This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 460 Let's start (10k)

Two things happened as the soul of Vox, the Chaos Lord, entered eternal slumber.

First and foremost, the Death Guards, these venomous insects that roamed among the stars, were finally forced by pressure to move towards the very front of the impenetrable defenses.

The Empire learned of these things very easily, because the messages came back from the planets that had fallen to the forces of nature.

They evacuated the planet's inhabitants and then bravely blocked the Death Guard's path, forming a defensive formation before the Titan's legs even hit the ground, facing the billowing smoke and dust.

In front of those foul-smelling Titans and tanks, in front of what, to the naked eye, looked more like some unknown bio-mechanical siege weapon—a gigantic walking object.

They carved a gap in the crowd and charged toward the Primarch, who was becoming increasingly isolated on the battlefield.

The second thing happened after the first thing.

Only those still in Kos could see it, for they too had witnessed the coming of a Primarch.

That means Karna has already arrived at the starport of Cos.

This planet, which was ravaged tens of thousands of years ago, remains a focal point for the attention of the supreme deities.

Blood flowed like a river, and dust and smoke obscured the sun.

A long, humid rain fell on the planet's surface, from which countless demons emerged, rushing into human settlements to slaughter them. Countless lives lay dead there, the carnage continuing without pause, all the while facing the star that was gradually glowing green.

A Void Whale, hundreds of kilometers long, plunged into the planet, covered with foul-smelling demons. Like a swarm of insects, the demonic tide devoured the wasteland and continued to climb upwards, suffocating the cities on the surface of Kos.

The wounds that Luo Jia inflicted on Kaus were torn open again by the capricious chess players of the Supreme Heaven after ten thousand years.

This is the power of the gods.

"grown ups!"

Inside the starport, responsible for evacuating civilians before the arrival of the enemy fleet, an old man grabbed Karna's wrist.

They were gripping so tightly they were almost tearing the gauntlet off the wrist.

"I can still fight! I can still fight!"

The old grenadier repeated it over and over again, like chanting a mantra.

It was as if this could make his aging body indestructible and incredibly agile again, just like he was on the battlefield back then.

That's enough—

Karna grasped the outstretched hand of the other person.

"enough."

"Not enough, sir!"

The veteran said, "Not even a little bit."

Revenge is never enough.

The scars of battle were deeply etched in his mind, like an insurmountable chasm, a fixed memory, an indelible mark.
Ah, he can't forget it.

Fire, decaying earth, demons.

Just now.

Everything suddenly became distant and blurry—everything the old man had experienced, everything he cherished, everything he had vowed to protect.

The stew his daughter had placed in the insulated box before he woke up in the middle of the night, the workshop his son had built to keep him occupied, spending his grandson's scholarship award day at Coase's school, and his clear voice reading aloud the essay that had won an award of excellence.
The strips of cloth woven from his comrades' clothes on the house, the first face he kissed when he returned to Koss, his first meeting with his good buddies.
Memories churned quietly and steadily in his mind, piling up in their own unique way before merging with reality.

Boom!

Starport was constantly bombarded by artillery fire.

The scattered sparks from the explosion were obscured by the thick, bluish-black smoke, becoming dim and indistinct. Beams of light from the land-based heavy artillery pierced through the obscuration like sunlight, licking at the city walls. Supersonic shrapnel, mixed with fragments of demons annihilated in the previous instant, tore through everything in its path.

Faced with the overwhelming onslaught of demons, flames spewed from the explosive weapons intertwined into a vast fire net, and the paths of plasma and tracer bullets crisscrossed. These demons, who crawled out of hell, fearlessly advanced against the firepower, pressing forward step by step under the command of their master.

The living and the dead fell continuously from the contact area, the crimson metal and decaying steel plates were jagged, and the ground was littered with cruelly disposed corpses. The Chaos, which valued ritual, also appeared so brutal at this moment, eagerly vying for any nutrients that could be turned into their fighting power.

