Warhammer 40k: Melee Warriors

Havoc heard a piercing whistling sound. He disregarded all dignity and rolled to the side, but Marcus's real target wasn't him, but the ground he was standing on.

The raptor's carcass slammed heavily onto the ground. Logically, it should have been like a bullet hitting a steel plate, creating a shallow crater on the flat surface before stumbling forward.

But this attack was no ordinary one; it was Markars' fifth attack! This fifth attack, which could make even the Primarch tremble, imbued the mutilated corpse with a strange power.

With a deafening roar, the raptor's corpse exploded, landing beside Havoc like a fragmentation shell the size of a Space Marine. Fragments of power armor and rotting flesh scattered everywhere, and the blood mist billowed into a giant mushroom.

The evasive man was caught in the explosion and was covered in shrapnel, lying on the ground, his fate unknown.

Chapter 609: Are you human or a ghost?

O dark gods...

Deyanis watched all of this unfold with a look of horror on his face. He suddenly realized that the Terminator in front of him was not a hermit, but a warp evil disguised as a Space Marine.

Otherwise, how could he make a cold corpse explode so inexplicably? He must have infused it with evil power.

Deyanis blinked with difficulty, watching Markus summon the Soul Axe once again with some boredom. A sense of unreality gradually swelled in his heart, impossible to ignore.

What color should the Unified Hand Warband use to decorate their armor? Nobody has a good idea yet, so a gray without any details has been used all along, even for newly recruited soldiers. The only distinguishing feature between them is the intricate reliefs on their power armor.

Markus's Terminator power armor was similar, with its gray tones without excessive color transitions and the interplay of light and shadow reliefs, along with the lingering glow of the deceased's soul, giving it an indescribable sense of mystery. Not to mention that Markus had already lost an arm in the battle, and what filled that void was precisely a solidified soul. Although the rolling, calm face of the soul was obscured by the arm armor, wisps of the soul's aura drifted out from the gaps, making Denyas's heart tremble.

Deyanis saw all these details clearly, and it wasn't until Marcus had slaughtered all his men that he recovered from his shock.

What exactly are you?

Deyanis asked in a trembling voice, while Marcus was somewhat confused. He couldn't understand where Deyanis's inexplicable fear came from, but he was too lazy to ask any questions. With a swing of his axe, he severed Deyanis's head and put his soul into the pure white hall.

Unfortunately, like the other Black Legion warriors, his soul had long since been offered to the Chaos Gods in varying degrees, and the resulting soul brick, though large, was broken and riddled with cracks.

After dealing with the Black Legion warriors, Markars naturally turned his blade to the demons. The orcs had done their best, but they were still no match for such a terrifying demonic tide.

"Hold the line, I'll help you!"

......

“Master,” Mephitari said in a low voice, supporting the weak Kayan, “you treat Abaddon as a brother, but just now Abaddon tried to use your life to intercept that warship. Forgive my bluntness, but you should think about your own future.”

"Quiet Mephitari, you're just using your Dark Eldar mindset to speculate about the Warmaster."

"But you were clearly about to collapse just now, yet he didn't even glance at you."

"That's because the War Commander isn't good with psionic abilities; he couldn't gauge the edge of me losing control."

"Owner..."

"Stop talking. Abaddon is my brother and my war lord. It is my duty to carry out his orders."

Mephitari gritted her teeth and said nothing. She was doing it all for Kayan's good, but Kayan took it as a cultural flaw of the Dark Eldar who didn't know what trust was.

Kayan was helped to the meditation room by Mephitari. He was temporarily unable to go to the battlefield and could only calm the turbulent flow of psionic energy in his body here. Abaddon did not force him and comforted him for a few words before turning his attention back to the battlefield.

Kayan sat down cross-legged, closing his eyes to savor the wonder of the power that had just fought against his psychic energy.

What was that? I've never seen anything like it in the Warp. It wasn't a gift from the gods, nor a manifestation of the Emperor...

