This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 440 What are these nonsensical things stirring up? (4k)

"I am going to kill you!"

Azrael roared as he slammed the man who had delivered the sword against the wall, severing his neck with a sharp blade.

There were continuous sounds all around, and a shadow swept in, cutting off the surrounding noise.

It is chaotic magic.

Those clad in heavy armor, concealing their faces beneath thick robes, were perhaps trying to hide their highly mutated features.

They lurk in the shadows, possessing supernatural powers bestowed upon them by the Chaos Gods, and they feel that now is the time.

Azrael sensed fanaticism in them; the extreme pursuit of something had driven these people to madness, making them appear like fanatical zealots.

In reality, this fanaticism was nothing but a waste of time. They were merely enslaved by the gods to achieve their own wicked plans, and those gods didn't care about these people at all, nor were they worthy of anyone's worship.

The weaknesses of these corrupt beings are obvious. For example, the sons of emperors indulge themselves and are unable to extricate themselves from their own desires. These people have never known what they are doing. They think they have grasped the secrets of the universe and seen through the lies, and then they willingly offer their loyalty.

These spells attempted to probe his memories, and Azrael could clearly feel time stand still.

Lord Ramses explained this type of mental magic. It is usually not used in direct combat, but rather as a useless technique used to corrupt an individual or to gain the upper hand when the weak are trying to defeat the strong.

But having your memories dissected isn't a good experience either.

It's like being tied to a table and having someone observe you reminisce about the past, looking at everything you've experienced from that perspective, and digging into the areas where you're wavering.

And none of this was fake; it was something I personally experienced and carried out.

"Why do this?"

"Because that's what they all do, it's right?"

"."

"Because they all did that, you can choose to kill other people and cover up the problem through murder?"

"."

Do you know why you're hesitating?

"do not know."

"Remember this feeling, it's called shame."

"You know you did something wrong, and you regret it and feel ashamed."

“We were not born in this cruel universe to hurt each other. We already have enough enemies. It’s good that you feel ashamed and hesitant. If you don’t feel ashamed or even think you’re wrong, then our legion has completely fallen.”

"clear."

“You will come with me now, and we will solve the problem together. It is my dereliction of duty as a leader to have you make such irrational moves.”

"Yes, Your Highness!"

In my memory, this memory quickly faded, crumbled, and turned into rubble.

This was a conversation His Highness had with Belial shortly after they arrived in the Dawn Sector.

The entire incident lasted less than half an hour, but Arthur's patience during the process and his decisiveness in the outcome left a deep impression on Azrael's mind.

"kill him!"

"You are the best."

"Why should these flawed dark angels waste the Knight Lord's time?"

Why should I have to kill these dark angels just to save His Highness's time?
Why should I have to kill other people to prove that I am the best dark angel?
Do I need to use these to prove it?

Azrael keenly sensed that a thick barrier had already separated him from these servants of Chaos.

They don't understand.

These people simply don't understand.

Azrael scorned them and mocked their despicable methods, for the Dark Angels of today could not be fooled by such inferior tactics.

Even if His Highness is no longer here
His Highness is no longer here.

"Get out!"

For the first time, the Supreme Master understood why people always say that the corruption of chaos is all-pervasive.

These whispers are really annoying.

Holding the sword 'Declaration' given to him by the Knight Lord, and seizing a wizard's neck armor, Azrael, his face contorted with rage, thrust the blade through the seam of the neck.

puff!

The disintegrating force field penetrated the electronic muscle bundles without hindrance, pierced through the black carapace, and penetrated deep into the chest cavity encased in bone plates, shredding the internal organs, whether human or not, into fragments.

Azrael roared as he forcefully drew his sword and cleaved the traitor in two.

"roll!"

The furious roar was like a sudden ray of light dispelling the thick fog, scattering the shadows that lingered around it, and the fallen ones who were still maintaining their spells were all stunned.

Time began to flow again around us.

The silence was broken in an instant.

"Kill these assassins and protect the Supreme Master."

Belial took the lead, wielding a two-handed sword and blocking Azrael's path, charging towards the nearest traitorous wizard.

The energy field of the Ironclad Terminator suddenly took effect. Belial, enduring the psionic lightning, cut down a wizard. The remaining Deathwing warriors swarmed forward, and terracotta warriors clashed with steel, producing dull or sharp roars that echoed along the passage.

