Man in Warhammer, starting Primarch.

Chapter 258:65, For the Warmaster, For the Emperor
Lucius the Undying also fell, the former 13th Captain of the Emperor's Children Legion.

Ten thousand years ago, he had won countless honors with his superb swordsmanship.

But the glory of the past faded, and the fallen Emperor's Son sank into desire, and today has come the time of his own destruction.

When a scarlet sword pierced his chest, he did not feel any pleasure of death, but only the pain and nothingness of eternal extinction.

There is no intelligent being that is not afraid of eternal extinction.

His god could no longer save him. Lucius had a whip of torture in his hand. Every time he swung the whip to whip others, he would feel unimaginable pleasure.

But at this time, this demonic weapon had been shattered into countless pieces.

Even his screaming armor that imprisoned countless souls had been shattered.

An alt-golden sword had pierced his back, piercing his heart and soul, scarring his very being beyond repair.

In countless battles in the past, every time Lucius died, he would feel a pleasure that ordinary people could not understand.

Then he will be satisfied and rise again from the one who killed him.

The abilities bestowed by the gods were invincible, but this time, Lucius could feel that the power bestowed on him by the Prince of Pleasure was leaving him, and there was no possibility of his resurrection.

This was a real death. He did not feel any joy in his heart, only endless chill.

Lucius prayed desperately to the Prince of Pleasure, hoping that this omnipotent god would resurrect him once again.

But there was no response to his call.

Lucius was known as the Immortal. In the past, he had fantasized about his own death. He thought that it would definitely bring him a unique sense of satisfaction. On a wonderful stage, his death would be a work of art.

He even looked forward to that moment, and a feeling of self-destruction filled his heart.

But when this moment actually arrived, he was terrified and no longer as calm as before. His limbs trembled and fear bit him like a poisonous snake.

He crawled on the ground like a dog, trying to get away from the blade.

But an iron boot trampled on his head, and the deformed head was pressed firmly to the ground by brute force.

Lucius felt ashamed, but as soon as this feeling arose, it was overwhelmed by fear again.

At this moment, fear drove away Slaanesh's influence on him, and Lucius even wanted to beg for mercy from the warriors behind him.

But before he could utter a word, the warrior's blade had already fallen and his head rolled to the ground.

The Empire has no mercy, and neither does the Slayer, who will pursue the gods and their minions for eternity until they are destroyed, and never rest until death.

In the vortex of the Eye of Terror, the light in the sky of Belia IV has become extremely strange.

As if out of their original positions, all kinds of colors are mixed together.

The fleet of the Chaos forces above the sky suffered heavy casualties, and countless corpses were floating in the colorful void.

The fleets composed of those pirate alien races and Chaos warbands also suffered heavy losses.

They had never been loyal, and in this situation they completely lost the courage to continue fighting and withdrew from the battlefield one after another.

The Plague Ark, the Skull Fortress, the Bloody Comet, the Crystal Tower, the chaotic creations of the gods were all equally vulnerable, and their fragments were thrown down from among the stars.

Dukel stepped down from the throne, overlooking the Belia IV world. After pondering for a moment, he prepared to airdrop in person.

The temple that looked like a huge city puzzled him. He had never found a similar building in the chaotic ruins of the past.

In the past, even when the cultists were worshipping gods, they would only use the architectural structure of the Chaos Eight-pointed Star - but this temple had a ninth throne located in the center.

The creator of the place where all eight directions meet, the beginning and end of everything, He represents chaos itself and is the end of everything.

As long as the universe exists, this throne will remain vacant forever, and even the most fanatical cultists have never worshiped him.

If there is anyone in the universe who is closest to this throne, it is undoubtedly Dukel himself.

This throne, which had never been worshipped before, stood abruptly on this planet, and was built under the supervision of the Great Speaker himself.

It would be necessary for Dukel to investigate personally.

On the ground battlefield.

In front of Asmodai was a huge, swollen monster. His armor was covered with damp filth, and the layers of armor were like slippery scales, making him feel uncomfortable.

Unknown filth was sealed in the gaps between the plates, and the flesh and blood in the ceramsite armor protecting the torso and one leg had already decayed.

The human traitor becomes bloated and powerful because of the god he believes in.

