This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 185 I left too early! (6k-page compilation)

"Oh, the cat's going to pant, right?"

Ramses' voice was exceptionally clear in the spiritual realm, carrying the playful tone unique to Qianzi. He even leisurely twirled his staff, the gem at the tip drawing a playful arc in the psionic energy flow.

Not far away, the Grand Master of the Think Tank, who was commanding the Titans of the Dead, suddenly gripped his scepter tightly, and his adamantite gloves creaked under the weight.

That Senko truly deserves to die!

"No way, I wouldn't be foolish enough to wait for the conflict to erupt before thinking about solving the problem."

The Titans' ion cannons roared in the distance, blasting the spire of the Slaanesh Temple to dust.

Arthur shook his head; he had only sensed a few signs.

What's wrong with wanting to receive honors? In life, everyone has to have some pursuits. Reasonable needs should be addressed, and problems won't disappear if left unresolved.

"I mean, I need some free time."

"While it is indeed the truth, I always feel like you are mocking someone."

Ramses shook his head and continued, "That's why I don't like raising kids like you guys. There are too many ties. If possible, I'd prefer that the troops I command in the future be like the Ultramarines, at least then I wouldn't have to worry about them."

The Grand Master of the think tank began to tremble, his breathing beneath his visor heavy as if he were working a bellows. He briefly considered ordering the Titan of the Dead, who was dismantling the Slaanesh ritual, to deliver a fatal blow to this outspoken Thousand Son.

"I can guarantee the speed here. Slaanesh's focus is not on the real universe recently. He's in chaos in the warp and can't cause trouble for a while."

Seeing that the cat was about to start hissing, Ramses knew he had teased it enough and began to get down to business.

"The key is whether you can resolve this quickly, or it would be a joke if you missed the Holy Blood Angels' victory celebration."

The cat's fur has turned red.

"of course can."

Do you realize that you're like a daycare leader who's pushing problem children into other people's arms?

Arthur raised his hand to his temple, his lips twitching slightly, and replied:
"They are the First Legion."

His tone was calm, yet carried an undeniable weight.

With just this one sentence, the restless spiritual energy surrounding the think tank's grand mentor suddenly subsided.

He silently released his scepter, the knuckles of his adamantite glove making a soft click as it reset, and the cannons of the undead Titan turned back towards the distant remnants of the Chaos army, as if his previous rage had never existed.

I believe that reason.

Ramses shrugged.
-
With the arrival of the Dawn Wings, the outcome is already decided.

The previously tense and desperate battlefield suddenly became clear. The army descended from the sky, raising its flags and launching attacks in all directions, hoping to end this long-running farce overnight.

In contrast, the insect swarms were thrown into chaos as the node organisms were individually targeted by think tanks that had received professional insect control training.

On the other side of the planet, in the human ruins, there is an enemy force detached from the battlefield, with creatures made of flesh and blood standing on the armored roof of a fortress.

From the clothing wrapped in flesh and armor, one can vaguely see that they were once the defenders of this planet.

They were unaware of the battle situation ahead and stretched their necks to peer into the darkness.

The method of using chaos to control the insect swarm went smoothly, and the liberation of Esteria was imminent, but no news of victory arrived until the light of dawn faded.

"Hold on a little longer."

The leading defense officer rubbed the tattered eagle emblem on his chest with his third hand, which had grown out of him, while his festering eyelids blinked laboriously.

These wretched creations believed they had never truly craved the gifts of Chaos; they huddled in the shadow of the fortress of flesh, fantasizing that one day they could once again kneel before the emperor's icon.

Their alliance with the Slaanesh cultists was merely a desperate expedient. When the swarm ravaged the planet, these half-corrupted defenders, dragging their mutated bodies, hid in the outermost tunnels of Pleasure Fortress.

Here, the Slaanesh's alluring scent masked their presence, and walls of flesh and blood shielded them from the Tyrannosaurus Rex's claws. They huddled in the darkness, waiting for the war to end, waiting for a 'redemption' that might never come.

—What a tragic delusion.

