Warhammer: Black Emperor

Chapter 758 Tzeentch's New Plan
Inside the Impossible Fortress of the High Heavens, Tzeentch moved his hands, and colorful light swirled around him.

"Blackrock Fortress... Grell..."

His voice was cheerful, and the face that sprouted from his right breast repeated in a deep voice: "Blackrock Fortress... Grell..."

A colorful light emanated from Tzeentch's eyes, and an illusory scene appeared before him.

He raised his right hand, and faces began to appear on it.

He raised his hand and reached for the small black dot.

The small black dot grew rapidly, transforming into a black Gothic ship.

“Ape force field…space ape…ancient saint…”

The gaping maw that appeared on Tzeentch's waist spoke in a low voice: "Ape Field... Space Ape... Ancient Saint..."

He raised his head, and light flowed between his fingers.

His hand slowly emerged, grasping another fleet and weaving shimmering threads.

"New plans...changes..."

As the mouth at His waist burst open, the face that sprouted from His left leg whispered with pleasure: "A new plan... a change..."

……

950.M30.

At the edge of the "Eye of Fear," in Kadia.

A world yet to be discovered by the Empire.

The young girl, Ingeser, fell into a deep sleep, a devout expression on her face.

She knelt on the ground and praised the names of the four gods.

Suddenly, a voice sounded.

"Ingsal, the Chosen One".

"My lord." She bowed her body and paid her respects devoutly.

“Loga was too slow; he lost the artifact that was destined for him.”

"Ah!" Ingesal exclaimed, "My lord, is there any chance for him to salvage the situation and reclaim his artifact?"

"He is the beloved son of the four gods, and he wholeheartedly believes in them; he will receive a gift!"

"He won't always be the loser; he will draw strength from his faith!"

Ingesell listened to the truth, saying, "I will guide him and enlighten him."

……

At the same moment that Ingesell awakens from his dream, the third layer of space in the "Land of Disorder".

Ning Lu stared at the floating black eyeball in front of him, with black lines of regularity swirling around it.

"The uniqueness of the 'dark' path." There was no disappointment in his tone. Ever since he took the Eye of the Night into the "Disordered Kingdom," he knew that it was not the source substance.

"Unfortunately, I cannot use 'darkness' right now, otherwise I could ensure that I am not spied on in the real world."

"It can also conceal my traces and mislead those who spy and divine."

The power of "darkness" flashed through Ninglu's mind.

[Sovereignty: darkness, secrecy.]

Partial authority: fear, spirituality, misfortune, and the resulting calamities.
"I am only sequence 5, yet I have already obtained five uniquenesses."

"I'm really lucky."

"Although for now we can only use 'Red Priest' and 'Twilight Giant'."

He looked at the dark claw in the distance, "The Dark Hand and the Eye of Night are also powerful artifacts, capable of traversing countless light-years and controlling Blackrock Fortress."

Ning Lu looked at the slowly rotating black glass again, "It's just empty glass, I don't dare to start it yet."

"Next, we can go and retrieve Blackrock 4 from the Cyclops Cluster."

He gazed at the dull black triangular pyramid and sighed.

"I don't know how long we'll have to wait."

As Nimrod sighed, in the humid equatorial region of the planet Taranagia, hot, humid rain pelted two hundred new recruits of the Fifth Legion.

Harun Swincellen stood in the concrete plaza, his power armor clad in milky white and gold-red paint.

It wasn't the black paint job he longed for.

It is the opposite of white.

Harlan's memories return to Terra, an unforgettable day at the Imando Center.

The sliding door opened, and he stepped into the dimly lit room.

"Sir!"

“Harlan Swincellen?” The man on the desk had ashen skin, and the implanted drill bit extended from the right side of his face to his chin.

His right eye is made of natural flesh and blood, while his left eye is fitted with a laser prosthetic eye that emits red light.

“Yes.” Harlan straightened up.

"Your training here is over. You have passed the first phase—recruit selection and physical training."

“I am ready to pledge my allegiance,” Harlan answered loudly.

"Very good. You will be going to the moon for further training, including skills training, gene therapy, and psychological training."

"You will receive an organ transplant."

Under Harlan's expectant gaze, the man with dark skin looked down at his desk.

