Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 890, 08.889: "A Surprise Attack (Seeking Monthly Tickets!)"

A communication in Fenris dialect was transmitted into Ragnar Blackmane's ear via a bone conduction unit.

It was a report from the two Bloodclaw brothers.

The Imperial Navy's civilian troops almost clashed with them at first, but now they have followed orders and launched attacks in other directions, precisely bypassing the bridge area that the Black Mane Fleet was attacking.

The one leading that force was none other than the captain of the Gothic Fleet's High Lord, who had initiated the distress call via wide-area communications.

“Interesting…” Ragnar’s lips curled into a cold smile inside his helmet.

A mortal who knows how to assess the situation, respects the judgments of the Astartes battlefield, and is also bold and radical.

Rare, but worthy of praise.

After a brief moment of recognition, Black Wolf shifted his attention away from the chaotic tactical channels and refocused on the more direct and deadly threat before him.

The halls surrounding the bridge have been turned into a slaughterhouse.

The other combat comrades were engaged in a fierce battle with the Black Ark's guards, the roar of the bomb guns and the shrieks of the poison crystal weapons intertwining into a symphony of death.

Both sides tacitly pushed the vortex of the battle away from the center, and neither could nor dared to disturb the impending duel between the two kings.

Consul Seralak waved his hand dismissively, issuing an elegant yet deadly command.

The two tall snake-man bodyguards standing on either side of his living throne glided forward silently to meet Ragnar.

They are more robust than their ordinary counterparts, and their tails, covered with iridescent scales, are thicker and more powerful.

Their fighting style is alien, deceptively deadly.

They use their serpentine lower bodies to gain incredible speed and leverage, and their four arms, like spindles of death, launch attacks from different angles simultaneously.

Two of their arms were used for suppressive fire with venomous carbines and pistols, while the other two wielded blades and gauntlets, engaging in a rapid-fire close-quarters combat.

This forced Ragnar to adopt a defensive posture in the early stages of the battle.

His specially crafted power armor withstood the dense barrage of poison crystal bullets, emitting crisp clanging sounds, while simultaneously deflecting the storm of sword flashes.

This is a severe test of his superhuman reaction speed and fighting instincts.

He must prove his skills.

But Ragnar quickly adapted to the situation. He roared and took a step back, directing the battle toward the relatively narrow space at the bridge entrance, forcing the two snakemen to interfere with each other.

He seized a fleeting opportunity and launched a fierce shield bash with his shoulder armor, knocking one of the snakemen off balance and creating a fatal gap in his defenses.

Immediately, the roar of "Frostfang" rang out, and the cold chainsaw blade severed the snake-man in half at the waist, instantly shredding his internal organs and spine into a bloody mess of pieces.

The second snake-man was dealt with in the quickest way possible—he endured the deep cuts the snake-man's blade made on his arm armor, grabbed the arm that was wielding the weapon, twisted it behind his back, and plunged it into the snake-man's own chest.

Throughout the battle, the Thornborn Archon Seralak remained seated on his living throne, observing everything with the detached indifference of a connoisseur watching a gladiatorial contest.

He occasionally offered scathing comments, analyzing Ragnar's every move in his silky-smooth voice, watching his adrenaline surge and his almost uncontrollable rage.

He was gathering intelligence for his upcoming duel.

These snake-like figures are not just bodyguards, but also a diagnostic tool.

The consuls used them to gauge Ragnar's strength without having to take risks themselves.

What makes them so valuable is their unwavering loyalty, their willingness to die without hesitation, unlike the Dark Eldar subordinates who might betray them at any moment. As the last bodyguard's body slid softly to the ground, the bridge fell into a brief, tense silence.

The duel between the two leaders began instantly.

The consul slowly rose from his throne and drew a Huskblade with an evil curve.

The fuse for the duel has been lit.

Ragnar launched a thunderous charge, but the Consul vanished in a blur of motion with incredible speed.

The Shadowfield revealed its eerie nature to Ragnar: it was a distortion of reality that deflected all of Wolf Lord's attacks.

Ragnar's fatal blow, which should have cleaved the consul in two, instead struck only a dark, static-filled void. The immense power had nowhere to go, causing him to momentarily lose his balance due to overexertion.

Using the extraordinary speed carried by the Dark Eldar genes, Seralak moved around Ragnar like a ghost, leaving a series of shallow wounds on his power armor.

Every cut is coated with a deadly poison that torments the heart.

It was no ordinary poison, but a neurotoxin designed to amplify pain and induce hallucinations to nourish the consul's vampire-like soul.

At the same time, the Archon activated a trap on the bridge—a Phantasm Grenade Launcher exploded in mid-air, and the invisible psionic shock projected Ragnar's deepest fears into his mind:
He witnessed his brothers die tragically because of his misguided command, and saw himself utterly succumb to Wulfen's curse, transforming into a mad beast tearing apart his fellow human beings.

Under the double blow of excruciating pain and hallucinations, even someone as strong as Ragnar let out a painful groan, fell to one knee, and his vision began to blur.

His enhanced Astartes physiological functions are engaged in a fierce battle against the alien's malevolent alchemy.

The consul walked gracefully to him, raised the Heart-Slicing Blade, his face filled with extreme, morbid pleasure, savoring the sense of victory in this moment, preparing to deliver the final, torturous blow.

However, this was precisely the fatal mistake the consul made. He reveled in the pleasure of tormenting his opponent, unaware that this extreme pain and mental shock, instead of breaking Ragnar, became the spark that ignited the ancient curse deep within his blood—the Canis Helix.
-
On the other side, Horatio and They were walking down the dilapidated and bloody corridors of the Black Ark.

They deliberately slowed down, causing him to fall behind the Black Shield squad ahead.

“You should have already arranged for an officer to take your place.” They’s voice was soft, transmitted through Horatio’s helmet via shortwave communication.

"what are you up to?"

"Do you really intend to just walk away like this?" They chuckled. "I think there's more to this than meets the eye."

Horatio tilted his head slightly, looking at her through the visor of his helmet. "Sometimes, I don't advise an inquisitor to investigate too deeply. It can be dangerous." His tone was warning.

“No, I actually want to help them,” Thee said.

"The best way for you to help them is not to watch what they are doing, Thee. Pride destroys the strongest, and meddling often backfires."

"Boom...boom..."

Heavy footsteps sounded. From the dark shadows around the corner ahead, a pair of red eyepieces, like embers, flashed.

"Your Majesty the Inquisitor."

A monk clad in midnight blue power armor emerged from the darkness. He was none other than Brother Albion, who had remained unseen throughout, his skull helmet gleaming coldly in the dim light.

"There's a secret passage leading to the alien bridge from here. I've already cleared out the enemies along the way. There are no other Astartes on this narrow path; it seems to be the alien leader's escape route."

please."

They turned to Horatio and smiled, “Let’s go take a look. Then I’ll tell you about a little ‘side mission’ I came to the Calicus Sector to complete.”

(End of this chapter)