Warhammer: Expedition to the Multiverse from 30k

"It is highly unusual that Angron has never been seen since being driven back," Orfeo and his staff had pointed this out as they ran the simulation.

There are suspected to be two Primarchs on the enemy's warship: Angron of the World Eaters and Lorgar of the Word Bearers. Their movements are undoubtedly the key to determining the outcome of the war.

The Regent's backup plan has always included beheading the enemy Primarch. Although this may seem crazy, it is indeed the fastest way to end the war.

The Primarch is the absolute core of the Legion. Once the Primarch dies, the entire Legion will collapse.

Just like the death of Ferrus Malus, the Primarch of the 10th Legion Iron Hands, in the Battle of Isstvan V, his death caused the entire 10th Legion to fall into a state of division and fight each other.

In Orfeo's view, even if the entire Amatra was sacrificed, as long as any enemy primarch could be successfully beheaded, it would be a huge victory.

Although conventional weapons such as bolter bombs, melta and plasma can hardly injure the monstrous body of the Primarch, the antimatter explosion caused by the self-detonation of the adamantium armor still poses a great threat to it.

In the commander's view, the last time Angron penetrated deep into the enemy camp and was surrounded by a lone army was an opportunity. He could let his soldiers trap the enemy and actively overload the antimatter furnace.

Unfortunately, Angron escaped too quickly last time and the terrain was not suitable for containment, so Orfeo had no chance to carry out this plan.

No Ultramarines could resist the temptation to kill a traitor Primarch, not even Orfeo himself, who would have chosen to do so without hesitation if given the chance to do so at the cost of his own life.

In the underground bunker at the battlefield command center, Orfeo fell into deep thought.

"The enemy's recent movements are unclear. They have not launched a large-scale offensive, but have retreated to the conquered areas. This is very unusual."

The enemy's force was so great that orbital bombardment with naval guns and the use of constant artillery fire to erode the positions of the Ultramarines were foreseeable, but the strange thing was that nothing happened.

This undoubtedly put Orfeo on high alert, thinking that the enemy must be playing some tricks that were beyond common sense.

This unpredictable feeling of loss of control is exactly what the Extreme Warriors fear the most.

If they fail to notice the killing move that the enemy is preparing, the Extreme Marines, who are already weak in strength, are likely to be wiped out by the enemy in one fell swoop.

Too few, Orfeo has too few troops under his command. It is an almost impossible task for any commander to use the troops of one planet to fight against the massive rebel army.

Chapter 65: The Grudge of the World Eater

The Conqueror floats quietly in Amaterra's low-Earth orbit.

This World Eaters flagship had been badly damaged in the previous battle, the integrity of its hull was greatly damaged, and the huge holes smashed by the rift field were difficult to repair on the battlefield.

Captain Rotara Salin ordered the activation of the temporary airtight door, barely maintaining the operation of the battleship.

The interior lights of the flagship of the XII Legion were dim, with scarlet lumen lamps being the only source of light. Most of the World Eaters had already gone to the surface to participate in the war, with only a small number of Third Line troops remaining on the ship for defense.

Rotara has been the commander of the Conqueror since she was thirty years old. She was once one of the youngest captains in the empire. At this moment, the female captain was shuttling through the messy cabin. She was familiar with every piece of metal here, and it did not affect her at all even in the darkness.

"My ship, what happened?"

There is a huge bloody palm print on the female captain's white uniform, which is the Primarch's recognition of her work. She has always carefully preserved this precious gift.

As the Primarch's most ardent supporter, Rotara was willing to fight for Angron to the death.

She stared into the dark cabin, vaguely aware that something seemed to be staring at her in the darkness.

Maintenance servitors would not appear here, and those mortals would rather stay dormant in their own lounges unless they were assigned a mission.

The environment on board was becoming increasingly difficult for mortals to adapt to, whether it was the dehumanization of those tortured by the Butcher's Nails, the increasingly manic and unstable World Eaters, or the strange scenes that were claimed to have been witnessed.

The captain has heard reports from his subordinates more than once, claiming that there is something in the darkness of the ship, which has been tempting the desires of mortals with strange whispers.

And when they really think that their wishes can be fulfilled, those things from the deepest part of the nightmare will take him away.

