bookbashuk Page 344
Page 344
【besides,】
Perturabo stared at Radon, his dark gray eyes flashing with a chaotic, wary yellow light.
"Bring out that rust you used to corrode the Steel Warrior, little apothecary."
Beside Peturabo, Vashtor froze, even the electric arcs seemed to freeze.
But apart from that, the two people talking were unusually natural.
"Okay, my lord."
Raton said meekly, picking the small bottle from his waist with his fingertips. Inside the glass bottle, rust, like dried blood scabs, was breathing.
How do I use it?
When Peturabo asked, he saw Raton open the bottle directly, and Peturabo instinctively took a half step back.
"Just apply it."
Radon said casually,
“I will pass it on to the Iron Hand, Lord Peturabo.”
Peturabo swallowed hard; his Adam's apple bobbed.
Give me some.
He said that the image of Fernus's indifferent expression came to mind.
------
On the other side
Luo Jia stood beneath the towering tower, as dark powder drifted down, causing the Primarch's eyelashes to tremble.
This is insane.
He muttered under his breath, commenting on the bizarre structure that had just been built with the help of the Whisperers and the local natives, while Ingersoll burst into laughter.
"My lord, this is the most crucial step. Only this can eliminate that false god."
Luo Jia pursed his lips, and then walked around the main tower with great interest.
[...infusing the physical universe with subspace...but not only that...using the subspace effects of this cataclysmic event in human history...its aftershocks are also powerful enough.]
Luo Jia paused for a moment, then asked with some concern,
This alone is not enough; it can only tear the empire apart, but it cannot imprison him.
"My lord, oh, my naive lord!"
Ingersoll chuckled.
"The Lord, who symbolizes hope and surging, will use His great power—He has been preparing for this moment for far too long."
Luo Jia turned his head, staring calmly at Ingerser, uncomfortably clutching and stroking his wrist.
[I mean...isn't that enough? They need a guide, I mean, a mysticism, a bloodline pointing to his offspring.]
Luo Jia stood silently, his body trembling slightly. His silence had lasted far too long. Ingerser looked at him curiously.
Luo Jia took a small step back.
Is it me?
He says,
I would gladly dedicate myself to the gods, tearing off their hypocritical mask.
Ingerser's frantic ramblings subsided. It stared at Luo Jia, its body convulsing violently. In a daze, Luo Jia caught a glimpse of blue wings falling, but the next moment, it vanished, leaving only the convulsing Ingerser.
The Great Demon opened his mouth and chuckled.
"This is not the stage for the good show, my good boy."
He laughed loudly, mocking that fate had already been decided, and that the future had been foreseen by those of the past, thus collapsing into a single, inevitable end.
Those who see the sorrow of the future are destined to embark on the path toward the future! Struggle desperately! Twist and turn in despair on the path of fate! Every struggle will bring the final outcome closer.
He was already eagerly awaiting this wonderful destiny that had already taken place in the future.
【past】
The Nicaea Conference
[Chiko's Rest Room]
Magnus trembled, gasping for breath, the cold, prescient light in his single eye slowly fading.
He raised his hand tremblingly, and in his crimson palm, the biting, chilling blizzard seemed to still be there.
He stood in the blizzard, the whole world crying out for him, those benevolent beings of the warp willing to sacrifice themselves for the fate of humanity! Magnus raised his hands—it wasn't enough, it still wasn't enough. His soul began to burn fiercely, and he chanted the incantation. He would sacrifice himself, with a resolve he had yet to comprehend—
Magnus took a deep breath, his vision blurred, and he leaned weakly against the cabin, feeling the Space Wolf ship tremble slightly.
Terra...
Magnus thought that the Emperor still could not believe him, and he kept a small piece of Magnus's soul.
This might be a good thing.
In prison, Magnus gave a bitter smile. He scratched his already frizzy hair in frustration, and once again saw the prophecy in his dream.
Magnus smiled bitterly. This was nothing but... nothing but a lie. He had already been forced by the Emperor to see the truth.
The Crimson Sinner trembled, and in the long, dark time, he fell silent once more.
only……
There was no snow on Cardia, so what exactly did Magnus see?
Praise be to the loving Father! Praise be to you! Praise be to you! Sevenfold blessings, sevenfold immortality!
Chapter 410 The Iron Holy War (Part 1)
This is a war unique to steel, machinery, and gunpowder.
In the fierce arena where steel and iron grow in rugged terrain, the victor ascends the throne, while the vanquished becomes rust.
Steel clashing with steel, gods battling gods.
------
Ironclad ships surged onto the plains, warships pierced the fog, their roars accompanied by the trembling of their scorching engines, carrying the fighting spirit of unsheathed blades.
A biting wind swept across the Primarch's sharply defined face as he strode forward, the Warhammer Forgebreaker gently ploughing across the land, where steel gleamed faintly on the blood-soaked earth.
Beside Phenus Manus, the lines of the Predator slowly moved forward. On the reflection of iron against iron, the colors of the Brutal Blade, the Land Predator, and the Maca Multi-Tank flowed. And on that more distant battlefield, the towering figures of Titans and Knights trod through countless torrents of steel.
The Iron Spire mechs also advanced on this battlefield, while storm birds roared overhead, tearing through safe airspace with their shrill cries.
"Weak flesh and blood!"