The shrieks of plasma focusing and acceleration mingled with the howls of demons scratching at the void shield, and the ground scorched by the molten metal vaporized into surging iron, engulfing and swallowing everything around it.

Blood mist filled the sky, and smoke and dust billowed.

It's ruined, everything is ruined.

"My lord, don't worry about me. Go to the battlefield and kill them. Don't compromise for our sake. We will follow you."

Before me stood a resentful old man.

The surrounding area was filled with panicked crowds. Many people boarded the refugee ships under the guidance of the auxiliary troops, but many others gave up the chance to leave.

They are enduring unprecedented suffering, losing loved ones, and filled with despair.

Filled with righteous indignation, they prepared to take up arms against the invaders after a brief respite.

There's nothing left to lose.

But the regular troops couldn't think of anything else they should do besides placing these civilians behind them where their artillery couldn't reach them.

For the Wings of Dawn, order is far from collapsing; at least on this planet, things are not yet at the point where these aging civilians must take up arms.

"."

What could Karna say?

How can we persuade this elderly man who has lost everything to let go of it all and start a new life?

A deep sadness appeared in Karna's eyes, but his face still bore a solemn expression of compassion.

But before lamenting their suffering, he still hoped that these people could secure a chance to escape.

Karna couldn't linger here for too long. Even if the Holy Blood Angels could handle things on the front lines, even if he only needed to stand here to maintain order and make things much easier for everyone present.

There are so many places where he is needed; the battlefield is never a place full of hope.

The roars of countless souls echoed in his ears, and intense emotions swirled around him.

Those who died during the Nurgle invasion either entered the eternally burning realm to slumber, were shattered by the waves of the Warp, or were brutally taken away by the Plague God.
These emotions were focused on the angel they believed in, the angel who represented the emperor on earth.

Anger, resentment, urgency
How much more can he change?
A brief question arose in my mind.

If you hadn't chosen to be enemies with these beings in the first place, wouldn't everything you cherish have been spared this calamity?

Karna immediately shook his head, ignoring the noises that were distracting him, and prepared to have Ramses install more firewalls later.

Ever since he accepted the power of the warp, this has been his biggest problem: the gods, having nothing better to do, always target him first.

His connection with humanity is too deep.

Karna stood up, facing the humans who were awestruck by his presence, and wanted to speak.

People obey his commands as soon as he speaks; this is the authority and credibility of a seraph.

His personal reputation.

But a soft call interrupted his thoughts.

"grandfather!"

The old man, whose face was contorted with rage, was stunned.

A routine refugee transfer: people flowed through the disputed area forcibly separated by soldiers, and the port continued to efficiently handle the influx of people.

Such a scene was perfectly normal from the very beginning of the war.

A boy of twelve or thirteen years old pushed through the crowd, waving and calling out.

Someone came up with the registration list.

Upon seeing Karna there, the staff member exclaimed in surprise, then quickly began to explain.

"Rescue teams have rescued 93 people at the education center in District 6 of the East, and are currently distributing them while linking their identities, so—"

She glanced around and whispered in a voice only Karna could hear, "The higher-ups believe that this blockage is not a solution."

The evacuees will be roughly categorized according to their place of residence. This makes it easier to conduct statistics and for the ship's crew to verify their identities, preventing any unexpected situations.

Thanks to the administrative capabilities that the four members of Dawnwing have always placed great emphasis on, at least the branches under the four wings can maintain administrative order in extreme environments. And thanks to Romulus, the database of Greater Altera can also communicate with Dawnwing.

Therefore, the evacuation team spent considerable effort to at least find the relatives of these stubborn members who refused to leave among the refugees.

"I see."

Karna immediately understood the reason.

"grandfather!"

The boy called out again, and this time he came to his loved ones.

The old man's fierce aura vanished in the blink of an eye, and he looked at the child at the giant's feet with disbelief.

He reached out with trembling hands, as if touching a dream.

