I'm in Warhammer, please don't praise Doraemon

Chapter 692 Malantai’s Disaster

Why would a lion suddenly appear here, staring so abruptly at Azrael with eyes filled with anger and hatred?
He had already considered in his heart that he might encounter a lion on the battlefield, might not be able to hide his identity from the lion, and might have to face the lion's wrath head-on.

But such a sudden event, and at such a time, left Azrael with little time to react.

“Lion… How could this be?” Azrael couldn’t help but ask. His voice wasn’t loud, but he was sure that the Lion, as a Primarch, could hear him.

But the lion's only response was an even angrier roar.

"Azrael!" The lion's roar reached Azrael's ears, and Azrael felt as if his soul was being ripped from his body and dragged toward the lion.
This feeling was as if his original self was trying to take back the extraordinary genetic sequence that had been bestowed upon him, and even to take away his life and his soul.
"Get down here! Azrael!!" The roar grew louder, and Azrael instinctively wanted to take a step forward, leap from the fortress, and go to his Primarch's side to receive his punishment.
But Azrael chose to follow his heart; he silently took a step back.
This wasn't because he chickened out, but because the situation was too strange and the timing wasn't right. It was definitely not because he was afraid of the lion's wrath.

But the lion continued to advance step by step, its angry eyes fixed on Azrael. A strong dragging sensation surged from Azrael's body, making his head increasingly dizzy and unbearable.
Bang! ! !
A Deathwatcher next to Azrael slumped to the side and fell heavily to the ground, his body convulsing slightly, like a frog being electrocuted.

It wasn't just this one Astartes; around Azrael, more and more Astartes inexplicably collapsed, some convulsing on the ground, others falling from the fortress walls onto the still-warm ground.

They are like diseased rice stalks, fragile and easily blown down by the cold wind. How could this be?
Azrael's confusion and bewilderment deepened, but his thoughts seemed to be silently gnawed away by a swarm of insects, becoming increasingly chaotic, and the scene before him began to fragment.
The scene before him was fragmented into many pieces, as if he were seeing things through the compound eyes of an insect.

He saw a caveman child, just like he had in his childhood, emerge from the cave and stare intently at him.
“Accept the Primarch’s call,” the child said to him. “How can you, as a son, refuse your father?”

He saw the first fallen angel he had killed with his own hands; the angel's corpse stared at him with wide eyes.
"You have judged me," the fallen angel said. "Why are you afraid to accept judgment yourself?"

He also saw Ezekiel, the psychic who stared at him with eyes that seemed to see right through him.
“You have already run away once,” Ezekiel said. “Do you intend to run away again?”

“This isn’t an escape, it’s a strategic retreat!” Azrael said almost without hesitation.

Ezekiel's expression froze, as if he didn't understand what Azrael was saying.

Then, Azrael turned to look at the fallen angel who was staring intently at him.
"It's not that we won't conduct a trial, but rather that we will conduct a trial that is delayed and slowed down, in accordance with the principle of loyalty to the emperor and humanity, and in accordance with the actual situation."

The fallen angel tilted his head slightly, seemingly not quite understanding what Azrael was saying.

"Chocolate has a saying: 'Take the small stick, walk away from the big stick.' That is true filial piety! If I were to be killed by a lion's punch, wouldn't that be putting the original body in an unjust position?"

This is something Azrael learned from a Deathwatcher who came from a white scar, and he found the statement very true.

Among the Empire's most renowned chapter commanders,
The Grey Knights' High Master, Cardinal Diego, possessed the most powerful psychic energy. Azrael had met him once and knew how terrifying he was.
Logan Grimnal, the alpha wolf of Fenris, is the most skilled fighter. His crimson axe blade was even capable of biting Primarch Magnus.
Dante, the commander of the Angels of the Holy Blood, was the most skilled commander, a fact even Robert Guilliman acknowledged, entrusting him with half the empire and granting him the position of regent.
Ultramarines' Calgar possesses both formidable combat prowess and unparalleled command abilities. On one hand, his formidable martial skills strike fear into the hearts of countless enemies of the Empire; on the other hand, his administrative abilities are sufficient for him to govern the five hundred worlds of Ultramar.
And what about Azrael?

