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

Chapter 702 Abaddon was released by Guilliman!
The ground was sticky, covered with biomass and a large amount of foul-smelling secretions, which reached up to half of Azrael's calves. Every step was extremely difficult, as if countless tiny, invisible creatures were dragging his legs through this yellow, translucent suspension, making it exceptionally nauseating.
As a seasoned warrior of the Astartes, Azrael would naturally not allow external circumstances to affect his fighting spirit.

What truly bothered him was the atmosphere around him. The angels of forgiveness followed the lion, silent and reserved, but their gazes towards Azrael held a hint of hostility.

Harrel remained silent as well, and Azrael vaguely sensed that his brother probably harbored many secrets as well.
That superb swordsmanship, his understanding of Cipher, and his relationship with the Lion all suggested that his brother's past status in the First Legion was probably extraordinary.
Facing the hallucinations and stimulation from Ryan and the recent Maranthai Calamity again seemed to have made his thoughts chaotic and heavy. He barely said anything except for killing enemies along the way.

The atmosphere within the Deathwatch Black Shield was thick with awkwardness. Most of these people had committed unforgivable transgressions, some even belonging to defected or fallen chapters, and some were descendants of rebel legions. Following a Primarch known for his ferocity, keenness, and terror, it was inevitable that they would feel tense.
Azrael couldn't help but wonder if some of his Black Shield brothers might actually be fallen angels.
"This disgusting liquid... Could we have gotten inside the insect's reproductive glands?"

Azrael tried to ease the tension by making a joke.

But there was only an awkward, deathly silence in the air; no one responded to Azrael's joke.
Only a few Sheratons looked Azrael up and down with suspicion, and some even gave him almost threatening looks, signaling him to shut up.

Azrael shrugged helplessly, lamenting that his brothers were all too rigid, serious, and gloomy.

He racked his brains, trying to come up with a joke related to the somber atmosphere of the Dark Angels.
But the lion stopped in its tracks, turned its head, and looked at Azrael.

Azrael shuddered, realizing his words had angered the lion again, and quickly fell silent.

“You are very perceptive,” the lion said in a deep voice.

Azrael blinked, not understanding what the lion meant.

Ryan brandished his power sword, Loyalty, cleaving through the pus on the ground to reveal the blood vessels-like tubes of flesh beneath the semi-transparent pus.
Within those fleshy tubes, one could vaguely see some worms wriggling rapidly.
The lion swung its sword of loyalty down, rupturing the pus-filled blood vessels and releasing the worms.

Azrael could clearly see that the worms had some cysts on their backs.
The lion swung its sword down, instantly cleaving the worms into fragments. The cysts ruptured, releasing a flocculent substance.

For some reason, Azrael's heart skipped a beat when he saw the fluffy material being shattered.

"Is this... transporting some kind of genetic material?" Combining the lion's words with observation of the shape of the fluffy substances, Azrael instantly made a judgment.
This is clearly some kind of genetic material, and the Tyranid hive is transporting this genetic material to produce some kind of creature.
Azrael's joke turned out to be the exact truth.
“I thought you were joking inappropriately, but it turns out you realized what these aliens were up to.” Horel turned to Azrael, his tone tinged with satisfaction, and patted Azrael on the shoulder with a sense of approval for his junior.

The Angel of Pardon looked at Azrael with less hostility, seemingly ashamed of the threatening look she had just given him.

“Yes, I could tell at a glance that these vile insects were transporting these blasphemous, disgusting, ugly, and twisted alien mutation genes!” Azrael displayed the composure expected of a chapter leader, speaking almost without hesitation.

“That’s my genetic sequence,” Ryan said to Azrael in a low voice.

"Ah?"

“And my brothers’, and even… the Emperor’s and the Primarch Mother’s,” the lion said, glancing at the broken, fluffy material on the ground.

"The Primarch has a mother?" Azrael blurted out.

The angels of forgiveness behind Ryan glared fiercely at Azrael.

But Ryan showed no expression and continued, "The Blood Stack, something that the clones of Fugrim failed to guard, contains the complete genetic sequences of me and my brothers, or rather, all Primarchs were born from that genetic sequence."

"The genetic sequence of the union of the Emperor, the Lord of Mankind, and the Primarch, Ilda, was stolen by the Tyranids and used to synthesize a creature to carry themselves."

The lion's words made the atmosphere in the air heavy.

As they ventured deeper, the obstacles they encountered diminished, as if the surrounding life forms were being decomposed into biomass, which was then used to nurture the creatures deep within this fleshy spire.

If what the lion said is true, then the Tyranid creature waiting for them within this fleshy spire will be...
The mood instantly became somewhat depressed.

Besides repression, they also felt anger and distress. They found it difficult to accept that the genetic sequences of their fathers and emperors had been desecrated, altered, and distorted by aliens.

Azrael also sensed the heavy atmosphere, and he believed that such a mindset would obviously affect everyone's fighting ability.
“My lord, we have all heard your wise words: ‘Loyalty needs no reward; loyalty itself is the reward.’”

Azrael looked at Lion and spoke.

Ryan cast a slightly puzzled look at Azrael.

"And your sword is now named Loyalty, and when you slay your enemies with this sword..."

"Wouldn't this be considered a reward for the enemy?"

The atmosphere instantly became tense for a moment.

The lion revealed an almost cruel smile, and he slightly raised the sword of loyalty in his hand.

"I need to reward your loyalty."

Azrael silently took a step back.

The lion ignored Azrael and turned to Zabril beside him: "Can you contact that clone?"

Zabrel shook his head slightly.

The lion nodded slightly, seemingly unsurprised.
"We will either welcome a dazzling new phoenix."

"Either we'll welcome a new traitor, a new viper."

"But it is no longer important to the future fate of the galaxy."