The old man burst into tears as his rough fingertips touched the soft skin, and he embraced the boy tightly.

Karna glanced at the boy, then at the group of refugees, and then shook his head at the nervous-looking staff.

This allowed the member, who had been looking tense, to breathe a sigh of relief.

With the Seraph's approval, it means that this encounter was not a conspiracy by the evil god, and that their psionic staff's survey of the Chaos Contamination was effective.

She consulted Karna and then began to organize those who wished to go to the battlefield to obey the evacuation order.

After learning that their relatives had been rescued, a significant number of members chose to evacuate. Even those who had not yet seen their loved ones left with only a sliver of hope.

Karna no longer interfered in the evacuation process.

Although not everyone can be rescued, at least everyone has a chance to be rescued.

That's not enough, but it's enough as a start.

We can see hope, we can encounter hope.

An organization's authority and credibility are gradually built up in this way. Even if people no longer rely on idols that are given transcendent divine status, they will still trust the organization itself.

"My lord, I shall take my leave now."

Although she longed to continue basking in the glory of the seraph, the staff knew very well that she still had much to accomplish.

They also needed to verify the lists, plan inspection strategies to prevent loopholes, inspect supplies on-site to prevent greater disasters after the fleet left port, and maintain constant communication with the psionic and genetic forces to guard against the ever-present machinations of those malicious entities.
They were completely focused, holding their breath, cherishing these skills that they might never have been able to master on their own, an opportunity that the Primarch had personally handed to them.

Many people cherish this opportunity.

The opportunity to do something with one's own hands, to fight against malice, and to make their actions truly meaningful.

Karna left through the port passage.

When he returned covered in charred black ashes, the Crimson Paladin Commander, Septius, met the Primarch.

"This is the last batch."

Septius walked towards him. These demons were not capable of breaking through the starport's defensive firepower, which made him look quite presentable when he met the archangel.

Karna nodded, shook his shoulders to let the last bit of ash fall, stepped across the empty corridor, and looked down at the brightly lit city in the deep green fog.

Those who remained really didn't want to leave.

"Lord Ryan has sent word that the Plague Fleet is heading towards us. It's a large force. Lord Ramses has confirmed that they are carrying the Divine Plague and have already traveled to Alteramar from other areas via warp."

Mortarian became somewhat desperate after learning of the Lion King's arrival.

Although Arthur went to Sosa first for safety reasons, Romulus and the Ultramarines were still there.

Of course, no one can predict what a plague might be; what if it really happens?

"Lord Ramses indicated that there was no need to pay attention. For some reason, the Plague God's opponents will ensure that the fleet carrying the God's Plague never arrives before you reach a decision."

It truly proves the saying: when fortune smiles upon you, heaven and earth lend their strength.

Should we be grateful that our luck is in Tzeentch's hands?

Watching the demons being torn to pieces under the barrage of fire, Sepatitus said again, "They'll be here soon."

"It seems that the emperor's eldest son is far more powerful than we imagined."

Karna grinned, a sarcastic smile playing on his lips.

As the only one without a record of defeating a Primarch, and unlike Ramses, who thrived in the Warp and whose fame rivaled that of the Four Gods, Karna, aside from being almost the most popular being in the Emperor's long-term propaganda, perhaps many beings would have a mysterious confidence when choosing to face him.

He did not do much, especially in terms of killing.

Rather than lingering in high-level politics, being active on the battlefield, or fighting wits and courage with all sorts of monsters and demons in the subspace, he has always been accompanied by people the most.

Many people knew him, had seen him, accepted his protection, and gradually watched as they followed the government's orders to the local areas, built their homes, and lived a life free from worries about food and clothing.

Before the war began, he mingled among the short humans, always inconspicuous in the eyes of his enemies who had never bothered to look down on humanity.

"I think that person will change his mind next."

As Septius looked at the Seraphim, he couldn't help but recall the Holy Jeles of yesteryear.

