The Emperor’s Angel of Death

For many years, Kor Phaeron and Erebus fought each other within the Dark Council, each planting countless spies around the other, so to deceive him, one had to show 'sincerity'.

Therefore, he ostentatiously occupied this alien ark bathed in the power of the gods and launched an attack on another dying alien ark, making everyone believe he was here for revenge.

This was good, very good, exceedingly good.

But the hints of the gods were not so easy to understand. Although he felt the patterns rippling in his mind, he still couldn't grasp that wisp of silk in the wind.

There was no way around it, after all, the hearts of mortals were but a wisp of mist facing the unseparated, chaotic, and frigid wind.

Although this was already a very rewarding lesson, it was not enough.

"Revere the Eternal Eightfold Path."

The time for contemplation was over. Kor Phaeron, the Lord of Faith, one of the two giants of the Dark Council, stood up and picked up his dark scripture.

He had a face as pale as a corpse, his eyes seemed to smolder with the eternal fire of hatred, his red armor was gilded, inlaid with precious gems, and he wore a brightly colored brocade robe.

As the former foster father of Primarch Lorgar, he was not strictly an Astartes, because he was already very old at that time and not suitable for modification, but out of respect for his foster father, Lorgar still modified him to a certain extent to adapt to Terminator armor. However, he probably didn't expect that this was the person who would lead him on the path of faith in Chaos in the future.

After completely devoting himself to the embrace of the Ruinous Powers, Kor Phaeron also received supernatural blessings. His former aging was gone, and he no longer needed to use wheelchair-like special armor. The dark power surged in his blood, and perhaps at some point, the Eightfold Chaos would elevate him to that immortal existence.

When he walked out of the Prophet's Dome, several rows of teams wearing dark wine-red armor and horned helmets were already standing outside.

Looking around, the entire square and garden were twisted. The protruding buttresses on the walls resembled ugly heads, and black iron spikes flickered with sluggish light in the parapets and niches. They were not just for show, but for executions and rituals.

The shadows of demons constantly floated past the spikes, but they could not enter. No legion knew better than the Word Bearers how to use and subdue demons.

"Drak'maras."

Kor Phaeron summoned his attendant in a low voice. Soon, a warrior wearing Terminator armor walked over, with two gargoyles that seemed to be condensed from flesh and blood on his shoulders, chattering incessantly, but this did not prevent him from speaking.

"My lord."

"How is the destruction of the Titan Temple progressing?"

"Soon, it will take about 3-4 more hours."

"Hmm."

The Lord of Faith nodded. Since the hints of the gods were vague, he would use the simplest method: searching one place at a time.

After finding no clues in other areas, he set his sights on the only 'safe' place in this dead world, and guessed that his target was very likely here.

Of course, things had to be found, and things had to be done.

"Those filthy alien bastards are already frightened birds. We only need to launch one more attack to completely destroy them, and contribute their souls to the great Eightfold Path. Send a message to the fleet and let them prepare for the attack—"

Suddenly, Kor Phaeron stopped and raised his head.

"Gods."

The fleet, which should have been hovering above the ark's dome, was now disintegrating in slow motion, like a silent pantomime, as if an invisible blade had cut them apart like toys.

Then, flashes appeared. Beams of colorful light pierced through the thick armor plates. The Sacred Argument, a Murder-class cruiser that had served the Word Bearers legion for dozens of centuries, had its entire bow torn open, exposing the ship's structure to the void, throwing many lives to their deaths. Another frigate was hit in the rear engines, instantly turning into a cloud of expanding plasma mixed with large pieces of wreckage.

The sudden attack caught the Word Bearers off guard. The fleet hurriedly tried to scatter and counterattack, but they were too slow. Even the time to find their opponents was enough to die several times over.

"The fleet is under attack!"

"Who launched the attack, the pointy-eared aliens? But isn't their fleet very weak?"

"Damn it! We must return to the ships and fight back."

"They actually launched an attack?"

Although the warriors present were shocked, Kor Phaeron's voice was calm, though angry and hoarse.

"Very well, it seems the lessons we taught them before were not profound enough."

He slowly raised the eight-pointed star scepter in his hand, which flashed with dark power.

"Do not panic, the gods live with us, our hearts are devoted to Chaos, cursed and bound, no one will stand before us."

Although Kor Phaeron was annoyed by the heavy blow to the fleet, he didn't take it too seriously. Neither the False Emperor's fleet nor the alien fleet could resist the Eightfold Path. He would summon demons to give the invaders a head-on blow.

A mere bunch of dying remnants, easily crushed!

"Prepare the ritual—ah!"

Suddenly, Kor Phaeron's voice, who was about to issue an order, was full of pain, and the surrounding warriors turned their heads.

The Lord of Faith covered his forehead. For a moment, he saw it, saw a huge burning phoenix rushing towards him. He was so small, so powerless.

"What—"

"The bastards of the Seventeenth Legion."

A loud voice suddenly echoed in the sky, in very pure High Gothic.

"If you want to die a little easier, don't run around. Wait obediently for judgment, otherwise I will send you to a place you would rather die than go."

The voice was so contemptuous that the Word Bearers roared and cursed.

"Also, Kor Phaeron, pray hard to the evil gods you believe in. This will be the last time your mouth, which is dirtier than a toilet, chants scriptures."

Kor Phaeron looked at the sky. Sharp alien warships swaggered into the barrage woven by the Word Bearers' warships, but these were not the small boats they had seen before. They were big ships, Eldar capital ships they rarely saw.

Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes and remembered a previous rumor.

"Eternal... Court."

At this moment, from the largest warship, dozens of fireballs attacked the ark world. Kor Phaeron immediately shouted in dismay.

"Prepare for battle! Start the ritual immediately!!!"

Just as the Word Bearers were chaotically gathering slaves to prepare for defense, those fireballs had landed one after another near the Prophet's Dome.

The Eternal Pyre, larger than a Thunderhawk (readers who have forgotten can go back to chapter 2827), swooped down with dazzling flames, its scattering lasers firing in all directions, shattering clusters of wraiths hidden in the shadows, and then steadily reducing its altitude.

Leaping down from the throne, as soon as Sojyan stepped on the cracked spirit bone ground, he felt the stench of Chaos power permeating the surroundings, like the smell of rust and scorched flesh, and the unique smell of demons.