This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 357 It’s Over

Boom!

The heavy hulls collided with each other, exerting almost limitless force on each other under the propulsion of promethium fuel, causing the Steelblood to endure friction and heat that even the Queen of Glory could hardly withstand.

Click!

The Eternal Expedition is like a sharp sword that charges forward without hesitation.

Just as the Imperial fleet had completed its torpedo salvo and artillery barrage and was tacitly spreading out to the sides to clear firing lines for friendly forces, only this warship, bathed in holy radiance, brazenly tore through the enemy's defensive fire network.

Its sharp bow pierced straight through the cargo storage area on the port side of the Steelblood, while simultaneously cutting off the stern energy transmission pipeline.

boom!
Countless metal fragments, carrying the force of destruction, shot into the void.

The two enormous Glory Queens were entangled together.

The roar of gunfire echoed in the confined compartments. Even though the two ships were almost one, their armed formations stubbornly changed direction, unleashing devastating energy on the enemy ship just inches away.

Thousands of cannons and light spears roared continuously, using every means to destroy each other and exhausting all their power to end the grudge that had lasted for thousands of years.

The machine spirits roared, and technicians were astonished to discover that the internal systems of both warships were operating at an incredibly high efficiency at this moment.

These two glorious queens are practicing their deep-seated murderous intent towards each other in the most primal way.

Just like the soldiers they carried.

"Steel rots!"

Led by Grand Marshal Ledodes, the warriors of the Black Templars sang triumphant songs as they swarmed through the open torpedo tubes at the bow of the Eternal Expedition.

"The stubborn rock remains!"

They charged toward the steel warriors consumed by chaos and pain.

Their eyes met amidst the smoke of gunfire, and they instantly recognized each other.

The roar of the bomb guns immediately echoed through the cabin, and the scorching rain of bullets became their most direct greeting.

The Iron Warriors are renowned for their resilience and unyielding spirit. These warriors, who have endured thousands of years of war, have always adhered to the creed of the Lord of Iron.

However, the steel has now collapsed.

On the bridge of the Steelblood, the war blacksmiths were in unprecedented chaos.

Baben Falk brandished his molten gun, the scorching energy beam precisely severing the magnetic seal on the Iron Lord's throne, while Honso and Fricks were forced to defend from a distance.

The latter seemed to transform in an instant back into the statue that could not respond unless ordered, mechanically pulling the trigger of the compound explosive gun.

Fricks stood frozen in place, clutching the hammer that hadn't been activated yet, while Honso reluctantly followed behind, the light emanating from his modified right arm trying to dispel the darkness in the bridge.

At this moment, the bridge seemed to become a mirror image of the once tightly controlled command room.

Warp creatures were pouring out of every fissure, rushing toward the Iron Lord's lifeless body as if they were in the warp and had forgotten to activate the Geller Field.

Frix clutched his chest in pain.

Despair overwhelmed him.

In just a moment, he almost forgot what the command deck of a Glory-class warship should look like.

"Fricks! Fricks!"

Falk's roar pierced through the smoke of battle, briefly pulling Fricks back from the abyss of despair.

He mechanically turned his head.

The war blacksmith was dragging the Iron Lord's massive body back towards the defensive line, wielding his molten lance to drive away the demons that coveted the corpses.

The scene was so absurd it was heartbreaking, like a cub futilely dragging its dead mother.

But the cold, iron-willed ruler could no longer respond to this offense.

"he died."

Fricks stared at the lifeless body.

The burning wreckage of the Chaos Fleet floated in the void, and the scorching metal was cooling and solidifying at a visible speed.

The flagship of the Iron Warriors, the Ironblood, continued forward, its bow relentlessly pushing aside the fragments of its 'allies,' but it could no longer shake off its enemies.

All of this is truly heartbreaking.

They came with great ambition, determined to win honor for the Lord of Iron.

But they left peacefully, only able to escape while embracing the body of the father of genes.

In the end, nothing could be accomplished.

They are nothing.

The company commander's illusions about war were shattered.

Once again, Fricks fell into despair, not knowing what he was fighting for.

"No, he still has a chance! He won't die! He will never fall!"

Falk interrupted sharply, then ignored the completely devastated Frick and roared at the wizard beside him.

"How is the ceremony going?"

The wizard's face was always changing.

The wizard's face kept changing shape, like a melting wax figure.

His limbs writhe in a manner that defies anatomy; his arms sometimes pierce through the top of his skull, and sometimes curl up between his hip bones. On the exposed skin, the magnificent feathers that have just blossomed fester into pustules, endlessly repeating the cycle of deformity.

