Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 865, page 08.864: "Let's duel!"

The metal grille was violently blasted open from the inside by a tremendous force, emitting a piercing shriek as it slammed heavily onto the deck with a loud clang.

Before the leading fleet sergeant could even lift his gaze from the sights, a shadow covered in a mysterious pattern of interwoven black and red had already pounced down from the darkness above.

A living, muscular snake tail lifted him into the air with irresistible force.

He only had time to let out a short, choked scream before half his body was dragged into the deep entrance of the ventilation duct, leaving only his legs, clad in Void Combat Boots, twitching and kicking helplessly in mid-air.

The sailors nearby were completely dumbfounded.

The ventilation ducts were pitch black and bottomless; they could see no enemies and had no targets to shoot at.

The indiscriminate firing of lasers would only hit their superiors who were being slowly dragged into darkness.

"help me……"

A faint, desperate cry for help, as if squeezed from a crushed lung, came from above.

The sailors instinctively rushed forward, grabbing the sergeant's boots and trouser legs tightly, and began a tug-of-war that was destined to fail.

They used all their strength to try to rescue their comrades from the jaws of some invisible demon.

However, as the throat and chest tightened, the screams became increasingly hoarse and weak, eventually turning into incoherent gurgling sounds.

Immediately afterwards, a sickeningly clear, wet, sticky sound of bones cracking echoed through the silence where everyone held their breath in fear.

puff!
The terrifying crushing force, like that of an industrial hydraulic press, suddenly reached its peak.

With a nauseating thud, the sergeant, hoisted high above the ground, had his head and helmet squeezed into an unrecognizable mass of rotten flesh.

Warm steam, thick blood, and a mixture of grayish-white brain matter poured down like a filthy waterfall onto the sailors below who were still struggling in vain.

They let out terrified screams and collapsed to the ground, their legs giving way.

Immediately afterwards, a soft corpse, headless and with its upper body bones completely shattered, crashed heavily between them, blood mixed with brain matter splattering onto their bulletproof armor.

Some of them were completely devastated by the extremely bloody and unimaginable scene, which exposed the vulnerability of mortals in the face of the true horror of the universe.

hiss... hiss...

Like the hiss of a venomous snake, or the rustling sound of a sharp blade scraping against metal, it spread from the darkness above them.

Several snake-like aliens with four arms were writhing their long, lithe bodies, covered in oily scales, as they "flowed" out of the ventilation ducts along the bulkhead like fluid.

Under the scarlet emergency lights, their scales reflected a nauseating iridescence.

Each of their hands held a different Ducalli weapon, gleaming with a chilling blue light—a sharp poisoned blade, a menacing barb, or a poised poison crystal gun. These deadly weapons were subtly adjusted in their human-like yet more slender hands with a calm and precise demeanor, exuding a chilling efficiency of slaughter.

Those pairs of dark, emotionless, reptilian vertical pupils coldly scrutinized their terrified prey, their black forked tongues hissing in the air as if savoring the scent of their fear.

brake!
The desperate screams and sporadic laser shots were instantly drowned out by a sharp whooshing sound and the "splat" of flesh being easily torn apart.

Warm blood gushed out like a fountain, splattering the cabin walls into a horrifying spectacle. The crimson liquid flowed slowly down the walls, gradually oxidizing and darkening into black under the emergency lights, eventually pooling into thick, sticky pools of blood.

Soon, the corridor fell silent again. Only the eerie rustling sound of snakes gliding across the metal deck echoed in the empty passageway.

"Ammunition! Quick, move the ammunition boxes forward! Stack up this defensive line! Those alien weapons can melt terracotta, make it thicker!"

At the checkpoint, guarded by Astral Army boarding crews and a squad of armed sailors, the atmosphere was tense yet orderly. A seasoned boarding sergeant was giving stern commands. Unlike the smooth outer deck, designed to withstand shrapnel and facilitate maneuverability, this was the ship's "internal organs."

The thick power pipelines, like the blood vessels of a giant beast, coiled on the walls and ceiling, dripping greasy condensate from time to time.

