This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 305 Kosolax: Lubrication!
'Conqueror' Glory Queen-class battleship

"They've caught up again."

Kosolax's fingers tapped lightly on the twisted carvings on the armrests of the bone throne, his knuckles striking the bone decorations with a hollow sound.

He could feel the fragile connection between himself and the ship.

It's like trying to pull the trigger of a chainsaw axe, and every time, that damned mechanism mysteriously slides away, hiding in a corner he can't reach.

“Click~Click~”

As this faint anger rose, the firing pin inside Kosorax's skull began to rhythmically extend and retract, each mechanical movement accompanied by the excruciating pain of nerve endings exploding.

This pain did not come from the body, but from something deeper; it climbed up along the cracks in his soul, gnawing at his will like some living thing.

This is punishment, a curse, the price that the oath-breaker Kosorax must pay.

The torment will begin as soon as he stops killing, even for a moment.

"Whoo~"

He took a deep breath; the air in the decaying cabin was a mixture of blood, engine oil, and something older and darker.

He forced himself to maintain that imperial posture, not letting the slightest wavering show. His fingers, clad in heavy gauntlets, dug deep into the armrests of the throne, the finely forged metal groaning under the weight of his hands, as if it would turn to dust at any moment.

Self-discipline.

This is a virtue, a virtue that has been completely forgotten by those mad dogs whose brains are filled with butcher's nails.

If a person does not resist temptation, he will eventually become a slave to desire, and Kosolax knew this well, because he had once been such a slave.

The Emperor's, Angron's, and the World Eater Legion's.

But he is different now.

He is stronger than all of them.

With the throne teetering precariously in his hands, Kosorax, having forcibly banished the torment of the Butcher's Nails, watched the Void War unfolding within the Blood Shadow.

The Mechanicus fleet was already shattered, with only one mechanical ark and her escort fleet remaining, teetering on the brink of collapse under the relentless attacks of the Conqueror.

The still-operational Star Fortress, like a mother hen protecting her chicks, kept pecking at the ship.

Boom!

The massive cannons, far exceeding what ordinary battleships could equip, struck the 'Conqueror' directly, causing a ripple to appear on its blood-red aura-covered void shield.

Click~
The fleshy mass wrapped around the ship's throne twitched behind it, and the 'Conqueror', like a toy under its control, suddenly turned in mid-air, dodging the second direct hit from the Starfortress Macro Cannon.

A defector's combat barge was unable to dodge in time. After the Void Shield swallowed two macro cannon shells and became overloaded, it had to rely on its own structure to withstand the subsequent attacks.

Boom!

The moment the light from the Void Shield faded, a series of sparks burst forth from the side of the combat barge.

Kosolax coldly stared at the combat barge, which had been rendered incapable of fighting on the spot.

"Open up distance, disengage from engagement zone, all fleets obey orders, maintain orbital strikes, and notify surface forces to prepare for withdrawal."

Forging the world: Cyprus.

This is a powerful world of forging.

Before it arrogantly refused Primarch military aid, thus inviting a concentrated attack from the Kosorax and the Mechanicus fleet, it was a superfortress with eight Ramirez-class starcastles, 18 capital ships, and over 14 billion Guardians stationed there.

If Kosorax hadn't decisively relied on warp magic to teleport those wrecked spaceships—ships that even warp demigods found troublesome—to directly ram into the Starfortress.

If he hadn't relied on the authority granted to him by the Iron Lord to suppress the greed of those Dark Mechanicus members, abandon the preservation of those technologies, relinquish the potential ownership of several Ramirez-class star fortresses, and instead used the most direct method—throwing the star fortresses onto the planet's surface to completely destroy the planet's orbital defense system—then the planet's orbital defense system would have been completely destroyed.

The Chaos forces, locked in a stalemate, are destined to be wiped out; they can't even shake off the Primarch forces that are calmly pursuing them.

"Primarch."

Kosolax's gaze never left the Blood Shadow Device, and dozens of crimson figures moved across the battlefield under his will.

Since the siege of Qadia, traitors and turncoats who escaped from the Eye of Terror have flocked here with their rusted ships.

