Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 891 (08.890): 'A Tyrant Deserves to Die (Seeking Monthly Tickets!)'

For "Black Wolf" Ragnar Blackmane, this was not an out-of-control transformation, but rather a controlled release.

"An internal war, an external war, an endless war."

Ragnar knelt on one knee, whispering the warband's maxims in the ancient Fenris language.

The alien governor's poison and illusions gnawed at his mind like maggots, but his iron will searched for the eye of the storm.

He ripped a traditional leather bag made of Fenris direwolf skin from his belt, tore open the seal with his now-sharp fangs, and gulped down the amber-colored honey liquor inside—the Fenris people called "Mjd," the water of life.

The strong liquor burned his esophagus like lava, instantly igniting the fighting spirit within him.

He poured the remaining liquor onto the buzzing chain teeth of "Frostfang," sizzling as it poured over his wounds, diluting and dispelling the toxins.

In an instant, countless needle-like pricking pains ignited and activated his body.

This was an ancient ritual, a sacrifice to the impending slaughter, and an emergency method of disinfection.

Deep in Ragnar's mind, he did not resist the "inner beast," but consciously loosened the chains that bound it.

He did not fight it, but instead wielded it as a weapon.

He slowly rose to his feet, his body seemingly growing even larger. He was no longer merely Ragnar Blackmane, but the embodiment of the wrath of the Son of Fenris.

His speed is now comparable to, or even surpasses, that of the arrogant governor.

His fighting style suddenly shifted from precise and powerful strikes to a relentless, raging torrent that seemed to contain endless waves.

He no longer sought opportunities for a fatal blow, but instead used sheer, overwhelming numbers of attacks and ferocious power to crush that eerie shadow force field.

Strike after strike, like a storm crashing heavily onto the shimmering force field surrounding the governor.

Every swing of "Frostfang" was deflected by the distorted reality, but the next attack that followed was faster and more violent.

Cracks in the dark energy began to appear around the Archon.

That supposedly indestructible force field finally groaned under the unbearable onslaught and collapsed with a deafening roar.

"What?" The elegant, sadistic smile on the governor's face froze for the first time.

"Frostfang" has finally touched some kind of entity.

Its ravenous chain teeth pierced deeply, easily tearing through the governor's magnificent armor and the flesh beneath.

This fatal blow was decisive and cruel, completely releasing all the tension that had been building up.

A chilling scream, unlike anything in this world, rang out. The Son of Thorns, the governor, clutched his bleeding, severed arm and rolled on the ground, howling in agony.

Ragnar raised the still-bleeding "Frost Fang" and slowly approached the alien slumped on the ground, each step causing the deck to tremble.

VWHOOM!
Suddenly, the hidden defense mechanisms on the bridge targeted Ragnar. They had been silently awaiting their master's will, and now they finally began to unleash their fury.

A powerful black spear of light swept out, indiscriminately slicing through the fighting Astartes monks and the true offspring of the Dark Eldar.

Wherever the dark purple beam of light passed, flesh was instantly melted, and the excruciating pain caused the aliens and space wolves to let out heart-wrenching screams.

"Hahahaha! Die, you barbarian monkeys! You can't kill me! Never!"

The armless governor, clutching his bleeding wound, staggered toward a pre-prepared escape route, concealed by a purple smoke that had somehow appeared.

At the end of the passage is a network rift generator. He can rush into the network via the airship that was left there and wait for the other members of the conspiracy who are unaware of the defeat here to rescue him.

In that way, he could once again secure his throne as the Son of Thorns' ruler and continue his ambition to return to Comoros for revenge, while maintaining a superficial alliance with the Duchy of Severus, wreaking havoc on the Circus, plundering endless spoils and slaves.

Boom...boom...boom...

Horatio heard it; he heard the frantic, heavy commotion coming from the narrow, secret passage ahead.

This made him frown, and he gripped the "Immaculate Angel's Lash" even tighter in his hand.

Boom!
As the footsteps drew closer, Horatio abruptly raised the Holy Blood Chainsaw. *Whoosh!*
laugh! ! !
The roaring saber teeth lunged forward, and the fleeing governor staggered backward, his eyes filled with utter astonishment.

Someone actually infiltrated his secret corridor?! No... impossible, this corridor is protected by a shadow field, how did these savage monkeys find it?
Boom!Boom!Boom!
Before he could think, heavy footsteps, like battering rams, came from behind the consul.

Horatio lunged forward, deftly flipping the Holy Blood Chainsaw that the consul had dodged, its tip now aimed straight for the consul's chest.

Before Horatio, behind the Son of Thorns Archon, a taller, darker figure emerged from the darkness, its eyes gleaming with a beastly crimson light.

The roar of "Frostfang" was like a death knell from hell.

hum!
The longsword descended mercilessly from the sky, slashing fiercely at the alien's waist.

Sizzle! —

A sound like blood raining down rang out.

Two chainsaw swords, from different angles, simultaneously tore apart the body of this arrogant alien.

On the bridge, the eerie throne of bone spikes finally fell silent, and the victims upon it found peace in death.

As the warship's energy output waned, the network image on the main screen flickered a few times before finally fading into darkness.

The defensive mechanisms on the bridge also fell silent, succumbing to the deathly stillness of being unattended.

Horatio was splattered with warm blood, the crimson stains turning his void-blue high-tech power armor black, and a sweet, pungent smell of blood emanated from his ventilation vents.

A wisp of eerie purple soul fire slowly rose from the archon's torn corpse, then was drawn into Horatio's iron hand.

Soulfire: 16666 / 16666

Soulfire: 16666 / 17777

A ball of dark purple light instantly condensed in the Soul Fire Gauge, rushing along the skill tree towards a new fork.

That was on the far right of the skill tree, where new "branches" sprouted and eventually converged into a cluster of dark purple characters—"Mind Conquest".

"Mind Pressure: Consumes 1 point of Energy and 1 point of Spiritual Energy. Can compel those with a lower willpower than you to submit to your will."

Current Willpower Value: 35 (Physiological Standard Value: 20. You chose loyalty to humanity and the Lord of Humanity during the Abyss Harbor Incident, Willpower +15)

Ragnar stood panting beside the consul's body, which had been cut in half at the waist.

He looked down at the mortals before him and the silent black-shielded monks behind them.

Finally, his gaze fell on Brother Derek, who was holding a silver sniper rifle.

He stared at the unusual weapon, his brow furrowed in thought.

Suddenly, a wild, inhuman roar interrupted his thoughts.

A ferocious werewolf monster charged in.

Its eyes gleamed with a scarlet light of pure bloodlust, and sticky saliva flew everywhere from its sharp teeth beneath its long, canine nose as it charged, emitting a nauseating, bloodthirsty stench.

With each step it charged, the deck beneath Horatio's feet trembled.

Its full, glossy wolf fur fluttered unevenly in the wind, and its huge, muscular body almost occupied the entire corridor by itself, like an out-of-control rolling stone, charging towards them.

Horatio could clearly see that its flesh was being burned away by some kind of energy beam, revealing hideous wounds.

Perhaps this excruciating pain is what drove the beast into a rage.

"Alien attack!" Thee shouted, almost instinctively raising her revolver in self-defense against the charging werewolf, the dark muzzle pointing directly at the werewolf's chest.

“Wait, Thee!” Horatio called out to her, just as he was about to grab Thee’s hand that was about to pull the trigger.

boom!
Gunshots rang out, their long echoes reverberating through the secluded corridor.

(End of this chapter)