How can a retired savior be considered retired if he drops to 40,000?

This judgment itself was not wrong, but the problem with it was that he had no idea where this menacing Midnight Lord came from.

Yago Sevitarion did not often come into contact with alien weapons such as war sickles, but he did not intend to deal with them seriously. To be honest, if we only consider the skills of using various weapons, he could only get an above average score among the Astartes warriors during the Great Crusade - by no means outstanding. But he did not have any motivation to further refine his skills after comparing himself with his peers, because for him, this was enough.

Sevatar doesn't care too much about technique. He's just faster, stronger, and more powerful.

At such a close distance, the roar of the engines of both sides' weapons could be clearly heard. As Typhons's guard raised his scythe, the tip of the chain saw halberd's spinning blade had already cut into his throat at a dizzying speed. The Plague Warrior instinctively tried to turn the scythe back in shock and anger. This was his usual practice. After receiving the blessing of the God of Plague, he had gained supernatural vitality and was used to continuing to fight with wounds that ordinary people would consider fatal - but his movements were still not fast enough.

He swung his sickle faster than Sevatar's chain halberd. Although the Plague Warrior's body looked rotten and fragile, it actually had supernatural hardness and toughness, which was why he dared to continue attacking against the enemy's weapon. He might never understand how the other party cut his torso in half with the ease of a hot knife cutting butter.

Your future path is cut off! — He vaguely heard such a verdict.

His still intact mind felt clear pain. The false comfort from the gods was forcibly stripped away, and normal perception returned to his limbs. He felt that everything in him was burning, and every breath was accompanied by severe pain - no, was he still breathing? Could he still breathe with his current body?

The bat-wing helmet of the Night Lord left him without any reluctance, as if it had completely lost interest in this. The flames of anger and hatred wrapped around one of Typhons' guards, using the corpse oil on his fat body, or some other filth as fuel, completely igniting him into an oversized torch. His flesh melted like wax in such a flame, revealing the bones underneath that had long been deformed due to disease. At the last moment, his consciousness returned to clarity due to pain, driving him to scream loudly. Perhaps there was only pain in it, perhaps there was also regret, but this could not change anything.

Two seconds later, his deformed skull fell to the ground. He should have no body tissues that could continue to make sounds, but the skull continued to scream miserably until his soul was burned along with it.

——At this moment, the guard who wanted to help Typhons get rid of the Emperor's Amulet in his chest also lost his head under Sevatar's swift attack.

-

"Ehh." - Jeanne Alter made a sound of disgust without disguising, - You could have just split the last one's head in half like you did with this one. Did you have to leave his head there on purpose so that he could scream? -

No way? - Sevatar replied while quickly dealing with the "remaining part" of the Plague Warrior, - You have to let me find some fun in the boring work - we didn't see what happened before, but judging from the current situation, killing "Typhons" will not be more difficult than killing a dog. -

The Night Lords never cared much about honor, and Sevatar was more than happy to have someone reduce the difficulty of the battlefield for him in advance.

-

We didn't meet much, but Dr. Asclepius was a real idiot. -He said, -What kind of doctor would rush to the front line without any guards? --

Even if he is indeed a fool, he is a fool of Chaldea. - Jeanne Alter replied, the hatred from Ortenaus also burned in Sevata's heart, -Hurry up and finish what you are doing, the real target is still breathing. -

Communication between minds is always fast, and for the two of them, it took less than a second to complete the transmission of these useless information. Two of the seven guards of Typhons had been killed, and the remaining five saw this and immediately increased their firepower output, driving away the Ultramarines who were still entangled nearby, and tried to free up three of them to go back to support Typhons.

Typhons himself seemed to have recovered from this endless torture, and regained some of the pain tolerance that a Space Marine should have. His guards did not complete the task of removing the foreign object from the chest cavity, but the man at least left his rusty dagger on Typhons' slowly healing chest bone plate. His arm tendons have been restored under the blessing, but they are still trembling with pain. He did not choose to continue to deal with the problem of the amulet of the cursed in the heart, but first picked up the scythe again:

His guards were still on their way, but the ill-intentioned Night Lord was right before his eyes.