"Patience, my respected Warsmith, we are in the material universe, and the barrier between here and the Sea of ​​Souls was strengthened just a moment ago."

A bird's beak split open on the wizard's shoulder, and he answered in a voice that made Frix feel physically uncomfortable.

“There’s not enough time,” Falk said gruffly, then continued.

“We’re going to the Warp Engine, Fricks. Organize the troops. We need to evacuate with the Iron Lord.”

"Fricks?"

"Ah."

After a few seconds of hesitation, Fricks finally tore his gaze away from the Tzeentch wizard's twisted body and mechanically nodded.

He gripped his weapon tightly and unlocked the blast door.

Click!

The steel warriors surrounding Peturabo surged forth.

They opened fire on every enemy they could see.

"Fricks, open the corridor and send out the decoy troops."

Fricks silently carried out the order, and the steel warriors fought their way out of the bridge amidst the demons' encirclement.

"Fricks, blow up the rear access road and have the siege guards clear the way with their molten metal cannons. We can no longer afford to lose this warship."

Fricks did as instructed, and the war blacksmiths, pursued by the Black Templars, reached the midsection of the warship, which was in chaos, and fought their way out.

"Fricks, destroy the corridor. Leave the troops behind to cover the rear. We need to get to the manual control room first."

Fricks did as ordered, and the instant Falk gave the order, he decisively blew up the corridor, leaving Honso and the others, who had not yet caught up, on the other side of the bridge.

"Well done, Fricks, let's go!"

Fricks stopped in his tracks.

"Fricks?"

Falk, carrying the remains of the Iron Lord, turned back in confusion, led by the wizard Tzeentch.

The unknown wizard had concealed their movements well, and Fricks could sense that the wizard genuinely wanted to help them and ensure the survival of more Iron Warriors.

They promised to resurrect the Iron Lord.

But will the resurrected being still the one wielding the Hammer of Olympia?
Time ticked by, and the ear-piercing battle cries from the Black Sanctuary drew ever closer.

"I'm not leaving."

Frix spoke, his voice like two rolling, rusty gears.

"I'm not going anymore, Falk, I can't walk any further."

As the approaching roar grew louder, Fricks looked around.

Falk's gaze swept around as he waited for the teleportation ritual to complete. Heavy breathing came from behind the grille of his baroque helmet, his entire attention seemingly fixed on Peturabo's body.

Hongsuo writhed, roared, and struggled against the hand of a Black Sword Champion that was gripping his throat.

Baben Falk is superstitious about the power of the Warp and hopes that another Ascension will save their father.

Honsau was filled with ambition, an ambition disproportionate to his strength that fueled an unprecedented will to survive, now becoming the fuel for his dying struggle.

What kind of monster will these people's twisted emotions create?

Fricks was tired.

He used his loyalty to Peturabo to numb himself, knowing that he had no other choice.

From the moment he broke his oath of allegiance to the Emperor, Frix knew he was cursed and could only continue down a side road, simply because he had nowhere else to go.

Now, that road is also blocked.

The moment Peturabo failed, Fricks realized that it was all meaningless.

Nothing changed, and nothing brought them any closer to victory.

"."

Baben Falk turned around and, amidst the laughter of the Lord of Change, led the Iron Warriors into the portal that had been activated as the Warp Engine overloaded.

Finally deciding to stop, Fricks led his Terminators around and charged toward the Black Sanctuaries.

He saw countless familiar faces among them.

He began his charge.

The 'Citybreaker' blindly charged into the riddled corridors of the Steelblood, where it unexpectedly encountered a whole squad of Black Templar warriors.

They saw each other and recognized each other.

And so, they began to settle a feud that had lasted for ten thousand years.

The steel warriors beside him kept falling, and he got closer and closer to those familiar faces.

In the final moments of the war, the commander of the Iron Warriors led his Terminator forces to attack a Saturn-type Dreadnought that nearly killed him.

Under the cover of artillery fire, Fricks used his power punch to strike the fearless man's injured ankle, bringing down the massive war machine. The commander then managed to climb into the compartment and intended to use a molten ladle to shoot the pilot inside.

The surging torrents burned through the armor, but Frix discovered that the control system inside was actually a sophisticated mechanical system.

He looked at the technical sergeants who were under the cover of friendly forces and let out a self-deprecating laugh.

Just as Fricks was laughing, another manipulated Dreadnought stepped forward.

The roar of lasers tearing through steel echoed, a cataclysmic scream of liberation—

Fricks, the Citybreaker, commander of the First Company of the Iron Warriors, and leader of the Trident.
This once glorious and battle-hardened Terran warrior felt only brief pain and frustration before vanishing into nothingness.

ended.

(End of this chapter)