Forced to die just after becoming invincible in Warhammer?

A deafening roar exploded in the universe, and the dazzling white light instantly swallowed everything.

When the light dimmed slightly, Hui Le's calm voice came from the communication channel: "Star God fragments, successfully recovered."

"Let's continue to clean up the remaining Necrons!" Hui Le's voice was clearly transmitted to the ears of every soldier through the tactical communicator.

As the recognized soul of the Second Legion, even though her subordinates are all veterans who have experienced hundreds of battles, they obey her orders and charge towards the cluster of Necrons without hesitation.

These Necrons have long since fallen into death.

Even they themselves cannot tell whether they are "ghosts" pieced together from the remaining consciousness of the Necrontyr, or intelligent entities that have stolen the memories of the Necrontyr.

In this endless universe, their only clear command is to kill.

At this moment, as the Second Legion approached, their withered hands skillfully pulled the triggers of their Gauss weapons, and beams of dark blue energy cut through the darkness, bringing the breath of death with them.

Relying on their rich combat experience, the veterans moved flexibly amidst the hail of bullets.

They worked in groups of three, taking turns providing cover, using the boulders and abandoned starship wreckage on the planet as cover to continuously close the distance with the enemy.

The lights of laser swords and Gauss weapons intertwined in the darkness, and the air waves generated by the explosions came one after another.

Braime found the right moment and used the thrusters to instantly rush in front of a Necron. The chainsaw sword in his hand made a sharp buzzing sound and slashed at the enemy without mercy.

However, the Necron reacted extremely quickly, dodging to the side and letting the chainsaw sword pass by. Then it counterattacked and the butt of the Gauss weapon hit the veteran hard.

Braime quickly raised his shield to block the attack, and cracks appeared on the surface of the shield.

Just as the veteran was forced to retreat step by step by the Necrons and his shield was on the verge of breaking, another teammate sneaked up from the side and rear like a ghost.

His movements were gentle and slow, without making any sound in the zero-gravity environment, and the power axe in his hand, flashing with cold light, was already ready to go.

When approaching the target, teammates used thrusters to accelerate instantly, and the power axe, wrapped in powerful kinetic energy, chopped down the metal neck of the Necron with thunderous force.

In an instant, a bright spark burst out in the darkness, and the sharp sound of cutting metal pierced the noise of the battlefield.

The head of the Necron, with a strange green light that had not yet dissipated, slowly separated from the body and rolled away on the ground. The body, which had lost control, fell onto the scarred land under the action of inertia.

"Thank you!" Blackmey nodded to his teammates while adjusting the shield frequency to resist the sporadic Gauss rays.

His teammate gave a concise and powerful nod in response, and without saying anything more, he turned around and, using his thrusters, charged into the Necrons again like an arrow from a bow.

On the battlefield, the sounds of metal clashing and weapons roaring intertwined into a cruel melody of death.

The moment the mechanical claws tore through the power armor, the sparks that burst out contrasted with the faint light flashing in the eyes of the Necrons; the warriors roared and swung their chain swords, and the harsh sound of the teeth biting on the metal bones, although it could not be heard directly in the vacuum of the universe, was transmitted through the armor, making everyone feel the cruelty of war.

This is not only a fierce collision between machines and flesh, but also a life-and-death duel between living things and the remaining souls.

Every soldier of the Second Legion knows that in this vast universe, if they retreat, their homes will face a devastating disaster.

So, with the determination to die, they charged into the Gauss rays and blocked them with their flesh and blood.

In the Empire, there is an unwritten law - weapons and human lives are never in short supply, and every Imperial soldier knows this well.

Mode, the captain of the 2nd Company of the 11th Legion, implemented this rule in every corner of the battlefield.

In the fierce battle, he was like the god of death who reaped lives. His chainsaw sword was wrapped in surging energy. Every time he swung it, he could accurately chop off the heads of the Necrons.

For Mod, not all the heads he captured were worth cherishing. Only those with unique shapes and emitting a strange luster would be carefully selected by him and hung on his armor.