Typhons barely raised the sickle and used its seemingly fragile but in fact extremely solid long handle to block the slash of the chainsaw halberd. Then he struggled under the opponent's attack and managed to stand up from the ground again. He asked in a hoarse and painful voice: "Who are you? Why do you stand on the side of the running dogs of the cursed?"

He didn't get an answer, but a voice that had been processed by the voice changing mechanism and became terrifyingly low flowed out from the other party's breathing grid:

"'Karas Typhon', I come for you."

He received a very Midnight Lord's reply, and the title he was given made him angry and warn at the same time.

"My name is Typhons!" His three guards had already stepped forward, so Typhons could continue to speak while slowly retreating, "The great Lord of Plague -"

"Yes, yes. I heard about your name change." Even though the voice of the Night Lord had been mechanically turned into a terrifying thunder, Typhons could still hear the undisguised indifference and impatience in it. "Your new master gave you the name 'Typhons', right? But for me, I have only heard of the captain of the Death Guard named 'Karas Typhon'."

Typhon freed one hand, grasped the hilt of the dagger stuck in his heart, and tried again to dig the foreign object out of his body. Compared with the torture of the rotten blood vessels flowing through his body, the pain caused by this injury was almost negligible. The Ultramarines' bullets rained down on him, and as usual, they failed to penetrate the force field to cause him harm. His two guards used psychic spells to support a small safety zone for him, but the other three who came forward -

——They only succeeded in delaying him for seven seconds. Under the burning of the red lotus-like flames, they were easily cut into pieces, minced into meat paste, or melted and disappeared with black smoke.

Their sacrifice was not meaningless, at least in these seven seconds, Typhons successfully dug the damn amulet out of his heart, at the cost of a large jagged hole in his chest. But as long as the Emperor's psychic power did not continue to hurt him, such a wound was nothing to a favored Plague Warrior.

He is the pioneer of the loving father in the mortal world, and an important messenger to spread the blessings of the garden. The loving father will not just watch him die like this. Typhons firmly believed this.

In fact, he had already begun to think about retreating. Almost all the soldiers he brought with him were lost in the port battlefield in vain, and they could not even approach the temple of the damned. This was undoubtedly a serious and despicable failure. He could fully imagine that he would be severely punished after returning to the warp - but going back would only result in punishment, and staying here would only result in death. Between two evils, choose the lesser one, and everyone knows which one to choose.

Nurgle's chosen one chanted a spell, trying to force a rift to the warp on the spot. This place is outside the protection of the Emperor's Temple, and similar spells should have been interfered with, but Typhons still got a sense of success. This proved that the loving father was still watching him and had not given up on him, which made him ecstatic. In just one more second, he could hide himself behind the curtain and leave this damn place -

He didn't have a second to spare. The Night Lord Terminator, who came on fire, had already thrust the chainsaw halberd into the large hole in his chest that had not yet healed, and with a horizontal pull, the single-molecule chain blade accurately shredded his other diseased heart into rotten flesh.

Another kind of pain similar to the previous one but slightly different began to explode in Typhons' body. The flames of anger and revenge burned everything in him mercilessly and violently. At this time, he used almost all of his father's gift to open the warp rift. His recovery speed could not keep up with the speed of the violent flames. In fact, his opponent had no intention of stopping. Even though he caused such severe and nearly fatal psychic damage to him, the Night Lord still calmly turned his weapon, and the next blow of the chainsaw halberd would obviously fall on his neck.

Now using his war sickle, Typhons might still be able to resist, but he had completely lost all his will to fight. He took the initiative to let his soul leave this body that was most likely to end here, hoping that at least a part of him could escape back to his father's garden without attracting attention. But almost at the same time, thin wooden and iron stakes grew out of thin air on the ground under his feet, almost at the speed of a spear, and nailed him to death on the spot before he could react - and nailed his broken soul and flesh together at the same time.