Azrael's martial skills weren't particularly outstanding, and his command abilities were limited to the Unforgiven. However, Azrael's strength lay in his clear-headedness and flexibility. For the sake of the Empire, humanity, and the Chapter, Azrael could readily abandon or embrace certain ideals, sometimes even manipulating the concept of "loyalty."

Azrael could confidently say that, should the situation require, he would even dare to secretly send troops to the Terran palace.

Such behavior, if discovered, would certainly be considered treason. But it is only considered treason if it is discovered.
Azrael's clarity and agility over the years have not only protected the Unforgiven, but he has even secretly helped many other chapters conceal their secrets.
Leaving aside the Inquisition, the Imperial Guard's intelligence organization, the Emperor's Eye, had discovered on more than one occasion the secrets of Fenris's werewolf transformation, remnants of the Second Empire's historical records, the bloodlust and mutations of some Blood Angels factions, and even the Dark Angels' own fallen angel secrets. In the end, Azrael quietly eliminated these Imperial Guard members, ensuring that everyone's secrets were not leaked and that the Empire would not be strained by the exposure of these secrets.

The situation is the same now; a clear intuition tells Azrael that he shouldn't surrender, shouldn't submit to the lion's judgment.

The lion roared, the caveman child howled, the fallen angel stared at him with wide eyes, and Ezekiel rebuked him angrily.
Amidst the interplay of these sounds, he even felt the fortress itself tremble and shake.
No, this isn't an illusion.
The fortress's front wall facing Ryan collapsed and crumbled, bricks and stones flying into the air and shattering into dust. Many Astartes seemed to be swept into the sky by an invisible force, then their bodies trembled and fell heavily to the ground as if they had lost their souls.
The lion seemed to be surrounded by some kind of power, which crushed everything around it like tentacles.

Completely incomprehensible, Azrael had absolutely no idea what the lion was doing.
This is their position against the Tyranid swarm! How can the Lion destroy the fortress?
Azrael was increasingly unable to understand what the lion was doing.

The lion strode towards Azrael, the oppressive aura emanating from him growing stronger, like tentacles wrapping around Azrael's body, making it difficult for Azrael to move.

“Lion.” Azrael let out a mournful cry, feeling his muscles and bones creaking as Llane al-Jonson drew closer.
His blood, bones, and even soul felt as if they were being slowly pulled out of his body.
The lion stopped in front of him. "Why, lion?"

Azrael looked up at Ryan El-Johnson and asked.
He wasn't asking why his fate had led him to this state, but rather why the lion wanted to destroy the fortress, and why the other Astartes around him had fallen like wheat before a storm.

However, Ryan remained silent, his face, hidden beneath his beard, contorted into a terrifying grimace, like a beast lurking in the forest.
His fingers reached out and touched Azrael's head.

Azrael felt a suffocating sensation; he felt his soul being stripped away, devoured, and crushed.

The overwhelming fear emanating from the lion's silhouette weighed heavily on Azrael's body; the sensation of death grew clearer, and Azrael's breathing became increasingly labored.

Sizzle!!!
Azrael gripped the sword at his waist and drew it with a swift motion. Before his mind could even process the thought, his body had already moved.
Ryan had a cut on his arm and a wound on his face.
Azrael was horrified by his own actions; he had actually swung his sword at his own Primarch.

"A lion?" Azrael asked somewhat guiltily, "I accidentally triggered my fighting instincts just now, I didn't mean to."

Although he said that, he felt a little strange.
Lion slowly raised his head, a wild growl emanating from his mouth, and his fist slammed towards Azrael's face.
then
Azrael's body once again moved faster than his mind. Perhaps it was the instinct for survival that drove him, or perhaps his body sensed something amiss. He abruptly leveled his sword and thrust it straight at Lion.
Ryan's chest was pierced by the blade, and his body stopped in place.