The number nearly doubled because no one chose to side with other warlords.

They chose to follow Kosolax.

Because only his "hunting style" avoids foolishly getting bogged down in the quagmire of some world; because only he can fulfill every promise of loyalty with blood; and because, of all the traitors who betrayed the Emperor, only the fleet of Kosorax still survives the Primarch's wrath.

Because only he was capable of rational thinking and following the battle plan devised for them by the Iron Lord.

Kosolax turned his gaze away from the gradually crumbling battle barge.

The Primarch moved too fast. Most warlords or the Dark Mechanicus had barely bared their fangs before they were crushed like autumn leaves swept away by the successive Imperial naval fleets and Astartes. Those minions that landed on planets were torn apart like duckweed under the overwhelming onslaught of naval cannons, the Astragalus Army, and the Astartes.

Then it's the next place, and then the next place.

It's just too fast.

It was as if these complex imperial forces did not need any adjustment in the hands of the Primarchs, and only needed to act according to the will of the Primarchs.

This is an efficiency that the empire has not shown in nearly ten thousand years.

This reminded Kosolax of the past.

The Emperor led the greatest expedition in human history, with eighteen legions guarding Terra. Space Marines, with honor as their blade and loyalty as their armor, planted the banner of the Great Crusade across the galactic reefs.

A hint of reminiscence flickered in his eyes, until a sharp pain in the back of his head brought him back to reality.

I fantasized again.
"What are the people on the broadside doing? It's really unwise to board at this time, and the loss of the battle barge is meaningless."

The sudden sound interrupted Kosolax's melancholy, and he opened his eyes.

A naval officer in a white uniform drifted to another station. She was calm and composed, her slender hands clasped tightly behind her back, and blood mist swayed behind her.

Again.

Kosolax's eyepiece gleamed with a malevolent light, locked onto the illusory figure. She calmly steadied herself on the command platform, moved to his side, and composedly assessed the battlefield situation.

"They went a bit too far."

The officer's voice was laced with cold mockery.

"Order the captains to maintain formation until the reinforcement fleet is in place."

The way she spoke of those Astartes made it seem as if they were not awe-inspiring demigods, but merely insignificant servants on this colossal ship.

"Dispatch the Iron Warriors' escort ships to the marked location; our flanks need cover."

Click~ Click~
The armrests of the throne creaked under Kosorax's grip as he watched helplessly as the phantom issued commands from his command platform, maneuvering the fleet that should have been his.

He didn't know her name or her background.

All that is known is that she was already part of the ship long before Armageddon claimed ownership of the Conqueror after his defeat.

Kosolax referred to her as "Madame".

A World Eater berserker gave him a hint during a brief moment of lucidity after the battle; this person was likely the original captain of the World Eaters.

Lotara Salyn.

"What are you doing!"

Kosolax appreciated the fighting spirit displayed by the enemy, but now was clearly not the time to continue engaging these fleets.

The Primarch's fleet is almost here. The most urgent task is to organize these disorganized individuals and then retreat.

Kosolax remembered the orders given to him by Lord Peturabo.

To preserve as much of the living force that has recklessly entered the physical universe due to the influence of the Blood God as possible before the event between him and Angron concerning the control of the war is over.

While they should pay the price for their recklessness, that must be after they have consumed the value bestowed upon them by the Iron Lord.

Therefore, he had to avoid war.

Kosolax could feel the torment inflicted on him by the Butcher's Nail growing stronger.

That damned instrument of torture destroyed the Primarch, destroyed the Legion. Kosorax barely escaped the torment, and after the Legion's demise, he spent millennia rebuilding what the Betrayer had destroyed.

He cannot let a thousand years of effort be ruined here.

Yes, he was fleeing the war.

The officer looked at him coldly, as if she were the master of the warship at that moment.

Blood welled up in Kosolax's throat.

He swallowed the blood and wiped his mouth.

"They're here again, we have to leave."

He said that not far away, the fleshy growth controlling the ship trembled again.

"They're coming."

This is an undisguised fear.

(End of this chapter)