Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 886, 08.885: "Boarding the Black Ark (Seeking Monthly Tickets!)"

Thunder Eagle charged into the interior of the Black Ark.

Immediately following was a deafening explosion. The gunship's front hatch blasted open a large hole in the intricately shaped deck, revealing a gaping hole leading to hell.

The brief, suffocating silence was broken.

That was the violent roar caused by the pressure difference between the inside and outside of the ship, as air was sucked into the cold void until an emergency force field flickered and formed at the breach, stabilizing the environment.

Urfa and his fellow warriors rushed out, seeing the interior of the "Black Ark" for the first time.

The scene before them completely shattered their understanding of the enemy ships.

There are no utilitarian gray metal corridors like those on imperial warships here.

What lay before them was a physics-nightmare structure.

The walls were made of some kind of black stone that had been polished to a mirror-like smooth surface, covered with pulsating purple light veins like blood vessels, as if the ship possessed its own life and heartbeat.

The floor was made of twisted metal grids, and looking down through the grids was a bottomless dark abyss. From the abyss came faint, melodious screams, as if countless souls were composing a symphony of pain.

The smell of the air was even more nauseating—a mixture of the stench of decaying corpses mixed with chemicals, a kind of intoxicatingly strong perfume, and the metallic, sweet smell of old blood.

This is not a passive battlefield, but an active and hostile environment.

Every inch of this ship is designed to instill fear, create chaos, and erode the mind, like a replica of the Comoros floating in the void.

This blatant provocation of the laws of human ethics directly impacted the natural, simple, and fierce worldview of the sons of Fenris.

The ship itself was Ducalli's first psychological attack on the wolves, silently declaring: the heroism you believe in is meaningless here.

This is hell on earth, the source of torment and suffering.

"Remember your identity as hunters! Brothers! Destroy them!"

After the initial shock came the deafening battle cry of 'Black Wolf' Ragnar Blackmane.

It was a pure howl from the Fenris direwolf, instantly shattering the momentary hesitation in the warriors' hearts caused by the sight before them.

This roar is a signal, a command, the beginning of the battle.

"For Ruth and for all of Father!!!"

Like a flood bursting its banks, the space wolves rushed toward the depths of the black ark, their power boots' magnetic devices firmly attached to the eerie deck.

The first defenders—Conspiracy Warriors—emerged from the shadows on either side of the corridor.

Their armor was elegant yet deadly, with segmented plates resembling the exoskeleton of insects, adorned with sharp barbs and blades.

Two completely different philosophies of war collide at this moment.

The dull, powerful roar of the bomb gun mingled with the high-pitched, piercing whistle of the poison crystal rifle.

A wolf warrior staggered and fell, his gray-blue terracotta armor covered with countless tiny shards of poison crystals. As these shards pierced the armor, they injected highly toxic neurotoxins into his body, causing him to let out a painful howl.

The monk Urfa's fighting instincts took over everything.

He raised his explosive pistol and pulled the trigger at a Ducalli who rushed out of the shadows.

The bomb exploded at close range on his slender chest, blasting his elegant body, along with the wall behind him, into a blurry mass of flesh and bone fragments.

This was the first drop of alien blood he had collected that day, rusty yet exhilarating.

At the heart of the battle, Wolf Lord 'Black Wolf' Ragnar Blackmane demonstrated why he was able to become the youngest Space Marine captain in the entire Imperium.

He was like a raging wolf, his chainsaw sword "Frostfang" drawing an icy blue arc.

A Ducalli guild squad leader attempted to parry with his nimble longsword, but the moment the Frost Fangs touched his weapon, the blade was instantly coated with frost and violently torn apart by the Fenris Kraken's fangs.

"What..." Squad Leader Ducalli was incredulous. The weapons of the Dark Eldar were made from the finest materials in the galaxy, yet the longsword in his hand was now just a bare hilt.

Crack! — The cold, hard fragments shattered under the powerful impact, the frost crystals scratching his body and shattering his narrow helmet.