A second later, the warp rift opened normally, but he could no longer successfully escape into it. Red flames began to roll up rapidly from the ground, engulfing him in an instant. In the few seconds before he was completely melted in the high temperature, Typhons asked the question again with the scream of his soul:

"who are you?!"

The Midnight Lord who had cornered him simply sneered:

"I am anger, vengeance, and judgment," said Sevatar.

The Chosen of Nurgle, Lord of Disease, Lord of Swarms of Destruction Flies, Typhons the Traveler, one of the greatest enemies of the empire for thousands of years, died here in the port of Tyros - but Sevatar was still a step too late. Behind him, the body of Asclepius that remained in reality had turned into a golden spot of light a few seconds ago and dissipated into the air.

With the death of the Chosen, the Plague God's touch could no longer reach the outskirts of the city protected by the Emperor. The two remaining Plague Warrior Terminator Guards lost both their backbone and blessing, and for a moment they were overconfident and wanted to avenge their leader. Unfortunately, they were no better than their brothers in arms, and Sevatar took less than three seconds to kill the two weakened men.

But then, after the common enemy disappeared, he had to face the various weapons of the ultramarine warriors around him. And Sevatar happened to have rich experience in this regard:

"I surrender!" The captain of the Midnight Lords Company threw down the chainsaw halberd in his hand without hesitation, raised his hands, and announced loudly to all the hostile eyes around him.

-

Puff. - Jeanne Alter laughed in a way that only he could hear, - You got scared so quickly. -

Meow (six o'clock)

(End of this chapter)

Chapter 106: The episode that made all the masked chefs furious

In the ruins of the northern battlefield of Tyros, Lanmalok, whose power armor was covered with scars, struggled to lift a prefabricated ceramic steel plate.

Theoretically, it was not heavy, but there were also some other concrete residues, polymer steel connectors, or other messy construction waste scattered on it, so the overall weight was very astonishing. Even a Space Marine like Lanmarok had to use all his strength, including the functions of his power armor, to barely lift it about 20 centimeters high.

But in this situation, twenty centimeters was enough: Zaentik Afpar, Captain of the Dreadwing, took this opportunity to quickly crawl out from under the ruins that plagued him.

"What a coincidence, 'not as good as Ran Dan', huh?" Lan Malock asked with a smile.

After his colleague was freed from his restraints, he immediately pulled his hand away, letting the prefabricated board fall back to the ground with a loud noise of earth and rocks collapsing. The helmet of the Fire Wing Grand Master, which was almost welded to the power armor, had disappeared in the previous fierce battle. His short light blond hair and lake green eyes, exposed without any protection, made even those who were most familiar with him feel unfamiliar. There were many scars from different sources on his originally plain and undecorated power armor, but relying on his own strength as a master of swordsmanship, he was still intact.

Captain Afupa was obviously not so lucky. After the continuous loud noises of the prefabricated panels slowly subsided, he finally responded to Lanmarok's teasing weakly: "Shut up, pretty boy!"

This nickname is one of the reasons why Lanmarok chose to weld his helmet onto his power armor. In the past, he was often criticized by his colleagues for his appearance, saying that he suspected he was a child of the Emperor. Normally, if someone called him that, he would definitely give him a beating. But now, Lanmarok decided to be a little more lenient with Captain Aphrodite.

The reason was simple, but Captain Aphrodite's current condition was indeed too miserable. His ornately decorated power armor was unnaturally sunken in the chest and abdomen. Although Lanmarok did not find any observable damage, it was not difficult to imagine that Captain Aphrodite had directly endured at least one impact that could crush a mortal into pulp not long ago.

Even Astartes would inevitably suffer fractures, internal bleeding, and other problems after encountering such an impact. In addition, his entire right hand was also missing from about three centimeters below the elbow. Judging from the shape of the wound itself, it was likely that he cut it off bit by bit with the single-molecule dagger at his waist.

