Warhammer 40K in a box

Chapter 684 The Lion's Wrath

As Leon Aljonson stepped out of his sanctuary, which had been dormant for millennia, and into the rumbling, trembling corridors of the "Rock" fortress, an invisible yet immense power instantly swept across the entire battlefield.

It was not merely a fluctuation of psychic energy, but something deeper and more primal—a call of blood, the rekindling of loyalty etched deep within our genes, and the long-lost banner fluttering once more in the wind.

For the Dark Angels and their minions who were fighting a bloody battle, this feeling was like a drowning person touching air, or a lost person seeing the North Star.

One moment they were struggling against the Death Guard's stubborn and filthy offensive, the stench of the plague and the whistling of bombs weaving a desperate lament; the next moment, a tremor and ecstasy from the depths of their souls seized them.

Without needing to communicate through channels or visual confirmation, every Astartes with the blood of the First Legion sensed at that moment that the Father of Genetics had returned.

"For the Lion King! For Caliban!"

It is unknown who first uttered this desperate cry, but it spread like wildfire to every corner of the battle line.

The exhausted warriors seemed to be infused with new life; their muscles bulged beneath their worn power armor, and their dim explosive guns once again spewed out angry tongues of fire.

They were no longer passively holding their positions, but instead, following that invisible yet incredibly clear guidance, they launched a desperate counterattack in the direction of the Primarch.

The formation was instantly reorganized, and the offensive became more ferocious and coordinated than ever before, as if an invisible hand was manipulating the chessboard of war. The war torrent that once made the First Legion pale in comparison to the galaxy was now recreated in the corridors and halls of "The Rock".

Leon himself is the sharpest spearhead of this torrent.

The powered greatsword provided by Chen Xi in his hand felt as light as a feather, yet each swing carried a power that could tear reality apart.

Wherever the green afterimage passed, the Death Guard fell like harvested wheat stalks.

The heavy armor of Nurgle's Blessing was as fragile as rotten wood before the absolute power of the Primarch.

The corrupting bacteria that had been growing inside the plague warriors didn't even have time to spread before turning to ashes in the energy field attached to the blade.

The Lion King's fighting style is direct and efficient, with no superfluous movements; every strike is designed to destroy the enemy most effectively.

His steps were steady, as if he were strolling through the forests of Caliban, but every step he took was inevitably accompanied by the collapse and destruction of the traitor.

He was not fighting alone.

With Deathwing Terminator as the vanguard, Ravenwing's rapid-fire units on the flanks, and ordinary Dark Angel companies at the core, the chapter, under his inspiration, coalesced into a perfect whole.

The warriors followed closely in the Primarch's footsteps, using bombs, plasmas, and chainsaws to clear out the enemies beyond the Lion King's Blade.

Morale was soaring, and the old estrangement and secrets were replaced by the shared fury of fighting the enemy.

They were not only warriors guarding the fortress, but also knights protecting the returning king and washing away the shame of ten thousand years.

Typhons, the Death Guard's first company commander and Nurgle's chosen champion, immediately sensed the dramatic shift in the battle.

The offensive, which had been slowly eroding the empire's defenses like a plague-ridden swamp, was suddenly pushed back by a scorching force filled with the primal aura of the forest.

His decaying eye sockets looked toward the source of that power and saw the green figure that had been famous among the traitors for ten thousand years.

“Leon Al-Jonson…” Typhons’s hoarse voice carried a hint of disbelief and a blasphemous rage, “You actually crawled out of your slumber? But that doesn’t change anything! Decay is the only eternal truth!”

He brandished the enormous scythe infused with Nurgle's evil power, his bulky body charging toward the Lion King at a speed disproportionate to his size.

Wherever it went, even the metal deck began to rust and grow sticky mold.

The Lion King's eyes locked onto Typhon.

This being, exuding an aura of ultimate decay and depravity, was one of the first "surprises" he encountered upon waking after a ten-thousand-year slumber.