The assassination squad was smaller, consisting of only seven think tank members in addition to a dozen or so guards. Two of them have now died. These think tank members were not equipped with advanced armor and weapons, and some members were even empty-handed.

But psionicists should never be underestimated, especially psionic Astartes, so a swift victory is necessary.

Azrael's fierce gaze swept across the battlefield, finally finding the leader in the darkness dispelled by the lamplight.

The opponent wore old-fashioned Mark 2 power armor, the exposed surface of which was covered with battle medals and scars, but lacked the part that belonged to the lion.

The chains binding the badge swayed as he moved, each chain adorned with a pale skull. The sword in his hand was shaped like an infinite serpent, winding and finally coalescing into the form of an ouroboros at the hilt.

The ouroboros's minions!

Lord Ramses has emphasized that Ouroboros was already contaminated 10,000 years ago, and now that Nurgle has intervened, the level of contamination on the entire planet has increased dramatically, so we must be careful.

Azrael charged straight at his opponent, shoving aside another who was about to challenge him with his shoulder, aiming directly at his real target while calculating the distance and the angle needed.

A sharp sword flew in, spinning rapidly.

His entire body reacted, tensing like a drum. Every movement was concise and practical. Unlike Belial, Azrael didn't possess exaggerated combat instincts and physical abilities, but he was able to continuously collect data from his surroundings, subconsciously process and utilize it, and transform it into his own advantage.

He charged forward with all his might, his silver sword clashing with the serpentine blade of the opponent's sword. He then forced the opponent back with two swift and fierce strikes, quickly wielding his sword with one hand and delivering a follow-up thrust, causing the opponent to stumble and fall as he abandoned his spell.

Azrael's stern face beneath his helmet broke into a smile, a genuine sense of satisfaction flashing across his face. He hated these enemies because these fallen ones had abandoned all moral principles, harmed other humans, and become the minions of those evil creations. Therefore, eradicating them completely was the right thing to do.

After confirming the result, all that remained was to make a decision.

This is what His Highness taught him.

Without hesitation, without mercy.

This is the true Dark Angel, not entangled in the past, nor pursuing abstract goals like the gaze of a prince, but for humanity, for what is inevitable.

He continued to shove the traitor backward, cutting the chains around his chest and knocking away his medals of honor.

His Deathwing Knights followed closely behind, using their superior numbers to drive the Fallen back to the outer walls of the hall.

They breached the walls, moving the battle from inside the buildings to the more spacious, sunlit old streets.

The dark angels and the fallen fought their way into the exposed central area, both sides were exceptionally fierce, and the battle was brutal and intense.

But it ended not long after.

This is an excellent think tank, with rich experience and superb skills.

If he were still of sound mind, Azrael might gain the honor of a truly formidable foe. These Caliban possess a savage power etched into their very bones, a power born from the desperate courage they displayed when facing the Caliban behemoths in their cursed homeland, a power that is filled with an unwavering will to defend humanity's home.

But now, as a fallen man, he is far from enough.

Azrael forced his opponent to climb to the edge of a plaza, driving him out of the billowing smoke and dust so that he could clearly see every little detail of the battle.

His longsword was extremely focused; it wasn't a fast sword, but every strike aimed directly at vital points, accompanied by plasma filled with intense heat.

boom!
He deflected his opponent's sword, using the overload of plasma to break through the opponent's defense, sending the weapon flying into the darkness. Then, with a swift turn of his sword, it pierced the Fallen's breastplate, exploding into a burst of sparks as a disintegrating force field sliced ​​through the armor. The opponent's body was propelled into the air by the immense force of the piercing.

"Degenerate!"

Azrael's Roar.

He tossed the corpse into the air, as if in a show of defiance, casting his prey into the sky and placing it in everyone's sight.

This is a demonstration; it's showing everyone our attitude.

Hearing the commotion of battle, the innocent representatives who rushed out of the council chamber, their faces filled with despair, watched intently as the Supreme Master who had separated them tore the assassin to pieces.

Will there be more battles to come?

Would the Grand Master believe that they orchestrated this assassination?

Should they strike first?

But that doesn't matter.

These concerns are completely unimportant.

Azrael turned to face the innocent people rushing out of the meeting hall, his longsword dripping with blood.

He grabbed a head, the immense force tearing the hood and crushing the skull. Fluids and brain components not belonging to Astartes scattered everywhere, some even stained with maggots, completely exposing the filth beneath those normal faces.