"What's wrong with your right hand?" Lanmalok asked as he extended his hand to his colleague.

The latter struggled to grab him with his left hand for leverage, and managed to stand up again shakily. He replied nonchalantly, "It's rotten. I'll get a new one later."

The wound had naturally stopped bleeding due to the Astartes' constitution, so they didn't think it was a big deal - war was like this, it would take away something you thought you would never lose at any time. They had long been accustomed to it.

At the beginning, when the Lion's Mane left the fleet to perform an escort mission, there were 220 brothers on board; then, they were lost in the warp for 10,000 years without knowing it, and there were only 128 Dark Angels left on the ship; after that, they sent 68 of these 128 brothers down to the ground for this war, and now, including Lanmalok and Aphrodite, there are only 31 people left in the link who can still be heard.

These losses do not include the number of vehicles they threw into the battlefield that sank without even making a splash.

The battle on the northern front of Tyros was still in full swing. Although the powerful long-range fire support from the cathedral made the Demon Titan hesitate and lingered three kilometers away from the fortifications and refused to move forward, it did solve the most urgent problem among the hundreds of problems that could cause the collapse of the front line - but after this most urgent problem, there were other problems that were not as urgent but equally difficult waiting for them to deal with.

The large number of Chaos Knights, Daemon Engines, and perhaps mortal beings that had become deformed by the curse were enough to make the defense itself a difficult battle.

But no one complained. A war that was originally doomed to fail and whose purpose was only to delay time, now had unexpected support and the two sides were evenly matched. This was good news for the Space Marines. Whether it was the Primaris Hero Felix, who was directly assigned the defense mission by the Imperial Regent, or the Dark Angels warriors, they had no complaints about the ongoing tug-of-war.

—Until the enemy also sent their reinforcements.

"Do you know what happened?" After looking around at the surrounding ruins and the small number of Dark Angels who were trying to dig out their comrades from under the rubble, Captain Afpa asked Lanmalok, suppressing the dizziness.

"I didn't see it clearly, I just saw a green light coming from over there," the latter raised his chin towards the enemy position, "and then the fortifications collapsed."

Captain Aphrodite shakily took off his helmet with his only remaining left hand, revealing a fierce face that was very much like the stereotype of Captain Dreadwing: "But you have a guess, don't you? In the entire Order of Extinction Shadow, you are the only pretty boy with so many tricks."

"If you call me 'little white face' again, I'll punch you, Scarhead." Lanmarok responded with an unpleasant nickname. Captain Afupa had a large scar near his left temple caused by chemical corrosion, which spread to half of his head on the same side. This was a gift from the Randan War. Originally, he could barely be considered handsome when he didn't make such a fierce expression, but this big hateful scar made everything go to waste.

"You have an idea," Captain Afupa, who is more familiar with Lanmarok than most people realize, said confidently. "If your idea contains something that can help us turn the tables and win, so much the better."

"That's hard to believe. I can only guess that the strange green light is a psychic attack from that strange wooden tower car." Lan Malok said, "Don't say I'm fanciful. We have already seen some similar examples around 'that person' - wait."

He began to adjust the communication band on his power armor with a serious face, and Captain Aphrodite waited as usual. Because the helmet was missing, the fully silent internal communication mode of the Lanmaroc power armor did not work very well, and there was always a little sound leaking out. Captain Aphrodite was sure that the other party was also aware of this, but he did not deliberately avoid him, which proved that he could also hear the content.

After holding his breath for a few seconds, he realized that Lanmarok was still eavesdropping on the Ultramarines' public communication channel. The voice he heard was intermittent, and it was difficult to put together a continuous sentence, but these few fragmented words together were enough to make him frown:

"...Attention...the Primarch...arrives on the battlefield..."

"Lord Guilliman has come to the front to supervise the battle." Lanmarok repeated the content of the communication. But his almost blank expression showed that he was not mentally prepared for this. "Should we be happy about this news?"