Although their personalities are fundamentally different, they have one thing in common.

They didn't become noble overnight.

Suddenly, Sept. Sepatus thought of the returning Lion King, of Guilliman who was about to return, and of the only emperor missing from the Second Empire.

He suddenly clutched his chest, an indescribable sadness instantly enveloping him.

wow~
A pair of sharp eyes noticed his unusual behavior, and a hand was placed on his shoulder.

"There's always a chance."

Karna spoke.

"Yes, my lord."

Sepatias replied.

An opportunity, a miracle, may be slim, but it doesn't mean the possibility has been completely lost.

He believed that.

What could be more believable than what is happening right before your eyes?
He quickly composed himself and thought optimistically.

Just like now, he is still fighting alongside the Seraph on the same defensive line, just like he fought alongside the Archangel at the walls of Terra back then. In fact, because of all the factors of unity, he will not be driven away, but will always be able to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Seraph.

They are the dominant force, and even though they are currently in a passive defensive position, they are forcing the enemy to charge towards them.

Now it should be their enemies who are in despair. The war has gone on for nothing, they have incited demons to invade, slaughtered inhabited planets, and relied on whispers in the warp to hope that the Primarchs will lose their minds. All means have been exploited, like a gambler screaming and slapping all his chips.

As for our enemies—

Karna's pupils always burned with fire as he watched the fleet slowly emerge from behind the light of the emerald star.

"He should pray that he will have a chance to change."

An indescribable rage emanated from the Seraphim, a hatred formed from the countless lives that had died.

The living and the dead—these are emotions that even the Blood God would take notice of.

The Blood God, seated atop the brass throne, stared directly at reality and let out a fierce, excited howl.

Since this angel appeared, He, who was already obsessed with the bloodline curse of the Holy Blood Angel, has grown even more fond of the Holy Blood Angel.

Born killers no longer conceal themselves in war; they even actively embrace the hatred that the Blood God cherishes most, making their enemies fear and dread them.

“No need to endure any longer, Sepatitus.”

He whispered, and Sepatitus listened intently.

"Abandon etiquette, abandon elegance, abandon smiles."

He began to walk, and Sepatitus caught up.

"Let us cut off their limbs, crush their skulls, and hollow out their souls."

He began to run, and his wings, solidified by flames, lifted him up again, carrying the crimson paladins as they plummeted from the sky.

“Let us pile their remains into a heap of corpses, and then burn them to ashes.”

violent.

Smoke billowed in the murky air, swirling around the piled-up, twisted corpses, while blood gushed from the bursting green clouds of smoke.

A great impure being was born from rainwater tens of thousands of meters in the sky when a meteor streaked across its body.

"Let them realize the consequences and the price they will pay for torturing our compatriots."

The angels were as flamboyant as ever.

A fiery meteor streaks across the sky, visible to anyone who looks up.

People need this kind of high profile.

The head evaporated and disappeared.

The enormous, bloated unclean being did not die immediately. After being decapitated, it struggled for several seconds in place with the flames at the severed end before the energy within its body showed signs of weakening. Then, the maggot began to writhe in agony.

At that moment, it turned slightly to the side and fell forward, spewing out bursts of shrill, roaring flames from its severed neck.

The sky was filled with thousands upon thousands of winged creatures, flying insects, and arthropods, flapping their decaying wings as they pursued the Seraphim and Blood Angels who were falling toward the Earth's core.

Demons were constantly being burned, only to be stained with the trails of fire. The flames seemed to gain physical form, binding, tearing, and dragging the demons.

At about halfway point, the creatures in the sky began to slow down. Some hesitated and tried to turn back, while others fell from the sky. The weaker ones even disintegrated again before hitting the ground.

Those that are the largest, the fastest, and the strongest are often filled with fear—the fear of death, the fear of the mutated face of the benevolent father. But they are bursting, they are bleeding, their forms disintegrating under the threat of the highest heaven with each flap of their wings, being forcibly molded into more obedient beings.