As time went by, these heads became his unique medals, shining with strange light in the deep starry sky.

At this moment, Mod's gaze passed through the fiercely fought battlefield and locked onto the Emperor and Overlord of the enemy camp.

These two hold a respected position among the Necrons. They are much taller than ordinary Necrons and are surrounded by mysterious energy shields.

A cold arc appeared at the corner of Mod's mouth. In his eyes, the heads of the Emperor and the Overlord were not only supreme military achievements, but also beautiful works of art.

Imagining the scene at the future legion celebration banquet where he would tell everyone how he had fought against powerful enemies and captured these two precious heads, Mod's eyes were full of enthusiasm and anticipation.

He gripped the chainsword tightly in his hand and issued a low and powerful order to the soldiers behind him: "Listen up! Concentrate firepower, tear through the enemy's defense line, I want to take off those two heads with my own hands!" With the order, the soldiers of the second company quickly changed their formation like a well-trained wolf pack and launched a tide-like charge towards the target.

Mord's fluid tactics were inspired by the renowned Space Wolves Chapter. He always believed in applying what he learned, incorporating the intricate strategies he learned there into every battle.

In the midst of a fierce battle, a Gaussian ray struck from the darkness like a ghost. The defenseless Mod was struck by the powerful impact, leaving two deep marks on the ground with his metal boots, and he took two steps back.

This sudden sneak attack was like a spark falling into a powder keg, completely igniting the anger in his heart.

Mod's scarlet eyes suddenly widened, and his two Astartes hearts beat violently, the heartbeat roaring in his chest like a war drum.

Instantly, spiritual energy transformed into a blood-red flame, gushing out from his body and enveloping him completely. Against the backdrop of this blood-red flame, Mod exuded a chilling murderous aura.

The urge to kill was like a surging tide, instantly drowning his reason.

He roared to the sky, the sound shaking the air around him, and then he rushed towards the enemy like a mad beast.

The chainsaw sword in his hand spun wildly, and wherever it went, the air was distorted.

Mord charged towards the enemy camp, knocking away the Necrons that tried to stop him, as unstoppable as a tank.

Wrapped in blood-red psychic flames, he was like a demon from hell. Wherever he went, there was blood and gore, making the enemies terrified.

Mod rushed into the enemy camp wrapped in blood-red psychic flames. Wherever he went, the Necrons were blown away by this terrifying force.

A gigantic Necron Emperor, waving a glowing energy staff, tried to stop Moder.

Strange beams of purple energy shot out from the top of the staff, cutting through the darkness and rapidly attacking Mod.

The bloodshot in Mod's eyes grew brighter, and with the reaction speed of an Astartes superman, he twisted his body as flexibly as a cheetah and easily avoided the deadly purple beam.

In the blink of an eye, he had already appeared in front of the Pope, and the chainsaw sword in his hand was wrapped in tremendous force, and with a sharp roar, he slashed at the Pope fiercely.

The Emperor waved his staff to block, and the two weapons collided, emitting dazzling sparks. The huge impact force shook the surrounding Necrons toppled over.

Just when the two sides were in a stalemate, the Necron Overlord seized the opportunity and quietly approached from the side and rear of Mod.

The giant Gauss Cannon in the Overlord's hand flashed a dangerous blue light, ready to fire.

Sensing the crisis, Mod did not hesitate at all. He used the reaction force generated by the collision with the Emperor's weapon to do a backflip in the air, cleverly avoiding the Overlord's fatal blow.

After landing, Mod stomped his feet heavily on the ground, splashing up a cloud of dust.

He glanced around and included both the Emperor and the Overlord in his attack range.

With a roar, psychic flames surged wildly around him, and the speed of the chainsaw sword increased instantly, making a sharp buzzing sound.

Mode rushed towards the two powerful enemies again like a blood-red lightning, and a more intense life-and-death duel began.

