Travel to Warhammer 40K with Gray Wind.
Chapter 29 Lightning Storm
Chapter 29 Lightning Storm
Leading the commandos into this tug-of-war between Chaos and the Greenskins was the current Chapter Master of the Repenting Fire Chapter: Mirak.
As the commander of the Legion of Martyrs, Mirak knew how much the war outside needed a leader of his esteem to take charge of the overall situation, but he still chose to personally lead the elite of his regiment into the fortress for this deadly assault.
This chapter master has no desire for power or materialism, and the only thing he cares about is "glory".
To win with one's own hands what the Emperor asked for in battle against the aliens is what Space Marines crave, the ultimate glory.
The throne room in front of him was filled with a stench that even the Adeptus Astartes could not bear. This stench was not a real smell, but the influence of the warp that hit the soul directly.It couldn't be filtered out by the helmet, and the warriors could only breathe a little bit of clean air when they were close to the Sister of Silence.
There is no lighting in the depths of the fortress, and the surrounding vision is dark, only the strange tentacles and other biological tissues wriggling around occasionally emit the evil halo from hell.Fortunately, the eyes of the space warriors have been specially modified to allow them to see even in the dark.
Everyone's eyes searched and locked on the throne of flesh and blood in the center of the hall. The roaring orc warlord was covered with mutated blood vessel-like roots and rotten and festering sores. However, the belief of the soldiers was not shaken by this blasphemous picture, because in this twisted flesh and blood, they had already found what the Lord of Humanity wanted:
The roots of the tree growing on the throne are intertwined, but they vaguely present a shape close to that of a human body. From a distance, it looks like a palm holding the orc warlord firmly in the palm of the hand, and it looks like a strange humanoid creature grown from the roots of a tree, "embracing" the flesh and blood throne.
And this humanoid creature is the treasure that appeared in the prophetess Alexei's prophetic dream, containing a huge vitality.
It was it that allowed the orcs lingering in the barren galaxy to rise rapidly, to the point where they could build the Moon of War, and it was it that brought about the indescribable distortion of flesh and blood, and the vibrant and lovely life attracted the attention of the loving father.
"For the Emperor..." Mirak silently clenched the sword in his hand, vowing to win it for the Lord of Humanity.
The fiery belief called "fire of repentance" supported him from losing his sanity in the whispers of the warp echoing around him. There was no need to say much among the combat brothers. Mirak's entire body wearing a full set of ceramic steel armor burst out like a cannonball.
At the end of the charging team, the rotten old Wuwei looked at the brave backs of the boys, and the unnaturally aging engine gritted its teeth and started to run, striding forward with the last strength.
There are no enemies in this final throne room, the true test comes from the soul, from the warp.
The bolters in the hands of the space warriors were silent and did not fire. They spread out around the throne tacitly, and each used their chainsaw swords to cut off the roots of the trees spreading in all directions.
At the same time, the Dreadnought has already driven to the front of the Flesh Throne.
Sitting paralyzed on the throne, the big orc was covered with various rotten armor and weapons. If he stood up, this orc was even bigger than the dreadnought in front of him. The huge strength contained in its thick body was enough to tear the rotten dreadnought to pieces with bare hands.
Because this is not a warboss, but an orc warlord warlord.
However, it couldn't stand up, and could only watch a huge rusty hydraulic claw slowly stretching out to its green head. Now it only needs a little force to crush this head completely.
Mirak bowed his head and acquiesced in the honor of killing the orc warlord with his own hands. He knew that the dreadnought had been corrupted too deeply to be irreparable.
"Return to the Emperor with glory..." Mirak muttered in his heart.
The sound in the Throne Hall was noisy, but not noisy. The rumble of the chainsaw sword overwhelmed the viscous sound of flesh and blood wriggling and growing. Only the whispers of the subspace were still ringing around my ears, never stopping, one after another, it seemed a bit strangely harmonious.
However, the next moment, a voice broke this harmony.
"If I were you, I wouldn't kill that orc."
"Who!"
Almost at the moment when the sound appeared, the chainswords in the hands of more than a dozen space warriors and a nun of silence stopped working at the same time, and the muzzles of the black holes pointed in the direction of the sound. Without any extra words, a round of explosive bombs fired with the same heart, and even several explosive bombs hit the same point at the same time.
However, such skilled shooting skills and such tacit teamwork failed to lift the corner of the man's cloak.
Appearing at the entrance to the Throne Hall was a mysterious man wearing a black cloak.
