Warhammer: Empire Reboot

His fist was only halfway out when his wrist was gripped by a hand as strong as an iron clamp.

The other party twisted it outwards in response.

Click!

Kahn's wrist bones, along with the joints of his power armor, snapped and dislocated.

Another fist then slammed into his face, denting his visor and spurting blood from the gap.

Kahn's body rolled out again, crashing into a World Eater corpse and smashing it in half.

He shook his head, got up again, and a maniacal smile appeared on his face.

"Yes! That's it! Hit me! Hit me hard!"

"Come on! Let me see how tough your bones are!"

He drew his plasma pistol from his waist, and just as he raised the muzzle, a power sword slashed past from the side.

The entire gun, along with Kahn's three fingers, flew out.

The scorching plasma went out of control in mid-air, burning the corpse of a berserker next to it to a crisp.

The axe-wielding warriors approached head-on.

Kahn growled and slammed his shoulder into the other man.

The two heavy bodies collided, and Kahn felt as if he had crashed into a moving fortress.

The opponent only took half a step back, but he lost his balance.

The handle of the armor-piercing battle axe slammed into the side of his knee.

Bone fracture.

Kahn suddenly bent one leg and knelt on the ground.

The swordsman kicked him in the back from behind.

Kahn fell to the ground, and before he could even turn over, the cold axe blade cleaved into his right shoulder.

The kinetic field tore through the armor, ripping the entire arm off the body.

The severed arm landed on the ground, but the hand remained in the position of holding an axe.

Kahn rolled over, trying to get up, but the swordsman had already stepped on his left leg, thrusting the power sword downwards and piercing through his thigh, pinning him firmly to the ground.

He supported himself with his only remaining left hand, and a burst of maniacal laughter escaped his throat.

"Haha...hahahaha!"

He looked around and saw his berserkers being slaughtered.

A berserker was pierced by three power swords simultaneously, his body pinned to the spot like a bloody work of art.

Another World Eater had just wounded a combat unit when a heavy hammer from behind smashed his entire spine.

A few minutes later, there was not a single World Eater standing in the hall.

More than four hundred of Khorne's most devout followers all fell.

Kahn remained pinned to the ground.

The axe-wielding warrior bent down to pick up the Blood God Child, glanced at the chainsaw axe that had roared for ten thousand years, and casually tossed it in front of Kahn.

Kahn looked at his weapon, then looked up at the two unharmed combatants in front of him.

"happy……"

He spat out a mouthful of blood mixed with broken teeth, propped himself up with his remaining arm, and forced his upper body up, leaving a trail of blood behind his broken leg.

"That's fucking awesome!"

The swordsman pulled out the power sword that was pinned to his thigh.

Kahn lost his footing and fell heavily to his knees.

He tilted his head back, fully exposing his scarred neck.

He let out his most eager roar.

"Come on! Don't fucking hesitate! Give me an ending worthy of this battle! Cut off my head!!"

"Fine, I'll grant your wish!"

The swordsman gripped the hilt with both hands, the blade drawing a cold arc in the air.

Kahn's head flew off, rolled several times in the pool of blood, and finally came to a stop when it hit the Blood God's axe blade.

The headless corpse remained kneeling for a moment before collapsing to the ground with a thud.

The traitor Kahn died in battle.

…………

Inside the Seventh Blackrock Fortress.

Fugrim has been gone for a long time.

At least in his perception, a long time had passed.

There is no day and night in the normal sense in Blackrock Fortress, and there are no reference points that can be used to judge time.

He returned to the original passage.

Fugrim stopped and looked at a thin sword mark on the wall.

That was left by his own hands.

Half an hour ago, he severed the leg joint of a Wolverine here.

When the mech fell, its thick armor slammed into the wall, leaving a noticeable dent.

The dent has now disappeared.

Only the sword mark remains.

It's not that the fortress is beyond repair, but rather that it was deliberately left standing, like a silent mockery.

Fugrim gently traced the edge of the sword wound.

"interesting."

The passages inside Blackrock Fortress are not fixed.

The walls will move, the ground will fold, and what appears to be a straight corridor may unexpectedly lead you back to the starting point halfway through.

Distance, direction, and spatial structure are all controlled by the fortress controllers.

Fugrim is unable to perceive the outside world.

The Black Stone Suppression Zone completely severed all supernatural perception.

He used to be able to capture a fleeting emotion across thousands of kilometers, but now he can't even be sure if there's anyone on the other side of a wall.

This feeling is extremely disgusting.

Fugrim continued forward, the tip of his sword hanging naturally, his long silver-white hair cascading down his shoulders.

Even without his demonic body and magnificent armor, he still resembled a phoenix emerging from a mural of the Great Expedition era.

At the end of the passage, three paths branch off.

Fogrem chose the middle option.

Less than two hundred meters away, the wall in front of us silently slid open.

Behind the door was not the command center, but just an empty circular hall.

A mirror was placed in the middle of the hall.

The man in the mirror was tall and pale, his bare upper body covered with unhealed wounds.

That face was still beautiful.

But there was an unmasked weariness that was more pronounced than it had been ten thousand years ago.

As Fugrim looked at himself in the mirror, his smile gradually faded.

"Ryan".

“I know you can see.”

The sound spread throughout the rotunda, creating layers of echoes.

"You've always liked to hide in the forest and observe your prey, then pounce at what you think is the perfect moment."

"Unfortunately, no matter how much you learn to resemble a beast, you are still a tool created by the emperor."

Fogrem tilted his head: "And it's not an imperfect tool."

Fogrim waited in the hall for a moment.

There wasn't even a single response.

He turned away from the mirror.

The next moment, the passage behind them closed.

A new door opened from the other side of the wall, and Fugrim stepped inside.

Ten minutes later, he returned to the mirror.

The face in the mirror was still the same.

There was just a slightly throbbing blue vein on his forehead.

Foghrim looked in the mirror and suddenly smiled.

"I see."

"You're too scared to come out."

"I heard that you have returned after ten thousand years and taken up your sword once more."

"I thought that after being asleep for so long, you had at least learned what courage is."

Fugrim raised his longsword, the blade slicing across the mirror, splitting the entire mirror in two and cutting the face in the mirror in half.