Their despair and absurdity before their destruction were so captivating that even their enemies, upon witnessing it firsthand, couldn't help but marvel at the sight.

Some people were amused by the sight before them, and those around them joined in the laughter, though the sound was drowned out by the surrounding cheers.

The meteor materialized.

Tearing apart the pointless chase of the Nurgle horde, Karna led his crimson paladins as they slid down the high platform. Golden boots scraped against metal, sparks flying.

With wings outstretched, the speed was reduced.

His spear flamed up, completely engulfing the howling demonic soul within.

The cheers were deafening.

The seraph spun around, facing the enemy tide rising again on the distant horizon.

Overwhelming.

"Legion!"

He shouted, "Legion!"

The order was relayed along the city walls, from officer to officer, and then further afield through the communicator. Sepatus, standing beside Karna, could hear it echoing through a distant chorus, a sound that seemed to never fade away.

wow~
The clanging of the terracotta warriors was uniform as the Space Marines, all of them, marched forward, leaving the mortals behind.

The mortal defenders had no choice; they couldn't keep up with Astartes' pace and could only retreat.

As a competent military government, spearheaded by the Wings of Dawn and with the Empire's full support, the nationwide military exercises proved effective. The mortal garrison obeyed orders and quickly made way, with rows of golden-red warriors belonging to the Holy Blood Angels taking their place on the defensive line.

Tens of thousands of armed men stood ready, and tens of millions of guns and cannons were poised to fire.

"Let's do it!"

Karna gave the order.

The crowd listened, and with an unexpected sense of awe, they realized that the Seraph was not just commanding his legions. He flapped his wings once more, turned around, and met the gaze of those who had almost all seen him before. He called out to the mortals gathered behind the Astartes lines.

"You have chosen to obey orders."

Karna addressed the Imperial Army and the armed civilians, his voice calm yet resonating in everyone's ears, seemingly connecting with their very souls.

“You know your role, you stand firm and defend everything you have, and then you do your best to lend a helping hand to those around you. You are defending your lives, and that's what you should be doing—”

"But let us go first."

Because we were chosen from among you.

Numerous Holy Blood Angels lined up at the front, many of them having just emerged from the selection process in the Underworld and Dawn star sectors. They were so young, eager and furious, yet unwavering.

There is far more new blood than ancient souls.

The people obediently hid behind the battle lines, behind the Star Guardians.

Karna turned to face the enemy, and flames appeared on the horizon.

Still far away, but already close enough.
The archangel's spear fell.

They then launched an attack.

-----

Mortarian saw all of this clearly through the observation corridor.

The observation corridor is a long, narrow walking space located inside the bridge. It stretches along the inner curve of the bridge and is covered by rows of precise monitors. The internal observation facilities are already damaged, and the surfaces of the functional compartments are covered with a layer of wriggling organic matter.

These meager amounts of organic matter completely degraded as Mortarian approached.

After a brief struggle, the device began to flicker and was about to stop working.

"."

Mortarian decided to ignore these annoying details and looked at the seraphim above the earth.

The Seraphim is issuing a challenge.

The resistance was not concealed in the dense cloud of spores by the wrath of the plague god; the flames of resistance shone everywhere, from every city that retained its function to the elevators on the spaceport's operational level.

The flames from their fighting were so blinding that Mortarian knew that with the fleets locked in combat, he couldn't forcefully break through the blockade.

I just hope that Morag and Kugas can hurry up and bring this agonizing war to an end that the Mortarion can accept.

The hazy gray fog completely shut down the equipment that sustained life.

He turned and addressed his followers who were far away from him.

"Follow!"

His retinue consisted of seven death shrouds clad in Ironclad Terminator armor, and forty-nine Unbreakables selected from various squads, who now appeared breathless, their footsteps clattering as they marched along the pale avenue of the 'Resilient'.

Their steps seemed somewhat heavy, as if they had lost the control that belonged to an Astartes.