A series of runes flashed across the desktop.

"Your squad has thirty-three members, and you are ranked seventeenth."

“That’s an excellent team, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Harlan’s eyes darkened when he heard the rankings; the instructors of the Order of Shadows usually selected from the top five.

But receiving the praise, a glimmer of hope rose in his eyes. "Thank you for your praise."

"Now there's a problem: the Shadow of Order did indeed select you as a backup option."

His cold and concise words, however, made Harlan's eyes gleam with a sharp light.

"But they exceeded the recruitment quota, and some legions were clearly understaffed."

"So, they couldn't bring you along."

"If you could rank tenth or higher, the situation would be different; you could join your desired legion, but it's too late now..."

Harlan's mind flashed with the marble-like face of Lord Nimrod and the gleaming battle banner the Emperor had given him.

He etched the shadowy patterns onto his iron bed and into his heart.

He clenched his fists tightly. He tried his best every day, but he still failed.

"Adjustments are common, there's nothing to be ashamed of."

adjust!

The words struck him like a powerful punch to the chest.

Harlan knew the selection agency was strict and didn't accept any questions, but he still blurted it out.

"I will not accept being reassigned!"

The red light shone on him. "Svensellen, is our job to cater to your desires?"

“No, sir.” Harlan lowered his head.

"Are we working here to cater to the wishes of the new recruits?"

“No, sir.” Harlan lowered his head even further.

"Others also accepted the reassignment; do you think they all did it willingly?"

“I don’t think so, sir.” Harlan’s eyes were dark.

They were just seven places short.

"You will be going to the moon in two weeks."

Harlan looked up. "Sir, may I?"

"You have been assigned to the Fifth Legion."

The Fifth Legion, white scars, mysterious barbarians.

Not the worst-case scenario: neither Fenris's wolves nor the World Eater.

Svensellen was the seventeenth player to be moved; he was the third to last out of the nineteen in the first round.

The achievements of "White Scar" are not third to last, just as "Space Wolf" and "World Eater" are not last either.

The solitary white scars, the liaison officers, like their legion, have never been to Imando.

Loga sat alone in the last row of the War Council, but the liaison officers of the Word Bearers could choose from the top ten.

The Order of Shadows is only after the Shadowmoon Wolf, and often can be chosen as an additional target.

“I know nothing about them,” Harlan understood.

"You have enough time to get to know them."

Harun kept Ninglu's image deep in his heart and worked hard to learn the Khorchin language.

The completely unfamiliar syllables of Chogris's strange language were a real challenge for his enhanced brain.

The difficulty lies not in the vast vocabulary and complex grammar, but in the special sound sources and subtle variations.

What Harlan finds even more unacceptable is his introverted style and isolationism.

But over the course of fourteen years, he gradually began to appreciate their exceptional resilience and tenacious will, especially their abundant energy.

As Halun pondered, Yemulannayan Khan came before him.

His short, stocky build was like that of other Chogoris.

"Harlan?"

“Yes, sir,” Harlan replied quickly, gathering his thoughts.

Where is Terra from?

“The Nordic Peninsula.” Harlen raised his left cheek, revealing a scar that had been etched into his face a few weeks earlier.

Yemulan Khan nodded in satisfaction, took the curved power sword from the honor guard, and raised it above Harun's head.

“You were once a Harun of the Nordic peninsula, but now you have joined the tribe of Chagatai, and your former life no longer exists.”

"What name will you use to identify yourself?"

Harun consulted numerous Khorchin dictionaries and historical records, and finally chose a name from the legends of the Taska tribe, the name of an attendant of an ancient Khan.

He spent a century in the wilderness, yet showed no signs of aging upon returning to his tribe.

"Togon".

Yemulan Khan handed him the curved-blade power sword, saying, "You are now a member of the tribe."

"Torgon, you are now a member of the Brotherhood, and only death can take you away."

"May your death be far off, and may your life be filled with glory."

Torgon took the curved power sword; he was more skilled with straight-bladed weapons and needed time to adapt.

"For the Great Khan."

Togon bowed deeply, trying to dispel the lingering memories in his heart.

A towering, black-armored, golden-winged giant.

(End of this chapter)