More and more people disappeared from the ship, and no one knew where they went.

At the same time, the Conqueror, a warship full of honor and history, becomes more and more eerie and strange.

Rotara understood that it was closely related to the Word Bearers, allies of the World Eaters. Those mystical creatures believed in the mysterious existence of the Warp and established a connection with something in the Sea of ​​Souls.

But the female captain didn't believe these things, or more accurately, she didn't care.

Fear is the right of the weak, not hers. If there really is something called a demon coming before her, she wouldn't mind giving it a shot of plasma.

She was the captain of the Conqueror and also its soul. Rotara could hear the accusations and wails of the machine soul. It had suffered too much damage.

But what disturbed her was that she heard the sound of the creature's abdominal organs wriggling on the deck of the battleship.

It was like the sound of some kind of worm swallowing up its hapless prey, with the living prey struggling to survive and being digested in its stomach and intestines.

Those pipes and energy cables seemed to be flowing with blood instead of energy. Those dilapidated decks and bulkheads had the texture of bones. They twisted and tried to heal together as if they were alive.

Suppressing the uneasiness in her heart, Rotara carried a grease lamp and walked towards the place where the Dreadnought was sleeping. The Contemptor Dreadnought had suffered a devastating blow before, and the former legion commander Locke was now sleeping in another Dreadnought.

Rotara had too many confusions in her heart and she needed to consult the elders of the Legion, so she came here to awaken Fearless.

The mechanical priest who surrendered to the Warmaster followed the ritual and awakened the sleeping Locke.

The former legion commander woke up from endless pain, his body sleeping in stasis, but his consciousness did not.

He seemed to have escaped from an endless nightmare, and when he opened his eyes he saw Rotara in front of him.

"Has there been another war, Captain?" Locke lowered his voice very low, with little sanity left in him.

"No, elder, I need you to answer my questions." Rotara placed her hand on the Contemptor's metal mecha, using her experience in dealing with machine spirits to calm this fearless and violent machine spirit.

"Thank you, I feel better." Locke said this, not knowing whether it was a comfort or a real reason.

Elder Fearless observed the situation inside the Conqueror. It was dark and silent. The cheerful and lively atmosphere of the War Dogs in the past was gone.

This place is simply like a blasphemous alien nest, Fearless thought to himself.

"Elder, I can't see the future of the Legion." The female captain leaned on the Dreadnought, her back to Locke's eyes, staring at the darkness behind her, "Our progress is not smooth, the war with the Ultramarines has encountered difficulties, and even the Primarch has been injured."

Fearless coughed and laughed softly, and Rotara couldn't tell whether he was breathing heavily or laughing.

"Captain, do you know the Ultramarines' name before their gleaming Primarch returned?"

"Sons of War, those blue guys were not like they are now. They deserve the name of World Eaters better than us." Locke recalled the past years when the primarchs of various legions returned one after another. At that time, the Thirteenth Legion welcomed back its own Primarch, Roboute Guilliman.

"The XIII Legion was changed by Guilliman, who instilled rationality, restraint and discipline into the Legion's bones. The Ultramarines were great because of their gene-father."

"Guilliman is a rational man. I have met the Lord of Five Hundred Worlds before. He fits all my fantasies about the Primarch." The Dreadnought's voice echoed in the dark cabin. "And it was not until thirty years after I was sent to the Dreadnought that our Primarch returned. Angron, Angron from Nuceria."

"Do you think he is a good Primarch?"

Rotara was a little angry but she didn't know where the anger came from. This was undoubtedly slander and criticism against the Primarch. If a World Eaters warrior had made such remarks, she would have shot his head off without hesitation.

What else could she do for a fearless man who had already given everything for the Legion? In this sarcophagus was only a broken body, eternally soaked in nutrient solution, surrounded by endless loneliness and pain.

What frightened her even more was that she had a vague feeling that Locke was right and Angron was not a qualified Primarch.

"No matter what, he is the Primarch of the 12th Legion. We will follow him. Even if there is an abyss of destruction ahead, I will continue to follow him without hesitation."

Rotara's loyalty to Angron was unshakable, and her dissatisfaction with the Primarch came mainly from the fact that Angron was further influenced by the Butcher's Nails.

