Warhammer 40k: Melee Warriors

Unmoved by Shaka's voice, the Eldar prophet remained seated cross-legged, his fingers forming an ancient gesture that had only appeared during the War of Heaven.

She was using an ancient spell to protect herself from the demons, but this was not a long-term solution. When her psychic power was exhausted, that would be the time for the Shaga to devour her alive.

Now, the Eldar prophet can only place his hopes for survival and the salvation of his people on a vague and unattainable miracle...

Shaka understood this as well, so she didn't bother to knock on the Eldar prophet's milky-white protective shield. Instead, she used her own methods to provoke strong emotional fluctuations in the prophet.

My fingers slipped into a small leather bag hanging from her waist. Her waist and abdomen had perfect muscle curves, and the grooves and smooth skin complemented each other, making one want to fill these alluring curves with everything they had.

The rustling sound irritated the Eldar prophet's nerves, forcing her to divert her attention to Shaka, who was grinning wickedly beside her.

Her sharp, erect ears trembled slightly, finally stopping when Shaka pulled out a handful of soul stones.

She opened her tightly closed eyes and looked at her compatriots in the Soul Stone with a compassionate and sorrowful gaze.

Shaka was pleased with the Eldar prophet's reaction; however, she was a greedy woman, and such suffering could not satisfy her.

So she flipped her hand, and a delicate little teacup appeared in her hand. However, what was inside was not sweet tea, but the still-fresh blood of her fellow Spirit Clan members.

The scattered soul stones were put into a gauze bag and then soaked in blood for a while.

Shaja picked up the teacup, loudly sipped the blood inside, and then praised her brethren to the Eldar prophet that the taste was indeed quite good.

The Eldar prophet lowered her head in anguish, her brows furrowed tightly at her own weakness, and she held back her tears in this humiliation.

Shaja circled the prison, taking in the Eldar prophet's expression.

Ah... the greatest pleasure is to taste the suffering of others...

Shaka, captivated by the Eldar prophet's anguish, and with a voracious appetite, ordered her servants to bring real desserts to the table.

"Auntie!"

A childish scream echoed through the hall, throwing the Eldar prophet into disarray. She couldn't help but peek out of the cell, and when she saw her dead sister's daughter on the plate, she was quickly consumed by hatred and lost all reason.

"marvelous..."

Shaka left the prison cell in high spirits, scratching the delicate skin of the Spirit Clan child with his sharp nails. The youth and vitality of the flesh drove Shaka almost mad.

How wonderful it would be to swallow this soul as well!

However, Shaka could only think this way. The best things were always offered to the gods. At most, she could only taste the flesh and blood of this Eldar child, while the soul was to be offered to Slaanesh himself.

The entire process of marinating, roasting, and preparing a feast took place beneath the Eldar prophet. The cries for help and screams of the Eldar child were viciously amplified by Shaka until her body, cooked like a roast suckling pig, was completely devoured by Shaka and then disappeared.

Seemingly hearing the sobbing, Shaka returned to the cage. She saw the Eldar prophet pinching her fingers until her knuckles turned white, and immediately said with great intoxication, "Oh... Novia, you are truly wonderful. These tears of yours make me almost reluctant to eat you... Perhaps I can spare your life and use your sincere pain to whet my appetite."

“Shaka... one day, I will make you, the slave of the Prince of Desire, pay the price.”

Shaja remained smiling; to her, Novia's threat was as laughable as a toothless kitten huddled in a corner, panting.

“You don’t even dare to call my lord by name, yet you dare to dream of avenging your people? You foolish and naive little thing... I love you to death, Mom.”

Shaka couldn't help but stick out her tongue and lick Novia's shield, even though her tongue was scorched and burnt by the shield, she couldn't bear to pull it back.

She fantasized about the scene of that long tongue wandering, trying to feel Novia's body trembling, and then shamefully climbing one peak of desire after another under her guidance.

With a loud bang, Shaka was jolted awake from his illusion.

The gentle, fascinated look on his face vanished completely, replaced by a terrible rage at having his interest shattered.

She slammed down to the ground, crushing many of her servants to death on the spot, and then roared to summon her palace steward and hardworking slave, the illusion dancer.