Mortarian had a plan in mind. He needed his guards to stop the Blood Angels and prevent those familiar faces with names from commanding their troops to gain an advantage on the larger battlefield.

Mortarion arrived at the other end of the teleportation site, far from his offspring, and struck his scythe forcefully.

Just before the teleportation was complete, he sensed an attack nearby. As his thoughts were pulled back to reality, a sense of admiration for the defending troops arose within him.

Such a high-efficiency counterattack speed means that the defending side still maintains control of the battlefield under such circumstances.

"Everyone is in your place!"

He roared and took the lead, moving away from his offspring who felt extremely uncomfortable because of his presence. He crossed the area covered by artillery fire and rushed straight towards the dazzling flames on the horizon.

As soon as the words were spoken, the Death Shrouds immediately sprang into action. Their movements were slightly awkward after losing their master. The rest of the Unbreakables under their leadership merged directly into the surging demon army, splitting into small teams and entering their designated teleportation areas, each heading towards the source of the noise and light of battle across the planet.

In the areas not guarded by the Seraphim, the city walls collapsed inward amidst the roar of explosives, and were then flooded with a series of plague weapons. Holy Blood Angels poured out from the cracks in the walls, leaping down before the rubble even hit the ground. Their hands were covered in blood, and they roared in anger. What was terrifying was that they could extract blood from demons and other supernatural creatures while they were reaping their lives.

At the same time, the teleportation triggered the familiar ozone aura, and the air was replaced in the blink of an eye. The pressure difference caused the air to make a loud noise, and the pale white death shrouds emerged from the teleportation light, immediately joining their battle comrades to join the fight.

The two sides collided, and in an instant, the formation erupted into a hail of bullets and a surge of various colors of energy.

The Astartes are in conflict, and demons are trying to carve a bloody path through the mortals' gunfire with their flesh and blood.

Motarian then withdrew his gaze.

He had to keep an eye on his offspring, or he feared he would forget what they looked like.

He turned around, flicking his tattered cloak, but saw only emptiness. Yet he could sense a terrifying change within himself, but he had to rely on this growing power to fulfill his father's demands in order to preserve the legion.

He took another step, ignoring the battle behind him, his sharp eyes fixed on the front.

Immediately, the gray mist surged, and the surrounding soil began to tremble and collapse as it lost its vitality, passing through the demon army still struggling in the artillery fire, and through the land scorched by angels.

Mortarion appeared in that instant as the power of death tore through the flame-forged arena with unparalleled might.

One moment he was still hazy and indistinct, like a lifeless natural object, and the next he stood there, transformed into a solid being, his feet firmly planted on the ground. He swung his giant scythe, which was enveloped in gray mist, and slashed directly at Karna, who had just defeated his opponent.

Beneath the burning wall, Karna threw down the corpse of a Nurgle archdemon.

Looking through the hazy gray mist, he saw his opponent.

He smiled.

His teeth gleamed in the firelight, and his short, pale blond hair swayed in the night wind, dancing like a giant tongue of fire above.

"You're much cleaner than I remembered. What happened to those viruses and offspring you cherish?"

No one has ever told me that seraphs can be so sharp-tongued.

“They are with me.”

Mortarian now looked so gloomy, his body pale and lifeless.

Everything around him withered upon his arrival; even the most benevolent and reckless Nurgle demons refused to approach this Primarch.

He knew very well that his sons were dead, and that these deaths were constantly providing him with strength.

"And what about you, those humans you cherish, who died because of your choices?"

He spoke sarcastically.

“They are with me.”

Karna responded proudly.

Defeating the enemy's mindset before battle is always a routine tactic. He has little combat wisdom, but he happened to have learned from Ramses.

Primarchs, aside from certain individuals who have completely given up or those who are as solid as a rock, are usually easy to break through.

"You have seen the essence of the Milky Way, yet you are running away from it."

