The Emperor’s Angel of Death

Chapter 2956: Cold Blood Stains the Corrupted Land (Part 2)

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Although he had seen them more than once, these Astartes before him were different from those encountered by Fio'ne; their bodies contained a large amount of Warp poison that he could not understand.

It was this very thing—the only thing that even with their advanced scientific knowledge, the Necrons could not detect, and a power their ancestors had never mastered—the bane of the Old Ones; in a sense, all Necron weaponry was created to combat this power.

"Damn it! Kill them!!"

Seeing a warrior die tragically, the leader, in sudden fury, raised his skull-topped staff, a powerful force of corruption spreading in all directions. The mortals who had been cowering on the ground instantly turned red-eyed, roaring as they picked up weapons and charged towards the alien enemies who had terrified them.

At the same time, ten Wraithguard simultaneously raised their arms, powerful psychic energy gathering in their fists.

"Hmm!?"

Fio'ne sensed the danger immediately and summoned his riders to ascend into the air. He knew the power of these unholy magics; the best way to counter them was to eliminate the source before they could act.

But there was clearly no time for that, so the best option was to evade.

Accompanied by the roar of the Warp, black lightning streaked across the sky, momentarily blinding the mortals, yet simultaneously plunging the entire space into darkness.

The powerful energy flowed through the Flayed Ones, tearing them apart and sweeping them into the sky. The force was so great that even the ground's structures and mortals were lifted, tumbling like leaves in a storm.

Bolts of lightning erupted from the snarling Wraithguard, striking the metal monsters and leaving deafening booms in the air.

Soon, the whirlwind became a vortex of shadows, corpses, and black smoke.

When it finally stopped, a large amount of unrecognizable wreckage rained down. At least a hundred Flayed Ones were destroyed in this terrifying strike.

"Foul sorcerers."

Fio'ne, seeing such a great loss, gnashed his teeth. Even though they were just ordinary soldiers, it was still an unacceptable disgrace. Without the pylon's shielding, the Necrons were indeed troubled when facing opponents with powerful psychic abilities.

"Bring down the aerial fortress!"

But he was not unprepared, because the Silent King had told them from the beginning that the enemy was a large group of sorcerers.

Surrounded by the Night Scythe riders, a dark pyramid slowly descended from high altitude, its apex energy crystal projecting dazzling emerald-colored energy arcs downward.

The Wraithguard raised psychic shields in an attempt to block them, but the moment they made contact, their shields collapsed. Then, the powerful energy swept across the massive fortress, instantly tearing it into several pieces and carving grooves more than ten meters wide into the ground.

Those mortals caught in the blast were directly annihilated, and the Wraithguard were not faring well either. Some, unable to dodge in time, shattered under the impact, their limbs breaking, their chests exploding, and thick blood spurting out, splattering the sky.

This bombardment directly wiped out half of the reinforcing Wraithguard.

"Damn it!"

The leader, Tsoran, clutched his shattered breastplate, spitting out crimson blood. This was his first time fighting the Necrons, and he had not expected their weapons to be so powerful. He felt as if he had taken a direct hit from a ship's cannon.

Realizing that he and his men could not contend with the enemy, he made a decisive decision and ordered:

"Retreat!"

But Fio'ne would not let them leave like that, leading the Night Scythe riders in a howling dive, while Tomb Spyders and other constructs quietly appeared.

The Wraithguard immediately used their signature skills. With the surging of psychic energy, layers upon layers of figures appeared across the battlefield, making it difficult to distinguish the real from the fake. Even the constructs were momentarily confused, lunging at the phantoms.

Originally, they wanted to control their opponents, but after discovering that the Necrons were immune to mind control, they decisively used illusions.

If it were ordinary Necrons, they might have been deceived, like with the Eldar's holo-fields.

However, the Flayed Ones chased after life energy itself, and the illusions before them were completely ineffective, because they themselves lived in a kind of illusion.

Realizing that the illusions could not deceive the Flayed Ones, the Wraithguard began firing short, intense bursts from their shuriken catapults. Many of the swarming Flayed One husks were shattered, but there were more, and the Night Scythe riders from the sky had also arrived.

A brutal slaughter erupted instantly, with ceramite and living metal flying everywhere.

"You are mine!"

Fio'ne set his sights on the enemy commander, who wore more ornate armor, a cape made of the skin of his own kind, and the deepest Warp poison on his body, his twisted face covered in daemonic runes.

He was not a glorious opponent, but he was worth his attention.

He swooped down, gripping his warscythe low, preparing to pierce the monster's head. But the other's speed was faster than it looked. Tsoran dodged the warscythe sideways, then raised his Warp-infused spear-staff and stabbed at Fio'ne. The Crowned General dodged as leisurely as a mosquito avoiding a bullet, and stabbed at the other with the short sword (claw) in his left hand. The person obviously did not expect this, and the cape and armor on his body were torn open with a large gash.

Tsoran retreated, pushing hard with both hands, and a powerful psychic energy surged out, pushing Fio'ne back. Then, the sorcerer once again channeled the corrupting power, and clusters of Tzeentchian blue fire appeared around him. At the same time, his left arm slashed out a fleshy whip with a rich musk.

"Fiend's Dance!"

As Slaanesh's whip writhed like a living thing, the blue flames swept up, creating a dazzling and treacherous mirage, rushing towards Fio'ne.

Looking at the sorcerer with tentacles and two heads in front of him, the Crowned General let out a low hiss, activating his family's treasure, the Shadow Ankh, placed on his chest.

This was an amulet adorned with the dynasty's mark. It was not only a symbol of status, but also contained a small and powerful null field generator, which could eliminate Chaos influence in the area and sever the connection between psykers and the Warp through unknown mysterious technology. In a sense, it was a miniature pylon, but due to its preciousness, only the highest-ranking nobles possessed it.

The next second, space and time stagnated, the powerful sorcery vanished, and the Wraithguard paled, staggered twice, and vomited a mouthful of blood.

"Sorcerer, die!"

Fio'ne, who already hated sorcery immensely, drove his chariot forward, hacking off the arm holding the scepter with one sword, and then stabbing through the other's chest with another. In the person's twisted and terrified expression, the warscythe swung out, the head flew up, and he caught it in mid-air.