Kayan coughed a few times, his body gradually hunching over, and then he made a vomiting sound. Mephitari stayed by Kayan's side with some concern, and slowed down her breathing to keep Kayan from getting distracted.

After a long while, Kayan reached into his chest, his psionic hand disappearing directly into it, and then pulled out a dark green, invisible mass.

Mephitari stared intently at the object in Kayan's hand. Although she didn't know what it was, she could sense its rarity. If it were thrown into Comoros, it would surely cause a bloodbath.

Kayan frowned. This power that had surged in later was also a mysterious thing that he could not explain. As a Thousand Sons Wizard who had made the pursuit of knowledge an instinct, the unknown things made him itchy with desire.

After much deliberation, Kayan decided to seal the dark green substance away and study it slowly, informing Abaddon when he had some progress. This was all due to his scholarly arrogance.

A strange rumbling sound reached Kayan's ears. He looked up at the dazzling gems arranged like stars on the ceiling and whispered to Mephitari, "Our chaos has caused us to miss too many opportunities. The War Master is about to use those ancient weapons."

"You mean Blackrock Fortress?"

"That's right, Blackrock Fortress. Hopefully, these ancient relics will help Abaddon decide the course of the battle."

On the bridge of the Vengeance Soul, Abaddon's forehead was bulging with angry veins. He was furious not because the Exterminator had once again escaped into the warp, nor because the World Eater's foolish recklessness had missed the opportunity to annihilate the Space Marine fleet, but because an Imperial warship was in his fleet, continuously sending the exact location of the Chaos fleet to the Imperial Navy in order to correct their artillery firing parameters.

His subordinates kept sending him information, and Abaddon soon learned who had accomplished such a feat.

A captain named Spier, piloting a Dominion-class cruiser armed with macro cannons, cruised through the Chaos Fleet, destroying several Chaos warships of the same class with his spinning firing technique and surviving a web of torpedoes.

Spyr's squadron had been completely wiped out in this daring battle, which was like dancing on a knife's edge, leaving only his warship fighting on in the center of the Chaos Fleet, like a fishbone stuck in Abaddon's throat.

"How long are you going to let that ship linger in our lines! Why haven't you destroyed it yet!" Abaddon roared at the warlords on the bridge. The warlords felt ashamed and dared not reply to Abaddon. They simply continued to pursue Spyr, vowing to kill this annoying captain with their own hands.

Abaddon sighed heavily, watching as his fleet lost its advantage in the surprise attack and began to fight head-on with the Imperial Navy. He finally made the decision to activate the cannons of Blackrock Fortress.

The reason it wasn't used before was because the Blackrock Fortresses controlled by Abaddon lacked energy; firing a single shot would hollow out these fortresses. Even though Abaddon had the artifact to control the fortresses, he couldn't exert force on the fortresses that were without power.

For hundreds or thousands of years, the Empire had controlled these fortresses without ever properly replenishing their energy. To put it more bluntly, the priests of the Mechanicus didn't even know these fortresses could be activated before Abaddon launched the Gothic Wars.

It's like a bunch of barbarians getting hold of a smartphone and using the screen as a mirror, not realizing that you can turn it on by pressing and holding the side button—it's ridiculous.

Now Abaddon must activate the cannons of Blackrock Fortress. The sheer size of the human empire allows him to withstand one, two, three, or even more devastating blows and still muster tens of thousands of troops. But Abaddon's Black Legion is limited to this; losing even a tenth of it would cause him such pain that he wouldn't be able to sleep for days.

Not to mention the other Chaos Warbands, who are like a pack of sharks, ready to pounce and tear at the Black Legion's wounded as soon as they smell the blood of their wounded.

To secure his position as warlord and to minimize casualties for his legion, Abaddon issued orders to Blackrock Fortress.

This was exactly what Komi had been hoping for. The Far Eye Fortress was getting a bit boring, and the guy who had even started setting up an arena to fight for fun suddenly noticed that the Netway Gate in front of him had been activated, and strange light was emanating from it.