As if provoked by something, Mortarion flew into a rage, swinging his giant scythe and cleaving the ground beneath Karna in two.

“I embraced it, I endured the pain, I looked directly at the gods, and I received the reward of overcoming this suffering. I led my offspring out of this hell of the Milky Way.”

"Did your initial love for them stem from sending them to the battlefield? Or did they only become your sons because they went to the battlefield?"

Karna returned the favor with undeniable power. Flames brushed against his body, and Mortarion could clearly hear the roars that echoed in his ears, roars filled with a burning desire for revenge.

"You hate the emperor, so you choose to do the same thing as him? Faced with threats, you choose to surrender? And now you're trying to persuade a rebel to make the same choice as you?"

“I still protect the humans behind me, on the ships in the void, on those unthreatened planets, in the fortresses behind me. They still stand by my side, fighting alongside me.”

The blazing flames of the Seraphim obscured the hazy gray mist.

Where are your beloved sons?!

He selected from Ramses's vocabulary and began to question him.

"Did you command them to die, or did Nurgle command them to die? Are they your sons, or Nurgle's sons?"

Sharp teeth and sharp mouth!

Mortarian recalled the intelligence he had gathered and discovered that every single one of these damned guys had a vicious tongue.

"Stop talking!"

Motalian knew it very well.

They are heading down a dead end.

Because of his command, and even more so because of Nurgle's command.

He had no choice.

Silence. Then the scythe that Mortarian loved so dearly screamed, both out of resentment and pain, as it cleaved the earth and shook the rocks deep within.

Karna smashed aside the giant scythe, grabbed Mortarion by the neck with one hand and lifted him up. The massive blade of the Silent Scythe was pulled from the wound on his calf, and the Crimson Spear pierced his jawbone. Flames coiled around Mortarion's head.

Mortarian grabbed the scythe handle that was hanging in mid-air, and Silence slashed at Karna's arm again. Karna retreated, and the spear blade burned off most of the Lord of Death's face. Then Silence cut his forearm.

The weapons of both sides clashed.

Immediately after a violent explosion, the two sides separated again.

"Stop talking!"

Mortarian roared.

"Humph."

All that remained in response to him was a second wave of attacks.

All that needs to be said has been said.

It can only be said that Ramses' conventional combat methods against each Primarch were quite effective.

Mortalian may have fallen to this point because of Typhons, but he also brought it upon himself.

They are blind to the hypocrisy of witchcraft, the weakness of Negro, and the blindness to things they have long known, and they go with the flow.

He may have thought of himself as an opponent of witchcraft, a rebel against tyrants, and a good father to his children, but he actually accomplished none of what he claimed.

His heart was unworthy of the power he wielded. He sold himself for a good price and then became complacent because of his master's charity. What he lost, and what the Death Guard lost, far outweighed what they gained.

He was never exactly resilient.

This is the truth!
Of course, he could also blame the Emperor, his brothers who had discovered some of the truth, and those who hadn't told him about the power he truly possessed.

But the problem returns to the very thing I'm most fixated on.

Does the lack of strength mean we should not resist?

What is the tenacity that he is so proud of?
"."

Drizzle—

The torrential rain, a manifestation of the plague god's wrath, swirled overhead.

One red and one gray, the two are engaged in an unprecedented confrontation on the surface battlefield.

Karna charged straight at Mortarian, breaking his stance with a swing of his spear. The tip of the spear plunged deep into Mortarian's shoulder, and then he slammed Mortarian to the other side of the platform.

Mortarion retaliated with another charge, slicing off a large chunk of armor from Karna's side. The Seraph suddenly erupted, launching eight fierce attacks in succession, each move exquisite and purely for killing.

But with the power of death, Mortariang blocked every blow and became increasingly adept at it.

They flew and danced, sparks flying everywhere.

The earth was torn apart with each of their intersections.

Mortarian continued to grow stronger and more robust, becoming more and more deeply immersed in the gift of this supernatural power that was almost completely poisoning him, as time passed and as all life around him died.

