Warhammer: Empire Reboot

The six storm shields at the front advanced simultaneously, attacking Vikrian's body from three directions.

The terracotta shield slammed into the demon prince's corrupted body, producing a dull thud as metal struck rotting flesh. Vikrian's hooves carved two deep grooves into the stone slabs, and he was pushed back three steps by the shield wall.

The White Tiger Warrior's power surprised Vikrian.

This is not the power of an ordinary Astartes.

Wickrian roared and swung his bone sword horizontally.

The sword blade struck the first shield, sending sparks flying.

The assassin wielding the shield had a broken right arm, but his body remained completely still.

Two assassins immediately stepped up behind him and sealed the gap with their shields.

The wounded assassin took a step back and circled around to the flank to continue firing.

Wickrian swung his sword a second time.

This time, it poured all its power into the bone sword, and the corrupted subspace energy condensed into a thick green halo on the blade.

The sword fell.

Three shields simultaneously met the attack.

The deafening clang of metal clashing echoed through the underground stone chamber.

The three assassins were pushed back half a meter.

Vikrian hadn't even had a chance to swing his third sword.

A muffled bang came from its left side, and a heavy-explosive round was fired from the muzzle of a gun three meters away, hitting its left shoulder joint.

The bomb exploded inside the decaying flesh, tearing off a large chunk of muscle tissue.

Wickrian turned with a growl and swung his sword in the direction the gun had been fired.

But the moment it turned around, three other shields crashed into it from behind.

The six shields formed a closed, compressed space, trapping Vikrian's body firmly in the middle.

The demon prince's arms were pinned down by the shield.

It stomped the ground with its hooves, trying to force open the shield wall.

The decaying flesh swelled, and bone spikes extended from its back, stabbing towards the shield behind it.

The two bone spikes successfully pierced through the terracotta, but were cut off by the assassin behind the shield with a powered short blade.

More shields pressed in.

Eight sides, twelve sides, sixteen sides.

More and more White Tiger warriors squeezed into the encirclement, pressing Vikrian's body layer by layer with their shields.

The Demon Prince's living space was reduced to less than two cubic meters.

Its bone sword was trapped between two shields, making it impossible to swing.

Its left arm was pinned to its side, and its giant suction cup paw struggled in vain, unable to grab onto anything for leverage.

Wicklian had never experienced a battle like this before.

It killed thirty Astartes, each time in a one-on-one or one-to-many situation.

It was used to crushing its opponents with the single combat power of a demon prince, and used to seeing Astartes torn to pieces by its bone sword.

But it has never faced three hundred.

Three hundred soldiers did not engage it one-on-one.

They used shields to squeeze, block, and restrict every inch of its space to move.

If someone is injured, they are forced to retreat, and a new shield is immediately put in place.

The shooters were always behind the gaps in the shield wall, out of Wickrian's reach.

This is a meat grinder, no, it's a compressor.

The shield wall continues to tighten.

Wicklian's corrupted body began to deform under the pressure.

“You…you…shameless bastards…” Wickrian squeezed out a curse through clenched teeth.

No one paid any attention to it.

Wickrian made a final stand.

It poured all the subspace energy accumulated over two thousand years into its body, causing its decaying flesh to expand rapidly.

Its volume doubled in three seconds, and tumors, abscesses, and bone spurs grew wildly from all parts of its body, trying to break through the shield wall's encirclement.

The shield wall was stretched by twenty centimeters.

Then, the muzzles of eight plasma guns emerged from the gap.

Eight plasma beams simultaneously struck Wickrian's swollen body.

The ultra-high temperature plasma burned eight fist-sized holes in the corroded flesh.

The bone sword broke off at the shoulder joint.

Wickrian lost his weapon.

Immediately afterwards, the shield wall applied pressure from both sides simultaneously.

The sixteen ceramic storm shields, with a combined force exceeding tens of tons, compressed the demon prince's torso.

Vikriana's ribs, which had been reinforced by the warp, began to shatter under the pressure.

“Father…” Wicklian opened his mouth, wanting to call upon Nurgle’s power.

A power sword swept across, slicing through its mouth.

The jawbone was shaved off, flying three meters away along with the long, thin tongue, before slapping against the wall.

Wickrian was speechless.

The shield wall made its final push.

The demon prince's body was compressed and crushed by the combined force of the twenty-four storm shields.

"Pfft..."

"Pfft..."

More than a dozen power swords pierced and churned inside his body!

Wickrian's yellow-green pupils flickered one last time before going dark.

He died a pathetic death.

He died without any dignity.

Lawson stood behind the shield wall, and the system intercepted his soul.

While the system intercepted Wickrian's soul, a piece of information was extracted by the swarm intelligence with the highest priority.

The plan of the most disrespectful.

The Klein Galaxy, seventeen agricultural worlds.

On every planet lurks a demon prince.

Seventeen demon princes built altars on seventeen planets.

When the seventeen altars are activated at the same time, they will form a subspace resonance network covering the entire galaxy, tearing the barriers of real space at seventeen nodes simultaneously and dragging the entire Klein galaxy into Nurgle's Plague Garden.

The ritual requires a large number of living souls as fuel.

Each planet requires at least ten million living souls to power the altar.

This is why the demon princes lurk rather than spread the plague directly: the fear and despair of the living can generate the purest fuel for the soul.

The ceremony is expected to begin in sixty days.

Seventeen planets are operating simultaneously.

Lawson narrowed his eyes; the situation in the Klein Galaxy was not good!

If the ritual succeeds, the entire Klein system will be permanently lost, the Empire will lose the food production of seventeen agricultural worlds, and the supply lines to the Agrippina sector will be completely cut off.

Lawson withdrew his psychic perception and looked at the three councilors huddled together in the corner of the council chamber.

The three councilors leaned against the wall, their faces as white as paper.

Payne was the first to react.

He climbed up from the base of the wall, knelt down, and banged his forehead on the stone slab.

"My lord! My lord, spare my life!"

“I was forced! Wicklian threatened my family; my wife and two daughters were under its control! I only agreed to its terms to protect my family; I never truly submitted to Chaos…”

Moriarty also lay prostrate on the ground: "Me too! My lord, I was just faking my surrender! I was stalling for time to wait for Imperial reinforcements, specifically for you! I believe the Emperor will send someone to save us..."

von Hess leaned against the wall, his lips parting to deliver his final offer:

"I have access to all the city's logistics data and distribution system."

“If you need to take over this city, I can…”

Three shadow wheels shot out from Lawson's palm.

All three heads fell to the ground at the same time.

Lawson retracted his shadow wheel, turned, and walked out of the council chamber.

The White Tiger warriors followed in formation behind him, their power boots splattering blood as they stepped over the three corpses.

Lawson walked out of the governor's mansion and stood on the steps.

A cold wind brushed my face.

P.S.: Guys, please vote for me...