Warhammer 40K in a box

Chapter 507 The Oathbreaker

The Terminators, led by Qasim, were like the Empire's sharpest living battering ram.

They seize fleeting opportunities to launch short but deadly attacks on the most threatening enemy groups or newly emerging blasphemous creations on the battlefield.

Heavy footsteps pounded on the rotten, muddy ground, producing a dull thud like war drums.

The earth seemed to tremble.

The power gauntlets, enveloped in a ghostly blue disintegration field, could smash several walkers into a bloody pulp with a single blow, or smash a well-equipped plague warrior, along with his equally decaying power armor, into the depths of the mud.

The Storm Bomb Gun unleashes a devastating barrage of projectiles at close range, clearing a path like a storm of metal.

Each advance of the Terminator squad plowed a scorched furrow in the filthy earth, burning with the flames of divine purification.

This not only efficiently eliminated the enemy, but also painstakingly expanded the valuable foothold of the landing zone.

The Terminator squad acted like a mobile fortress, greatly reducing the pressure on the other brothers on the ring line.

During lulls in his charge, Qasim would quickly scan the entire battlefield via tactical data link.

He shared the coordinates of newly discovered, high-priority threats in real time with the heavy firepower squads or company fire support groups at the rear.

This ensured that the Emperor's wrath could be seamlessly distributed, forming a deadly crossfire network.

"Technical Sergeant! Establish forward communication relay point! Immediately call 'Gabbro'! Requesting orbital fire support! Coordinates Lambda-9, cover the boiling swamp area on the left flank of the landing zone! Repeat, Lambda-9! A massive number of zombies are crawling out of the mud, and... By the Emperor! Wait, something big is appearing!" The Fifth Company Sergeant Major's roar exploded in the company's communication channel, drowning out the surrounding noise.

As he roared, he fired a textbook-perfect three-round burst from his explosive gun, smashing the swollen, deformed head of a plague warrior who was trying to aim at the filth spraying from the nozzle of the pus sprayer into a mass of exploding flesh and bone fragments.

His warning was confirmed by a blasphemous spiritual pressure that was as tangible as a physical entity, even stronger and more nauseating—the stench of a powerful Chaos Space Marine's soul decay.

On the left wing, at the edge of a vast, bubbling, and viscous yellowish-green swamp, several enormous, twisted figures, exuding an aura of despair and decay, slowly emerged from the filthy mud and miasma with heavy steps that made the earth groan.

The mere presence of them was enough to ignite the fire of hatred—the fury of humanity and the wrath of emperors—within the hearts of every Ash Knight!
These abominable beings were once the emperor's angels, the pinnacle of human genetic engineering—the Astartes.

Now, however, they have become the most hated core minions in the Rotten Garden of Nurgle—they are the traitors of the Rotten Claws Warband!
The vision that entered the eyes of the Ash Knights was a manifestation of faith and honor being utterly defiled, the deepest blasphemy suffered by the sacred bloodline of the Primarch!

Their remaining power armor was no longer a symbol of protection and power, but was completely covered and devoured by dark green rust, sticky dirt, and tumor-like growths that seemed to be constantly writhing and proliferating like living organisms. The outline of the eagle emblem and the paint that symbolized loyalty were gone.

Every crevice in the armor was oozing a nauseating yellowish-green pus, which dripped onto the mud with a sizzling, corrosive sound.

Those once-symbols of loyalty and victory are now covered by malevolent plague runes, festering sores, and blasphemous eight-pointed star markings of chaos.

Their bodies were severely swollen and deformed, completely deviating from the sacred human form. Some had thick, twisted arms like the knots of an ancient tree ravaged by disease, the ends of which were connected to huge plague-powered claws dripping with highly corrosive sap or buzzing plague chainsaws covered in rust and blood.

Some had huge, pulsating pustules protruding high on their backs, with the outlines of deformed limbs vaguely visible inside, churning in the pus, like twisted hatching sacs.

Even more abhorrent were the helmets, which had completely fused and grown together with the rotting, pus-filled faces beneath them, exposing several murky compound eyes that gleamed with inhuman malice, or a gaping maw stretched to its ears, dripping with foul saliva and filled with jagged fangs, uttering incomprehensible, wet mutterings.

A foul-smelling miasma, almost solidified, mixed with highly rotten corpses, decomposed entrails, and a strong, sweet-smelling stench of plague, rolled and spread from their center like a tangible cloud of plague.

Even after being filtered through the most stringent filtration system of the power armor and suppressed by the superhuman will of Astartes, the invisible filth was still enough to cause nerve pain and stomach churning.

This is not merely a pollution of sight and smell, but the most thorough and vicious blasphemy and mockery of the Emperor's creation and the sacred mission undertaken by the Astartes!

The chest of every Ash Knight heaved violently with extreme, pure rage and burning hatred.

The tightly gripped chainsaw sword emitted a higher, more thirsty death hum, fueled by the killing intent infused by its master, as if yearning to drink the blood of a traitor!

“Look! The Emperor’s… lackey!” A Fallen, whose head was sunken deep into a massive, bulging shoulder armor, let out a low, bubbly laugh, the sound like the pulsating of a necrotic bellows.

He wielded a massive, powered axe wreathed in filthy, dark green psionic energy and dripping with acidic pus, its blade pointed at the Terminator who stood ready for battle.

“You…reject the Father’s…gifts! Embrace…decay…and that is…eternity!” he roared.

The enormous axe, carrying a stench and blasphemous power, slammed down on the Terminator commander at the very front!

"For the Emperor! Purify the Oathbreakers!" The Terminator Commander's voice roared like thunder from his helmet's megaphone, drowning out the Fallen Ones' blasphemous words.

He met the attack without fear, and the decomposition field of the power gauntlet was instantly activated to its maximum power, emitting a shrill whistle and high-frequency buzzing that tore through the air, and collided violently with the blasphemous giant axe!
The deafening sound of the metal colliding was accompanied by a piercing shriek as the disintegrating force field and chaotic spiritual energy eroded and annihilated each other!
The purifying blue light clashed violently with the filthy, dark green fel energy, sparking eerie and dangerous flames.

The immense impact caused even the Terminator Commander's mountain-solid body to sway slightly.

The rocks beneath their feet shattered under the immense pressure.

The Fallen One's thick, pillar-like arms, covered in proliferating tissue, also trembled violently.

A conspicuous notch was blasted open on the axe blade by the disintegrating force field.

Thick, foul-smelling pus splattered out as if it were alive.

(End of this chapter)