"Check your daggers and guns! We'll be able to raid a stone fortress soon!" Lusny yelled.

"Waaaagh!!!"

Chapter 610: Marcus Demands a Title

Komi controlled Markus to sit on a pile of demon corpses. He didn't know if the Geller Force had been repaired or if the dead had intimidated the demons outside. The engine area was now completely quiet, giving him a chance to ponder.

After having his fill of killing, Koken began to ponder this question.

What if I go out like this and get recognized?

Azrael and the other dark angels probably wouldn't recognize him. After all, when he and they wreaked havoc in the Tal Rashin's museum, he was wearing the old World Eater power armor. Now that he's changed into a new outfit, fooling them shouldn't be a problem.

What about the masked dancers?

Just thinking about that demon Komi gives me a toothache. This demon accompanied Markus to the library managed by Carlos, knows what kind of Terminator power armor Markus has, and also knows that one of his arms is made of soul.

The masked dancer also has a keen sense of smell. If he smells something and connects the identities of Otto and Marcus, then there will be big trouble.

Koji clutched his helmet in anguish. Was he really just going to leave Markars in the warp to wait for the Gothic War to end? That would be so boring. He was actually planning to build a Blackrock Fortress from the Gothic War. The Eye of the Faraway Fortress was just an unexpected bonus.

"M-Sir? Are you alright?"

A cautious voice came from beside him, and it seemed quite distant. Komi turned his head and saw that it was Sage Sem standing at a distance, asking the question with great tension. The remaining orc soldiers and their battle suits formed an array around him. Although they did not raise their weapons, their heavy breathing revealed that they regarded Markas as a suspicious enemy.

Koji wasn't angry at their unfounded speculation. After all, from another perspective, it was strange to think about a Terminator who was all gray and didn't have the Emperor Eagle decorations suddenly rushing out and wreaking havoc at the most desperate moment. If the Inquisitor were here, he would immediately define Markus as some kind of demon skilled in mimicry.

"Put down your weapons, sage," Komi said in a deep voice, his tone leaving no room for argument. "If I wanted to, you would have become my cushions long ago, just like these demons."

Sage Sem looked at the demon beneath Markus's rear end and couldn't help but swallow a mouthful of engine oil. He raised his hand to signal the soldiers to relax a bit, to demonstrate the sincerity of his upcoming conversation.

"Excuse me... my knowledge is limited... may I ask which Space Marine you are... uh... from which chapter?"

"Me?" Komi thought for a moment. He didn't intend to tell Sage Semi about the Unified Hand warband, but instead asked Sage Semi, "Which warband do you think I belong to?"

"Well!"

Sage Sam was speechless. He stammered for a long time but couldn't come up with a reasonable answer. He felt that the question was a trap, and that if he answered incorrectly, he would fall into an abyss.

The Grey Chapter... Think carefully, Sage of Sem! These people's lives are in your hands!

Sage Semi observed the details of Markus's body with his spider-like mechanical eyes, becoming more and more confused the more he looked, until his gaze fell on Markus's arm formed from his soul. He saw the dust of soul flowing out from the gaps in the armor, and a bold answer was extracted from the core of his logic.

Could this guy be a legendary ghost?

Sage Semi exclaimed inwardly. As a great sage of the Cult of Mechanics, he had access to secret knowledge far beyond the imagination of the citizens of the Empire. He knew that there were legends in this dark universe that were beyond comprehension and past knowledge.

The legend he is now recalling begins with a pilgrimage ship that docked at Wuding Port 254 years ago.

The pilgrimage ship, named Auror's Redemption, was a vessel that flew from a star system tens of light-years away. The crew members were mostly from the little-known Auror family.

Of course, calling them a small family is only because there are too many traveling merchants and wanderers in Wuding Port. Compared to ordinary people, being able to organize a pilgrimage is already unimaginable for the wealthy and powerful. Their family is satisfied materially, but their hearts are still a wasteland.

