The Emperor’s Angel of Death

Watching the storm of blades mixed with the wrath and chaotic flames of Tzeentch, Soshjan laughed, a simple mockery.

"You are too weak, Magnus, not even worth a finger of Mortarion."

Burning Heaven cleaved downwards, a sharp wave of energy swept across, as if splitting the tide, countless psychic blades and Tzeentchian flames instantly dissipated, the remaining force rushing towards Magnus, forcing him to raise his arms in a crossed defense, but he was still knocked back several meters, his body flickering even more violently.

"Don't compare me to that hypocritical idiot!"

Magnus roared, the entire Titan seeming to shake, and for the first time, his voice was filled with genuine anger, even his face seemed to burn.

"What, does the truth hurt?"

Laughing loudly, Soshjan gripped Burning Heaven with both hands, and in the next second appeared before Magnus like lightning, slashing towards his head.

Magnus bellowed, a scythe-like sword appearing in his hand, attempting to raise it in defense.

In the midst of the violent collision, the terrifying force instantly forced Magnus to one knee.

"That's right, kneeling is the attitude you should have."

"Damn it!"

Magnus, provoked, instantly erupted with light, his immense psychic power threatening to burst the entire Titan cockpit, but Soshjan merely sneered and kicked out.

In an instant, the sole of his boot made intimate contact with that crimson face.

"Ouch!"

The Crimson King was sent rolling by the blow, and his powerful psychic energy dissipated along with it, while a layer of frost began to cover the cockpit, a soul-piercing cold.

Amonak rested his hands on the railings surrounding the mechanical throne, watching Soshjan kick Magnus around like a ball with great interest, as if watching a play, and joked:

"Soshjan, he is still the son of the Emperor of Mankind, aren't you afraid Erda will come after you for hitting him like that?"

"She won't teach her son, so I'll teach him for her."

Magnus flapped his wings and suddenly stood up, lunging at Soshjan, trying to stab him in the abdomen with his blade.

But Soshjan simply dodged with a casual movement, stepping to the empty space on his right, then released his weapon, turned in a small circle, and slammed his elbow into Magnus's face.

With a muffled groan, the Crimson King's jaw snapped.

"What's wrong, don't you know a lot of witchcraft? Why don't you use it?"

Sneering, Soshjan punched him into the wall again, crushing a piece of equipment, and before he could land, he grabbed his long hair, forcing him to look up and meet his eyes.

"Next time, remember to stay as far away from me as possible."

After gently patting the other's cheek, Soshjan struck again with a heavy punch, shattering his nose and cheek.

Magnus roared, trying to struggle but unable to break free, his psychic powers completely suppressed, his entire body already close to translucent.

"You are truly pathetic, talented but unwise, brave but heartless, driven by a selfish ego."

Soshjan's fist paused, looking at Magnus's angry one eye.

"If one day you figure it out, and want to get true liberation and redemption, perhaps we will have a chance to continue talking, if you are not convinced, send your sons to die, or you can go to Fulgrim to cry, form a small alliance with him, then pull in Mortarion, and Angron, Lorgar, Perturabo, all of you come together, or set a location, and I'll go."

With that, he punched down, and the Crimson King's body instantly shattered into countless transparent shards of glass, scattered all over the ground.

Straightening up, Soshjan glanced at a strip of scripture on his waist, where a line of glowing words had appeared—

[Beware the Dark King, stay away from the Thunderstone Cathedral]

Without making a sound, Soshjan gripped the strip of scripture, and with a slight force, turned it to ashes.

"It seems he has other purposes, although it's just a temporary avatar, it's not easy to cultivate, after all, it's not easy to accommodate the will of a Daemon Primarch."

Amonak, not far away, suddenly floated over and said, Soshjan did not respond, but turned to look at the two dead Soul-less.

"This thing is not safe at all, mortal Soul-less are just mortals after all, and still vulnerable in the face of truly powerful warp entities, the Mechanicus will always make this kind of wishful thinking mistake."

Faced with Soshjan's avoidance, Amonak just smiled, then pointed to the floor and said:

"So what about this big iron lump? The pilot is dead too."

"Well, notify Zhao-Arcada to come and tow it away—"

Just as he finished speaking, the cockpit suddenly shook, accompanied by the sound of metal collisions and friction, as well as the unique roars of Tyranid creatures.

Amonak glanced at the exit and said:

"It seems the Tyranids don't plan to let this thing go, it seems we have to give up."

But Soshjan was a little hesitant at this time.

"After all, it's a waste to let the Tyranids destroy it like this after spending so many resources, it's still a human asset."

After thinking for a few seconds, Soshjan walked towards the mechanical throne that controlled the Titan, which was originally encased in a glass cover, but now the glass cover was broken, and the various unknown crystal balls inside were also scattered.

Seeming to know what Soshjan was going to do, Amonak nodded.

"You can try."

Soshjan looked at it, the mechanical throne was designed quite large, although it was a bit cramped for him, he could still sit down.

When he sat down and placed his hands on the armrests, a large number of silver thread-worms instantly emerged from his fingertips, these things, after a long period of nurturing and proliferation, had in some sense become another organ of his.

Soon, the thread-worms swept down, covering the entire mechanical throne, and at the same time, those extinguished lights lit up one after another.

In an instant, Soshjan felt his consciousness drawn out of his physical body, merging into a shell composed of steel and anger, muscles and tendons replaced by giant pistons and hydraulic fiber bundles, intertwined with songs similar to the Eternal Circuit, which should be the Banshee's Black Iron Core psychic resonance system.

Although not skilled in psychic powers, Soshjan still allowed his power to permeate it, but unexpectedly, the Black Iron Core began to undergo incredible changes, its texture began to transform into Blackstone, but Soshjan did not notice all of this.

He was still immersed in this unique feeling, the weapons in his hands no longer bolters, but huge cannons capable of obliterating thousands of troops, and iron fists capable of crushing houses.

When he opened his eyes, he was overlooking the battlefield from the perspective of a god, a feeling completely different from the C'tan Shard, when he was a C'tan Shard his consciousness would actually be a bit blurred, but at this moment he was exceptionally awake and clear, and his limbs were also a bit stiff, as if his consciousness was still gradually adapting to the enormous scale and heavy body.

At this time, he felt something scratching at him, and turned his head slightly, finding a Harpy clinging to his left shoulder, cutting the thick armor plate with its sharp claws, and wires were already exposed to the air, and on his legs, countless small Tyranid creatures were climbing up, like ants attacking a giant beast.