Kingdom Come: Deliverance, but Warhammer 40k

Chapter 108 The War of the Far Travelers (5)

at the same time.

In mid-air of the corrupt legion.

Agrius, the soon-to-be-crowned withered overlord, stood silently on the back of a giant decaying fly.

In his palm, he held a piece of flesh that was constantly writhing.

That was a piece of Anastasius's massive body that had been knocked off during the psionic explosion.

Even though this piece of flesh had completely separated from the demon's main body and was isolated in the palm of his hand.

It is still not truly dead.

Dozens of tiny tentacles were constantly emerging from the gaps in the flesh.

They still retain a portion of their consciousness, greedily reaching out to their surroundings, attempting to absorb the flesh and blood of the filthy creatures to reshape themselves.

However, every time those tentacles try to draw energy...

Those tentacles would quickly turn black and rot, then break off and fall off.

But then, new activity will erupt inside the flesh, and new tentacles will grow, and the cycle will repeat itself.

The withered overlord quietly observed all of this.

Even though he had seen it many times, the demon that existed in this form still exceeded his imagination.

Anastasius, a being known for resurrection.

It is less a demon and more a calamity yet to take shape.

"What amazing subspace creatures."

"Could this be another creation of the benevolent father—but why is he mixed up with those imperial swine and dogs?"

"Such cellular activity and immortality—even if I were to truly ascend to demonhood one day and detach myself from this mortal body, I probably wouldn't be able to accomplish such an incredible feat with just my physical body."

It seemed she had heard his assessment.

The flesh that had been merely wriggling suddenly developed an unnatural bulge the size of a fist.

Followed by.

The abscess suddenly split open from the middle, forming a mouth full of tiny, sharp teeth.

Anastasius's voice actually came directly from this piece of flesh.

"Isn't it amazing?"

"But you hit me really hard just now—you devil! I almost felt like you were going to kill me."

"You ugly thing, you wait here. I'll show you my wrath in a minute—"

However, the demon's declaration of war was not yet finished.

The five fingers slowly came together.

puff.

The entire chunk of flesh was crushed and burst open by Astartes' terrifying grip, exploding into a cloud of blood mist.

The viscous green liquid dripped from between the fingers of the power armor into the poisonous fog below.

The withered overlord opened his hand and casually tossed the remaining charred residue from his palm into the air.

It was as if he had just crushed an insect.

Brother Morger.

The Overlord of the Nurgle Legion looked at its most trusted brother, "That talkative demon is yours to deal with."

"Don't let its comical tentacles interfere with my dueling ritual."

Beneath the feet of the corrupt monk.

The enormous chaotic egg, which had been suppressed and unable to move, seemed to sense its master's killing intent. It suddenly straightened its front half and let out a deafening roar.

The corrupted cultivator carrying the giant bell gently patted the sticky head of the Chaos Egg.

It's like a farmer calming his hunting dog, which is about to kill a rabbit.

"Of course, Agrippa, you will achieve your wish."

"My new pet will hold that demon back for you."

As he spoke, he gently shook the iron chain in his hand.

The chaotic egg beneath their feet immediately fell silent.

The corrupt cultivator raised his head and looked at the withered overlord high in the sky.

"But it's you."

"Are you ready to personally slay that knight and complete your ascension to demonhood?"

But clearly, their enemies wouldn't let this idle chatter continue indefinitely.

An armor-piercing shell, trailing a blinding white tail of flame, blasted towards the feet of the withered overlord.

Agrippa slowly raised one hand.

Five fingers slowly spread out towards the cannonball.

The kinetic energy projectile, powerful enough to shatter a heavy tank in an instant, seemed to have crashed into a swamp of air. Dozens of meters away from the withered overlord, it slowly lost its kinetic energy and finally stopped and hovered in mid-air.

next moment.

The five fingers are casually folded together.

The shell was compressed by the powerful force and detonated prematurely in mid-air.

The raging flames surged outwards, and deadly metal fragments flew in all directions.

What should have been a dazzling orange-red chemical flame was corrupted and assimilated by the power of the subspace the instant the explosion occurred.