This special demon possesses an indistinguishable illusory form, allowing Shaka to experience the wonderful pleasure of constantly switching between illusion and reality.

"What happened?" Shaka asked her butler in a capricious tone, while an illusionary dancer with both male and female chests bowed to Shaka and answered respectfully.

“My master... a dilapidated human ship has crashed into our palace.”

"Human ships?" Shaka's eyes lit up at first, but then he remembered that the dancer had used the word "dragged," and he lost interest, scoffing, "There aren't any living people inside, so they're just trash pushed here by the tide. Damn it... repairing this palace will cost a fortune, and those little bitches are just trying to inflate prices. Their hearts are ten times, even nine times, blacker than those insidious bastards like the Eternal Transformation Demon Lord!"

The Illusion Dancer sought an opportune moment to interject amidst Shagana's rapid speech, "My master, there are only six living people and a stray dog ​​on the warship."

"Six living people? That's far too few..." Shaka lay back on the bed. "Arrest them all, process them quickly according to procedure, and send them to me."

"Yes, sir." The illusion dancer left the hall and slowly closed the door.

Before the door closed, she could still hear Shaja's unrestrained laughter.

"Haha! See these soul stones? I've put them in my mouth! How do you feel now! How do you feel!"

Then the illusion dancers received a distress signal from the succubi.

"Sigh...a bunch of useless trash..." The Illusion Dancer sighed, swaying as she walked toward the gap in the warship that was crashing into the palace.

Chapter 116: This is a small raid instance.

"Haha! What a vibrant day!" Fayren charged to the front with his boarding shield and plague bomb gun, displaying even more enthusiasm than Antoine when facing these Slaanesh demons.

The shield, teeming with disease and insects, was protected by supernatural power; even the pincers of a succubus and the long whip with sharp teeth could not leave a mark on it.

Each bullet that burst from the green flames could cause a succubus to vanish in the outbreak of plague, turning into a pool of viscous, foul-smelling blood.

Faerûn's tenacity and stench provoked the succubus's fiercest retaliation, as his stench was throwing an imbalance to a power entangled between Slaanesh and Nurgle.

That's a sexually transmitted disease.

Negro has the same benevolent attitude toward all diseases; He is happy to allow His followers to maintain a sickly life even when all known diseases are raging at the same time.

Slaanesh had a complex view of sexually transmitted diseases. He did not like the involvement of disgusting things in the process of releasing pleasure, but he had to admit that the involvement of diseases did bring him a dangerous kind of stimulation.

This contradiction and entanglement, centered on Faerûn, began to spread to every corner of the palace, causing the succubi, with their graceful figures, smooth skin, and various sizes of screws, to suddenly fall ill.

The plum blossom-shaped spots lined up in a straight line, and the swollen screws and screw holes even exceeded the size of the succubus itself, which severely affected their swift movements, and they could only be used as cover by other succubi that were not yet sick.

Antoine and Sharon instinctively kept their distance from Faerûn. One used his longsword to compete with the succubi in who could move faster, while the other used a loud voice to praise the greatness of the dark gods, repelling the succubi that were facing him.

After speaking in a strained voice for so long in front of Gu Jian, Sharon was finally able to unleash his most passionate side through the unadjustable volume control of the loudspeaker.

And Bennett... there's no sign of Bennett here.

Koji suspected that he went to protect Hela immediately, or that he used the aphrodisiac scent in the Palace of Debauchery to say some ambiguous sweet nothings to the soul in the airdrop pod.

The extravagant and cruel palace was soon littered with corpses, and it would take some time for the remains of many demons to completely melt into the tide of souls.

Taking advantage of this brief moment, the dog carrying Elaine weaved through the corpses, trying to devour as many of the demon's concentrated power points as possible.

It was as if the dog had chewed on sand in its rice, making a crunching sound as it chewed.

Elaine lay on the dog's back, her eyes stinging and her soul corrupted by the blasphemous furnishings of the palace. However, Komi was currently preoccupied with a bloody battle against hundreds of succubi and had no energy left to ensure Elaine's safety.

I... am not a weakling...

Elaine told herself this, holding the iron bead stained with Komi's blood in her mouth, praying fervently to the Emperor in her heart, and using the demonic knowledge that Sharon had taught her to draw upon the omnipresent chaotic power in the warp.