At this moment on the battlefield, everyone's eyes are focused on Mode, as if the fate of the entire universe will be rewritten at this moment.

Mode, wrapped in surging psychic flames, rushed towards the Emperor and the Overlord like a red meteor.

The Emperor waved his energy staff, drawing arcs of green light in the air, forming a crossfire network with the Overlord's Gauss Cannon, trying to intercept Mod.

Mod dodged flexibly while quickly closing the distance between him and the enemy.

Suddenly, he jumped high, hovered briefly in the air with the help of psychic energy, and then dived towards the Overlord like a meteorite.

The Overlord reacted quickly, raising its massive mechanical arm to block the blow. Mod's chainsword slashed heavily on it, sending up a shower of sparks.

At the same time, the Emperor seized the opportunity, the energy core on the top of the staff flashed violently, and a thick purple lightning bolt struck Mod's back.

At the critical moment, Mode used his super perception to move sideways, and the lightning brushed past his armor.

He threw a melta bomb with his backhand, accurately hitting the Hierophant's energy staff. "Boom!" With a loud bang, the Hierophant was blown away by the blast, and the staff was also blown to pieces.

Upon seeing this, the Overlord let out a piercing roar, the red light in his eyes flashed wildly, and several dark blue lasers shot out from his mechanical chest.

Mode did not retreat at all. He turned on the propulsion backpack of his armor and kept changing his position in the air, making it difficult for the laser to lock on.

Taking advantage of the gap in the Overlord's attack, Mode circled behind him at an extremely fast speed, gripped the chainsaw sword in both hands, and stabbed it fiercely at the Overlord's energy core.

With a teeth-grinding sound of metal friction, the chainsaw sword sank deep into the Overlord's body. The Overlord's body trembled violently, and after a final wail, he collapsed to the ground.

After getting rid of the overlord, Mode turned to look at the Emperor.

At this time, the Emperor had stood up from the explosion, his armor full of cracks, and was trying to summon reinforcements.

A cold murderous intent flashed in Mod's eyes. He strode towards the Emperor, chainsword raised high in his hand: "Your head is mine!"

Under the gaze of the surrounding Necrons, Mod raised his sword and swung it down, and the Emperor's head rolled into the dust with a ray of faint light.

Mod bent down to pick up the two heads and hung them on his armor. The blood-red psychic flames gradually dissipated, and his eyes slowly swept across the battlefield, as if announcing the victory.

Deep within the twisting chaos of the Warp, the Lord of Skulls sits upon a throne constructed from countless bones.

His eyes, like the abyss, witnessed this thrilling battle through Mod's perspective.

Although the power of the real universe continued to suppress the psychic energy in Mod's body, the Lord of the Skulls uttered a low, bewitching laugh: Even if the psychic energy is restricted, so what?

During the battle, Mode was filled with rage because of the repeated sneak attacks.

This anger was like a fuse, completely igniting the remaining spiritual energy in his body.

In an instant, scarlet flames, carrying endless resentment and murderous intent, surged wildly around him, turning him into a terrifying god of death on the battlefield.

The Lord of the Skull extended his consciousness into Aurora's mind through mysterious psychic fluctuations.

His voice, like thousands of sharp blades scraping against metal, echoed in Aurora's spiritual world: "See? Even if psychic energy is bound, the anger deep within can be transformed into the most powerful weapon. Let emotions become the source of strength. This is the true meaning of controlling psychic energy!"

At the same time, Mod held high the heads of the Emperor and Overlord, showing his victory to the enemies around him.

The Lord of Skulls took this opportunity to deeply imprint this shocking image into Aurora's consciousness, trying to make her understand that only by breaking the rules and releasing the primitive power in her heart can she be useful to these Necrons.

The Lord of Skulls hopes that Aurora can comprehend this "truth" and become another threatening chess piece of His in the material universe.

But is it magic?

This is not the case.

If you say this is magic, the Lord of Skulls will tell you that melee magic is not magic either.

