bookbashuk Page 160
Page 160
Seth opened his mouth, but before he could finish speaking, he suddenly felt an unprecedented pressure.
He looked up in horror at the blood-red sky. At that moment, his gaze seemed to pierce through a veil, and he saw the figure slowly rising from the throne, raising a greatsword dripping with blood.
Yes, the energy was insufficient, and the ritual was not enough to tear reality apart and allow the demon to appear.
But those are all normal rituals. When a deity is willing to pay the price, then these rituals that tear apart reality are nothing more than an unnecessary process.
As the greatsword fell, a massive rift appeared, and the crimson angel flapped its wings, charging towards the rift along with countless demons.
Death and fear will gather into mountains in this world.
(Not a discontinued story) Whispers from the subspace, unrelated to the main text.
War General is mighty!
First of all, you have always had a misconception that turning to the gods will be very painful. This is true from a human perspective. However, once you turn to the gods, your body, mind and even your soul will be cleansed and sublimated.
If you pledge allegiance to the Lord of Change, you will gain the joy of acquiring knowledge every moment—the thrill of solving an extremely difficult math problem, or the pleasure of a successful conspiracy. The great Lord of Change holds your destiny in his hands, so don't worry, you won't realize this after pledging allegiance to him. Therefore, you can be happy every moment.
If you turn to the loving Father, then you have even less to worry about. Suffering is the blessing of the loving Father. You don't need to worry. After being baptized by the loving Father, suffering will become your happiness, making you happy every moment.
If you choose the Prince of Pleasure, then you have even less to worry about. You can freely pursue all pleasures, and all pleasures will bring you joy and happiness. You don't need to worry about pain. The Prince of Pleasure will also cleanse you, allowing you to enjoy the pleasure and pursue even greater pleasures.
If you're fighting the Lord of Skulls, just keep hacking and slashing, mindlessly hack and slash, don't worry about anything else, just enjoy the thrill of battle.
In short, if you choose any of the gods you support, you will feel happy, but what about an empire?
The False Emperor and the Empire will only send you to your death, to die for the so-called humanity. What will you gain? Glory? You'll be dead. What use is glory? Most likely, you'll just be an oppressed commoner, forced to work for the False Emperor and those corrupt officials. Think about yourself. In the Empire, besides gaining a human identity, what else can you get as a commoner? Oppression, never able to rise up, endless work with almost no holidays, but by joining the gods, you can be happy forever.
Those who wish to abandon the false emperor and join the gods should apply to this chief priest.
I need to take a break; I'll work on something big tomorrow.
The climax is coming, but I'm experiencing some writer's block. I'll think about how to write the rest tonight, and try to finish it off in one big chapter tomorrow.
Chapter 191 Will we win? Yes, we will win.
Seth saw the figure, and the warrior trembled, experiencing for the first time in his hundreds of years of fighting that fear truly felt like an emotion.
What kind of figure was it?
Gabriel Seth asked himself the question, and in a mere nanosecond, his soul swiftly and accurately uttered a single word, giving him a clear answer to his question.
In the myths that circulated throughout the empire's territory, Astartes was generally referred to as a demigod, the emperor's angel of death.
Therefore, the Primarchs, that is, the genetic fathers of Astartes, are naturally the so-called gods.
Invincible, unstoppable, irresistible.
This is the best description of their race, the rarest in the galaxy.
Gabriel Seth watched as the mountain-like figure flew out of the crack, surrounded by a large number of blood-red demons with flapping wings and wielding longswords of burning flames, as well as red Astartes hovering in mid-air on flying bags.
This was a force powerful enough to shatter the current balance of the battlefield, and it grew ever larger over time. Crimson warp energy surged in the air, and the demonic army from the other side of the world waited in disciplined immobility. Instead of launching an immediate attack, they sharpened their fangs and claws, calming the restless souls of their weapons, and letting out bloodthirsty growls from their throats.
They waited, waiting for that crimson angel, the most powerful hound and demon prince under their master's command, waiting for the master of the world-devourer, the son of the cursed, the king of gladiators, the son of the red sand, the merciless killing machine and the raging slave, who was also the commander of this army.
They awaited his initial attack.
Because on the grasslands, when a wolf pack hunts its prey, the first bite is always offered to the wolf king.
On the battlefield, both the Empire and the traitors ceased their killing. These mortals and Astartes had been fighting fiercely to kill their enemies just moments before; some had even embraced each other after their weapons broke, not for reconciliation, but to better kill their foes with their fists, teeth, and even hair.
But now, they all stopped, and without exception, looked up at the crack above them, and at the ever-growing army below.
hum-
A low rumble, though not loud, echoed in everyone's ears.
What is that sound?
That was the sound of killing.
From the very first battle in history, the sounds people made when they swung their fists, swords, arrows, and bullets at each other.
That was the sound of war.
From the very first war in history, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions, tens of millions, hundreds of millions of lives have flowed blood and burned the world on the surface and underground of the planet, in every corner of the void.
That was the sound of tearing and biting.