Everyone held their breath, watching the maggots burst forth and land on the traces left by the witchcraft, so clearly visible in the sunlight.

"see it!"

He shouted.

My heart pounded with the glorious rhythm of a just kill.

"This is our enemy, this is the real damn bastard!"

The delegates are listening.

Their knights were also listening.

They no longer showed any fear.

Apart from the rumbling wind and the distant rumble of thunder from a higher-level confrontation, the street was silent; the bloody battle was over.

"So what are you afraid of? Go back."

he growled.

"Let's have a meeting and discuss how to kill them."

The delegates immediately slunk back to the meeting hall.

"Beria."

After checking each other for any obvious injuries, Azrael spoke.

"exist."

“I have just been mentally attacked by Chaos magic, but I must be on the front lines to maintain their unity.”

Azrael looked at his companion with a serious expression.

"You must keep a close eye on my behavior at all times, and afterwards you will need to accompany me to Lord Ramses to eliminate any potential threats."

"clear."

Beria nodded solemnly.

"Roh!"

Azrael pressed the communicator again, looked up at the crack in the sky that had suddenly shrunk considerably and was slowly opening again, and called out.

"Order?"

Luo He's calm voice rang out.

This grand mentor did not pass through the rift, but instead led the team to oversee and inventory the fleet's important weaponry.

"Bring over the Great General's Cannon!"

I'm going to bomb Angel Castle to pieces.

Azrael gazed at the Angel Fortress in the distance, a colossal fortress soaring into the clouds, its entrances to all areas closed, automated weapons sealing off alleyways, refusing access to any living being.

He was absolutely furious.
-
Ryan felt like he was dying.

A distinct white aura halted the sword's edge, but he lost all interest in fighting it and instead dodged the attack that was coming at him in a sorry state.

It's been told.

It rolled around in the mud a few times, its blood-covered armor now stained with countless specks of dust.

However, Ryan, who always valued his image, was completely unaware of this and dodged the attacks with his purest and most efficient instincts.

It's all been told.

From the pain of having everything completely torn apart, to the madness of wanting to completely cover it up with all-powerful violence.

However, when his fierce attacks were skillfully blocked, all that remained was numbness.

numbness.

His mind was stuck in the past, and his body only reacted instinctively. Only the pain in his body allowed him to vaguely perceive that he was still alive.

When the strength could no longer be used, the lion finally felt panic.

He felt that his life was completely over.

This is shame and fear.

He knew he was wrong, but he didn't know what to do about it.

"Just correct it."

A large hole appeared in the smoke. In the blink of an eye, Arthur looked at Ryan, who had finally regained some of his senses. Ryan was staggering as he raised his sword, his sweat-soaked hair standing on end in the wind.

correct?

How should the original be corrected?

There was no time to do anything but rely entirely on instinct. A white line tore through the smoke, piercing through Ryan's body like a phantom through a clipping lens.

Call ~
The atmosphere within a radius of several kilometers vanished in an instant.

The lion, panting heavily, slowly lowered its head to look at the wound on its chest. Through the wound that almost grazed between its two hearts, the lion raised its head to look at the knight before it.

Blood spread across the ground.

Until a muffled thud reached his ears, he saw Ryan kneeling on one knee amidst the ruins, his last shred of dignity preventing him from falling.

Arthur slowly got up, the blood he left behind spreading on the ground, and all around was silent.

"I won."

The victor stands tall, surveying his battlefield.

The struggle among the loyalists finally came to an end.

Now, it's time to unite against the enemy.

　P.S.: Members appearing in this chapter

　　Azrael: The Dark Angel 40k High Mentor, responsible for coordinating communication within the Kaliban to minimize conflict.

　　Status: Extremely angry due to the sudden attack, but unable to find anyone to vent his anger on for the time being, planning to bring out all the culprits and blow them up after the meeting.

　　Belial: 40k Deathwing Grand Tutor, out of touch with reality, all brains are muscles, responsible for fighting.

　　Luo He: One of the heads of Steelwing, responsible for logistics management and technological research and development.

　　Assassination Squad: Lord Cypher, also known as Zaharie's corrupting squad, whose purpose is to corrupt Azrael, fabricate facts of conflict, and escalate the conflict.

　　Ryan Aljonson: He can't win a fight or a fight, and he seems to be on the verge of death.

　　Arthur: Goal achieved. After thirty years, the Dark Angel has finally become truly reliable, and he no longer needs to worry about issues outside the battlefield.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)