They waited until dawn, when a figure in purple arrived.

Then, dawn broke.

A figure in a purple robe stumbled into the tunnel, the magnificent robe stained with blood and scorch marks. The face that should have remained forever elegant was now twisted in terror, and cracks covered the crystal-clear skin.

The defense officers peeked out from the gaps in the flesh-and-blood fortress, their enlarged nasal cavities twitching sharply.

It was the aura of Slaanesh, but mixed with an unprecedented fear?

The Demon Prince ignored the ants that surrounded him.

Its six elegant appendages suddenly burst open, and pinkish-purple smoke and dust gushed out from the fracture. A strange song echoed in the tunnel, the harmony of millions of tormented souls, which transformed into tangible sound waves under the resonance of the flesh and blood walls.

The moment the incense dissipated, the distorted eyes of the defense officers suddenly widened.

They saw their own festering bodies.

I saw the mountains of bones of my compatriots piled up deep inside the fortress.

They saw the eagle emblem they were devoutly caressing, which had long since been corroded into a writhing mass of flesh and blood.

"what--"

Screams shattered the silence of the tunnel.

These wretched souls finally understood that from the moment they hid in the fortress, they had already become the eternal playthings of the Lord of Pleasure.

Now, they have even been cruelly deprived of the right to deceive themselves.

The demon prince swept past them and fled deeper into the tunnel, behind him the guards' wails gradually turning into maniacal laughter.

scoff!

Listening to the desperate sounds behind him, the demon prince ignored the sacrificial offerings that were worth tasting. He tore the flesh apart, and the morning light shone into the room through the cracks, illuminating pink limbs, with a strange human figure in the middle.

He had a long, serpentine tail, quite different from the other Keepers of the Secrets, and looked much more 'bloated,' like a disproportionate eel.

His appearance was somewhat unique among the Slaanesh, but judging from the fact that the Slaanesh maids dared not move their limbs, his status was extremely high.

Upon seeing him, the prince in purple knelt down on one knee without a second thought and began licking the sticky tip of his tail.

"Something has happened, Your Highness."

Before him, the twisted body suspended beneath the dome of flesh and blood slowly raised its head, dozens of nerve bundles extending from beneath the mother-of-pearl-inlaid mask, connecting to the pulsating veins of the ceiling like a living crown.

puff puff
The tendon bundles contracted rhythmically, compressing the air into eerie tones. As the sound waves passed through the resonating cavity in the prince's temporal bone, they transformed into a non-human whisper with multiple echoes.

"what's up?"

The demon prince opened his mouth, and saliva flowed from his vocal cords, dripping onto the snake's tail, triggering a kind of allergic reaction that caused the snake's tail to twitch slightly.

"Yukasa has been captured; the traitor's lackeys have arrived."

In a short moment, the snake's tail withdrew, clearly demonstrating that this pheromone exchange was more efficient and convenient than that between humans. However, after a long time, the snake's tail remained motionless, as if it had fallen into a deep sleep.

Sweat dripped from the demon prince's forehead as he glanced furtively at the Slaanesh maids watching him with great interest.

After a long while, the sweet voice rang out again.

"This is not what we agreed on."

Indeed, it's different. Demons have always shown little interest in invading the areas where the insectoid swarm is located. Even with the weakened World Soul and the souls of the Eldar, the Lord of Pleasure neither supported nor opposed it, but instead focused on continuing their great game with the Lord of Corruption.

The original plan was actually very simple: corrupt the World Soul before the swarm swept across the planet, and then use the Eldar souls within the World Soul to initiate the ritual. At that time, these demons would be able to open a portal, arrive in the material universe, and then leave using warp teleportation. By then, no one would care about the planet or the swarm.

"An unexpected situation has arisen in the plan."

The Demon Prince took a deep breath and said with difficulty, "Yukasa, that arrogant bastard has fallen into the hands of the False Emperor's lackeys, and the corruption ritual has been completely destroyed."

That pig, still playing the role of a mortal noble, was imprisoned in its body by the evil power of the false emperor before it could even react, and was hung on a cross and burned.

