo Jia looked down at the priest from the state religion. In his eyes, this man was so pitiful for dedicating his sincere faith to a hypocritical god.

But Luo Jia would not laugh at him, because he had been like that before. He had also worshipped that man as a god and carried out his deeds in his name, but in the end he was destroyed and humiliated.

The priest's unrepentant piety made Luo Jia see the shadow of ten thousand years ago, which undoubtedly aroused his compassion.

Fortunately, the pastor could still be saved and just needed a little guidance from him.

Luojia is willing to be the guide, not only to help a lost person to be liberated, but more importantly, the Great Speaker hopes to see that person's fanatics abandon him.

But the pastor didn't seem to appreciate this. He shook his head slowly and said to the Great Speaker,
"The true God does not care about anyone's opinion, nor does he force belief. If you believe in him and chant his name, he will look at you with mercy, that's all. If you do not believe in him and betray his name, he will not be sad."

Luo Jia was silent.

Because he could tell that the pastor's answer was not original, but came from the Book of the Holy Scriptures.

Well, that book of holy words compiled by him.

Luo Jia was a little angry, and he immediately questioned the priest,
"You say he is a true god, but that man is cruel and ruthless. He only regards you as tools and expects you to fight for him. He has never shown you a good path. He only hopes that you will keep fighting forever and suffer in this mortal world!"

Luo Jia used suffering to question the pastor's heart.

But the pastor remained unmoved. "We do this voluntarily. Everything is in accordance with His will. We are willing to be driven by Him. If He pays us to fight for Him, then this is not faith, but a transaction of exchanging interests."

Hearing the pastor's answer, Luo Jia's tone paused.

He could tell that the other party's answer had gradually deviated from the Holy Scriptures and had some specious answers.

For nearly ten thousand years, Luo Jia has been besieged by the Crow King, so he is not aware of the development of the state religion.

"You are doing great things in his name, but he hates the title of God." Luo Jia said to the priest again. He stared into his eyes to see how he would answer this question.

“Only the true God would deny His own divinity. Because He is God, He can be anything. He says He is not God, and then He is not God, because He is God.”

Luo Jia: “.”

The Great Speaker was speechless for several times, and then he angrily snatched the flamethrower from his offspring's hand, "I will burn you to death. No one can give you salvation, not even your God, because He is not a true God and cannot do such a thing!"

The roar of the Demon Primarch made the whole room tremble. His anger had almost become tangible, and even his descendants could not help but tremble.

The priest was also trembling, but he remained unyielding. "All the sufferings are the trials bestowed upon me by the true God. In suffering, the souls of the pious will be purified. Good conduct will always shine in suffering. The flames will burn my body and wash away my sins. In the final salvation, faith will guide my soul to His kingdom of heaven."

As soon as these words came out, the Great Bearer's cheeks trembled with anger. Just when everyone thought that he was going to press the switch of the flamethrower and burn the priest to death.

But the next second, Luo Jia threw the flamethrower heavily to the ground.

He walked away, silently retracting his previous thoughts - this pastor was beyond help.

When Horus learned what happened here, his brows frowned slightly.

The pastor is not an isolated case. Although he thinks strong faith is foolish, no one dares to underestimate its power.

"I hope this won't cause us any unexpected obstacles." Horus muttered to himself. He looked to his side. "Is this also part of your plan?"

"Of course." The scholar in blue smiled, "Everything is as planned. All the changes are what I want."

Seeing the other person's smile, Horus nodded without saying anything more.

But for some reason, he suddenly had an urge to strangle the other person to death.

Villa IV, ground battlefield.

Through the observation holes of the bunker, the imperial soldiers could already see the overwhelming monsters, like a bloody wave, rushing towards them in an endless stream.

On the battlefield, even the Imperial Divine Soldiers like the Titans would be swallowed up by the waves, with their bodies covered with densely packed demons of all kinds.

The blasphemous objects were madly attacking the loyalists' defenses. All kinds of demonic aircraft were chasing the imperial fighters in the sky. From time to time, steel creations would break their wings in the air, fall down in flames, and cause a huge explosion in the distance.

