Warhammer: Empire Reboot

"Losen killed Angron!"

The very first sentence was enough to silence countless channels.

"He is the emperor's executioner!"

"He is a loophole in the fundamental rules of the universe!"

"He can truly kill demons!"

"He severed the source of the warp!"

"Angron's godhood was destroyed by him!"

Lawson did not interrupt.

He said he would let Typhons speak and let him get to the point.

Typhons's only remaining left eye was bloodshot.

He saw more in his suffering.

"All Chaos factions..."

Typhons raised his voice.

"It doesn't matter who you believe in!"

"Kill him!"

"They should all come and kill him!"

"If we don't kill him, he'll drain the warp!"

Typhons had given up hope of being rescued.

This is a warning.

An early warning was issued to the entire subspace.

After saying this, he suddenly looked into the void, and his voice lowered.

“My loving father…”

His vocal cords were burned by the golden flames, making his speech indistinct.

"I'm dying."

"I can't go back to the Plague Garden."

"My soul is crumbling..."

The wind swept across Lawson's cloak in the thirteenth mining area.

Lawson looked down at him.

The golden flames were severing the blessed umbilical cord between Typhons and Nurgle. The corrupting root that connected the Plague Garden in the warp was being dissected layer by layer by mental anti-entropy, and then burned off by the golden flames.

Typhons sensed it.

The muscles on his face, stiffened by decay, began to twitch.

"He's burning me with the Emperor's fire..."

"Half of my body is gone..."

"My loving father!"

"Avenge me!"

"Kill him..."

Click.

Lawson stomped down.

Typhons's head exploded.

The sound of bones cracking was broadcast throughout the galaxy.

Brain matter, ash, and golden sparks splattered on the ground of the mining area, only to be quickly burned away by the high temperature.

The other end of the chain gave up struggling, leaving only a broken piece of the body twitching slightly.

A system notification sounded in Lawson's mind.

[Slay a high-value Chosen Chaos target.]

[Target soul interception complete.]

[The purification process is underway, purifying any remaining impurities.]

[Warspace energy received.]

Lawson withdrew his foot and rubbed the sole of his shoe against a piece of metal debris next to him.

The communication channels across the entire galaxy are still open.

He glanced at the radio array and cleared his throat.

"I asked you to say a few words, but you kept rambling on and on."

After a brief pause, Lawson's voice drowned out all the noise.

He's right.

"I killed Angron."

"Typhons too."

"Who wants to avenge them? Come on."

"Anyone else who wants to eliminate me, this variable, come at me."

After he finished speaking, he raised his hand and made a cutting gesture.

T-001 immediately seals the one-way data valve.

The broadcast has ended.

Agrippina calmed down again.

But apart from Agrippina, the galaxy has already been stirred up by this broadcast.

In the realm where the bronze throne stood, rivers of blood surged.

Khorne did not respond to Lawson's taunts.

The Blood God never needs to respond to provocations.

All He needs to do is kill.

Angron was wiped out.

Typhon's dying warning.

Lawson publicly admitted it.

For Khorne, all this information points to the same conclusion.

Agrippina must be torn apart.

The flesh and blood there must be ground up.

Lawson's head must be hung under the brass throne.

On the Brass Wasteland, countless vampires raised their heads. Skull cannons began to turn their muzzles. Flesh hounds sniffed the coordinates of the real universe along the banks of the blood river. Bloodthirsty freaks flapped their wings, roared at each other, and vied for the first chance to cross the rift.

Khorne's will prevailed.

Plague Star.

The large, foul-smelling pot stopped stirring.

This rarely happens in the Plague Garden.

The flowers that were growing amidst decay bowed their heads, and the fat maggots poked halfway out of the soil before quickly retreating back in.

The benevolent father remained silent for a moment.

Typhons is dead.

A will carrying corruption and oppression pierced through the warp and descended into the mind of Mortalian, the Death Guard Primarch.

"go."

“Bring him back.”

"Or plant his body in the garden."

Deathguard flagship, the Resilient.

Mortarion gripped his giant scythe tightly. "Silence."

The tattered moth wings on his back unfolded slightly, and poisonous mist seeped out from the gaps in his armor. Beneath the hood, his face, eroded by millennia of poisonous gas, revealed no emotion.

He heard the divine message.

I also heard Typhon's screams on the radio.

The Death Guard officer on the bridge kept his head down, not daring to look up.

They all knew of the feud between the Primarch and Typhon.

Ten thousand years ago, it was Typhon who dragged the Legion into Nurgle's arms. Mortarion hated the Emperor, hated witchcraft, hated being forced to submit to the gods, and hated Typhon's self-righteous loyalty.

Now Typhons is dead.

After a long silence, Mortarian finally spoke.

"Yes, Father."

The officers on the bridge immediately looked up.

"Primarch, should the fleet immediately turn towards Agrippina?"

Mortarian looked at the star map.

Agrippina's coordinates were marked in red, and the surrounding data was constantly being updated. The warp currents in that area were becoming chaotic, and Khorne's crimson tides were converging.