Not only Angron, but most of the Space Marines of the entire XII Legion chose to be branded with inferior imitations of the Butcher's Nails in order to feel the same pain as their Primarch.

This was the beginning of the fall, when the heroic warhound became a thrall to the Butcher's Nails, driven by it with blood and pain.

"The Butcher's Nail is killing the Primarch. I asked the Mechanicus, and they claimed that the Butcher's Nail cannot be removed." Rotara's expression twisted, "Even the hypocritical Emperor couldn't remove the damn nail while the Primarch was alive."

"Yes, he is not a qualified Primarch, nor a qualified father."

A hoarse voice suddenly came from the darkness, and Rotara pulled out the plasma gun, while the tall figure continued to approach without any care.

"Kahn?!"

The darkness receded, and the face of the captain of the Eighth Company appeared before the captain. She didn't know when Kahn returned to the flagship. The last time she heard about him was from the legion pharmacist. It was said that he was seriously injured in the war with the Ultramarines.

"He is called the Lord of Red Sands, the Devourer of Cities, the Devourer of Worlds, and some dare to call him the Blood-Red Angel, but none of these are who he really is. Angron is a slave who became a butcher, a Primarch who became a monster."

Kahn looked at Rotara who was looking up at her, his tone neither sad nor happy.

"Nevertheless, we loved him. We knew that he was being tortured by the Butcher's Nails and was losing his mind. He had only a short time to stay sane. Nothing was left of him but the name Angron."

"We need more power."

Chapter 66 Enchantment

Next to Kahn, a long-haired Astartes walked out from the shadows. His handsome face was filled with a faint smile, which made people feel good about him.

He wore a red and black battle armor different from the World Eaters, embellished with numerous ceremonial marks and badges of honor. The huge jagged sun on the shoulder armor seemed to emit a scorching light, illuminating the dark cabin.

The captain recognized this as a warrior of the Word Bearers.

"Angel Tay."

The Space Marine known as Angertai was different from all the World Eaters and Word Bearers that Rotara had ever seen. He had a calm and elegant temperament, and exuded a quality that could be called charm.

He had neither the maniacal, bloodthirsty madness of the World Eaters nor the silent, yet morbid faith of the Word Bearers.

He is a harmonious whole, a balance in which certain forces and humanity coexist.

"I need more power to help my father defeat the stubborn enemies." Kahn untied his armor, and the Word Bearers warrior stood beside him. He seemed to sigh, and seemed to be happy, and mobilized his powerful psychic power.

A chilly air condensed in the cabin, and Rotara couldn't help but shiver.

"It's psychic power." The captain recognized the sudden appearance of supernatural power.

White ice crystals quietly covered the ground, and Angertai's handsome face became strange at some point.

Half of his face turned into a hideous demonic visage, the scarlet cloak behind him turned into solid fleshy wings, and a sharp blade made of flesh, blood, and bones snaked out from his right hand.

"You need a partner and a little help," said Anglete.

His voice seemed to have a natural reverberation, with another voice mixed in his voice, and another emotion mixed in his emotion, and that voice was completely in tune with his own.

"We are the blessed children. The will from the warp space is integrated with us. You and I are brothers, Kahn. I hope you can survive."

In the captain's eyes, the handsome Word Bearer was transformed into a half-human, half-demon state, but his tone was still so gentle.

This cabin became a temporary ceremony site.

The ritual daggers, the heads of the dead on Amatra, the ashes of the war on Calth, and the black crystal fragments from the orbital weapons bombardment on Isstvan V, all the ritual items obtained by the Word Bearers since the Shadow Crusade, were placed in this dark cabin in a regular pattern.

"I shouldn't have allowed them to practice such dirty witchcraft on my ship." A thought flashed through the captain's mind.

Thanks to the efforts of Angletai and the symbiotic demon in his body, a rift in the subspace was opened.

The fantastic crack emitting deep light connected to the void sky. Angertai chanted the mantra, and soon a summoned warp life came to the real world.

In Rotara's eyes, it was a mass of shifting gas, or a wandering soul or something. It was definitely not a living creature. It was screaming and rejoicing, celebrating its arrival in the real world.