The Emperor’s Angel of Death

When a sudden Warp rift opened at the edge of the Natesh System, the system's early warning system immediately issued an alert. Subsequently, the system defense fleet rapidly mobilized, and the system-level defense facilities, which had been under construction since the arrival of the Astral Knights, were activated one by one. The Astral Knights Chapter Monastery-Fortress, serving as the system's defense hub, immediately received a massive influx of information and requests.

Sotirios had long prepared for this contingency. The Chapter Monastery housed an intelligent strategic system, constructed under the guidance of Mu'Huo and with the assistance of Myriad Minds. This system, in a sense a semi-artificial intelligence, immediately integrated all system defense units into a unified command network. It then began to issue orders automatically, placing all worlds, satellites, and space stations on wartime footing. Units began to assemble according to the system's instructions, all decisions made within half an hour.

By that time, the XIV Legion's fleet had just emerged from the Warp rift. Hundreds of rust-covered warships poured into realspace. The distant star of the Natesh System illuminated their withered hulls. They then clustered together, moving towards the Natesh System like carrion flies drawn to sweet bait. Among them were small destroyers and frigates, as well as cruiser-sized vessels resembling rusty daggers. But the most conspicuous were the massive battleships, slow and cumbersome, their trails of putrid gas resembling bloated streamers.

Most striking of all was the Terminus Est, the infamous vessel of the Imperium, carrying its vengeance-seeking master towards the home of the one who had once inflicted the ultimate humiliation upon him.

"This will be a great revenge, a feast."

On the Terminus Est's bridge, a place like a foul swamp, Typhus stood before his throne, which resembled a rotting chrysalis. He was now more defiled and larger than before.

That ultimate humiliation had not broken him. After a period of despondency, he realized his weakness. To that end, he embarked alone on a pilgrimage to Father Nurgle, reclaiming the name of Calas Typhon, disappearing from the sight of the XIV Legion and his retinue.

Many at the time believed Typhus had fallen, or that he had been abandoned by Father Nurgle due to his failure.

But 777 days later, he returned from the uncharted depths of the Blighted Garden, transformed once more into Typhus, but stronger than before. His physique had swelled to a size second only to their Primarch. As for the Destroyer Hive that infested him, it had become something far more deadly: the Noxious Blight, capable of stinging the very soul.

Upon returning to his seat of power, Typhus immediately purged the warlords and subordinates who had grown restless during his pilgrimage. He even forced some who had once been loyal to Mortarion to submit to him. By this point, his contempt for Mortarion had reached an extreme, even publicly declaring that anyone in the Legion who disobeyed him would die. Mortarion offered no response, remaining sealed within his tower.

Having regained control of the Legion, he began to plot his revenge.

Those few bastards were hard to find, but the one who had caused him to be humiliated by those scraps was very clear—the hypocrite who consorted with the alien queen, and the thorn in Father Nurgle's side.

But that person was indeed very powerful. Even with such hatred, he recognized this. No matter how much power Father Nurgle lent him, he could not directly confront that power. It was beyond his reach.

However!

However, the opponent was just one person after all. Typhus had patience. Revenge could begin from the smallest stage.

Such as destroying what he valued most.

And this was not merely his plan. Although he loathed those people, there were no restrictions on the means of revenge.

It was they who provided the intelligence, ensuring that his plan would not be disturbed. That damned bastard was currently struggling on a distant battlefield, unable to return to his homeworld in the short term. His concubine and the Eldar forces would also be restrained and distracted. It should be difficult for them to detect what was happening here in the short term. Everything was so perfect, but time was still tight. He had to race against the clock.

After all, the Eldar seers' senses were very acute.

As for those who said they would help intercept the Eldar support fleet, Typhus was not so sure. After all, this group was known for treachery; he had learned this during the Battle of Terra.

"This is Sotirios's lair, heh heh heh..."

A hateful, ghostly chuckle came from the horned helmet. His fist tightened around the scythe that was still dripping deadly toxins.

"Advance, destruction! We will avenge Father Nurgle! We will slaughter for him! Father Nurgle wants him to weep amidst the ruins of his homeland and his people!"

The massive fleet began to move. This terrifying allied force included warbands from every Plague Company of the Death Guard, mainly composed of the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Plague Companies, as well as billions of mutants, Plague Cultists, and Traitor Guard. They gathered under the filthy banner, their lives merely cheap pawns to be discarded at any time by their master.

As they entered the Natesh System's star's gravitational ring, they were met by clusters of whistling missiles—as part of the system's defense system, large missile launch stations were prioritized for deployment. They resembled space stations, but were almost unmanned, with only signal transceivers, radar, and launch bays, each containing over three hundred ship-to-ship missiles. These missiles had a range sufficient to cover the entire system, and 1200 such missile launch stations had been built in the Natesh System, one of the results of the Astral Knights' fifty years of homeland construction.

Almost simultaneously, over ten thousand missiles struck the massive Plague Fleet.

"Cowardly tricks."

Typhus looked disdainfully at the frantically flashing red signals on the tactical display. At this moment, the sorcerers in the Plague Fleet also began to exert their power, projecting powerful psychic energy around the fleet. Many missiles were affected by the psychic energy upon approaching, either changing direction or turning into monsters with sharp teeth.

However—

Boom!

With a loud bang, the Terminus Est shook. Typhus quickly turned his head and saw a flash of light at the right observation window, followed by piles of debris.

"What!"

"Master! Anti-psyker missiles! They mixed anti-psyker missiles in!"

As part of the system's defense system, experimental weapons such as Blackstone anti-psyker missiles began to be deployed as secret facilities twenty years ago. These missiles, as their name suggests, used simply polished Blackstone shells. Although the Adeptus Mechanicus could not yet create true Blackstone products, simple processing was still possible. The warheads of these Blackstone anti-psyker missiles were plasma missiles from the Forge World, so the missiles not only ignored psychic interference, but also had tremendous power. The only disadvantage was that the missile bodies were large, heavy, and irregularly shaped, making them somewhat difficult to place in ships. The Adeptus Mechanicus was still trying to overcome the processing problems of Blackstone.

"Damn it..."

Under Typhus's gaze, a frigate exploded entirely, like a slain beast, all sorts of entrails spilling out.

Moreover, these anti-psyker missiles seemed to be tracking psychic intensity, and the warships where the sorcerers gathered became the main targets.

"Master! The Eternal Beloved seems unable to hold on!"

"Tell them to abandon ship immediately!"