"That depends on how much armor he brings, preferably with our Titans. We all know that the Primarch is very strong, but he alone can't overthrow all the enemies." As he spoke, the dizziness subsided due to the effect of the drugs injected into him by the power armor, so Captain Afpa, who was gradually recovering, put on his helmet again, "Sometimes you think too much and it's useless, kid. Focus on doing what you can do right now - like thinking of a way to blow up the tower car you mentioned."

"But in the Order of Shadows of Extinction, I am your introducer!" Lanmalok said hatefully behind him.

Miu (no more)

6K5, a seal burns out...

(End of this chapter)

Chapter 107: Mortarion is overjoyed when the news spreads

Mortarion laughed unceremoniously.

"I know that you two have some... grudges." The Nurgle demon, Plaguebringer Morlugos, who borrowed the twisted limbs of the cultists to briefly "communicate" with Parmenio's reality, said, "But Typhons's complete failure symbolizes the frustration of the Great Grandfather God's plan. Perhaps you should at least not express your... emotions so obviously."

It had never liked this so-called "kin" who was not the Unborn, but the loving father always loved him more. Mortarion ranked above it, so Morlugos had to show the other side a pleasant respect and obedience that it itself was disgusted with, a servant in a garden should have.

Morlugos did not like the task of delivering the message, but then he found that this time, talking to Mortarion did not seem as unbearable as before.

"Really? I apologize for this." The Demon Primarch showed unprecedented tolerance here. "Please forgive me for getting carried away for a moment. After all - well, maybe I shouldn't continue."

Then, Mortarion actually put on a sad expression, at least that was the only part of his eyes that was exposed.

"So, what message do you bring from the garden?" He asked Morlugos with great patience. "If even the holy god of rebirth is powerless to stop the death of Typhons (here he paused delicately), does this prove that the enemy we will face on the battlefield is a little beyond our expectations?"

“Be careful about the words you use,” Morlugos said.

It regretted it and felt that its feelings were wrong. If it was said that Mortarion's attitude before only disgusted it, but now Mortarion made it feel scared. If it could choose between the two, it would still choose to face the disgusting Mortarion before.

That's why Morlugos didn't respond with a sharp critique of inappropriate words or useless riddles, as he usually preferred. He showed amazing efficiency at this moment: "The Father's will is to retreat immediately. My Lord has suffered unexpected damage in this war, and He wept in the garden for His children who could not return. The great god of plague believes that the joy of what you are about to gain for Him cannot outweigh the sorrow of what He may lose in the process."

Morlugos thought that Mortarion would angrily refuse this order. Everyone knew how deeply he was obsessed with the many prosperous worlds ruled by his former brothers, how much effort he had put into it, and how stubborn and arrogant he was as a Primarch - but Mortarion agreed lightly.

"Yes, I understand. Our army has suffered a heavy blow - how sad it is." He said this, and the deformed respirator covering his face billowed out yellow-green smoke, blocking all his expressions. "If the thrice cursed corpse can reach out his hand to reality, then our defeat is inevitable. Considering what may happen in the future, what we should do now is not to expand the results of the battle, but to preserve our strength. I fully understand this."

Morlugos had no doubt that the other man was actually laughing behind the smoke, but he wisely decided not to point it out. Instead, he asked with feigned delight: "So, you agree to give up your work in Ultramar? This is a great sacrifice, even a loving father would agree with this."

"Of course, as a commander, I must consider everything as a whole." Mortarion even sounded cheerful behind the smoke, "But you must also understand that an ongoing war cannot be stopped at will. A fierce battle is going on a little further away from this planet. If I rashly order a retreat, it will only cause greater losses to our side. After I win this small battle and ensure that I can retreat safely, I will leave the real universe without any attachment. So will my other descendants who are involved in local wars."