The situation was already very clear: the traitor's lackeys would search every inch of this planet; they couldn't escape.

This accident was too fatal; their plan was ruined from the very beginning.

"Who did it?"

"I don't know, all information has been blocked."

"Hmm~"

The sticky sound was very close. The demon prince looked up and found that the unformed serpentine creature had appeared in front of him without him noticing. He raised his hair-like fascia and gently stroked his body.

"So you're trying to tell me that all these years of preparation, this plan to pay homage to the goddess, has failed before it even began?"

The nerves and fascia were torn to the finest point, like downy hairs, yet sharp as steel needles, leaving trails of blood as they brushed against the body.

He dared not defend himself, but with his senses blocked by those in power, any torment he endured at that moment felt real.

He had no way to defend himself; the plan had indeed been disrupted, and a series of schemes had failed before they could even be used.

However, the flesh and blood did not devour its body, and the expected extreme pain did not come; instead, it slowly moved away.

"This is not your responsibility; it is my excessive desire for offspring."

The cloaca of the demon primord oozed crystalline mucus, and its pearly scales opened and closed with each heavy breath.

He sensed that pure and flawless aura among the stars, in Istvaan.

Those were His offspring, His unblemished and perfect creations. The mere thought of dragging that body into the abyss of depravity excited His serpent tail, causing it to tighten its grip on the palace pillars.

It seems this Primarch hasn't let his desires cloud his judgment.

Seeing the Demon Prince breathe a sigh of relief, before he could speak, a gentle command came from his ear again.

"I will relinquish this opportunity to descend. I will leave you with something. Remember, the blooming of a flower always comes with the gain of something. This is your last chance for self-redemption."

Something? And how do I evade the pursuit of the false emperor's lackeys?
Too many questions remained in the Demon Prince's mind, but before it could even voice them, the material world's brain was already unable to think anymore.

The prince's remaining rationality screamed wildly, but his physical brain had already ceased to think due to overstimulation.

It struggled to utter its last words: "No, you can't. Lord Fulgrim, I have given you six hundred and sixty-six performances."

Its voice stopped abruptly.

His soul was brutally extracted, every drop of spiritual essence squeezed out like grape juice. The power belonging to the Lord of Pleasure began to return to the body of his beloved concubine, constantly strengthening his power.

Since you cannot bring me the perfect sacrifice
Then let it become the sacrifice itself.

The Primarch's movements were chillingly skillful; clearly, this was not the first time He had attempted to plunder the remaining value of the defeated.

Suddenly, he stopped smacking his lips.

"Hmm, I still have a lot to learn. It seems I need to go to other worlds."

The Primarch clicked his tongue, a satisfied liquid seeping into the palace fabrics. His bloated serpentine body began to stretch, transforming into a slender monster nearly eight meters long. In the material world, his body began to gradually turn to ash.

Swah——

Flesh and blood turned to dust in an instant, and the morning sun shone in without any obstruction, followed by a loud 'boom'.

Hmph, I'm late.

At the last moment, the Primarch turned around, wanting to cast a mocking glance at the newcomer and savor his frustration and resentment, but instead saw a solemn knight standing outside.

He held a shield and a sword, with several Slaanesh beasts beneath his feet. The monsters' skulls were sunken, and their limbs trembled. The wounds, which should not have been fatal, brought them to their deaths, making them look like a few insects that had been crushed.

His gradually turning eyes suddenly widened as he faced the plasma that obscured his vision. A chill ran through him, along with the sudden roar of the succubus.

Damn it, you left too early!
His body suddenly surged with boundless power, and he lunged forward.

Even though his soul couldn't break through the veil, Forgrim still managed to control the body under Slaanesh's forceful infusion.

The roar was instantly drowned out by the continuous attacks.

The think tanks used magic to forcibly extract the surrounding subspace energy to suppress potential chaotic pollution. Amidst the hum of the supercombustible plasma cannons, the sand sculptures that had regained their color vaporized one after another, exploding into a sky full of mist.

