Warhammer 40K in a box

Chapter 636 Three Heroes Battle Fugen

"This is impossible!!!"

Fugen's spirit roared silently, almost tearing his own soul apart. The shock of the cognitive collapse even surpassed the restraint of the static field on him.

His movements were fatally slowed by this incomprehensible and absurd reality—the woman who looked remarkably like him yet was cold and resolute was like a cruel mirror reflecting his true nature before his fall, making his so-called "perfection" that he had pursued for thousands of years seem so illusory and distorted.

At this moment, time seemed to be infinitely stretched.

The vows and betrayals from ten thousand years ago, the blood and roars on Istvaan, the pain and despair of brothers turning against each other all surged into his heart at the same time, like a sharp blade piercing the deepest part of his soul.

At that decisive moment, Hathor's pair of deadly weapons, like a long-dormant beast, suddenly launched an attack.

The "Claw of Horus" she wore on her right hand tore through the stagnant air, its five claw blades, shimmering with an eerie light, pulsating with a dangerous disintegrating force field, drawing five bizarre trajectories in the almost still spacetime, distorting even the light in its wake; the "Worldbreaker" warhammer she gripped tightly in her left hand carried a ferocious aura of annihilation, the kinetic energy contained in its hammerhead enough to tear apart stars, aimed straight for Fugen's right shoulder blade!

The destructive force tore through the demonic armor, which had been weakened by the force field, without any resistance, and pierced deep into Fugen's flesh.

Immediately following, the female version of Fugen's flaming blade burst forth with dazzling, intense light!

This divine weapon, painstakingly crafted by Felus, seems to have been infused with new life.

The scorching energy flowing from the sword was exceptionally dazzling in the stagnant spacetime, like a miniature star burning.

Where the blade sliced, it left a scorching trail in the air; all the destructive power was concentrated at the tip of the sword, and it stabbed at the weak spot behind Fugen's left knee joint with extremely precise and tricky angle!
This blow not only involved physical destruction, but also carried the memories of past friendships and the pain of betrayal.

The scorching sword blade seemed to silently recount the vows abandoned ten thousand years ago, pointing directly to the core of Fugen's corrupt nature.

As the bait who paid the most tragic price, and who endured the most attacks, but also gained some pre-adaptation to the spacetime viscosity effect of the static force field, Ferrus Manus, at this moment, poured all his pent-up anger, grief over the loss of his brothers, determination to protect the empire, and indomitable roar against his own fate into a thunderous battle cry!

Her forge hammer carried a force powerful enough to shake mountains and shatter stars. The power field on the hammerhead emitted a deafening hum, tearing through the stagnant air, and crashed into Fugen's chest, which was wide open due to shock and repeated injuries!
This hammer blow embodies Medusa's iron will, carries the Tenth Legion's unwavering resilience, and represents a brother's final attempt to save his misguided friend.

Or rather, the end.

Three attacks from different directions, yet equally deadly, intertwined in a nearly still, distorted spacetime, forming a deadly net against the corrupted Primarch!

Hathor's attacks carry the majesty of a warlord commanding thousands of troops and the ruthlessness to crush everything; the female version of Fugen's flaming blade burns with past affections and cold reality; Feralas's heavy hammer carries millennia of anger and perseverance—the three complement each other, forming a near-perfect killing matrix.

The battle within the static field escalated to a fever pitch in an instant. The combined attack of three Primarch-level beings, even against a daemon prince blessed by Slaanesh, was nothing short of a devastating storm.

Hathor's claws and hammers worked seamlessly together; his right claw tore through defenses, while his left hammer pulverized flesh, leaving Fugen no time to spare. The female version of Fugen's flaming blades blazed with ever-increasing intensity, her swordsmanship elegant yet deadly, each swing leaving a scorching trail in the air, precisely and efficiently weakening his defensive structure. Meanwhile, Felus Manus's heavy hammer was the most ferocious frontal assault, each strike carrying the purest power, smashing Fugen into retreat—cracks were rapidly spreading across his once flawless demonic body.

"Ugh—! You... pathetic insects!"

Fugen let out a roar that was a mixture of extreme pain and rage.

Within the stagnant force field, the roar was distorted and deformed, sounding dull and strange.

The static field greatly restricted him, but did not completely deprive him of his ability to move.

The terrifying power belonging to the Demon Prince and the fighting instincts accumulated over thousands of years of battles began to retaliate wildly: he swung his four arms wildly, his twisted joints blocking and parrying at angles that defied biomechanics, and every trajectory of his stabbing sword still carried a deadly threat that corroded the soul, forcing the three attackers to divert their attention and deal with him cautiously.

"You lowly ants! How long do you think this borrowed, laughable power can imprison me?!"

He shrieked and began to recklessly burn his own demonic nature, attempting to forcibly tear apart the barrier between himself and the real universe.

Beyond the force field, Slaanesh's realm was boiling with the pain, rage, and intense desire of his beloved; a vast, malevolent, invisible force began to coalesce, violently striking and eroding the energy boundaries of the stagnant force field like a giant hammer, attempting to forcibly break it apart from the outside.

The whispers of the subspace became clearer, as if countless voices were simultaneously screaming, laughing, and groaning, cheering on their darlings.

Within a remote, concealed mobile deployment point, the countless mechanical appendages of the Great Sage Belisarius Caul were operating an incredibly complex control interface at an unprecedented speed, with data streams pouring over his multiple sensors like a burst dam.

Inside the cabin, multiple auxiliary engines exploded one after another due to overload, with blinding sparks flying everywhere like venomous snakes; the shrill alarms and the roar of energy overload mingled together, creating a suffocating atmosphere.

"Force field stability has plummeted! 78% 65% 50%!" A tech priest's voice, sharpened by extreme fear and the shock of the data, was almost shattered. "The target is burning its source, forcibly extracting subspace energy, and impacting the nodes in reverse! The core temperature is madly exceeding all safety thresholds! Structural integrity is about to collapse!"

"All backup energy, ignoring losses, all channeled into the stabilization matrix! Activate the highest level emergency cooling protocol!" Kaul's synthesized voice also unusually carried a barely perceptible metallic tremor, a sign of the massive computing power operating at overload. "In the name of Ominosis and the God of Machines, calculate all possibilities—we must not allow him to escape!"

He knew that if the force field collapsed at this moment, Fugen, enraged and likely to be temporarily enhanced by the subspace, would launch a counterattack that would have disastrous consequences, even total annihilation.

The priests of the Mechanicus worked frantically, binary prayers and emergency commands echoing rapidly throughout the cabin, desperately trying to keep the system afloat.

(End of this chapter)