Thanks to the rising runic shield and the agility gained from the dog constantly devouring the succubus's body, Elaine was able to escape unscathed from the succubus attack.

The roar of the chainsaw axe made the succubi want to retreat. Koji was no longer concerned about what the Fifth God wanted him to do in this palace. He was only focused on the exquisite trembling of the chainsaw axe's teeth cutting through the succubi's bodies.

Ah... no wonder Chaos Space Marines are mostly bloodthirsty...

Warp travel was so boring, and the corruption of chaos was destroying their nerves, making it almost inevitable that they would become bloodthirsty butchers.

This is truly an effective way to release stress.

As Komi slashed and pondered, he recalled the stressful moments of his childhood when he would stack blocks and then, in a roar, destroy the kingdom he had built.

"Ah!" the succubus screamed as his crab claws flew high into the air.

Komi couldn't help but wonder what those pliers with their purple, hard shells would taste like. When he was crushing the dog's dignity, Komi would often cut off a piece of its dark tongue to taste it.

After enduring the strong, bitter taste of coffee, a sweet sensation rose from my stomach to the tip of my tongue, which tasted much better than the various nutritious porridges and dry food bars that Bennett had stolen from the Void Station.

Eating the demon form of the dog does not enhance Komi's power, but it also does not produce any abnormal reactions.

It seems I really am a demon; that judge certainly has a keen intuition...

After slaying dozens more succubi, Koken thought to himself with a touch of self-mockery.

Then his distraction was met with the battlefield's retribution. A Skinner chariot studded with blades sped past him, its wheels equipped with cleaving saw blades that slashed open Komi's shoulder armor. Had he reacted even a fraction slower, his head would have been severed.

Komi broke out in a cold sweat, his mind, filled with a jumble of thoughts, now focused solely on the battle.

He looked at the Skinner's Chariot that was turning a corner, grabbed a succubus corpse, and threw it at the chariot.

The corpse was smashed to pieces by the driver of the chariot before it even touched the chariot. The remaining debris fell onto the chariot and then turned into finer dust under the spinning blades.

Just as Koken reached for a spear pouch hanging at his waist, several pieces of hard ice suddenly solidified between the wheels of the Skinner's chariot, instantly slowing the chariot down and causing it to tumble violently in the force of the impact, losing its threat.

Komi and Sharon exchanged glances. The Word Bearer had finally successfully cast his psionic spell once, and the glory on his face made Komi both laugh and cry.

As they ventured deeper into the palace, nothing could stop the four of them.

The four worked together efficiently, giving Komi a pleasant feeling of teaming up to clear dungeons.

Tank, Mage, Warrior, Swordsman.

Unfortunately, no assassin has yet appeared, but given the current situation, Bennett's absence from the battle will not make the fight more difficult for everyone.

The demons retreated to the sound of jingling bells, and Sharon and Faerun bombarded their fleeing figures with spells and explosives. The fighting spirit of everyone had been ignited by the previous battle.

The tightly closed gate was cleaved open by Komi's five axes, and the demon army, led by the illusion dancer, formed its battle formation.

The environment here is like a public bathhouse, with a huge pool divided into six areas, each containing liquid at a suitable temperature.

Blood, milk, urine, fine wine, and things that even Komi couldn't discern.

This gave him a completely new understanding of how widely XP could be used.

With his boarding shield in hand, Feren identified his battlefield and leaped into the swamp that appeared to be a mixture of excrement and vomit.

Gu Jian's face turned pale, and an ancient word kept flashing in his mind.

Two women, one cup.

These viscous substances did not slow down Feren's pace; on the contrary, they made him move like a fish in water, allowing him to race against Antoine.

Chapter 117: Crushing Her Crushing

"Wow..." Sharon was also surprised that there was filth involved in debauchery, and his gaze toward Antoine became more meaningful.

Antoine, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, immediately shrieked and defended himself, "I don't like making a mess of myself. Although some people like this kind of thing, I can assure you I'm not one of them."

“Oh...it’s alright, Brother Antoine.” Sharon’s pitying look made Antoine want to shove his head into the dung. “I don’t mind your quirks. The Dark Gods are tolerant, and your preferences are their preferences as well.”