The Emperor’s Angel of Death

“Rapid Slaughter Protocol, execute——”

The hunchbacked and twisted Six-Marked Destroyer landed and rooted itself in place, then fired with all six weaponized arms in a non-stop, arrhythmic staccato. The frenzied firepower of the Hatefire Disintegrator Pistols sent the Phantom Warriors scurrying for cover. The power of these weapons was truly exaggerated; once hit, chunks of armor would fall off, and the flesh would instantly be burned into a pile of gray ash.

Even more terrifying were the elusive Wraith Serpent Destroyers. They were Flayers, a mad combination of Construct and Destroyer, using the power of the warp to silently traverse the battlefield, slithering towards their prey like something vaguely visible in murky water. Because they used pocket dimensions, even the psychically adept Phantom Warriors couldn't predict them, and their favorite targets were those who turned to flee.

The Plague Locust Destroyers initially targeted the three largest figures, the Daemon Princes. Their faces were frozen in a狰狞grimace, projecting only a dull hatred. Each shot from their massive cannons brought an earth-shattering roar.

The once-vaunted Scarred Count, after being bombarded several times by three Plague Locust Destroyers, found his body riddled with holes. Although he quickly repaired himself with the power of his daemon sword, he was forced to constantly move at high speed to avoid the barrage and attempt to close in.

But any close-range attacks by the enemy were shattered by the Wraith Scorpion Destroyers. These warriors, wielding enormous phase blades, cleaved at any foe with a savagery no less than that of daemons, creating ripples of death.

And Borakka, the Crimson Marshal, went directly for the Daemon Prince Muka.

“Damn it!”

As the weaker of the Daemon Princes, Muka felt a flicker of fear as the Destroyer Lord approached. Although this might have been a lingering effect of the Gaze of Burning Fury, it filled him with shame, and he unleashed an angry roar, releasing waves of dark energy.

But the Destroyer Lord simply strode towards the Daemon Prince with a strange and serene malice. His advance was as steady and unwavering as the setting sun, even as he passed through the storm of bolter fire from the Phantom Warriors. The dark energy detonated against his ochre-colored armor, producing deep, resonant booms.

But to Borakka, these were perhaps only summer rain. He was similarly surrounded by a crimson quantum mist, as if granted some kind of protection.

“How is this possible!”

Muka roared in disbelief, raising his right hand, transforming it into a massive flail, and slamming it down on the Destroyer Lord.

“Die! No one can defy me!!!”

In the next moment, the once-calm Crimson Marshal became a whirlwind of violence. The Phase Reaper Glaive severed the Daemon Prince's arm, then massive claws tore open his knee. As the hulking Wraith Scorpion Lord lowered its head, it seized the ugly head and slammed it into the ground, leaving Muka in an undignified pose: kneeling with his butt sticking high in the air.

“Bastard!”

Humiliated, Muka's eyes flashed with hatred, like two fiery beacons. He then uttered obscure, low-pitched syllables, creating malevolent runes that hung in the air, and began to draw upon the evil power permeating the city of Acroha.

Each syllable spoken by the Daemon Prince twisted the very fabric of reality around him. His entire body shimmered like a mirage, then vanished from Borakka's grasp.

When he reappeared, he lunged at the Crimson Marshal's exposed flank, smashing a fist into him.

Borakka still offered no superfluous words or emotions. The node array on his body emitted only a steady, impassive light, then activated the Hatefire Annihilator.

With a boom, Muka howled and staggered back, his left side completely gone, leaving only a smooth gap dripping with pus.

But then, a black mist poured from the sky into the Daemon Prince's body, rapidly repairing it.

“You will pay!”

Muka charged again, and the Crimson Marshal responded with a calm, cold blade.

“What!”

Not far away, the Beastclaw staggered back, shocked by what had just happened. Just as he was about to ambush Vargul, who was battling the Scarred Count, something insignificant stopped him.

Yenehk, Vargul's most trusted blade and guard, stood before the Daemon Prince. The once-perfect proportions of his body had been twisted into the gaunt form of a predator, his hands hanging below his knees, tipped with wicked, irregular blades. The silver metal that had once encased this proud noble had darkened, but close inspection revealed that the necrodermis beneath the surface had changed, becoming as smooth as glass, as black as night. Thick, organic residue accumulated in the recesses of the armor and between the rib-like bars on his chest. A steel-hard frost shimmered on his body, and a thin mist swirled around the voids within him, the crimson vapors chilling the air itself.

His face had also changed when he received the blessing of the Flayer Shrine. His skull had flattened and lengthened, and his eye sockets had widened, becoming more pronounced, as if he had completely transformed from a human into some kind of hunting beast, seemingly forever in a state of grief and hunger. A slender lower jaw plate and a pair of long, inverted fangs completed the transformation.

Gazing at the Daemon Prince, Yenehk slowly extended two more long arms from the cloak on his back, each hand wielding a phase scythe sword.

In his past fall, he had almost forgotten how to use weapons, forgotten his superb combat skills. But the Flayer Shrine, in a sense, restored his sanity. He had become again the proud young noble, a powerful duelist, and the former naval commander.

And standing before him was a beast filled with the taint of the warp, a beast that had been mentioned many times in the wars against the Old Ones.

“Beast... Away from the king.”

With that, Yenehk appeared before the Beastclaw with almost ghostly speed, his twin blades slashing at the Daemon Prince from left and right.

The Beastclaw roared and raised its axe. The three weapons collided violently, and the Daemon Prince was surprised by the opponent's brute strength. And the pervasive red mist made it feel a little palpitation, as if something was gazing at itself with mockery through those emotionless mechanical wings.

But Yenehk's weapons were not limited to his twin blades. Just as he suddenly entangled the Daemon Prince's battleaxe, his claws suddenly reached down and forward, tearing open the Beastclaw's groin. Instantly, the Daemon Prince screamed and leaped tens of meters into the air.

When it landed, it had transformed into a huge, ferocious three-headed flesh hound, snapping viciously at Yenehk, eager to devour him alive.