"Asmodai, a renowned warrior of the Dark Angels, you are nothing. Even if you die here today, your death will mean nothing to the Damned, to the Imperial Warmaster, and even to your Primarch. Because you are insignificant. You bow down and acknowledge them as your father, but they only regard you as a tool that is still in their hands."

The devil hissed and growled, bewitching Asmodai's heart.

He laughed teasingly, as if mocking the other party's futility.

Asmodai gritted his teeth. Rationally, he understood the other party's purpose in saying these words, but the other party's words carried imperceptible spiritual energy fluctuations that had the power to penetrate people's hearts.

The Dark Angel's interrogation priest unconsciously recalled the cold treatment he received from the Lion King, and his heart began to waver.

Asmodai felt humiliated by this slight hesitation, and he roared and attacked, swinging his weapon with all his might.

There was a whistling sound in the air.

The fallen warrior saw through his outward strength but inner weakness and let out an annoying laugh. His seemingly bloated body did not slow down his speed at all.

His bone club deflected Asmodai's blade, easily neutralizing the attack.

Each of the fallen warriors is a veteran who has experienced hundreds of battles. Their fighting skills are impeccable, and they can easily deal with this kind of direct and brute force attack.

The origin of the bone stick in his hand is no longer traceable.

Only in the most ancient documents can we find any mention of this weapon.

The bone stick was covered with moss and cracks. Such a weapon should have broken long ago, but even after such a powerful collision, it was still intact.

"The Pseudo-Emperor's kingdom has new technology. I admit that you may be stronger than me, but I have been fighting in this long war for ten thousand years. Little guy, you still have a lot to learn." The fallen warrior sneered.

"It's a pity that you no longer have the opportunity to learn. Your insignificant life will die here."

Asmodai did not give up. He adjusted his breathing and continued to attack while swinging his chainsword.

The power of the Primaris Space Marine is indeed far greater than that of the Fallen Warrior, and every attack of his creates a whistling sound that tears through the atmosphere.

But the fallen warrior was not afraid. He relied on his superb skills to fight with Asmodai.

Asmodai had experienced a long battle before, and his power armor had been shattered. Electric sparks ejected from the broken gaps, and the fine metal structure and circuit boards inside could be vaguely seen.

Pain seared the nerves where the armor met the skin.

The damage to the power armor was fed back to his body, and the fallen warrior also saw these weaknesses and continued to expand the damage to the power armor.

Under the successive heavy blows, Asmodai had no choice but to grit his teeth to avoid uttering a shameful cry of pain.

He participated in the battle for dozens of days without stopping, and still chooses to fight on the front line now.

What kept him going in the fight, besides his guilt towards the saint, was more his hatred towards the traitors.

In front of the fallen warriors, he would never allow himself to show the slightest weakness and become the other party's laughing stock.

He would defeat his opponent and wrench off the betrayer's head with his own hands. But as the battle continued, his armor was on the verge of being scrapped, and the fallen warrior was getting stronger and stronger.

The battle situation became increasingly unfavorable for Asmodai.

He was panting heavily, enduring the opponent's blows and verbal humiliation, looking for an opportunity to deliver a fatal blow.

But finally,
"boom!"

With a dull collision sound, the weapon in Asmodai's hand was knocked away by the opponent.

This was a very bad situation. Having lost his weapon, Asmodai could only fight the opponent with his bare hands.

Although the Primaris transformation gave him greater endurance and strength, his body was gradually on the verge of collapse under the attack of the opponent's extraordinary martial arts.

When the opponent's bone stick swung at him, Asmodai narrowly avoided the fatal blow.

At the same time, he stretched out his hand, took the opportunity to snatch the opponent's weapon, and threw it far away.

This bone stick was created by the devil. He cannot use it, and even if he holds it in his hand for a long time, it will be corrupted and backfired.

But in the fight of fists and feet, he still found it difficult to gain an advantage.

The opponent knocked him to the ground with a punch and pinned him to the ground.

"Let me watch you wail and die in agony."

The fallen warrior tore open the flesh on his arm, revealing a sharp bone spur. He aimed the plague-wrapped bone spur at the back of Asmodai's head.

As the opponent spoke crazily, Asmodai's helmet was torn off, and his body was exposed to the air.