From the very first appearance of an unfortunate soul in history, a boy who should have been kind was sent to a damned planet, captured by the Fallen, and impaled on an unprecedented torture device called "The Nail," a device that tore at the wearer's brain, forcing him to kill others.
After receiving the power from the Blood God, this instrument of torture is no longer just a simple instrument of torture, but has become a symbol.
A symbol unique to the World Eater, a symbol of the Demon Prince, a symbol of Angron.
A symbol of causing the death of one's enemy.
Angron moved.
Instead of launching an immediate attack from the sky, its wings spread out completely, giving the impression of a knightly mech floating in the air.
Massive muscles covered the skeleton, crimson steam constantly rose from it, and each heartbeat was like the best engine running, constantly transporting blood to every corner of the body, allowing the power to burst to its peak in a short moment.
The black sword was gripped tightly in his right hand, its blade wreathed in crimson, and it seemed to be alive, growling softly.
Angron flapped its wings forcefully, sending a bloody wind sweeping across the land.
On the ground, Tiberius looked at the angel who had emerged from the crack and spread its wings, and finally realized what was happening.
"Have the Honor Guard follow me."
"Wh...what?"
"Let glory follow me."
Tiberius reiterated this point, and not only him, but the other chapter commanders also issued the order. These were the most elite warriors on the battlefield, belonging to the Empire, who had gathered together. They formed a wall with their lives, becoming the first line of defense against the army from another world.
Anglong looked down and saw those tiny people.
The nails were gnawing at its brain, urging it to descend and carry out the killing that the Blood God craved.
However, he sensed a strange feeling emanating from afar on the battlefield.
What does that feel like?
Angron didn't know, but perhaps he would remember when he faced it. In the millennia of slaughter, he had lost too much: the little humanity he had left, the last bit of kindness, and the memories of pain and despair.
A point of light appeared on the horizon. Angron looked up and immediately understood what that strange feeling was.
That was the aura emanating from his brother, that was the feeling his brother gave him, that was the feeling of being of the same kind.
The point of light grew larger and larger until everyone on the battlefield could see it clearly—it was also an angel, dressed in pearl-white power armor, a spear gripped tightly in his hand. A pair of pure white wings adorned his back, wreathed in holy white light and golden flames.
The Star Claws, Flesh Tearers, and Weepers on the ground all raised their heads, staring in shock at what they saw before them, finally understanding the true identity of this angel.
Lynch's body was controlled by Horus.
Lynch was blessed by the spiritual power of San Giuliano.
At this moment, the powers of angels and wolf gods appeared together on one person, intertwined, in order to fight against their fallen brother.
The nails buzzed, but Angron completely ignored the pain.
Because a more intense pain welled up from the depths of his soul.
That was ten thousand years ago, before his father sat on the throne. Outside the Eternal Gate of Terra, he was grabbed by the head by another brother, who forcibly tore the nails off his head.
"Hahaha.........."
Khorne's demon prince laughed.
Then, he moved.
A crimson angel flew out, rushing towards the white angel like a shooting star. The two collided violently, and then a deafening massacre unfolded.
-------
One Terran time ago, in an Imperial military camp.
"Lord Lynch, please wait a moment."
Just before Lynch was about to step onto the Thunderhawk, Forros stepped forward and stopped him.
"what happened?"
"Lord Lynch, are you going to fight that demon?"
“Yes.” Lynch nodded. “None of you can stand against that demon. The chapter leader can’t, the chapter champion can’t, the think tank leader can’t, and even the Titans can’t.”
Lynch looked at Forros with a calm gaze.
"Without a corresponding power, we would have to pay with countless lives to banish him. Only with me, when Horus possesses me, can I kill him at the lowest possible cost, so that the situation on the battlefield does not become beyond our capacity to bear."
"Sir, this is dangerous."
"But we have no other choice."
"........I know."
Forros took a deep breath, as if he had made a firm decision. He turned around and took a box about the length of a mortal's arm from the warrior behind him. Holding the box, he solemnly presented it to Lynch.
The box was opened, and Lin Qi looked down. A strong psionic reaction appeared first, and the think tank members standing behind him all changed their expressions, realizing what was happening.
"This is........"
"The legacy left by our Father of Genesis is kept in the deepest part of the treasure vault of our Lamenters chapter. Lord Lynch, if you are going to fight that demon, then please take it with you."
This is a very puzzling thing. After all, a long feather, taken to the battlefield, seems to be able to affect or accomplish anything.
But this feather is not an ordinary feather; it comes from an angel, from a departed god, and has been imbued with more than just psychic power.
Lynch reached out and grasped the feather.
In a fleeting instant, a powerful psychic reaction erupted in the world. Lynch's eyes were met with a blinding white light, and within this world, a cross stood in the center. An angel was nailed to the cross. His wings drooped. Blood and tears streamed from his eyes.
Sensing Lin Qi's arrival, he slowly opened his eyes, forcing a weak smile onto his face, which was contorted with pain.
Go, my brother.
he said.