The magnificent, deep blue chainsaw-like longsword easily shattered the alien's weapon, then continued to whirl as it tore apart its enemies.

The pure, sharp teeth of the demonic beast are harder than diamonds, making this ancient weapon even more powerful than most powered weapons.

The first triumphant cry echoed through the twisted corridor.

Despite their fierce resistance, the warriors of the conspiracy group were forced to retreat while fighting, heading towards the core area of ​​the massive black ark, under the combined assault of the highly skilled Blackmane Wolves.

The wolves gave chase.

They attempted to establish a firm beachhead in the cargo hold and advance deeper into the ship, but they soon found themselves in a constantly shifting labyrinth.

The internal structure of the Black Ark is not static.

The walls they just passed through would move and merge silently; a doorway that existed a moment ago could become a solid wall covered with reliefs of suffering faces in the next second.

The new passage opened up in an unexpected place, disrupting their formation and turning an organized attack into a disorienting nightmare.

Ducati has taken the advantages of this maze architecture to the extreme.

They launched lightning-fast ambushes like phantoms from hidden niches, high-hanging walkways, and suddenly opened secret doors in the floor.

The battle turned into a chaotic melee of fighting, retreating, pursuing, and ambushing.

Suddenly, a group of better-equipped and more deadly enemies appeared.

A wolf warrior was focused on suppressing the enemy in front of him with a bomb gun, but he didn't notice that the gravity generator under his feet suddenly reversed, throwing him unprepared towards the spiked ceiling. His power armor was pierced with a screeching sound.

The Black Guard of the Conspiracy Council are the professional soldiers of this Ark, selected from the best and most loyal members of the Conspiracy Council, and they have demonstrated ruthless and efficient tactical skills.

Instead of seeking a direct confrontation of strength with the Space Wolves, they used their absolute control over the terrain to harass and gnaw at the giants like a swarm of tarantulas, slowly wearing them down with poisoned weapons.

Their goal was clear: to bleed as much as possible from the hunters before the more professional "artists" took the stage.

After losing several of their brothers, the attacking wolves were tactically driven and lured into a huge circular chamber.

This place was unusually open, a temporary escape from those maddening moving walls, seemingly a place to catch one's breath. However, this was only the next stage of the trap.

Suddenly, dozens of blinding spotlights shone down from the dome, illuminating the entire cabin as if it were daytime.

Hidden gates slid silently open on the surrounding walls, revealing rows of spectator stands adorned with chains and hooks. The true nature of the chamber was revealed—it was an arena for a cult of witchcraft.

Accompanied by waves of morbid, expectant cheers, although the stands were empty, a torrent of cheers came from all directions as a group of lithe and incredibly fast creatures poured into the arena from all sides.

They are witch spirits, dancers of slaughter, clad in alluring and revealing light leather armor. They are elite assassins assembled by the succubus Lyxis—the mistress of the Cult of Cursed Blades—similar to the Deathbringers assassins of the human empire, but overwhelmingly more powerful.

The style of combat underwent a dramatic shift at this moment.

The witch spirits descended not to win the war, but to put on a bloody show.

Every movement of theirs was filled with deadly elegance, like a choreographed dance. The sharp blades in their hands drew silver trajectories in the air, easily dodging the powerful but somewhat clumsy slashes of the Space Wolves.

A wolf was entangled in a fragmented net woven from living metal wires, its movements slowing down amidst the bloody process. Then, several witch spirits swarmed forward like sharks smelling blood, using their blades to search for weaknesses in the seams of its thick armor.

This battle put immense pressure on both the physical and mental health of Space Wolves.

They are warriors, not gladiators.

Being forced to struggle in a killing spree meant to please an unseen audience is a profound insult to their sense of honor.

However, the wolves had to fight individually, and the frequently changing terrain hindered the cultivators' ability to coordinate.

Ragnar Blackmane was fed up with these roundabout tricks and schemes.

(End of this chapter)