The burnt stink of flames burning the air.

The stench of fallen warriors.

There was also the stench of rotting corpses.

Countless smells flooded into his nostrils.

Asmodai instantly felt dizzy and nauseous.

He growled angrily and used brute force to break free from the other party's restraints.

But the opponent used the bone spur on his arm as a weapon and rushed over again with a grin, this time the bone spur was aimed at his throat.

Asmodai no longer had the energy to dodge.

Can a sinner like me return to the throne?
A second before death came, Asmodai suddenly thought in his mind.

Endless whispers echoed in his ears, as if they were all shouting for his death.

At this moment, there was no fear in his heart, only regret, unwillingness, and reflection on his life.

He is the most radical of the Dark Angels, so much so that even the Grand Master would selectively adopt his opinions when he was listened to.

Even his genetic father couldn't stand him, which caused him to suffer internally for a long time.

Just when he thought that the rest of his life would be hidden in the snow, like a sealed dagger, gradually rusting and rotting.

But at this time, the Warmaster and the Saint gave him trust, allowed him to return to the career he loved, and adopted his opinions.

And what did he do?
His stubborn advice led to the fall of the Imperial fleet, and even the Warmaster himself was forced to take risks.

He would not regret his death.

Finally, it's all over.

He was not afraid of death, nor was he afraid of his soul falling into the hands of the devil. He just wished he could atone for his sins. Even if his soul returned to the throne, he would not have the face to see His Majesty and stand among the great heroes.

In a trance, he saw a huge ring of thorns burning with golden flames covering everything.

With a "bang", the fallen warrior's bone spur was right in front of Asmodai's eyes, but it could not move forward any further.

The swollen head exploded and foul-smelling blood splattered on his face.

But he didn't care about all that, and quickly turned around to see which hero had saved him.

When Asmodai's eyes turned there, his breathing stagnated.

He was a giant among giants. Even a Primaris Space Marine was only as tall as his waist. He was wearing black, gold and red power armor, and his blood-red cape billowed behind him, as if he could cover everything under his command.

The giant held a huge flag in one hand, and the golden eagle on the flag illuminated the world.

In the other hand, he held a sword burning with red flames and walked towards him.

Beside him, countless tall and proud warriors roared. They tried their best to ensure that this greatest commander could move unhindered in the demonic tide.

With the slashing of power swords and the roar of grenade launchers, blasphemers and traitors were cut into pieces and their bodies were thrown out.

The foul, unclean blood of the defilers stained the land.

The moment this giant appeared, the roar of war seemed to fade away in Asmodai's world.

The giant walked up to Asmodai, picked up the weapon that he had dropped, and returned it to him.
"Hold your weapon, boy. Can you still fight for me?"

The other party's voice was as loud as a war drum. His tone was a little casual, but it contained the courage to take on everything. This man was like a natural commander, born to be the banner that all soldiers follow.

Asmodai took the weapon in his hand, and a surge of blood burned in his chest.

"Of course!" He responded loudly, his voice was loud and full of fighting spirit, it was the battle cry that a warrior should have.

"Then stand up quickly and tell your enemies that your anger and strength are far more than this!"

The giant's words were like an endless flame, instantly igniting his mind and making his heart beat more violently than ever before.

Asmodai's body was instantly filled with strength, and the fatigue left over from the long battle disappeared. He immediately stood up again and threw himself into the war.

Following behind the giant, no one can stop the giant and his army.

Every hero who followed the giant held his weapon tightly, and they were in neat formation with strict discipline.

Asmodai stood among them, exorcising the ugly demons.

They have gained an absolute advantage.

The remaining demons and traitors are still putting up a final resistance.

The cultists and demons who resisted stubbornly clung to their crude fortifications, persisting in vain.

The Dark Gods had long since abandoned them, and they were merely added to the battlefield as expendable cannon fodder.

But they are completely unaware of this and are still shouting the names of the gods in an attempt to win their favor.

"For the Warmaster, for the Emperor!"

Asmodai, like other fearless heroes, shouted the name of the Giant Commander, fought for him, and fought for the throne and the common ideals of mankind. They faced the bombardment of Chaos and launched a heroic charge.

"For the Warmaster, for the Emperor!!!"

(End of this chapter)