"Oh, my dear brother, let me come and see you."

The sand-like body lunged forward, but was calmly blocked by the knight.

Arthur had no desire to speak with Fugrim. If he had to choose the Primarch he hated the most, this inhuman creature would be his first choice.

"It seems my brother is quite shy, but that's alright, I'll let you speak."

Fugrim glanced at the silent knight, his gaze meeting those eyes filled with disgust through his visor.

The slight stimulation brought boundless excitement, causing his manhood to involuntarily tighten.

Several molten rays seized this brief moment of stalemate, crisscrossing and piercing through the final altar of pleasure, before unleashing their firepower upon the body of the demonic primeform.

Just as Forgrim gained the upper hand in the brief exchange, Arthur decisively retreated.

boom!
The Titan of the Dead's slash fell directly down, its immense force smashing the body into a pile of shattered carbon fragments.

within subspace.

In Slaanesh's six palaces, Forgrim, who had just closed his eyes due to arousal, was suddenly awakened.

No, that's not right.

I am the Primarch, the flawless Vorgrim!

Even the most arrogant Guilliman would look at Him with hatred; even the most stubborn Dorn had marveled at His works of art.

And now, that sword-wielding knight, that brother who should have been basking in his elder brother's perfection, doesn't even have the slightest desire to talk.

Don't you have even the slightest desire to communicate with me or to talk to your dear brother?
He was swiftly and decisively transported back to the subspace by the forces of the material universe. A sense of shame, that his charm had been denied by his brothers, welled up inside him, and a sticky liquid began to gush from his lower body.

This brief humiliation did not last long, as the beloved Primarch soon heard Slaanesh's furious shriek.

His punishment is coming.

"Master...it's me."

Fugrim immediately curled up his eight-meter-long body, his perfectly sculpted upper body prostrating itself before the Throne of Pleasure, his meticulously groomed silver hair falling to his master's feet.

He breathed heavily, and with each lash of the whip, the image of the black knight began to be imprinted in his mind, becoming indelible.

Especially that look in his eyes, as if he were looking at trash.

"Oh, oh, no, ah—"

Puchi~
Tick ​​tock~tick tock~
The convulsing reflection twisted and distorted in the pool of slime beneath the throne, and what was reflected there was not the perfect god of war.

Instead, it was a pathetic pet snake, driven by desire and subservient to its master's whip.

The real universe.

After confirming that the threat had been eliminated, the Dark Angels quickly dispersed at Arthur's signal.

The heavily armored forces that had begun to converge on Arthur's direction also redeployed their formation, while the Ravenwings, riding hovercraft, continued to advance on the outer perimeter, constantly transmitting information to other units and coordinating the entire legion's operations.

There were no unnecessary movements; it was like a killing machine that had been running for thousands of years.

"That's really exaggerated."

Ramses, carrying the soul circuit, arrived behind Arthur.

He had just reached an agreement with the Soul of the World on a project to coordinate the souls of the Eldar, and then this place had already turned into a slaughterhouse.

Gravity binds flesh and blood to the center, the soft flesh and blood are roasted into solid charcoal, those once writhing creations of pleasure are now frozen in the moment of death like museum specimens.

What is most alarming is that there is not a trace of fighting on the entire battlefield except for burning, as if these enemies were crushed by some more primal and violent force.

In such a short time, the Slaanesh forces were wiped out completely, and the traces of this crushing defeat, which were impossible to fathom, are obviously the work of someone else.

'This is the Dark Angel.'

If it weren't for maintaining his persona, Ramses would have been terrified.

These guys may be crazy, but their combat capabilities once they have sufficient supplies are truly incomprehensible.

If other Astartes, due to their relatively rigid and monotonous combat styles, can give opponents the illusion of "I can win," then the Dark Angels give people a sense of utter despair.

It is impenetrable and unstoppable; even the chances of escape are extremely slim.

It is capable of independently collecting battlefield information, planning operations, and engaging in frontline combat, completing tasks according to the commander's requirements.

