The Emperor’s Angel of Death

Chapter 3077: The Star God Attacks!

Splatter! Sploosh!

One after another, the Zoanthropes exploded, their shattered bodies and brain tissue dissolving, transforming, forming a halo that rapidly contracted.

By this point, Solzhenitsyn couldn't concern himself with much else. Leaving behind the command, "First Company, cover everyone's retreat to the landing zone," he disregarded their shouts and transformed into a bolt of lightning, plunging into the thick smoke alone.

Along the way, he saw many Tyranid creatures dying, strangled and absorbed by tentacles emerging from the ground, offering no resistance whatsoever.

With an indescribable sense of urgency, Solzhenitsyn sprinted and leaped, finally resorting to dimensional translocation, crossing several kilometers in a matter of seconds.

Then, just as his foot landed on the hard chitinous carapace of the construct, the tumor that resembled a radiant psychic sun abruptly detonated—

The blinding light shone directly on Solzhenitsyn, and everything before his eyes vanished, leaving only a long tunnel stretching infinitely in all directions.

Solzhenitsyn narrowed his eyes, no longer concealing his power, unleashing it unreservedly.

The immense power, like an invisible torrent, shattered the endless tunnel, leaving him in a cavern filled with flesh and organ tissue. Countless bizarre eyes glared at him, as if for eons, it had been staring at him, never averting its gaze.

It was a scrutiny burning with terrifying rage, clamoring to devour him, threatening to assimilate him.

Solzhenitsyn gripped Heaven's Wrath tightly, cautiously surveying his surroundings.

The next moment, he abruptly raised Heaven's Wrath, blocking a bone blade that was descending upon him from behind. The psychic sparks entwined around the bone blade erupted in a violent arc. With a gentle push, he shoved the attacker away. Solzhenitsyn turned and smashed a fist into his opponent's face, instantly shattering the skull. The creature's spine then creaked like rusty gears. Another one pounced, Solzhenitsyn twisted his waist, seized the other's throat, and squeezed violently until bone and cartilage collapsed into a paste.

At the same time, he plunged Heaven's Wrath into the chest of a third. Its head convulsed violently, its claws transforming into whirling rotary blades in its mouth.

As the next one attempted to leap onto his back, Solzhenitsyn abruptly pulled out his weapon amidst a storm of shattered bones, piercing the attacker's skull before it could strike.

"Stop playing these petty tricks."

Solzhenitsyn gazed at the things he had killed—stout bodies, bulging muscles, but always with some deformity, such as scythe-like hands, bizarrely forked lower bodies and legs. One, on the verge of death, was still writhing on the ground, its movements clumsy, its muscles mutating unpredictably, its face stretched into a death mask, its jaw almost touching the ground.

These were Hive Tyrants, or creatures similar to Hive Tyrants. They were more twisted, more swift, each one a deadly opponent to an Astartes.

But in any case, they were no match for Solzhenitsyn.

Yet they kept coming, one after another, surging from unknown corners from all directions.

Solzhenitsyn wielded Heaven's Wrath, delivering crisp and decisive blows, the sharp blade cutting through thick bodies, chitinous fragments and severed limbs flying in disarray.

Ten.

A hundred.

A thousand.

In the continuous slaughter, corpses piled up into small mountains, blood flooded his thighs. Solzhenitsyn felt his consciousness was about to fly away, and the battle increasingly resembled a feverish dream, like a landscape in a painting by some madman—a painting where the only color was a thick and brilliant crimson.

Watching those incredibly powerful creatures being crushed like small insects, Solzhenitsyn felt no fatigue, nor anger. The feeling inside was more like a joyful hymn, pushing aside all other thoughts in his mind.

He hadn't fought like this in a long time. This feeling of unrestrainedly unleashing power was sometimes more addictive than the battle itself.

Suddenly, a heavy blow came whistling. Solzhenitsyn raised Heaven's Wrath, parrying the opponent's bone blade. The attacker staggered from the impact, and Solzhenitsyn clearly saw what had launched the attack—it was the Hive Lord.

It opened its arms, raised four bone blades, roared again, and attacked swiftly, even splitting the comrades in front of it in half due to excessive frenzy, causing blood to spray out like mist.

Solzhenitsyn laughed at this moment. Did that consciousness think that these little scraps could kill him?!

As the Hive Lord roared and charged up the mountain of corpses, its four bone blades almost creating a sonic boom, Solzhenitsyn simply swept Heaven's Wrath horizontally, striking the Hive Lord's knees, sending it flying and slamming into another mutated Tyrant nearby.

Solzhenitsyn raised his weapon again. The Hive Lord raised its bone sword to block him. How laughable.

With just one slash, he cut through the four overlapping bone blades, cleaved through the chitin, from its chin all the way down to its crotch.

Roaring, the Hive Lord staggered and fell, its internal organs and blood gushing out from the huge wound caused by Solzhenitsyn.

Solzhenitsyn stepped forward, staring at the struggling Hive Lord. At some moment, he felt something staring at him through those vicious eyes.

"Hiss... Hiss... Krooo... Unghhh..."

Suddenly, the dying alien creature grinned, and then countless laughs erupted. The dead aliens and the living all turned into constantly changing liquid, beginning to churn and shape.

Solzhenitsyn stood firm.

The next moment, with a roar, it transformed into an enraged silver Star God wearing a broken crown, releasing all-consuming black flames.

And those monsters also melted and dissolved at the same time, turning into some kind of viscous substance and quickly coalescing together.

Solzhenitsyn lunged at that thing, his hands plunging into its body. However, that thing instantly created two empty holes, causing Solzhenitsyn to grab at nothing. Then, two large hands formed, gripping the wrists of the Star God-transformed Solzhenitsyn.

"...Is this how you greet me... pathetic... brother? It's not easy to form a body to see you once."

Appearing before Solzhenitsyn was an indescribable being. It seemed to have endless, constantly changing organs and tissues. Its body was like a kaleidoscope, and its head was simply a crystal with countless faces, seemingly containing endless light of thought.

When it spoke to Solzhenitsyn, Solzhenitsyn could even feel his consciousness almost collapsing—not being confused, but something was about to replace it.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, how pathetic, trapped in this vulgar consciousness, but this does indeed fit your... end."

"Who, are you!"

Solzhenitsyn growled, his arms exerting force violently. The immense power instantly pushed the opponent away, and then a series of dimensional lightning bolts shot out from his raised hand, but the opponent simply stretched out a tentacle-like limb resembling a palm to block the beam, just like blocking an annoying ray of sunlight.