"what"

Azrael, feeling extremely guilty, drew his sword, and blood flowed from the lion's chest.

Azrael quickly reached out and wiped the lion clean, then smiled at it with a slightly embarrassed expression. Wait, the touch was a bit...
"Eee!!!" A sharp wail escaped Ryan's lips, accompanied by blinding beams of psionic energy.
The images before Azrael's eyes flickered repeatedly; sometimes it was Llane before him, sometimes a writhing, twitching psionic tentacle.

A piercing howl echoed incessantly as the psionic tentacle twisted, attempting to strike Azrael.

From Azrael's perspective, it was as if a lion was brandishing a sword and stabbing at him.

"Get out of the way!" Harrel's voice rang out beside Azrael.
A sharp blade pierced out from behind him, plunging into the psionic tentacle. The tentacle writhed and trembled a few times before shattering with a bang, transforming into a small whirlwind that swept over Azrael and Horel.

“You actually saw through that this wasn’t Ryan. You have a truly strong will.” Herrell said in a low voice, “It’s also thanks to you that you noticed something was wrong and caused a brief fluctuation in the monster’s psionic energy that I was able to escape from the illusion.”

Just as Herrell began to speak, many Astartes around them jolted, as if they had just come to their senses.

Azrael turned his head slightly, looking guiltily in the direction from which the psionic tentacles were extending.

It was a brain worm, but its appearance differed significantly from that of a typical brain worm.
His brain was even larger, two or three meters thick, supported by a spiraling spinal structure growing from his back. The spinal cord extended around his enormous brain tissue, enveloping it like a crown, while his body appeared slender and fragile, coiled beneath him like a snake.
With just one glance, Azrael felt his blood boil, and fear spread through his heart. It was...it was...
Azrael recognized the monster not from the Deathwatch or the Imperial archives, but from the plays performed by the Eldar clowns.

The play was called "The End of Maranthai".
The Eldar ark world of Maranthai encountered a heavily damaged Terran warship. Before it died, the warship fired a batch of spore drop pods towards the Maranthai ark world.

At first, the Eldar didn't care about any of this. They easily killed the Warrior Overlord in the spore drop bag, slayed the rampaging executioners, and crushed the Queen and her swarm of insects, leaving only a seemingly insignificant cerebrate.
That brain worm was later known to the Eldar as the Calamity of Maranthai. This Tyranid creature, born from the Eldar genetic sequence and specially designed by the hive's will, could not only prey on flesh and blood, but also draw upon the essence of life, devour the souls of its victims, and drink from the will of its prey.

This monster drank deeply of the Eldar's immortal souls, growing stronger with each meal. Eventually, she even devoured all the Eldar souls wandering within the Eternal Circuit of the Maranthai Ark, allowing her psychic power to grow to a level nearly impossible for the real universe to contain.
She released only a fraction of it, a piercing psychic scream, which tore Eldar warriors to shreds, disintegrated Eldar Titans into atoms, shattered Maranthai's tower into fragments, and turned the entire Ark world into a cold, lifeless shell.
Her existence even left an indelible mark on the Eldar's racial memory. Every Eldar would tremble when they talked about the Marantai catastrophe. For a time, Azrael even thought it was an Eldar horror story because the description of the Marantai doomsday was too terrifying and unbelievable.

But now, the protagonist of a horror story stood before him. Looking around, he saw that in that last attack, at least a third of the Astartes had their souls devoured and lay fallen within the damaged fortress.

If Azrael hadn't damaged one of her psionic tentacles, exposing her vulnerability for a moment, the casualties would likely have been even greater.
Maranthai's Calamity suddenly raised its enormous head, and a magnificent psychic power erupted from the warp, projecting into reality.

The earth began to crumble and fall apart.
(End of this chapter)