The exploding fireball transformed into a malevolent flame churning with a ghastly green, poisonous mist, providing energy for the filthy creatures below.

And amidst the falling green fire rain.

Agripus saw a glimmer of light shining above humanity's fragile defenses.

"Fate" guided the direction of its competitors. The surrounding plague energy, at this moment, seemed to smell blood, and began to stir and churn with excitement.

They longed for that mortal knight.

They longed for his defeat.

Longing to completely corrupt that body that dared to refuse blessings, and forcibly drag it into the warm and corrupt embrace of the loving father.

And Agrippa will be the executioner of all this.

"I have been waiting for this day when the great Primarch Mortarion was taken away by the Father to receive his punishment and ascension."

He continued his conversation with his fellow monk.

"Now the fruit is ripe, it's time to harvest it."

The giant mother fly at my feet was buzzing.

The wings, riddled with holes, vibrated at high speed.

Its massive body was the first to break away from the army formation, creating a gust of poisonous wind as it flew straight toward the human defense line.

Until this withered overlord took action.

Nurgle's army also began a full-scale offensive.

The earthquake trembled.

The horde of corpses surged.

And above the defensive line.

Orion swung his power sword down with a sudden thud.

"All positions, fire!!"

Dozens of hastily assembled cannons on the human positions roared simultaneously.

Lasers, explosive shells, molten jets, and heavy artillery fire pouring from the turrets intertwined in a deathly torrent across the sky.

However, the first laser beam had not yet reached Agrius.

His trajectory was then swayed by the constantly distorting space around him.

The red beam traced a strange arc in mid-air before futilely falling into the center of the horde of corpses below, evaporating several unfortunate hounds.

Immediately afterwards, several shells managed to penetrate the psionic barrier.

The explosion sent up a large plume of toxic flames and black smoke.

But the towering figure, like a demon god, flew out unscathed, leaving only a few insignificant scorch marks.

In the blink of an eye.

It was then covered and repaired by the plague bacteria that slowly crawled out from the gaps in the armor.

And within the human defense line.

The knight it had been waiting for finally emerged. Henry, carrying the chainsaw sword in one hand, began his charge against Nurgle's legion.

The pace is getting faster and faster.

Finally, he transformed into a silver-gray afterimage and launched a solo charge against the entire Nurgle Legion.

One descends from the sky, along with the Last Judgment.

One drew his sword and charged forward, like a moth drawn to a flame.

Only the ever-shrinking distance remained between the two sides.

Agrius stood on the back of a decaying fly, watching the human knight who was getting closer and closer, actively seeking death.

self-mumbling.

"Then so be it."

He raised his right hand, which had just crushed the shell with his bare hands.

A rich, green psionic energy began to gather and compress in his palm.

Countless plague runes, symbolizing corruption and death, intertwined and materialized in the green light.

At last.

A long spear slowly condensed from the vortex of psionic energy and was grasped in his hand.

The tip of the gun slowly drooped.

Thick, putrid pus dripped continuously from the sharp tip of the spear, corroding the carapace of the rotting fly.

The already oppressive cabin became even heavier and more suffocating with the appearance of this weapon.

When Henry launched his charge.

He was once again plunged into a hallucination.

He returned to the training grounds in Ratai City.

The rough wooden fence, the high-flying flags fluttering in the wind, and the rammed earth ground solidified by countless battles.

The stands around the room were already filled with spectators who looked like phantoms.

Countless blurry faces were cheering and roaring wildly.

The huge wooden drum was struck one after another with force, the rhythm becoming faster and more violent, overlapping and resonating with the artillery fire outside.

These are the war drums of Khorne.

It is a hymn of praise played by the God of Blood for His warriors.

But today, in this illusionary arena, the sky is no longer simply blood-red.

The sky, which was originally as red as blood, was slowly torn open by a narrow, ghastly green crack.

Thick, decaying light poured down from the cracks like a waterfall, illuminating the other half of the training ground.

Henry gripped his sword, looked around, and a sudden realization dawned on him.

He had always believed that the training ground that appeared whenever he encountered a powerful enemy was an illusion created by Khorne specifically for him.

Just as Tzeentch did to himself on Bohemia II.

But now it seems that this is not the case.