Morlugos looked suspiciously at Mortarion, who was looming in the smoke. Part of him wanted to question his intentions as usual, even though he knew that from a military theory point of view, such a decision could not be said to be wrong; but another part of him urged him to leave quickly, return to the warp, and get away from this scary guy who looked like Mortarion, as far away as possible, and as soon as possible.

In the end, it was the second part of Morlugos that won. The Nurgle demon muttered through the cultist's completely twisted body: "Then please do this. You are the ruler of this army, and your will will be rightly carried out."

"Thank you for your words." Mortarion's mood was completely out of character.

This made Morlugos feel even more horrible. After a brief greeting, it quickly released its control over the cultist's body in reality and fled back to the warp. Mortarion laughed without restraint after it left.

The demon primarch's unbridled laughter literally shook the mountains, and instantly attracted the attention of all the demon hosts, engines, plague warriors, and cultists around him. Everyone was curious about what could make the stern Lord of Death so happy, but for reasons similar to Morlugos' fear, no one dared to step forward and really ask the question.

It was not until a few minutes later that Mortarion himself stopped, happily flapping his insect wings that emitted a sickly light and were scattered with deadly scales, and left his throne on the top of the mountain to look for the Great Unclean One who was closer to the battlefield than him.

"Ku'gath, my glorious, swollen, noble, but always unhappy friend." Mortarion spoke softly amid the spread of poison and corruption, and surrounded by the clusters of glittering scales. This attitude was too unusual for him, and undoubtedly made all the demon hosts present feel cold in their hearts. "I just learned a tragic news from the messenger of my father, Morlugos. I wonder if the breeze blowing from the garden has brought you the same content."

Ku'gath certainly felt strongly uncomfortable with this, but he still tried to play the role of a happy servant as usual: "Oh, great Mortarion, who is always plagued by diseases! Yes, I have also heard the tragic news - if what we are talking about is the pioneer of the kind father in the mortal world."

"Yes, how sad it is." Mortarion echoed, but from his tone, others could only hear a great sense of relief. "I also received news that the Father believes that the losses we have suffered in this war may be too great to bear, and He wants to stop it all. Therefore, we must abandon those planets that have not been completely occupied and leave the real universe."

"...What? But..." Ku'gath was confused for a moment. To his surprise, and to the surprise of all the other beings present, Mortarion was very considerate and even patted the part of the Great Unclean One's arm in a comforting way:

"Don't be too sad. I know what you are worried about." The demon primarch said soothingly, "I told the messenger that retreat will take time. We will not finish the work on hand so quickly. We still have too many unfinished things on this planet alone, don't we?"

He stood on the high ground on the hillside and pointed to the battlefield on the other side of the plain. The Daemon Primarchs and the Great Unclean Ones had supernatural vision that could penetrate the fog spread by the Daemon Engines on the battlefield and see the actual battle situation in the distance: Robert Guilliman had finally arrived with his Iron Legion, the heavy footsteps of the Titans advancing in unison almost shook the earth, and their soldiers and Daemon Engines were indistinguishable from the Corpse King's lackeys on the chaotic battlefield.

“You need not be so pessimistic, Ku’gath,” Mortarion said. “We must indeed retreat, but this final battle must be fought—perhaps from this battle we can both get what we want.”

"I'm not sure." Kugath hesitated. "Don't you think you're a little too optimistic now?"

Perhaps in the past, Mortarion would have regarded this as a provocation, but now, he just shrugged indifferently: "Isn't this the state you have always hoped that I would show? We will not violate anyone's orders in the upcoming battle. This is just a battle that must be fought in order to prevent the power of the benevolent father from being wasted in vain."

Mortarion, who was in an overly good mood, switched concepts with surprising skill:

"But I think if we were a little more radical and gained something else from it, my father would certainly not object - for example, my brother's blood and his life."

Ku'gath was silent for a moment, the desire to follow his father's direct orders fighting against the desire to complete his special plague, and in the end the latter won out, prompting him to nod hesitantly:

"Perhaps you are right, we should give it a try," said the Great Unclean One.

Meow (The seal has withered and is gone today)