Warhammer: Empire Reboot

But he didn't show anything on his face.

Seth had already crouched down and was holding Enzo's shoulder.

"Enzo, brother! You...where's Horus in your head?"

Enzo lowered his head, seemingly trying to feel it deeply.

After a while, he raised his head.

"Horus... is still here," the warrior replied truthfully.

This sentence nearly made Seth and Dante's hearts stop.

But what the soldier said next sent chills down everyone's spine.

"But things are different now."

He pointed to his temple and said, “I feel like there’s an absolutely transparent, yet unbreakable glass wall built into my soul.”

Enzo said slowly, "I can still feel the wrath of Saint Gillespie, the Primarch's last memory. But..."

"But it's not what I see."

Seth was stunned.

"How should I put it? It's like I'm in a small room, separated by a glass pane, watching the rage in another room. I know there's burning, fighting, and the Primarch roaring over there. But that's next door's business, not mine."

"I'm here, and I'm fully conscious."

Stephen, on the other side, slowly nodded and continued, "Third-person perspective. Like observing. I can feel the anger, but it doesn't reach my face."

There is a barrier in the middle.

Dante's breathing became disordered.

He grabbed onto a stone pillar beside him, as if to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

"What exactly did you do, sir?"

Lawson spoke, very honestly: "The Emperor's will."

“I don’t know what happened. I just felt that He was guiding me. I reached out my hand according to that guidance, and the rest was up to His power.”

This is the universal excuse that Lawson is most adept at using.

What cannot be explained is the emperor's will; what cannot be understood is the emperor's great power.

Anyway, the emperor has been sitting on the golden throne for ten thousand years, and He hasn't said a word to refute it.

He has to take the blame for everything.

After hearing these words, Dante slowly closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, the weariness on his body had been washed away by something.

That thing is called hope.

He turned to Seth: "Brother, did you hear that?"

Seth, this rough and tough guy, was already in tears.

From the moment the Great Crusade ended and the Primarch fell, the Blood Angels and all their successor chapters have been running across the battlefield carrying a coffin on their backs.

They ran for eight thousand years, creating countless legends, but that coffin was never removed.

Today someone told them that perhaps the coffin could be removed.

Lawson glanced into the distance.

The hundred-odd warriors of the Death Company were still growling under their chains.

The pastor surrounding them was chanting, his voice hoarse.

Dante followed Lawson's gaze and looked in that direction as well.

The old man adjusted his breathing, seemingly trying to calm himself down.

"Your Mightiness."

"Those hundred-plus brothers from the Death Company..."

"Can they also be cured?"

Lawson nodded to Dante.

"Gather all the men you brought, as well as Seth's men. Don't leave anyone out."

Dante paused for half a second, then unleashed a roar that shook the entire fortress ruins: "Order! Assemble the entire army! Bring the Death Company brothers here too! Now!"

The order was relayed like thunder.

Just ten minutes later, in the dilapidated central square of the Iron Oath Fortress.

More than six hundred heavily armored Astartes Space Marines stood in an extremely orderly square formation, stepping over the rubble and the remains of Chaos Demons.

Standing on the far left are the last hundred or so Flesh Rippers warriors under Seth's command.

They had just endured a brutal 74-day battle, their dark red power armor covered in congealed black blood and bits of flesh.

In the center are the three Blood Angels personally brought by Dante.

These well-equipped and disciplined elite veterans had their armor painted a noble blood red.

They stood ramrod straight, like an insurmountable steel wall.

However, everyone's attention was uncontrollably drawn to the group of "monsters" at the very front of the formation.

Those were 120 Death Company soldiers bound hand and foot with heavy chains.

They were covered in pure black paint, a symbol of death, with glaring red crosses drawn in blood on their breastplates and shoulder armor.

These soldiers had long lost the ability to speak, and their throats emitted roars like those of wounded wild beasts.

They struggled desperately, trying to bite through the chains with their teeth and slam their helmets against the ground, still muttering incoherent curses against the traitor "Horus" from ten thousand years ago.