Chapter 280 Chapter 265 Lingebryi Mountain Ball 2: Mama's Boy Warmth

"This boundless Milky Way is like a vessel of death, emitting a bone-chilling chill. The flames of war seem to have been endowed with eternal life, showing no signs of extinguishing. The dark clouds of despair are like thick curtains, piling up layer upon layer, mercilessly devouring any possibility of life."

Mord wore ceramite armor, covered with Necron heads.

Thanks to the unique aesthetic influence of the Mother of Genes, these trophies appear particularly hideous yet have a unique beauty.

"You guys, every time you kill an enemy, do you have to come up with some literary and artistic sentiments?" Lark asked.

As a member of the 2nd Company of the 11th Legion, he had long been completely impressed by Mod's outstanding performance on the battlefield.

"You don't understand at all. If you're looking for admiration and rewards, these heads are the best proof. They're more direct than medals and honors." Mod's face was filled with pride, as if to say, "You don't understand."

As soon as these words came out, not only the warriors under his command could not help laughing, but even the Astartes nearby could not help laughing out loud.

"Lord Mod, you will wear these heads when the Mother of Genes awards us medals later. But I wonder if the great Mother of Genes will personally reward me for my bravery on the battlefield and hang the medals on my chest with her own hands. If I'm lucky, the Mother of Genes may even cook for me so that I can savor the delicious food with her."

While immersed in his fantasy, Lark cleaned up the battlefield skillfully and collected valuable supplies.

"Lake, you are more dreaming than me. It turns out that there is everything in dreams." Mod teased with a smile.

"If a dream isn't beautiful enough, can it still be called a dream? Reality is so cruel." Lark retorted, his tone full of persistence in beautiful fantasies.

"How can you be so dreamy? As an Astartes, are you afraid of the cruelty of reality?" Braime from the Second Legion frowned, his eyes full of confusion.

An Astartes warrior was supposed to be fearless, and to him, Rak's words were incomprehensible.

"Hahahaha! This kid is afraid of reality because he hasn't seen the Mother of Genes for three days." Mod exposed him mercilessly, and his laughter echoed in the empty battlefield.

"It is indeed cruel. As the honor guard of the Primarch of the Second Legion, I always serve as her right-hand man to ensure her safety. For me, it is a great shame for the Primarch to be out of my sight for more than two minutes. Right now, I am also worried about the Primarch's safety." Blackmey's expression was solemn, and his words were full of concern for the Primarch's safety.

Hearing this, Mod was speechless for a moment.

He truly felt the strong feelings these warriors had for the Mother of Genes, just like a group of loyal "mama's boys".

Thinking that Blackmey could always be by the Primarch's side, both as an advisor and a personal guard, Mod couldn't help but feel a ripple of jealousy in his heart.

Aurora's power armor was riddled with holes, each one a shocking scratch, telling of the brutality of the fight. She took off her cracked helmet, gasping for breath, sweat pouring down, soaking her hair.

If her offspring on both sides had not come to her aid in time and supported her steadily, Aurora would have probably collapsed to the ground due to exhaustion.

She could clearly feel her heart beating wildly in her chest, and each beat was accompanied by unbearable pain.

Aurora stared at her armor with distress.

This battle suit has been with her for many years and has gone through countless life and death tests with her. It carries her glorious past, but now it is covered with scars, just like a part of her body was seriously injured.

Before that, Aurora continuously injected surging spiritual energy into the spear in her hand, and then threw it into the vast space with all her might.

In an instant, her vision was distorted, and she saw a strange blood-red figure in the boundless void, sitting high on a throne made of brass and piles of skulls.

In the Primarch's perception, the being on the throne was both a fearless warrior, charging into battle and slaying enemies with thunderous force; and a cunning strategist, always able to devise ingenious tactics and defeat the enemy. But at this moment, an inexplicable unease welled up in her heart.

The aura emitted by the bloody figure was exactly the same as the bloody alien she had killed before.

An ominous premonition completely overwhelmed her like a tide.