In the temple city, Efilar, who was already ready to join the war, was now stunned as she watched a group of Eldar allies appear silently in front of her.

These Eldar buffoons provided the Empire with large quantities of military supplies and brought orders from the Imperial Warmaster.

The Inquisitor-Priest Asmodai had already gone to the battlefield, and he saw the pale mist of the plague rising into the sky like a pillar of boiling flame.

The currents of the Sea of ​​Souls have swept across this world.

The terrifying tentacles of darkness will extend to every loyal soldier.

After a series of battles, Asmodai, who had already undergone Primaris transformation, was already a little tired.

But he had no intention of withdrawing from the battle. On the contrary, the war with the blasphemer made him very motivated.

The fire of revenge in his heart burned more and more fiercely, almost turning him into flames.

He is a priest, but also a strong warrior.

Asmodai chanted a prayer to the Emperor while waving his weapon.

The prayers praising the Emperor are not useless, as the demons always let out shrill screams amidst the sounds.

Profane creatures cannot hear the sacred sound. They will weaken at a speed visible to the naked eye and then be easily killed by the imperial soldiers.

Asmodai's arrival always brings out inspiring cheers from the soldiers who are fighting hard.

But this sound is always short-lived, and the soldiers must concentrate fully on the battle to ensure that the defense line is not breached.

The demon that just rushed up was killed, and soon more enemies came up.

Accompanied by the pale mist, some dead bodies with blood and flesh blurred and internal organs exposed walked out with stiff steps.

The clothes of the dead were extremely dirty, but one could still vaguely see that their clothes were tattered.

These people died of the plague and eventually became slaves of Nurgle's followers.

The walking corpses come from the conquered human worlds. Their souls are enslaved by demons, and even their dead bodies cannot rest in peace.

Asmodai recited the prayer again, but this time the recitation did not have the desired effect. His throat felt burning, as if a red-hot iron block was placed in it.

The plague had quietly invaded him, and although it did not threaten his life, the symptoms of the flu had begun to hinder him from reciting sacred scriptures.

With a hoarse throat, he joined the battle with hatred in his heart.

"Shoot!" roared a mortal commissar.

Dense ruby-red lasers from the Astra Militarum fired from the trenches, piercing through the pale fog.

Many lasers hit the walking corpse, but they did not have the expected effect.

The lasers tore off a large amount of flesh and blood from their bodies. Even though their heads were blown off, the zombies still did not fall down.

"Use the flamethrower!" the political commissar shouted to the soldiers again.

Asmodai fired a shot at a stumbling silhouette. The effect of the grenade launcher was far greater than that of the laser weapon. The body of the zombie was blown to pieces, and the rotting flesh slumped limply, and the dead found true peace.

Thanks to their efforts, the tide of zombies was quickly dispersed.

But no one inside the trench cheered, as everyone knew that this was only a trivial victory.

New enemies will once again step onto the battlefield.

"Another large group is coming this way from the southeast!" the reconnaissance soldier shouted on the voice channel.

They called for fire support, and soon, dense white phosphorus incendiary bombs fell with dazzling light, and the fire instantly illuminated the entire trench.

Once the flame of the incendiary bomb touches someone, it can never be extinguished, but groups of zombies continue to move forward, dragging their burning bodies. They will not stop releasing their malice until they are burned out.

From the edge of the flames, some ugly monsters arrived at the edge of the trench.

Some soldiers ducked as the Defiler charged into the trench with bone-crushing force.

At this time, Asmodai rushed forward and tore the monster's body into pieces with his chainsaw sword, defusing the crisis and regaining the battle line.

Amid the buzzing sound of the chainsaw sword, he looked around vigilantly.

"Don't be afraid, pick up your weapons, quickly, don't get bit by them!"

Asmodai reminded the soldiers in a hoarse voice.

Until the last few plague demons were killed by their combined efforts.

Asmodai gasped, they had won another small victory.

His throat was burning with pain, and after drinking some of the priest's talisman water, he felt much better. At least it was not so strenuous for him to speak.

