Traveling through the Warhammer world, but I didn’t cry

At the end of the banquet, Warmaster Rees was glowing with victory over the sand table deduction. Although the general of the Mordian Iron Guard had no expression on his face, his knuckles without gloves had turned white from excessive exertion.

Creed remembered Staff Sergeant Aurora's standard of eating enough - 20 slices of meat.

If I had eaten five pieces of meat, I would probably have to go to the medical room and lie down for a while.

Servants and servo-skulls clear the food off the table. They put the food scraps into the recycling device, and within a few days a batch of steaming nutritional bars will be distributed to the soldiers and crew.

Creed was ready to return to his office to continue the unfinished work.

Something is wrong.

There is something wrong with getting ten points out of nine.

He had already walked thirty-five steps, but the corner was still two steps away.

Creed stopped walking. Even if his pace and frequency were affected by eating, there would not be such a big deviation.

Although in the eyes of others, Creed's suspicion seems a bit ridiculous, Creed's actions have withstood the test of war.

In the countless wars against aliens and traitors, there are many wizards who are good at weaving illusions. Creed's caution and subtlety helped him see through the illusion time and time again.

Creed, who stopped, knew that Adjutant Kyle following him was probably not a real person. He silently prayed for Adjutant Kyle and prepared for his final struggle.

Shatter the illusion and spread the word that the warship has been infiltrated by psykers. That was Creed's only thought.

Creed pulled out a monomolecular dagger from the inside of his coat, and then removed the energy magazine from the laser pistol at his waist.

The dagger pierced the shell of the magazine, and Creed felt the energy magazine in his hand heat up rapidly. A sudden high-temperature explosion could disrupt the ritual of weaving illusions. This was a precious experience that Creed had practiced.

The energy clip was about to explode, so Creed threw it out violently, then turned around and slashed at Adjutant Kyle.

Sure enough, as he thought, Adjutant Kyle was just an illusion and disappeared like a bubble the moment he was hit by the dagger.

Creed fell backwards and wrapped his whole body with a coat. The overload explosion of the energy clip was no joke. Creed needed to prevent the burning damage caused by the high temperature. No one wanted to be in a formal battle with the enemy. He was injured before.

One second, two seconds.

The explosion did not appear, but instead a powerful and clear voice resounded in Creed's mind.

"Creed, you are indeed unusual."

This was psychic communication, Creed quickly judged. However, the psychic communications he had heard were not as clear as this voice. The language transmitted by the Empire's psykers was more like playing music on glass with fingernails, which was harsh and unpleasant. After hearing it once, you would never want to hear it again.

Creed's eyes were dazzled, and the slightly flawed corridor disappeared. He found himself in a large, dark warehouse.

The tall Space Marine stood in front of Creed, his face slightly showing recognition of Creed's reaction.

Creed carefully identified the paint and accessories of the Space Marines, then he took a deep breath, and his pupils dilated in shock.

Space Wolves, White Scars, Raven Guard.

Space Marines from three original battle groups were standing in this unidentified warehouse. They were all looking at Creed. The pressure almost made Creed kneel down.

Wodehouse noticed Creed's emotional changes and relied on his psychic powers to soothe Creed's spirit.

"Calm down," said Wodehouse.

Creed immediately felt as cold as ice all over his body. He hugged his coat tightly and found a piece of ice on the ground with an energy magazine sealed inside.

"Your emergency treatment of illusions is perfect, but it is a pity that it only applies to those weak psykers. If you encountered a psionic master like Wodehouse, you would have been crushed into a meat pie." Kai Sebai Fang held Creed's back with his hand and said with a smile.

Should I feel lucky? Creed suppressed the coldness in his bones so that he could speak more clearly.

Creed said tremblingly, "Sir, sir, what are you doing?"

Wodehouse replied, "I just have something to do with you. Do you know the Voscani Cavalry?"

"Yes sir." Creed replied with difficulty. He didn't understand why the Space Marine asked this question.

"Very well, the Voscani Cavalry are traitors."

Creed's eyes widened in shock.

The Voskani Cavalry is a unit of the Imperial Defense Force. They are tough and tenacious warriors in the Cadia sector. This regiment has existed hundreds of years ago, and they have received hundreds of glorious military flags. .

Such an army of glory was called a traitor, and Creed's first reaction was to loudly accuse Wodehouse of talking nonsense.

Wodehouse did not punish Creed for his overreaction, but used Fenrisian frost to keep him calm.

The trembling Creed received a sip of strong wine from Kaiser White Fang to recuperate his body. He felt the fire boiling in his stomach and constantly dispelling the biting chill.

Creed, realizing that he had spoken too much, apologized to Wodehouse, and then asked Wodehouse how he knew that the Voscani Cavalry was about to rebel.

In fact, Wodehouse was also quite shocked by the rebellion of the Voskani Cavalry. He knew this because Lin Fan told him some details of the Thirteenth Black Crusade in advance.

"It's the emperor's warning." Wodehouse said solemnly, "We cannot live up to his expectations. The Voskani Cavalry must be completely eliminated."

Creed was silent, and then he suddenly realized a problem.

Why are these Space Marines coming for me? I am just a young general waiting for trial. How can He De let the Space Marines communicate with him face to face on such a dangerous issue?

Wodehouse felt Creed's doubts. They chose Creed because of Lin Fan. He always said that Creed was the last Lord of Cadia.

The last Lord of the Castle. Wodehouse didn't dare to think about the information revealed in it. He answered Creed's question before he asked it.

"Because you are the one chosen by the Emperor!"

Creed suddenly felt as if he was not communicating with a wise older think tank, but with a political commissar candidate who had just graduated from Zhongji Academy.

The person chosen by the Emperor. Creed has heard this word too many times. Before every brutal charge, the political commissar would roar such words to the soldiers.

Do you deserve it?

Creed looked at Wodehouse with some suspicion and found that his eyes were filled with recognition.

I don’t know if you deserve it, but some people think you do.