Warhammer 40K in a box

Chapter 581 The Return of the Gorgon

The moment Felus took that step and her presence spread out without reservation—the two Iron Hand veterans closest to her, their highly modified and known for their stability, suddenly stiffened!
The creature's eyes widened suddenly beneath the helmet!
An ancient and sacred resonance, originating from the depths of their blood, pierced through all their mechanical and logical defenses like a high-voltage current!

The piercing alarm of processor overload screamed within their skulls, but a realization more fundamental than any logical code exploded like a divine revelation, drowning out all the alarms: "No... impossible... but this feeling... Gorgon... it's Him!!"

One of the veterans let out a hoarse, almost distorted scream. His knee joint servo emitted a series of ear-piercing "clunking" sounds, as if fighting against an invisible force. Finally, it bent uncontrollably, and he fell heavily to one knee with a "thud"!
The heavy power armor slammed into the ground with a loud thud as the metal deformed.

Another veteran, as if struck in the chest by an invisible hammer, staggered back a step, his explosive pistol clattering to the ground. He clutched his head, letting out a low, painful, and incredulous growl: "The Father of Genes?! But...form...logical error?! Chaos!!"

His voice was filled with the pain of a cognitive breakdown.

This sudden and violent reaction, like a spark thrown into boiling oil, instantly ignited a cognitive storm in all the Iron Hand warriors present!

The officer's movements froze completely. The raised mechanical arm hung in mid-air, the electronic eyes flashed wildly, and the data stream washed over his vision like a waterfall, almost burning out his logic circuits.

The other soldiers' internal communication channels were instantly flooded with chaotic data and exclamations: "Sergeant Kahn knelt down?! What did he say? Gorgon?!"

"The sensors have gone mad! The biosignal... its strength... is... is at the Primarch level?! Confirmed!"

"That arm! Behold that arm! Flowing silver... and the skin of Gorgon described in the sacred texts! By the Emperor!"

"Morphological parameters do not match! Logical error! High alert! This may be a simulation trap!"

All the weapons were trembling slightly, the red dots on the scopes were shaking, but no one could actually pull the trigger.

That overwhelming presence and majesty, originating from the seeds of our genes, left the doubters with only instinctive fear and the chaos of collapsing logic.

Felus ignored the chaos, kneeling, roaring, and shaking weapons that erupted behind him.

Her gaze pierced through the heavy bronze door as if it were a tangible thing, as if she could see everything behind it.

His right fist, covered in liquid metal, slowly rose and aimed at the center of the doorway engraved with the emblems of the ten major clans.

No words, only actions.

The heavy bronze gates of the Hall of Ten Thousand Forges groaned with a sickening metallic groan as they were subjected to the immense power of the Primarch's fist.

The robust servo system at the hinge was instantly overloaded, bursting out with blinding blue electric sparks.

With a deafening roar, the giant gate burst open as if it had been struck head-on by a battering ram!

Heavy bronze fragments flew like cannonballs, crashing onto the cold metal floor of the hall with a series of loud thuds, filling the air with dust.

The sight inside the hall caused Felus's pupils to shrink to cold, needle-like points: the Ironfathers of the ten great clans stood in the center of the hall as if performing some cold and twisted ritual.

Numerous neural data cables, gleaming with a cold metallic luster, extended from the interfaces at the back of their necks, like steel umbilical cords, densely wrapping around and connecting to a twisted mechanical puppet in the center.

The puppet's outline vaguely resembled the Primarch's form, draped in crudely etched fragments of a counterfeit breastplate. Several forged, dull fragments of the Primarch's skull were inlaid in its skull, and the Gorgon emblem, symbolizing her, was clumsily etched on its chest. An unstable red light flickered in the puppet's eyes, and under the cold commands input by the Iron Fathers, it emitted a meaningless, intermittent mechanical hum, like a blasphemous prayer.

Ferrus's bursting through the door was like a supernova exploding in a confined space.

The nerve data cables extending from the back of the Iron Fathers' necks suddenly tightened and trembled violently. The transmitted signal flow was forcibly interrupted by an irresistible pressure, emitting a piercing electrical noise.

The red light in the puppet's eyes flickered violently and erratically, and its movements became stiff.

Shock, rage, and a hint of deep-seated fear, forcibly suppressed and originating from the genetic level, rippled violently across their highly mechanized faces.

Gastaff Ironfather's voice, severely distorted by the intense emotional shock and system interference, emitted intermittent shrieks: "Illusory...false illusion?! The Emperor's curse...curse! How dare you...defile...the Sanctuary of Ten Thousand Forges with such blasphemous things! Guards! Execute...execute the purification protocol! Immediately!!"

Outside the broken door, the sounds of clashes and weapons clashing between loyalists and extremists could be faintly heard; the battle had already begun.

Feralus remained silent.

The only response to Gastaff was the heavy, hammer-like sound of her footsteps hitting the ground, each step causing the hall to tremble.

She strode toward the blasphemous sacrificial array, the ancient runic stone slabs beneath her feet, inscribed with the Legion's motto "Iron is faith, logic is truth," shattering into dust with each heavy step.

Her liquid right arm—"Gorgon Skin"—suddenly swelled up like an awakened giant python!

The silvery-gray liquid metal instantly shaped and hardened, its tip transforming into a massive piercing blade gleaming with a deadly cold light, tearing through the air and emitting a shrill, ear-piercing shriek!

"Pfft——!"

The piercing blade pierced through the puppet's rusty, poorly constructed chest cavity without any resistance, producing a sickening metallic tearing sound.

The piercing liquid metal did not stop; instead, it differentiated into countless smaller, shimmering silver metal tentacles, like greedy and furious roots, frantically drilling into, spreading, and crushing the puppet's core processor, data conduits, and bionic nerve bundles that flashed with dangerous red light!
The puppet's tattered body convulsed violently under the onslaught of the metal tentacles, fragments of the fake skull fell off in a flurry, and the red light in its eyes flickered wildly like a dying candle flame before finally going completely dark.

Ferrus lifted the puppet's remains—completely strangled inside, emitting acrid black smoke and crackling sparks—high with her liquid metal arms. Metal fragments and charred cables fell from her fingers like dirty rain, clattering to the floor.

Her voice, like ancient ice or roaring flames in a forge, echoed in the deathly silent hall. Every word struck the very core of the soul of every Iron Hand member present like a hammer blow: "I bestowed upon you the 'Iron Hand'!"

Her gaze, like a cold searchlight, swept over the frozen Iron Fathers, over the warriors at the doorway who had paused their fighting in shock, and finally landed on the pile of smoking scrap metal. Her eyes boiled with immense disappointment and a furious rage of utter desecration: "It was so that you could wield steel and conquer the stars! For the Emperor! For humanity!"

Her voice suddenly rose, like thunder exploding in the enclosed space, making the air vibrate: "Not to make you kneel before this pile of soulless scrap metal! To sacrifice your reason and loyalty to this blasphemous gears and lies!"

The last faint red light in the puppet's eye sockets was extinguished and annihilated by her thunderous words, symbolizing the complete end of this false god's creation.

The hall fell into a deathly silence, broken only by the faint dripping of coolant from the puppet's remains and the subtle hissing of the liquid metal arm of Ferrus flowing through it.

In this deathly silence, there was the dust of a fallen false god, and the undeniable, suffocating majesty of Gorgon's return.

(End of this chapter)