Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 853, page 08.852: "Sewing Terror"

“Miss Judge, we are approaching the designated scanning point, about 500 kilometers from the target location,” Anya Fasha reported to They in the back seat, based on navigation data provided by Veronica.

Her familiar voice was as calm as a deep pool of water, completely unlike the feeling of someone who was deep in the line of possible traps and conspiracies.

While awaiting the judge's next instructions, the slender fingers wearing leather gloves moved lightly across the control panel at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye, adjusting the engine power of the "Fury" interceptor to a delicate balance point—just enough to meet the attitude fine-tuning required for detection, yet without leaving a single visible jet of flame at the stern in the cold vacuum.

The fighter jet, like a lurking ghost, remained absolutely silent in the boundless darkness.

"Wow, this void is so quiet. There are no enemies, no movement, just these lazy floating meteorites... Hey, that spindle-shaped asteroid looks so strange. It's inlaid with purple crystals, quite pretty, just like the grapes we picked ourselves in the Macurag estate, crystal clear."

Veronica's voice was full of childlike curiosity. Unlike the composed Fasha, she was naturally carefree and would look around like a curious child even when carrying out such a dangerous mission.

“How strange.” Fasha ignored Veronica’s exclamation. Her gaze was sharp as an eagle as she warily scanned the surrounding void. “Logically speaking, according to our current interception route, if there were any friendly fleets, we should be able to see them directly.”

A colossal transport ship...that's one of the largest void ships in the Human Empire, so massive that it's often chosen by the Imperial State Church as a mobile pilgrimage chapel. How could it be that at this distance, not even a single outline is visible?

Thei's clear eyes, like the most sophisticated detectors, quietly observed every inch of the surrounding void.

A moment later, a knowing, playful smile appeared on her lips.

"It seems our 'friendly ship' is playing a little game of hide-and-seek with us. Hmm... a giant playing hide-and-seek with a child, where can it hide its ridiculously large body? Captain Fasha, use your privileges to access the fleet's main communication channel."

“Yes, Judge.” Fasha pressed a button on the control panel, and a piercing static noise instantly filled the entire cockpit.

Immediately afterward, a frantic, intermittent cry for help, disrupted by interference, emerged like a ghost.

"This is the 'Peerless Glory' of Task Force RX-0375! We are under attack by aliens! Coordinates are—beep—! Requesting backup!"

"Commander Anya Fasha, reporting for duty," Horatio's steady voice came from the flagship.

"We have not yet found any trace of the 'Glorious Glory'."

Just as Fasha finished his report, the cry for help rang out again. This time, it was exceptionally piercing, like a poisoned steel needle about to pierce their eardrums.

"This is the 'Peerless Glory' of Task Force RX-0375! We are under attack by aliens! Coordinates are—beep—"

"Requesting~~support~...hehehehe...yahahahahahahaha! Ah! Ah—!"

The cry for help was drawn out and distorted at the last syllable, and then a chilling, soul-corrupting laugh erupted from the communication channel.

Immediately afterwards, countless shrill screams and desperate wails, so piercing they seemed inhuman, flooded the entire fleet's communication channels like a burst dam.

"Damn it! Filter out these blasphemous voices!" On the bridge of the flagship "Swift Skyhawk," Louise, who was in the command department, painfully covered her ears. The evil voices seemed to have a real power, like thousands of red-hot needles, piercing her mind.

"Reporting, First Captain! We...we can't shut down these communications! They've hijacked our channels!"

"The game is about to end, you pathetic monkeys."

The voice, no longer feigning, finally transformed into a mocking and blasphemous threat spoken in High Gothic: "Your RX-0375 task force has been completely destroyed by us."

Those poor survivors have all been tied to our slave ships, and a fate more painful than death awaits them.

But don't feel sorry for them, because you'll soon be joining them... Hehehehe!

A video, filled with static, was uploaded to the fleet's video transmission channel. Sparks flew from the communications servant's body, and the air was filled with the smell of denatured proteins burning.

In the video, the ships of Task Force RX-0375 are burning in the void, with explosions everywhere.

Almost every cargo ship was desperately firing bright red distress flares.

The escorting warships—one light cruiser and four escort ships—were scrambling between the various victims. Normally, such a large escort fleet would deter most potential predators.

But at this moment, they were like lambs surrounded by wolves.

Horatio quickly found the answer from the blurry image.

A massive, dark shadow revealed its menacing outline in the brief flashes of the exhaust plumes from a series of missiles being launched.

Its entire body is a matte color, like a purple grape, so purple it's almost black, and it's estimated to be eight kilometers long.

A single salvo of missiles crippled an Imperial Navy Flamestorm-class escort ship.

Before long, a dazzling plasma explosion filled the entire screen, and the intense light even caused the recording equipment to malfunction briefly.

After a blurry scene, the void is filled with the wreckage of torn and melted warships.

The resistance was quickly and completely crushed.

No single ship could match that colossal shadow, or the small vessels that swarmed around it like a pack of wolves.

The scene shifts to the surviving crew members, who are wearing heavy shackles on their hands and feet.

They were driven like livestock into the dark cabins of slave ships, mercilessly whipped by the barbed whips of their slave owners.

There, one by one, they were branded with red-hot irons, their skin marked with shame.

Next came even more blasphemous and cruel scenes, with sadistic atrocities and heart-wrenching screams filling the entire cabin, each frame seeming to mock the empire's powerlessness.

"Ugh!" When the scene finally settled on a heart-wrenching scene—a young human girl who had immigrated with her family, after witnessing her parents being brutally murdered, let out a desperate scream, and was then ripped open from the top of her head, cut in two, and hung on a black iron hook like livestock in a slaughterhouse.

On the bridge, a young lieutenant could no longer suppress the churning in his stomach and vomited violently, his instincts forcibly interrupting his continued acquisition of such visual information.

The content of the images transcends the cruelty of war, triggering the most primal physiological resistance in humans.

This is blatant slaughter, no, this is the most intense manifestation of vicious cruelty in the material universe.

"This is the fate of all of you. No, ha... I assure you, your end will be far more miserable than theirs."

The voice rang out again, filled with pleasure and smugness, "You will never reach the Whirlwind Line. Our allies, the 'Great' Severus Empire, will take over everything you have there."

We will support a completely new order, and of course... a continuous, ever-growing source of new slaves. Hehehe..."

As if to prove its boast, the moment the words fell, a colossal object eight kilometers long slowly appeared from the void, accompanied by a silent shriek as space was torn apart.

Inside the cockpit of "Skyhawk One," Veronica felt a chill run down her spine. She instinctively covered her mouth tightly, her eyes flashing with unbearable astonishment and panic.

What she just noticed was not a spindle-shaped asteroid at all.

Instead, it was a large, alien warship with an ominous, almost blackish-purple color throughout, which, under the cover of a shadow force field, almost blended into the void!

Now, it has brazenly shed its disguise, revealing its massive and twisted form to the entire RX-0371 task force, spreading extreme panic like the Grim Reaper descending.

And it is less than 500 kilometers away from "Sky Eagle 1", which is quietly floating in the void.

So close, it seemed like a giant, ready to reach out and crush the tiny flying insect in front of it at any moment.

(End of this chapter)