This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 201 The Noble Magic Immunity, Too Lazy to Speak or Hear
"The emperor is sick; those foul, corrupt, and ignorant ideas are poisoning him on his throne."

"Humanity is sick. Those corrupt and bloated bureaucrats are dragging humanity into the abyss."

Seraphx walked down the corridor, listening to the sounds of advancing artillery fire and the wails of those Chaos traitors.

The boots rolled over shards of terracotta steel inlaid with eagle emblems, and the scarlet cloak brushed against the peeling icons on the wall, the emperor's face in the paintings being eroded by writhing moss.

Seraph looked up at the cold sky through the narrow corridors stretched out by the buildings on either side.

Stormbirds swept across the sky, and a dense barrage of Valkyrie fighters launched a saturation attack.

His lips twitched beneath his helmet, and in his hallucination, the jet exhaust flames transformed into fireworks falling at a knightly celebration.

Landing pods fell continuously, burning meteorites crashed into the blasphemous church, and the evaporated filth rose in golden mist amidst the flames.

That seemed to be a corner of the Great Expedition.

Hey--

He fantasized again, fantasizing that Caliban had not rebelled, fantasizing that the Emperor's twenty stars would guard Terra, and that his offspring, armed with loyalty, would plant the banners of the Great Crusade across the galactic reefs.

Seraphox gripped the crimson dagger and dragged the chains as he strode forward.

The grating sound of iron rings rubbing together was mixed with low, inhuman gasps.

“I smell it, I feel it, the call of the Lord of Pleasure.”

The bound Chaos Lord let out a shriek, guiding Therafax in the right direction.

Linked to him was Nurgle's chosen one, whom he had always loathed. The plague of the benevolent father was spreading along the chains, reaching the clasp that connected to the dagger's hilt, and seeping into the blade.

We're here, almost there.

Seraphus knew they were doomed.

Baylor won't be able to hold out for long; a legion-level saturation attack is beyond the capabilities of this disorganized Chaos Warband.

But before that, he needed to find a Primarch, someone to whom he could inject his thoughts.

The Empire could not prevent a Primarch from having an audience, not even the Custodians.

Then he will be able to destroy that corrupt throne, the emperor will be freed, and humanity will be great again.

The thought echoed within his skull, drowning out the distant roar of the explosion and becoming clearer than the whispers of space.

I saw it, I saw it.

The fog ahead suddenly dissipated, as if an invisible hand had pulled back the stage curtain, revealing a majestic figure suspended within.

The flames on his face burned ever brighter as Seraph looked at the floating figure ahead.

That was his goal: the new master of the pride.

"what!!!"

The chains suddenly taut, and the two Chosen Ones of Chaos let out inhuman howls. Their flesh melted like wax, flowing down the chains to the dagger, offering itself as a sacrifice for the final ritual.

Wow!

He threw off the chains.

"You scoundrel, your mother—"

The chains tore through the mist, and the figure seemed to be caught off guard.

Just when Seraphx thought he had succeeded, the poisonous chains were broken by a black sword.

The moment the chains clashed with the sword, a burst of blinding sparks erupted.

In the warp, the Lord of Changes let out a sigh of disappointment, followed by the sound of crystal shattering, and the shrieks of desire and the proliferation of decaying matter.

Tzeentch paid the price for his underhanded tactics.

Seraphus pulled back his chains and looked toward his target.

Am I dazzled?

Seraphus frowned slightly, wondering if he had been influenced.

The knight possessed an aura that stirred his desire, yet also felt familiar, like a member of his own family.

It was just a temporary illusion. After calmly reflecting, Seraphus became certain that he had never met him.

"Hello, Primarch."

He made a gesture, and the iron chain rose into the air.

Ramses decisively moved behind Arthur.

He couldn't break the chains, even though they looked quite ordinary.

“Those chains are not ordinary iron.”

Serafax said.

“I can assure you that if a technical sergeant were to analyze them, they would find nothing unusual except for the extremely high purity of the iron used. But science cannot tell you everything. You should be able to break ordinary iron chains without any effort, but what gives them their power is the process of creating them, not the materials used.”

He paused for a moment, gazing at Arthur and Ramses.

“I think the Primarchs were the same; you were made up of nothing but flesh and bone, blood and genes, yet the Emperor used these to create truly extraordinary things.”

He made another gesture, and the chain connecting the dagger moved according to his will.

A burning fire of unwavering resolve burns within, a detailed plan runs through the mind, and behind it lies the power to grasp the truth of the world.

Serafax is fearless!

clang!
The sword shattered the iron chain as easily as cutting a thread. Seraphax dodged the attack thanks to the prophecy that appeared in his mind. When he turned his head, the sword suddenly stabbed towards his face.

Thrust.

A burst of sparks exploded in front of Arthur. It turned out that the dagger had blocked the attack at the last second by using Seraph's hand. However, Arthur's strength was too great, and he was sent flying like a baseball.

"Ignoring the mechanics and just relying on numbers, kid."