The reason why he is said to be mysterious is because this person has no facial features. Under the cloak, there is no appearance on this person’s face, only a hazy psionic mist can be seen. Even the think tank unit as a psionic Astartes cannot see through this mist and get a glimpse of this person’s true face.
This person held a dense sphere with a bright starry sky in one hand, and a knife handle hanging behind him in the other hand. He looked like a psionic mage, or a wandering swordsman from nowhere.
Wait, can a wanderer wander into the battle moon?
"I……"
As soon as Russell opened his mouth, he was greeted by another round of tacitly understood bolt salvos, but the scale was much smaller than the first one, because several space warriors in light power armor directly abandoned the chainswords and bolt guns in their hands. Under the cover of the combat brothers, they rushed over with daggers, trying to stab at close quarters.
Common sense in Astartes combat: When beating a psyker, be quick, close, and fast.
"Listen to what people say, okay?" Russell reluctantly let go of the right hand holding the Huntress' Blade, and snapped his fingers lightly.
The tyrannical electric current appeared out of thin air at this moment, sweeping across the throne room at an absolute speed that even the Astartes could not react to, not an inch of flesh and blood escaped this large-scale blow.The Sister of Silence and the Librarian were able to survive the storm with their own uniqueness, but the other combat brothers were not so lucky. The dozen or so people who had just shot at Russell collapsed to the ground convulsed in the storm, and only Chapter Commander Mirak barely remained awake.
In an instant, these think tanks who had practiced for hundreds of years saw the most destructive psychic lightning they had ever seen in their lives. Even calling it psychic lightning made them feel a little inappropriate. Such a range of electric washing should be called - lightning storm.
"Lightning storm? Good name." Russell smiled as if he had read what the think tank was thinking. With his fingertips closed, the lightning storm that had just bombarded the entire Throne Hall indiscriminately disappeared in an instant.
The three interstellar warriors who were swept by the storm and tried to get close collapsed to the ground, their bodies convulsed slightly due to the overloaded current, but the dagger in their hands was never loosened at all.
"You are truly brave warriors, the Emperor will be proud of you." Russell expressed his appreciation to Astartes who was knocked down by himself, and then he put his hand on the Huntress' Blade at his waist:
"So, can you talk to me now?"
(End of this chapter)
Leading the commandos into this tug-of-war between Chaos and the Greenskins was the current Chapter Master of the Repenting Fire Chapter: Mirak.
As the commander of the Legion of Martyrs, Mirak knew how much the war outside needed a leader of his esteem to take charge of the overall situation, but he still chose to personally lead the elite of his regiment into the fortress for this deadly assault.
This chapter master has no desire for power or materialism, and the only thing he cares about is "glory".
To win with one's own hands what the Emperor asked for in battle against the aliens is what Space Marines crave, the ultimate glory.
The throne room in front of him was filled with a stench that even the Adeptus Astartes could not bear. This stench was not a real smell, but the influence of the warp that hit the soul directly.It couldn't be filtered out by the helmet, and the warriors could only breathe a little bit of clean air when they were close to the Sister of Silence.
There is no lighting in the depths of the fortress, and the surrounding vision is dark, only the strange tentacles and other biological tissues wriggling around occasionally emit the evil halo from hell.Fortunately, the eyes of the space warriors have been specially modified to allow them to see even in the dark.
Everyone's eyes searched and locked on the throne of flesh and blood in the center of the hall. The roaring orc warlord was covered with mutated blood vessel-like roots and rotten and festering sores. However, the belief of the soldiers was not shaken by this blasphemous picture, because in this twisted flesh and blood, they had already found what the Lord of Humanity wanted:
The roots of the tree growing on the throne are intertwined, but they vaguely present a shape close to that of a human body. From a distance, it looks like a palm holding the orc warlord firmly in the palm of the hand, and it looks like a strange humanoid creature grown from the roots of a tree, "embracing" the flesh and blood throne.
And this humanoid creature is the treasure that appeared in the prophetess Alexei's prophetic dream, containing a huge vitality.
It was it that allowed the orcs lingering in the barren galaxy to rise rapidly, to the point where they could build the Moon of War, and it was it that brought about the indescribable distortion of flesh and blood, and the vibrant and lovely life attracted the attention of the loving father.
"For the Emperor..." Mirak silently clenched the sword in his hand, vowing to win it for the Lord of Humanity.