You just need to provide the equipment and resources; the Dark Angel will take care of how to win.

Its main advantage is that it's hassle-free.

No wonder everyone was so eager to put these stray cats to their respective posts as soon as they were taken in.

Previously, regarding taking over Romulus's political affairs, I simply felt that handling imperial politics was too treacherous, and I didn't want to do it at all, wanting to pass the buck. However, the political affairs assigned to me were handled very well.

Ramses slowed down slightly and saw a mass of wreckage lying on the ground, rising and falling with the warp tides.

With a change of expression, Ramses pulled him out of the tide.

Mortals corrupted by Slaanesh seek to fight the swarm of insects using the power of chaos.

Unfortunately, no miracles occurred; those who were tainted by the Chaos Gods were destined for destruction.

"No matter how much you try to avoid it, the evil god will always exist."

Ramses sighed, but did not blame these people.

In the latter's worldview, it is reasonable to pay a price to resolve a world crisis, and even if the person is unwilling to do it, someone else will be ruthless enough to do it.

They had no connection whatsoever, and had never even met. Ramses didn't need to be presumptuous; he simply intended to annihilate him completely to spare him from Slaanesh's torment.

"give it to me."

The moment Ramses lowered his head, a deep voice came from not far away.

He opened his eyes and saw Arthur striding towards him through the ashes, then brandishing his sword.

“I’m better equipped to handle these corrupted souls.”

His movements were fluid and graceful, clearly indicating that he had done this many times before.

"It's pretty tragic; in the end, we can only rely on chaos."

Ramses couldn't help but complain to Arthur.

Although he often makes outrageous jokes and teases all sorts of people, he is ultimately a 21st-century youth, and even his jokes are always very measured.

There are plenty of jokes on the 'Silent Oath', but he wouldn't joke about dead people like Saint Geres.

“We are making more people like this able to rely on us, and as for the Chaos Gods, they will pay the price for it.”

Arthur didn't change the subject and answered very affirmatively.

Ramses nodded solemnly, then noticed several scratches on Arthur's armor, which surprised him slightly.

"Have you encountered a master?"

"Yes, Fugrim."

Fugrim?

Ramses was somewhat bewildered. He had just been busy negotiating with the World Soul and clearly hadn't expected that a Garden World would produce such a demonic Primarch.

However, he wasn't too worried. It was just a Primarch, and the Legion could easily take care of the four of them without him.

Before Ramses could ask, Arthur had already reset the sword and shield.

"Don't worry, he has already been banished. The ritual was never completed. The Dark Angel's firepower is enough to destroy his physical body."

"Oh, so I intercepted the Soul of the World, and then, seeing that the situation was not good, I planned to make a quick buck and leave, and then I ran into you."

Ramses received the battle video transmitted by Arthur and couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"I strongly suspect that the blue-feathered bird was involved in this."

Arthur arrived late, so naturally he wouldn't meet him; out of sight, out of mind.

They arrived too early. A single Primarch is not a Legion. It's just a matter of the Undead Titans taking a few more hits. Although the Dawnwings' military strength will still lead to their exile, they will ultimately be defeated head-on. At least they tried, so there's no need to feel regretful.

But it just so happens to be at this exact moment.

They were exiled, but due to various disadvantages, they had the illusion that "if I hadn't given up in advance, would I have had a chance?"

It's like when you just pulled up your fishing rod and found a huge fish right next to the hook.

Putting aside whether the rod can pull the fish or not, let's just talk about how big the fish is.
"That snake demon is going to get what's coming to him now—by the way, he doesn't even have a scratch on his face yet. So, Rellano hasn't fed him his favorite virus bomb yet. Shouldn't we go look for Istvan III when we have time?"

"."

Arthur did not reply. He accepted the battle reports from the various religious orders and the six-winged guilds and began to examine them.

From now on, he will be in charge of all the specific affairs within the legion, while Romulus will focus on macro strategy and command of key battles.

The Wings of Dawn need at least one legion that can stand alone without relying on Romulus.

The First Legion is the first choice.

(End of this chapter)