With the bolter tightly gripped in hand, now is the time to offer your faith to the Emperor.

The fog on the battlefield became thicker and visibility dropped to almost below five meters.

Waves of dirges came from the fog.

The singing was wet and thick, as if it was exhaled from lungs full of liquid, then blocked by phlegm in the throat, and finally came out of a swollen mouth.

There is loss and sadness in these words, but they also brew a negative optimism.

Asmodai stood in front of the mortal soldiers, but even so, some soldiers still showed fear on their faces.

Hysterical laughter interrupted the chanting, and out of the pale, morbid mist, a swollen giant with a terrifying outline walked out.

The ancient motor rubbed and rang with every step it took.

Although the evil power of Chaos had completely distorted their appearance, Asmodai could still recognize them at a glance.

"Traitors." Asmodai said through gritted teeth, his hatred for these filthy traitors evident in his words.

"May the throne bless you." The mortal commissar beside him murmured, "Astartes, the heretic."

The plague zombies in front have consumed a large amount of the Empire's firepower, and new fire support is not yet ready.

These fallen warriors saw this point clearly and showed up at this moment, intending to completely break through the defense line.

These seemingly swollen guys were actually extremely cunning. They used some insignificant cannon fodder to easily consume the empire's firepower.

"Hold on and stay calm!" Asmodai shouted, trying to boost the courage of his soldiers.

Although he received an equally loud response, Asmodai could still hear the undisguised fear in those voices.

Asmodai did not blame the soldiers; fear was natural in the face of these blasphemous creatures from Chaos.

It is precisely because of the existence of fear that the value of courage is highlighted.

"Shoot!" When the fallen warriors entered the maximum range, the political commissar ordered the soldiers to open fire without hesitation.

"For the Emperor, for the Warmaster!" one of the soldiers growled as he pulled the trigger, even as his body shook with fear.

Hundreds of laser guns began to flash, and bright red lights flashed in the trenches.

Asmodai saw a plague warrior who was beaten to pieces, but he still did not stop, and even his charge was not affected.

In the Blessing of the Plague God, laser weapons have become difficult to pose a threat to these traitors.

As if nothing had happened, these fallen warriors faced the laser fire network and approached rapidly.

The sad elegy still came out from the hoarse voice machine.

The traitors were getting closer and closer, gradually revealing their horrible appearances. These blasphemers were no longer fit to be called human beings.

They were once noble Astartes, protectors of humanity.

But now they are filthy and vicious, with countless diseases coexisting with them, their bellies are swollen, and even their armor is broken.

Skin exposed to the air will either become red, swollen and inflamed, or completely necrotic.

All kinds of disgusting liquids dripped from the gaps in their armor, and disgusting parasites crawled in the wounds and filled the gaps in their bodies.

The fallen warrior hummed a dirge, but showed a cheerful mood.

A toxic mist blew through the trenches, although the soldiers' breathing masks filtered the pollution from the air.

But the stench emitted by the enemy is still unavoidable.

Asmodai felt like retching. Even the Space Marine's mask could not filter out the stench.

"All of this is a gift from my loving father." The Plague Warrior raised his weapon high.

The rusty grenade launcher was pointed at the soldiers inside the trench.

Even though they are completely corrupt, their fighting skills have become more sophisticated through thousands of years of refinement.

Their shooting was extremely accurate and their coordination was equally tacit.

The grenade launcher made a loud noise, and then the bullet exploded, causing fatal injuries.

Some mortal soldiers who tried to stick their heads out to fight back had their bodies shattered by the explosive bombs.

The Astra Militarum's body armor is simply not enough to protect against such powerful weapons.

Among the bodies of the dead, swarms of demon flies soon emerged from their flesh and blood.

Faced with this horrific scene, some soldiers gradually despaired.

But at this moment, a hymn with a hoarse voice and suppressed pain sounded from the communication channel. Asmodai endured the severe pain in his throat and sent the Emperor's poem to the desperate soldiers.

(End of this chapter)