Warhammer: Don't Call Me the God of All Machines

Chapter 567: Filial piety is strong (seeking to follow)

It was not only the Sons of Horus but also the Word Bearers who rushed to Ullanor to assemble. As the backbone of the rebellion, the Iron Warriors and the Death Guard were also on their own different paths.

They did not choose to travel with the Spirit of Vengeance, not only because of suspicion and mistrust, but also because they had to take a different route to regroup the legion's forces along the way.

Everyone knows that the core of the next battlefield will be transferred to the solar system, and perhaps the loyalists and rebels will make a final decision on the home planet of mankind - Holy Terra.

In this way, every legion must adjust its own status to the best, as a small detail may determine the fate of the galaxy.

The ancient story of a horseshoe losing an empire is still passed down from mouth to mouth.

Especially the Iron Warriors. It was their large contingent of Space Marines and mortal auxiliaries who stayed behind at the rear of the rebels to resist the frenzied attack of the Lord of Five Hundred Worlds.

The Ultramarines have gone completely mad.

They were having a hard time defending, as Guilliman was desperately advancing towards Terra. This Thirteenth Primarch, who had missed many battles, seemed to have little presence, but in fact he played an irreplaceable role.

It was because of his presence that the rebels had to withdraw a large number of forces to stay behind.

Especially the Fourth Legion. If it weren't for the layers of defense constructed by the Iron Warriors that delayed the rebels for enough time, Horus's rebels would have been stabbed in the ass by the Ultramarines who were so powerful that they could fill the mountains and seas with blood.

According to the battle reports sent back from the front, the Lord of Macragge mobilized at least more than 300,000 Astartes troops and hundreds of times more mortal auxiliary legions.

In addition, the scattered imperial armies were gathered together again by this cobalt blue torrent, like a tsunami crossing the mountains, rivers and lakes, bringing together all the pools of water and mud.

Even as stubborn as the Iron Warriors, they knew they could no longer stop the Ultramarines.

Now we can only selectively change our position and delay their progress as much as possible.

We must completely conquer Terra before the Ultramarines catch up.

The number of Ultramarines has always been an extremely despairing figure. After years of war, even the rebel legions have suffered from a shortage of manpower.

Although they developed various new types of rapid-conscription troops as troop supplies, war is fair. Those weak rapid-conscription troops found it difficult to adapt to the increasingly brutal battlefield environment, and they were consumed very quickly.

However, why is it that Guilliman's legion is like it has never fought a battle? The Great Bearer also claimed that the Shadow Crusade he launched has destroyed nearly half of the enemy's manpower.

He is a complete religious fraud.

In the past many believed that it was impossible for a Primarch to do something so shameless.

But when they saw the Iron Warriors struggling to defend themselves under the heavy bombardment of the Ultramarines, even many people in Horus's camp cast doubt on the Great Bearer.

Not everyone likes the Word Bearers. Or to put it another way, most people hate these guys who are mixed up with the demons of the Warp. They are always filled with the dirty and stinking smell of the Warp.

Moreover, it seemed that the Word Bearers' boasted achievements had no use at all except to completely infuriate the Ultramarines.

Among the many rebel legions, the most ferocious against the Word Bearers are still the Death Guard, who harbor hatred for all forms of sorcery.

Mortarion, the self-proclaimed sturdy Lord of Death, resists all psionic powers and sorcery. Apart from Magnus the Red, the one he hates the most is Lorgar Aurelion.

In the dark starry sky, a huge Queen of Glory-class battleship is sailing silently.

The flagship of the Death Guard, the Endurance, has armor dominated by iron gray and gray-green, without any unnecessary ornate decorations. The overall design is simple and smooth, like a carefully polished dagger.

On its plow-shaped bow, letters as tall as a person are etched with the glorious history of the Legion in the past, some of which can even be traced back to the glorious achievements when they were still called Dusk Raiders.

By order of the Warmaster, the Death Guard Legion will travel to Ullanor for assembly and final preparations.

On the inner bridge of the Endurance, inside the Council Chamber.

Mortarion, Lord of Death, stood in front of the porthole with a bit of boredom, looking at the ever-changing sea of ​​stars.

The council chamber was devoid of any ornate decorations; its ceiling was constructed from the steel beams of a battleship. Shutters at the far end of the room let in the starlight from outside, casting a dim glow similar to that of their home planet, Barbarus. Mortarion relished this dim feeling; it reminded him of the years of struggle on his home planet.

"Horus has awakened. My beloved brother... has been tainted by too much of the filth of the Warp."

"He disappoints me greatly. It was obvious that we had lost the Battle of Betagarmon, but he turned it all around with his dirty Warp sorcery."

"I support his great cause and his overthrow of our father, but he is no longer the perfect leader I remember."

Even Mortarion, the most loyal of the rebels to Horus, began to resent the Warmaster.

Even at the thought of his brother being filled with the evil power of the Warp, Mortarion subconsciously felt a chill down his spine.

That was unclean Warp psychic energy. In the early years, when he was still on Baba, he had dealt with his adoptive father, the alien overlord, and knew well the harmfulness of the Warp power.

"I will follow him to overthrow our father, but that's all." The Lord of Death thought to himself.

Only the deep affection between him and Horus could make him willingly form an alliance with an evil god.

There was a familiar sound of footsteps in the corridor of the battleship, and Mortarion didn't even need to turn around to know who was coming.

That was his close comrade and his most beloved captain of the first company, Karas Typhon.

Years of war have caused the number of people who once fought against the alien tyrant Barbarus with Mortarion to decrease, which makes him very sad.

There are fewer and fewer old friends, and even the Astartes cannot withstand the baptism of cruel wars again and again.

The incense on the Lord of Death exudes a scent similar to that of Barbarus. He can only feel at ease in this slightly toxic air.

However, the Primarch's keen sense of smell made him detect something unusual. The strong smell of blood was coming along with the footsteps.

He couldn't help but frowned and clenched the sickle in his hand.

On the other side, the captain of the Death Guard Corps was covered in blood, and the blood plasma that had not yet completely dried was dripping from his huge Terminator armor bit by bit.

In his hands, Karas Typhon was still holding the heads of several mortal navigators. Their eyes were bulging out of their sockets like goldfish. The cuts on their necks were extremely smooth and flat, without even a trace of spasm or contraction caused by the severed muscles.

There was a smile on Typhon's face, and his two hearts were beating faster than normal.

He was nervous, but also excited.

It was time for Mortarion to face reality and stop drowning in his own self-deception.

Karas Typhon walked into the council chamber where the Primarch was, and Mortarion slowly turned around and looked at his son with a little confusion.

He was extremely tall, second only to Vulkan and Magnus among the many Primarchs, and when talking about them, Mortarion seemed to have a more tenacious and indomitable temperament.

Tenacity has always been a trait that the Lord of Death is proud of. Not only that, he also requires his sons to be as tenacious as he is.

The Lord of Death glanced at Karastiphon's face. This captain of the first company was not wearing a helmet. His tangled beard extended from his ears to his chin, interweaving with the wrinkles on his face, making him look like a tough guy.

Then his gaze continued to move downwards, his pupils suddenly dilated, and he discovered the source of the unusual bloody smell he had sensed.

Mortarion recognized the identities of those heads; they were all valuable navigators on his flagship.

"Typhon! What did you do?" Mortarion's voice came from the gas mask on his face, and an invisible majesty and anger flowed in the conference room.

A chill ran through Mortarion's heart. He hated every psyker, but he also knew the necessity of a navigator.

Without these psychic freaks, the fleet would not be able to travel safely in the warp, and they would be deprived of the means of faster-than-light travel.

(End of this chapter)