Pilgrimages are destined to be arduous and dangerous, because most of these ships do not have subspace engines and can only rely on plasma engines to crawl at sublight speeds in the vast void. It often takes the efforts of several generations to successfully travel from one galaxy to the next.

This means that those who initiate pilgrimages can hardly see the glory of the sacred world or enjoy the blessings of the saints. They can only complete the final pilgrimage by having a small candle made from the bodies of the saints carried by their descendants.

Sage Sem knew that there were many places in the human empire worth risking one's life for, and Holy Terra was one of them. After all, it was the place where the Lord of Man resided and the birthplace of mankind. It could be said that every inch of its land and every breath of its air was exceptionally sacred. Anyone who tried to take away the soil and air of Terra would be executed.

Another place is Mackrag, the birthplace of Primarch Guilliman, who slumbers deep within his most magnificent palace. Pilgrims are permitted, with the tacit approval of the Ultramarines, to offer their devout candles along the pilgrimage route a few kilometers away.

Sage Semi didn't want to comment on the act of pilgrimage, because if there were a shrine to the god of omniscience on Mars, he estimated he would make the same decision, spending all his wealth to rush back to Mars from Unstable Harbor to witness the truth.

Unfortunately, the God of Machines has no shrine. He buried his knowledge throughout the galaxy, waiting for seekers to explore it. Therefore, the Sage of Semi doesn't make pilgrimages, but instead launches expeditions to seek knowledge. This sometimes makes him jealous of the pilgrims, because they have clear goals, while he can only wander around the galaxy by luck.

Judging from its remaining exterior decorations, the Auror Redemption was once a beautiful, gleaming ship, a work of art. However, after countless years of sailing and being corroded by high-speed particles and dust from space, this pilgrimage ship appears dirty and dilapidated.

The pilgrimage ships entered the port of Wuding mainly for resupply. Their crews were constantly busy in the tavern and cargo area, purchasing basic supplies, repairing spare parts for their servants, and acquiring firearms and ammunition to deal with the galactic bandits.

The Sage of Sem took notice of the pilgrimage ship thanks to the stories told by the Redeemer crew of Auror in the tavern, who said that their grandfathers' generation had almost caused the pilgrimage to fail.

At that time, the ship's circulation system failed, which made the already scarce supplies even worse. The captain had to order the control of food and fresh water until the circulation system was restarted.

More than fifty years have passed since then. The crew struggled with hunger, which even affected the operation of the ship. Worse still, there was no sign of the circulation system recovering.

Chapter 611: The Cursed Legion - The Legion of the Dead

Despair spread through the crowd. An uprising broke out on the lower decks, where the work was most arduous and chaotic. The crew members gathered together and demanded a full meal, suspecting that they were starving while the upper decks were feasting.

The empire's tradition has never been about democratic communication; iron and blood are the creed of imperial officials. Faced with the chaos on the lower decks, the captains on the upper decks did not hesitate and immediately dispatched armed crew members to suppress the unrest. Perhaps they even thought that if these people died, the consumption of supplies would be slower.

Armed crew members dispersed the crowd with riot guns, each shot resulting in several casualties. The desperate cries bred a mold that spread among the crew. The crew on the lower decks were devoured by the mold and transformed into a monstrous creature that roamed around, searching for living things to fill their hungry stomachs.

The armed crew quickly sealed off all routes from the lower deck to the middle and upper decks, hoping they would kill each other.

But these mold monsters were clearly not interested in infected people, so the pilgrimage ship embarked on a long struggle against the mold infection.

During this period, a teacher became key to saving the pilgrimage ship's fate by patiently explaining the necessity of the pilgrimage to the young children.

A devout heart will earn the emperor's praise—the teacher said earnestly.

Then one day, an accident happened. The monster on the lower deck somehow found a way to the middle deck, and the teacher and a group of children were in danger. Although they found a sealed compartment, it was only a matter of time before the monster broke down the door.