Ramses quickly erased Ezekiel's memories of the earth and set up the back door to prevent the undercover dark angel from reading his true memories. He glanced at the fallen angel hanging on the wall, coughing up blood, and said with a smile.

Then he raised his hand and made a grasping motion, and his psionic energy lifted the broken blade fragments from the ground like an invisible hand.

Nurgle's plague, Slaanesh's lust, and Tzeentch's transformations—only Khorne's bloodlust and resentment were missing. "This evil god has never given up his wicked intentions."

Ramses breathed a sigh of relief, and his five fingers suddenly clenched.

Within Arthur's domain, the filth vanished like glass thrown into a shredder under pressure.

Fortunately, he was always very clever and knew that playing with psionic powers usually led to a bad end. He also anticipated that even if evil gods like Tzeentch were blocked, they might still find other ways to get their locations. So he always followed his friends when they acted together, otherwise he wouldn't have known when things would go wrong.

"?"

Seraph, embedded in the wall, looked utterly incredulous.

Why?!

Seraphax was not only capable of fighting, but his sorcery alone could easily overwhelm the Titans.

The face covered in flames was extremely ferocious, which made him feel even more bewildered.

He plotted for so many years, killed so many people, and gave up so many things, but in the end, the power he gained was nothing.

Seraphox clenched his fist, and countless thoughts raced through his mind the instant the sword tip sliced ​​through his body.

He heard the changing laughter, felt the subtle creations coexisting with him within his body increasing in value, and he even felt pleasure. Despite it being an incredibly shameful and sorrowful moment, physiological reactions that should have ceased to exist were subtly beginning to occur.

Seraphus was stunned until the stinging pain from the blade jolted him awake.

"Kill me, kill me now!"

A tall figure pierced through the wind and snow, pressing down like a mountain.

It was as if a basket of fruit had been split in half, and the colorful liquids soaked the ground.

Compared to the cautious approach he took when dealing with the two generations of Dark Angels, Arthur had no psychological burden when it came to slaying Chaos.

He's always been too lazy to say anything.

Seraphus is a threat to humanity, and that is enough.

Clang——

Seraphus stopped, froze, and then his breastplate was torn apart by a sharp object piercing from the inside.

Arthur tensed, bracing himself for something even worse torn from the wizard's body.

But as his soul felt the tearing subside, he recognized the foreign object, much to his surprise.

"Hello, Primarch."

Fabius Bayer bowed slightly, his signature bald head appearing sickly pale in the dim light.

He glanced at Ramses, who was floating and didn't even bother to use his own body, and looked down on this being who was obsessed with the power of the warp, as if he saw a second Magnus.

Most of the attention, however, fell on Arthur.

His clone didn't carry many devices, but Fabius could still sense the solid reality surrounding the Primarch.

This reminded him of the Neherak dynasty, the tomb world of the Endless One Tarasin, Solemnas, which he had once visited.

Those ancient races were also able to stabilize the laws of reality and expel the influence from the warp by relying on technological means and certain entities.

"Is this the Emperor's new creation? A star god fused with the necromancers of space?"

Bayer's eyes held a desire to explore, while countless flashes of inspiration swept through his mind.

Yes, he had been fixated on research at the subspace and genetic levels, completely ignoring those who truly control the material universe.

Arthur and Ramses exchanged a glance.

The former gripped the sword hilt tightly with a blank expression, while the latter rolled his eyes dramatically.

"here we go again."

Ramses communicated using psychic powers.

"Why do these people always think we have something to do with Old Man Huang?"

To be honest, time travelers really don't want to have any close relationship with emperors, especially father-son relationships.

Everyone has parents. Whether they save all of humanity or bring their own funding to the project, they're lucky if they don't have to call Old Man Huang "dad."

"Ramesses".

Arthur turned his head to the side.

"It's not the real person, but merely a container for consciousness; it can't be grasped."

Ramses shrugged, his psychic vision clearly revealing the internal structure of Bayer's body.

There is no complete soul, only an implanted fragment of thought.

"Just cut it down, let me see what I can pry out."

Bayer's expression froze.

Before he could even grasp the meaning of those words, Arthur had already moved.

He looked at the old Chinese medicine doctor, pulled out a long sword from a pile of minced meat, leaned forward, and slashed.

Click
The sounds of bones breaking blended together, and the painful engine, large enough for two people to hug, was cleaved in two.

Bayer was baffled. He couldn't understand why the Primarch hadn't even bothered to communicate before launching a direct attack.

Logically, shouldn't we first try to probe, negotiate, or at least let him finish speaking?

His past experiences instilled in this pharmacist a certain researcher's arrogance, leading him to believe that his knowledge could be used as leverage.

Kaka-

The sickening sound of bones cracking rang out one after another.

Bayer watched helplessly as his body split in two, all his meticulously crafted bio-organs, reinforced tendons, and neural connections rendered meaningless by that single sword strike.

Suddenly, the camera angle rises.

(End of this chapter)