The fiery belief called "fire of repentance" supported him from losing his sanity in the whispers of the warp echoing around him. There was no need to say much among the combat brothers. Mirak's entire body wearing a full set of ceramic steel armor burst out like a cannonball.
At the end of the charging team, the rotten old Wuwei looked at the brave backs of the boys, and the unnaturally aging engine gritted its teeth and started to run, striding forward with the last strength.
There are no enemies in this final throne room, the true test comes from the soul, from the warp.
The bolters in the hands of the space warriors were silent and did not fire. They spread out around the throne tacitly, and each used their chainsaw swords to cut off the roots of the trees spreading in all directions.
At the same time, the Dreadnought has already driven to the front of the Flesh Throne.
Sitting paralyzed on the throne, the big orc was covered with various rotten armor and weapons. If he stood up, this orc was even bigger than the dreadnought in front of him. The huge strength contained in its thick body was enough to tear the rotten dreadnought to pieces with bare hands.
Because this is not a warboss, but an orc warlord warlord.
However, it couldn't stand up, and could only watch a huge rusty hydraulic claw slowly stretching out to its green head. Now it only needs a little force to crush this head completely.
Mirak bowed his head and acquiesced in the honor of killing the orc warlord with his own hands. He knew that the dreadnought had been corrupted too deeply to be irreparable.
"Return to the Emperor with glory..." Mirak muttered in his heart.
The sound in the Throne Hall was noisy, but not noisy. The rumble of the chainsaw sword overwhelmed the viscous sound of flesh and blood wriggling and growing. Only the whispers of the subspace were still ringing around my ears, never stopping, one after another, it seemed a bit strangely harmonious.
However, the next moment, a voice broke this harmony.
"If I were you, I wouldn't kill that orc."
"Who!"
Almost at the moment when the sound appeared, the chainswords in the hands of more than a dozen space warriors and a nun of silence stopped working at the same time, and the muzzles of the black holes pointed in the direction of the sound. Without any extra words, a round of explosive bombs fired with the same heart, and even several explosive bombs hit the same point at the same time.
However, such skilled shooting skills and such tacit teamwork failed to lift the corner of the man's cloak.
Appearing at the entrance to the Throne Hall was a mysterious man wearing a black cloak.
The reason why he is said to be mysterious is because this person has no facial features. Under the cloak, there is no appearance on this person’s face, only a hazy psionic mist can be seen. Even the think tank unit as a psionic Astartes cannot see through this mist and get a glimpse of this person’s true face.
This person held a dense sphere with a bright starry sky in one hand, and a knife handle hanging behind him in the other hand. He looked like a psionic mage, or a wandering swordsman from nowhere.
Wait, can a wanderer wander into the battle moon?
"I……"
As soon as Russell opened his mouth, he was greeted by another round of tacitly understood bolt salvos, but the scale was much smaller than the first one, because several space warriors in light power armor directly abandoned the chainswords and bolt guns in their hands. Under the cover of the combat brothers, they rushed over with daggers, trying to stab at close quarters.
Common sense in Astartes combat: When beating a psyker, be quick, close, and fast.
"Listen to what people say, okay?" Russell reluctantly let go of the right hand holding the Huntress' Blade, and snapped his fingers lightly.
The tyrannical electric current appeared out of thin air at this moment, sweeping across the throne room at an absolute speed that even the Astartes could not react to, not an inch of flesh and blood escaped this large-scale blow.The Sister of Silence and the Librarian were able to survive the storm with their own uniqueness, but the other combat brothers were not so lucky. The dozen or so people who had just shot at Russell collapsed to the ground convulsed in the storm, and only Chapter Commander Mirak barely remained awake.
In an instant, these think tanks who had practiced for hundreds of years saw the most destructive psychic lightning they had ever seen in their lives. Even calling it psychic lightning made them feel a little inappropriate. Such a range of electric washing should be called - lightning storm.
"Lightning storm? Good name." Russell smiled as if he had read what the think tank was thinking. With his fingertips closed, the lightning storm that had just bombarded the entire Throne Hall indiscriminately disappeared in an instant.
The three interstellar warriors who were swept by the storm and tried to get close collapsed to the ground, their bodies convulsed slightly due to the overloaded current, but the dagger in their hands was never loosened at all.
"You are truly brave warriors, the Emperor will be proud of you." Russell expressed his appreciation to Astartes who was knocked down by himself, and then he put his hand on the Huntress' Blade at his waist:
"So, can you talk to me now?"
(End of this chapter)
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