But now he was filled with doubt and was shocked by the presence before him who, facing the same predicament, displayed an unyielding rage.

After the brief shock comes emptiness, an emotion that approaches nothingness.

Then came panic.

The other party is also becoming stronger, and is also filled with resentment because everything he cares about is dying. This anger rises like flames in the physical universe, slaughtering the enemies before him.

Before the battle, as a competent commander, Mortarian had analyzed the members of the Wings of Dawn. At least he had their combat data under control. Mortarian did not know the characteristics of the other three, but he felt that the power that Karna possessed was so familiar and so familiar.

It is not a great being that relies on the warp, but belongs solely to Karna.

As long as he maintains a steadfast mind and rejects the gods, this power will allow him to resist the intrusion of the chaotic gods and to personally, in a better way, defend everything he cares about.

He has it too.

clang!
The weapons clashed, and both sides took two steps back.

Mortarian wiped his lips with the back of his hand, the wound from Karna's cut flowing with blood, which he smeared on his cheek.

For no apparent reason, a question, a suspicion he had always avoided, uncontrollably surfaced in his mind.

He should have that too.

It was simply taken away, sent away.

"To whom does your son belong?"

Karna's voice echoed in his mind, lingering there.

No, that's not right!

Boom!

In the distance, the light of an explosion ignited; it was the spaceport's defensive firepower unleashing waves of plasma within the Nargog warship.

The two men crashed into a circular crater at the edge of the battlefield, their impact becoming increasingly fierce and violent, shattering the entire area like a warship's lance, and sending up the same light on the ground.

They twirled and danced among the swirling rubble, then plunged into another plain cleared by the aftershocks, completely immersed in their contest.

Further out, beyond the Primarch's sight, the sky was ablaze, beyond extinguishing.

Evil voices howled in the gradually dampening hurricane.

I'm right! I'm always right!

My choice back then wasn't out of weakness, it was because I was right!

Karna leaped forward, unleashing two consecutive attacks that left the shaken Mortarian barely able to block.

"No!"

He said.

He retaliated with a downward slash, but Karna deflected it, then swung his blade in a counter-slash, tearing apart the illusory wings of the Seraph and striking his armor.

The broken golden scales scattered in all directions.

Looking at the angel who could still fight him, and feeling the burning sensation piercing his abdomen, Mortarian only wanted to kill the person in front of him.

That person was willing to give everything, never fearing anything, and urgently urging his body, mind, and soul to pump out power, just to fulfill the promise he made to those who believed in his existence.

Never compromise.

Sometimes, human abilities cannot keep up with their courage.

But Karna will not.

Mortarion shouldn't either—

I never used to.

　P.S.: It's really late, so I just typed it all out and posted it all at once. I was planning to celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival, but there's no more tonight, sob sob.

　　Character
　　Ordinary people: Not only the Primarchs, but also the governments that serve them have begun to fulfill their promises. This means that humanity has regained the ability to support itself, and the proliferation of various organizations has indeed changed to some extent the places that Superman could not reach.

　　Tzeentch: Although he ate a huge lump of poison, at least he ate it. Now he has to feed Nurgle a lump of real poison. Currently, he's responsible for holding Nurgle back.

　　Nurgle: A concentrated attack on Alteramar, attempting to close the gap by unleashing demons at any cost.

　　Ramses: Awesome! I love watching the chaos pull each other down.

　　Karna: To appease the masses, assist in the integration of the army, and be responsible for dueling battles.

　　Cypatus: Assists the Primarch in missions, gathers intelligence from all sides, and facilitates the Primarch's full involvement in combat.

　　Blood Angels: Enter the organization through elite education in various star sectors and participate in the battle against Koss.

　　Mortarion: Deploy Morag and Kugas to forcefully break through Macurag, rely on the Nightbringers to hold off the Lion King, and rely on himself to hold off Karna.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)