Warhammer: Empire Reboot

"Did the Black Legion forget their brains in the internet when they went out?"

"I strongly suggest that the Terra Ministry of the Interior send someone over to learn from your efficiency."

"Because the Black Legion can drag out something that should only require a single charge for ten thousand years."

"And every time we lost, we would hold meetings every day to summarize the lessons learned from our victories."

Snap!

The command platform in front of Abaddon was crushed in a large chunk by Horus's Claw.

Four sharp blades pierced the metal tabletop, sparks flying everywhere.

Falk was completely enraged.

"War Commander!"

He knelt on one knee, drawing his power sword.

"This is the ultimate blasphemy against the Black Legion! This is an insult to you and to the Primarch!"

"I request an immediate change of course!"

"Surf to Agrippina at all costs!"

"I will personally rip that mortal's tongue out and feed his entrails to the hunting dogs, inch by inch!"

The officers of the Black Legion in the command room knelt down simultaneously.

Weapons are drawn.

The anger and fighting spirit almost ignited the air.

With just a word from Abaddon, the Black Legion's invincible fleet would immediately turn around.

Abaddon stood still.

He could feel the rage in his chest that was almost burning away his reason.

Lawson's insults were spot on.

Accurate to the point of being vicious.

It was as accurate as a knife tip piercing an old wound.

He was holding my hand.

Falk looked up: "But the War Commander, he—"

"It would take ten thousand years to smash the Cardia?"

Abaddon looked up abruptly, his eyes chillingly cold, and sneered, "At least, the Cardia is shattered, and the Great Rift has opened."

Falk's voice trailed off.

Abaddon looked at the star map.

"The louder and more vulgar his curses are, the more it shows that he is afraid."

"He's afraid I won't look at him."

"I'm afraid the main force of the Black Legion will be pinned down in the Nakmonde Corridor."

"He was a clever warlord."

"He's drawing fire for Dante and Guilliman."

Abaddon turned and looked back in Nakmond's direction.

I'll say it one last time.

"The Black Legion's course remains unchanged."

"Anyone who gets provoked by a few trash words from that mortal and leaves the team without permission."

He raised the claws of Horus.

"I cut off his head first."

Abaddon held back; not all Chaos factions possess such strategic resolve.

The broadcast continued.

Lawson turned his attention to the group most easily swayed by emotions.

"Followers of Khorne."

"Brainless musclemen."

"Stop with your junk and listen to me."

“Every day on the battlefield you shout for blood sacrifice to the blood god and skull offering to the skull seat.”

"They've been shouting it for ten thousand years."

"Their shouting is so loud it's practically giving my communication monitoring array calluses."

"The results of it?"

“I have kept Agrippina’s door open to you for over a year.”

"The skulls you've sent all together don't even amount to the number of loggerheads I have in my warehouse."

"With your killing efficiency, if the Blood God knew you were so slow, he'd probably have to wipe the dust off the bronze throne himself."

"Stop shouting."

"real."

"It hurts my ears to hear it."

The Khorasan believers in the channel erupted almost simultaneously.

Lawson didn't give them a chance to roar.

"Come."

“I dug 30,000 pits for you on the plains of Agrippina in the southern hemisphere.”

"One pit is just enough to bury a whole war gang."

"Size is limited."

"First come, first served."

These words were like a bucket of high-purity promethium fuel poured directly into a burning volcano.

The edge of the Eye of Fear.

Deep within the great whirlpool.

A world stained with countless blood demons.

The Khorne followers felt immense shame.

A World Eater champion swordsman is about to behead ten Astronaut prisoners.

Upon hearing the broadcast, he abruptly stopped.

He turned his head and looked in Agrippina's direction.

"The Brass Throne..."

"Dust..."

The champion swordsman's body began to expand irregularly, and the Butcher's Nail was firing wildly in his brain.

Blood tears streamed from his eyes.

"Blood sacrifice to the Blood God!"

He cleaved the control panel of the warship beside him in two with a single axe strike and roared at all the berserkers on the ship.

"All engines, push to overload!"

"Throw all the blood slaves into the reactor as fuel!"

"Go to Agrippina!"

"I will pull out that mortal's bones one by one and build a ladder before the brass throne!"

Tactics are not taken into consideration.

Supply not considered.

Countless Khorne Warbands, like mad dogs that have completely lost their minds, frantically assembled their fleets, tore through the warp barrier, and rushed toward Agrippina's real-world coordinates.

They even opened fire on each other during the voyage because they thought their friendly forces were blocking their way.

……

Inside the Temple ship of the Word Bearers Legion.

Several dark apostles stood nervously before the altar.

They had just finished listening to Lawson's barrage of insults directed at the Thousand Sons, the Black Legion, and Khorne.

I had a very clear sense of foreboding.

This vicious warlord will not let them get away with it.

really.

"Oh, right."

"The psychopaths who harbor words."

Lawson's voice rang out precisely on time: "Your great writer, the Primarch, Comrade Luo Jia, is still in seclusion in the tower writing his diary."

The apostles of darkness gripped their scepters tightly.

"I was bored today, so I flipped through the Imperial State Religion's 'Sacred Words'."

Lawson is like a tavern storyteller who discovers blind spots.

"I suddenly discovered something very interesting."

"Luo Jia, oh Luo Jia."