To subdue these 120 mad beasts, Dante even used twelve heavy rhinoceros troop carriers as anchor points, using winches to hold their chains tightly.

A dozen or so priests dressed in black robes stood around them, chanting soothing verses at the top of their lungs, but they could only barely keep them from tearing each other apart.

Despair, sorrow, madness.

These three emotions, like tangible dark clouds, loomed over the minds of all conscious Space Marines.

Every Holy Blood Angel descendant standing here, looking at the black beasts tumbling in the mud ahead, felt a chill run down their spine.

That was the inevitable fate of them all.

Lawson stood at the very front of the formation, his gaze sweeping over the more than six hundred killing angels who represented the pinnacle of the empire's military might.

"Brothers, I know what you're afraid of, and I know what you're fighting against."

"For eight thousand years, you have carried the Primarch's deepest sorrow, shedding blood for humanity on the edge of madness. Your loyalty is enough to make the stars pale in comparison."

Silver wings suddenly unfolded behind him, lifting him ten meters into the air.

"Today, the Emperor has heard your roars. The sacred throne will grant you peace!"

[Mental Entropy Reversal]!

Centered on Lawson, an extremely large pale golden ripple swept across the entire fortress square!

As the pale golden light swept across the formation, the more than six hundred Space Marines present simultaneously felt as if their brains had been injected with a spring of absolute zero.

That frenzied feeling that had been lurking deep within his genes for years, gnawing at his reason like a venomous snake, and the desperate, mournful cry of Primarch Saint Gillespie that would echo in his mind whenever he smelled blood, were all suppressed in this instant by an extremely powerful and absolutely orderly force of rules!

Deep within their souls, an absolutely transparent barrier of rules rises up.

The fury still exists, still providing them with the terrifying power to tear through armor, but that fury is firmly kept outside the barrier.

They instantly switched from a first-person perspective consumed by rage to a calm, observing third-person perspective.

Absolutely Qingming Festival!

Hundreds of battle-hardened veterans were so surprised that they trembled slightly.

They looked at their hands in disbelief, feeling an unprecedented clarity and tranquility in their minds, like that of a newborn baby.

But the most breathtaking scene occurred at the very front of the formation.

The 120 Death Company warriors, who were struggling and roaring like mad dogs, stopped abruptly the moment the golden light swept over them.

The chains, which had been making a grating metallic scraping sound, suddenly loosened.

A Death Company veteran, whose helmet had been half-crushed by his own hand, slowly stopped the beastly roar in his throat.

He knelt blankly on the ground, which was covered in mud and demonic fluids, and with his hands stained with black blood, he slowly touched his breastplate, which had been painted pure black.

The crimson light in his goggles quickly faded, returning to a clear, icy blue.

He looked around at his brothers, who had also stopped their madness and were now staring blankly at him, and then at Dante, who was trembling with excitement on the high platform in the distance.

"I'm back?"

With a hoarse voice, the veteran uttered his first sentence of fully logical Imperial Gothic in twenty years.

"They're back! They're back!"

A Blood Angel priest in charge of guarding the prisoners threw down his scripture staff, knelt down in the mud, covered his face with his hands, and let out a heart-wrenching cry like a child.

The cry was like a signal, instantly igniting the entire square.

More than six hundred Space Marines could no longer maintain the cold discipline of Astartes. They rushed forward frantically, pulling their newly awakened Death Company brothers out of the mire and embracing them tightly.

The sounds of clashing steel, ecstatic roars, and incredulous sobs merged into a sonic boom that soared into the sky.

Lawson slowly descended back to the ground, his silver wings folding into the back of his armor.

He watched this scene quietly with a smile on his face.

What he exerted on these 600-plus people was a collective mental entropy reversal micromanagement.

Swarm intelligence simultaneously processed the mental barrier construction of six hundred brains, consuming a significant amount of his subspace energy, but it was all absolutely worth it.

Dante strode up to Lawson.

He had just carefully sensed the state of his brain.

The ominous signs of black rage that had tormented him for over a thousand years, which he constantly needed to suppress with immense willpower, vanished completely.