Leon remained silent, his response to Typhon was the powerful greatsword slashing down at him.

"clang--!"

The deafening impact nearly drowned out all the noise on the battlefield. Where the power sword clashed with the plague scythe, blinding sparks of energy and a nauseating, corrosive, dark green energies erupted.

The massive shockwave spread outwards, sending several Dark Angels and Death Guards who were locked in combat flying.

Typhons staggered back a step, feeling as if he had struck a moving mountain.

The lion king's power far exceeded his expectations. Ten thousand years of slumber had not dulled the lion; on the contrary, it seemed as if all his anger and will had been condensed and compressed, and then erupted completely at this moment.

Leon's offensive was like a storm, his greatsword transforming into deadly arcs of light as he relentlessly slashed at Typhons.

In every clash, Typhons could feel the bones in his arms groaning; even Nurgle's blessing seemed powerless against pure power.

He tried to interfere with the plague spell, but the Lion King seemed to be surrounded by an invisible barrier, and those vicious spells that were enough to melt mortals and even Astartes in an instant could not get close to him.

The battle around them did not stop because of the duel between the two leaders.

On the contrary, it became even more tragic.

Seeing that the Primarch had overwhelmed the enemy chieftain, the Dark Angels were even more in high spirits and fought bravely to eliminate the Death Guards who were trying to interfere with the Lion King's battle.

Meanwhile, the plague warriors frantically tried to rush to their aid, using their bodies to block the firepower of the dark angels and hacking at the armor of the loyalists with their tainted weapons.

The whistling of bombs, the roar of chainsaws, the hissing of plasma overload, and the eerie howls of Nurgle daemons intertwine to create a chaotic and bloody battlefield symphony.

Typhons suffered repeated defeats, and the festering sores on his body burst open under the violent impact, emitting an even stronger stench.

He realized that in a contest of pure strength and skill, he was no match for the First Primarch.

Leon's swordsmanship is precise and deadly, embodying the ancient traditions of the Caliban Knights and the ultimate efficiency honed through millennia of warfare.

In despair, Typhons infused all the blessings of the evil gods into the plague scythe in his hand, "Silence."

The corrupting green light on the scythe suddenly intensified, and the twisted runes writhed as if they were alive.

He abandoned his defense and, in a suicidal move, used the long handle of his scythe to parry a heavy slash from the Lion King. At the same time, he spun the scythe, unleashing a corrupting power that annihilated all life, and fiercely struck the Lion King's power sword.

"Crack——!"

A crisp yet heartbreaking snapping sound rang out.

The power sword that Chen Xi hastily prepared, although of excellent quality, was ultimately not a divine weapon and could not fully withstand the power activated by the Primarch.

After clashing head-on with the Chaos artifact imbued with the evil power of Nurgle's origin multiple times, the sword finally succumbed to the strain and was severed by the sharpest edge of the Plague Scythe!
The tip of the sword spun out and embedded itself in the distant deck, the energy conduit hissing and sparking.

Leon's movements were momentarily slowed by the sudden breakage of his weapon.

Typhon seized this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

He dared not linger in the fight, nor even bother to launch a counterattack—because he knew that once the Lion King reacted, he could severely injure him even with his bare hands.

His bloated body unleashed its last strength as he staggered backward, wielding his scythe and releasing a large cloud of dark green mist, thick with poison and disease, to obstruct the lion king's vision and pursuit.

"Retreat! Retreat to the designated coordinates!" Typhon roared, his voice filled with frustration and panic.

Lion King Leon stood still, holding half a broken sword in his hand, his emerald eyes coldly watching Typhon's figure disappear into the poisonous fog.

He did not pursue, not because of the poisonous fog, but because, as an outstanding commander, he knew that the primary task at hand was to stabilize the front line and completely eliminate the enemy within the fortress, rather than blindly pursuing a remnant enemy.

He casually tossed the broken sword to the ground, making a dull thud.

Although the weapon is destroyed, its very existence is the most powerful weapon.

(End of this chapter)