If this is truly Khorne's domain, how could Nurgle have entered so easily?

How could either of them be content to remain mere spectators?

This place is more like—

It is part of "Henry".

At that very moment, enlightenment was born.

At the other end of the training ground.

A massive figure shrouded in green light slowly rode out.

Each heavy hoofbeat seemed to shatter the ground of the entire illusory world.

A heavily armored knight covered in demonic emblems and covered in pustules.

His body was so enormous, like a moving iron tower, and the warhorse beneath him was equally huge, almost deformed, with its limbs encased in armor and its massive hooves covered in sharp claws.

It carries boundless power, like the knight in ancient legends who brought plague and end to the world.

And Henry.

The henchman, standing at the end of the road with a long sword in his hand, was vainly trying to stop the chariot.

The war drums beat more and more urgently, like a sudden downpour.

The cheers from the audience grew louder and louder, almost to the point of frenzy.

A lone rider approached rapidly in Henry's hallucination.

The green lance suddenly thrust out in front of Henry with overwhelming force.

at the same time.

In the reality of material things.

Agris's spear, like a poisonous dragon, had already pierced Henry's back from the rotten fly's back.

Two completely different scenes overlapped in front of Henry.

Henry roared, gripped the hilt of his sword tightly with both hands, and swung the chainsaw sword upwards.

The wildly spinning chain teeth collided with the spear that carried endless plague.

"boom!!"

The force, far exceeding the limits of what the body could withstand, flowed into Henry's arms through the clashing weapons.

He could even hear his arm bones shattering in his senses.

At that moment, his entire right arm almost completely lost sensation, and the muscle fibers were torn over a large area.

Henry was thrown through the air as if he had been hit by an out-of-control train.

In the illusion of the martial arts arena, he fell down in a sorry state, rolling around on the ground.

The huge green warhorse suddenly opened its mouth.

It revealed layers upon layers of sharp, jagged teeth, like those of a meat grinder.

It suddenly lowered its head and bit down hard on Henry, who was still rolling in the mud.

And at the moment of being bitten.

Soil, blood, war drums, grandstand.

The illusion of the entire training ground shattered like a broken mirror.

The pain of reality brought Henry back from his illusions.

The enormous, decaying fly, with its pincer-like mandibles, clamped down on Henry, who had been knocked away, in mid-air.

Its wings whipped up a gust of wind, carrying its prey in its beak, and soared straight into the smoke-filled sky.

The battlefield below receded further and further from Henry's view.

Meanwhile, the rotting fly's sharp mouthparts were constantly contracting and squeezing Henry's body.

The breastplate, unable to withstand the strain, began to deform, as if it would shatter at any moment, allowing the fangs to pierce Henry's internal organs.

The extreme pain blurred Henry's vision.

He bit his tongue, using the pain to gain a moment of clarity, and lowered his head with difficulty.

The chainsaw sword went out briefly.

It erupted once again with a ferocious roar, like a wild beast making a desperate last stand.

The roar grew louder and louder, and the adamantite teeth even emitted a blinding red light from the friction under the engine's overload.

next moment.

Henry slid the high-speed killing weapon through the gaps in the fly's jaws and directly into the depths of its soft, sticky mouth!

"Swallow it, you son of a bitch!!"

The saber teeth, imbued with thyrene power, began to tear apart the fragile internal organs of the carrion fly.

Thick, dark green pus and blood gushed out like a torrential downpour from the mouthparts of the rotting fly and from its wounds, splattering all over Henry.

Its enormous body convulsed violently in mid-air, tumbling and staggering.

at last.

Under the excruciating pain of being crushed, it could no longer maintain its jaw closure.

Taking advantage of the moment the mouthparts loosened, Henry struggled and slipped out of that disgusting giant mouth.

His body lost its balance in mid-air and flipped twice.

Finally, he stepped on the carrion fly's carapace.

Until this moment.

They faced a life-or-death situation.

Henry finally stood before the withered overlord Agrippa in a truly meaningful way.

The distance between the two was only a few meters.

The fierce winds high above howled and whipped at the two men's mangled bodies, carrying the smell of gunpowder and blood in the wind.