Large cooling fans hummed overhead, spewing out scorching air that carried the smell of ozone and overheated metal.

This is a crucial passageway from the outer transition zone into the core area of ​​the ship. If it falls, the enemy will invade the steel behemoth "Swift Eagle" like a virus.

"B-55's signal has been lost. Sergeant Major, is there still no news from the sailors stuck at the front? According to the schedule, they should have withdrawn here long ago."

A boarding guard with a heavy shotgun asked in his professionally trained, calm tone, but the taut jawline beneath his helmet betrayed his unease.

“Forget about B-55 squad,” the sergeant said without even turning around, his terrazzo helmet pointing steadily toward the end of the corridor, dappled with crimson light. “They’re not coming back. Check your fire sectors and prepare to engage.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than a hideous shadow flashed past at the corner of the dark corridor.

Despite its excellent concealment, its unusual movements were still detected by the eyes of the human combat elite.

Immediately afterwards, a wet, low growl, seemingly from the depths of a carnivore's throat, mixed with a teeth-grinding rustling crawling sound, came from around the corner.

Interspersed among these were a few malicious, sharp laughs.

A shadow was cast by the light onto the wall at the end of the corridor, stretched and distorted. It was the outline of a canine creature, seemingly holding half a human limb in its mouth.

Tap tap! Bang! Bang bang!
The roar of the grenades and the muffled thud of the shotguns instantly shattered the silence, and a dense hail of bullets rained down on the shadows that had appeared.

Deafening gunshots, the angry screams of aliens, and the whistling of ricocheting bullets echoed through the corridor, a bloody storm within the steel cages spreading through the narrow passageway.

Command bridge.

"The ship is turning! Sergeant Major, our sailors and boarding crew have successfully established a hold-down point on the Gamma-7 deck area, temporarily halting the enemy infiltration! Ship maneuvers are proceeding smoothly! Surprisingly, the aliens haven't yet invaded the engine group. It seems the Chief Technician's apostles are holding them back, but... an invasion is only a matter of time." The voice of the propulsion department officer stationed on the bridge came through the internal communication, calm and professional.

"Seize the last opportunity to maneuver. Full throttle!" Horatio's heart was pounding.

"Rudder angle confirmed! Full starboard!" the helmsman reported in a steady, drawn-out voice. His voice was immediately drowned out by the low rumble of another salvo from the fully automatic light macro gun array on the outer side of the ship.

In the deep void, the hull of the "Swift Skyhawk" suddenly shuddered.

Thanks to the full output of the side attitude control propulsion system, this several-kilometer-long light cruiser completed a sharp turn at an almost unbelievable right angle.

The steel hull groaned in pain, but the structure remained sturdy.

This time, her bow, like a dagger poised to strike, was precisely aimed at the "chest" of the black ark.

The massive Ducalli exposed its entire broadside to the guns of the Swift Eagle. At the same time, countless boarding hatches swarmed out from its broadside like locusts, clearly attempting a larger-scale forced boarding. Its vicious forward-firing main guns spewed deadly venomous rays and massive scythe missiles at the Imperial Navy escort ships ahead. New carrier-based aircraft also took off from the hangar, swarming towards the escort like locusts.

However, just as the Swift Eagle was about to seize the opportunity, the black ark also began to react, and the space around the ship began to distort ominously.

"It's about to perform a phase jump!" The voice of the Inquisitor They rang out in the bridge, full of warning.

Captain Horatio's eyes widened suddenly. He was certain that this was the best, and last chance, to use the "Omen Fragment" one last time, as they approached the maximum safety threshold for corruption.

Three contradictory and flickering visions of the future appeared simultaneously in his psionic vision, like shards of glass: the posture of the black ark preparing to warp, the blurry outline in the process of warping, and the three possible directions after the warp was completed.

"All reserve energy to starboard thrusters! Emergency high-energy maneuver, course 97 degrees to port! Torpedo bay, prepare for full launch!" Horatio made his decision in the face of this uncertain future.

(End of this chapter)