Azrael sensed a strong sense of confidence in the lion's words.
He didn't quite understand why the lion was so confident.

The lion seemed to have sensed Azrael's thoughts, and he chuckled coldly a couple of times: "Because of Guilliman."

“In our small meeting, Guilliman expressed some opposition to Zhou Yun’s plan, believing that it was too risky, too much of a gamble, and too risky.”

"Ha, seeing Guilliman's opposition, I know Zhou Yun's plan is correct."

"I must say that Guilliman is right on many things, but on big issues like the warp, the Emperor, and chaos, he is almost always wrong."

A single word flashed through Azrael's mind: the Second Empire.

At the beginning of the Great Rebellion, Guilliman believed that the Emperor was dead and brazenly established a separate central government. He also promoted Saint Gilles, who originally only wanted to be regent, to be emperor, and the Lion to be the protector of the Second Empire. Both of these had obvious characteristics of establishing a separate central government, while Guilliman himself only served as a seemingly insignificant governor of a town.

But what the lion said was not what Azrael thought:
"Ten thousand years ago, after Horus was killed, I rushed to Terra, and Guilliman told me: The Emperor will soon rise up and be resurrected."

"Huh?" A question mark appeared above Azrael's head.

“As it turns out, this is going to take longer than ten thousand years,” Ryan said grimly. “And if the Emperor were to actually rise up, that would be a disaster.”

Azrael was even more confused, not understanding why the Emperor's rise would be a disaster.

Guilliman also insisted: the four Chaos Gods, along with Horus, had been killed by the Emperor, and the Empire and humanity were now safe.

Azrael blinked, increasingly confused about what the lion was saying, and what Guilliman was saying.

"Also, Abaddon was released by Guilliman himself."

As Ryan recalled the past, a slight blue vein bulged at the corner of his eye:

"At the time, Dorn demanded that the pressure be withstood and troops be sent out immediately to eliminate the traitors, but Guilliman believed that it would not matter if Abaddon escaped."

"'Where could he possibly escape to?' Guilliman said, as if he were completely unaware of the existence of the Eye of Fear."

Azrael's mouth gaped slightly; he now realized he still wasn't funny enough.

Guilliman is truly the master of humor!

"Then you, you also have Vulcan, Don, Khan, Ruth. Can't all of you overturn Guilliman's decision?"

"To defeat Guilliman in politics? I'd rather challenge a hundred Horus on the battlefield."

The lion sneered:
Unfortunately, Corax couldn't attend due to mental health issues.

"Can the Raven King rival Guilliman politically?" Azrael asked curiously.

“No, if Corax were here, we could at least assassinate Guilliman quietly and frame a traitor,” Ryan scoffed, glancing at Azrael.

The Astartes present all froze.

"We've arrived," the lion roared, addressing the flesh and blood tissue before it, which resembled a sphincter.

Azrael, Horel, the Archangels, and the Black Shields swiftly raised their weapons, unleashing a dense barrage of fire at the sphincter muscle, instantly blasting it into a shower of shredded flesh.
The group stepped into the gap created by the explosion, entering the deepest part of this beacon of flesh and blood.

The air here was incredibly thick and humid. Even with Astartes' superhuman abilities, Azrael felt his lungs burning and unbearable when he breathed in it without his helmet on.

This wasn't because there was any toxicity in the air; it was simply because the air in the room was too hot, too scalding.
This is a vast hall, pieced together from countless living beings.
Embedded in the walls of the hall were numerous brain-worm-like creatures, their limbs degenerated, leaving only their enormous brains gleaming with blinding psionic light.
These intense psionic energies even scorched themselves; the scalding psionic flames burned a brain worm until it withered and turned to ashes.
Then some lesser Tyranids would climb up the flesh wall, pry off the burned brain worm, and embed another intact brain worm inside.

The immense psionic energy surged into the flesh-and-blood spire, converging at its height. But those gazing upon the beacon from the warp saw not blinding light, but profound shadows.
Azrael's throat bobbed a few times; he didn't know how to describe this place.

Or perhaps he knew too well how to describe this place, making it difficult to utter the word.
“Starlight.” Azrael opened his mouth with difficulty and uttered the word from his slightly dehydrated mouth.

His words resonated with the Astartes around him; this place truly resembled the starlight towering above Terra.
The purpose of the Starlight is to guide ships within the Empire's territory. So, what about this Terran version of the Starlight? What is it guiding?
Or rather, what is it used to summon or link?

The answer is almost self-evident.

The Tyranid swarms from a more distant land, the hive will from a more distant land.
A distant hunger is answering the call, feeding on the Milky Way.

Beneath the starlight, Azrael looked fearfully into the depths of the hall.

The four Norn queens hovered in mid-air, their bodies connected to numerous tubes. Their organs, used to produce Tyranid creatures, were extremely swollen and drooping, connected to a massive incubation pool.
The hatching pool protruded more than ten meters above the ground, surrounded by numerous fleshy tubes, tentacles, and flesh pumps, resembling a golden throne made of flesh and blood.

At the very top of this throne was an orange-yellow follicle.
A dark, humanoid figure could be vaguely seen within the follicle.

Although it is humanoid, it has six limbs, with four arms curled up on either side of its torso, making it look like a giant worm.

It is almost fully formed and seems about to hatch and be born into the world.

Azrael looked at the humanoid creature inside the egg, and he had a feeling...
The creature was much larger than he had seen before.
Within its seemingly small body, there appears to be a shadow larger than the entire galaxy or even the entire Milky Way.
“That thing is…” Azrael felt himself having trouble breathing.

Just as he spoke, the creature inside the follicle suddenly twitched a few times.
It slowly raised its head, seemingly looking in the direction where Azrael and the others were.

The creature slowly lifted one of its eyelids.
(End of this chapter)