The roar of the wind and steam shattered the Steel Father's battle cry into tiny rages, replaced by the ceaseless roar of engines. Binary hymns chanted justice and truth, crimson fabric flowed through the steel torrent, and undead mechs gleamed with deadly cold light. Sages and Guardians of the Church shouted praises—
Due to the stark and intense nature of warfare, the Steel Hand is not a legion that mortal auxiliary forces would readily choose. Therefore, under Fenus, the Steel Hand's auxiliary forces are mostly composed of the Guardians of the Faith and the Restoration Order. Of course, battle-hardened mortal veterans are also part of the Steel Hand's auxiliary forces.
The storm blew by, but the steel remained fearless.
The torrent of iron slowly advanced, engulfing one black stone obelisk after another. The cannon fire was ignited, but it was nothing more than a faint sound of waves in a sea of metal.
Beneath the black obelisk, blinding and ominous arcs of psionic energy shone. The steel warriors were fearless as the silvery liquid metal slowly flowed over their armor, creating different patterns.
The black-armored mortal warriors silently accompanied the Iron Father of the clan, shrouded in a darkness as thin as a black veil, which devoured the light of magic.
【come out,】
"Finus said calmly, his iron-grey eyes reflecting the long, dreary horizon ahead, dim and shrouded in weapons."
[Petulabo, come out.]
Finus said he felt anger burning in his eyes, he felt it, steel resonating with steel, his burning pulse proclaiming the presence of another.
"coming."
Intermittent notifications came through the communication channel. Hades' Silent Order had always maintained a war zone delay with them. Behind the legion, the dark, rising black stone obelisks indicated Hades' approach.
Fenus breathed calmly, surrounded by his Iron Fathers from different clans. He felt the faint sense of powerlessness receding—not a good thing, as it meant that psionic ownership of this space was being transferred.
A surge of red light appeared in Phenus's eyes.
The scorching orange-red hue dyed the horizon crimson, and the heatwave roared and rolled.
The chains clashed against each other, producing a series of screams. Phenus's pupils dilated slightly for a moment. He thought he was prepared, but the moment he saw such a blasphemous object, Phenus trembled and took a deep breath.
Flesh and blood tore apart, growing twisted and intertwined with steel. Flames erupted from the scorching furnace, and charred flesh was melted by the high temperature, dripping foul-smelling oil. Painful screams came from the layers of chains and steel bars that bound it. The devil was sealed in the abomination machine, becoming the driving force of its engine.
Creations of flesh and blood, demons, and steel...
...This is utter madness.
Phenus stared intently at the creation, a blasphemous hybrid of flesh and machine... His heart pounded with rage, and a feeling of humiliation ignited in his mind.
Imprisoned and driven demons let out mournful howls, the sound waves and heat waves together playing the prelude to the steel war, and one after another steel blasphemy emerged from the horizon.
Beneath their feet stood expressionless steel warriors, their helmets reflecting the flames of hell. The steel warriors and the monsters from hell stood together before Phenus.
Fernus gripped the Broken Furnace tightly in his hand, calculating, and then—
【attack.】
He said softly.
This is a clash of iron fists; any clever tricks will become laughable feats under an absolute head-on attack. It seems both sides think so.
They stood there, on the plain, charging head-on at each other, revealing their legions with no attempt to conceal their power.
The Stormbird took the lead, drawing a graceful arc in the air in coordination with ground fire. The roar of its engines drowned out the howling wind. The avionics aimed and locked on. In the final instant, the ammunition exposed in the hull reflected the faint flashes of fire on the ground.
The artillery fire from the Steel Hand ground vehicles grazed past the circling Stormbird, narrowly avoiding a collision. But with precise calculations, the ammunition roared forward, slamming into the Steel Warrior's shells. A massive plume of smoke exploded, the trailing debris falling to the ground.
The Stormbird's intact hull burst forth from the gray fireworks, fearlessly meeting the oncoming warship. Pairs of dogfighting figures flew rapidly through the air, like Eldar dueling clowns performing a deadly yet magnificent multi-person dance.
In the vast sky, on average every twenty seconds, the dying screams of a fighter jet crashing into the wasteland can be heard.
The heavy footsteps of the war machine slammed into the earth. Titan against Titan, knight against knight, the predator's black cannons were aimed at the predator, and amidst the roars of battle, the steel hand's sword slashed at the steel warrior.
The skulls of the dead gleamed on the armor as an immortal with an iron hand roared and charged toward the other side. The immortals had no clan affiliation; they were simply those who wished to provide a final place of glory for those who had committed sins. They were the penitents who charged first on the battlefield to atone for their sins.
"For Phenus!!!"
He roared and fired a burst of bullets at the enemy. The Iron Warrior who was attacking him turned to the side and took the hit with his shoulder armor. At the same time, a burst of plasma shot straight at his helmet. He charged forward fearlessly, raised his sword and slashed down. The power sword sliced through the steel, and a beam of light also slashed towards his waist.
Without the slightest hesitation or dodge, the immortal directly thrust his sword forward!
With a smooth whooshing sound, he threw down the now powerless sword that was stuck at his waist with his other hand. The Immortal's Power Sword pierced through the enemy's head from the chin, and thick, scarlet blood flowed down from the upright sword. Without hesitation, he pulled out the sword, and the enemy's corpse knelt down in front of him.
He rushed to the next one.
The same scene unfolded in every corner of this front, the blood of steel warriors and steel hands soaking the earth.
The Guardians charged the enemy in a frenzied, suicidal frenzy, buying the Steel Hands a moment of respite. The cannons and plasma guns were already overheated, but silvery tears slowly streamed down their faces as they faithfully carried out their mission.
After a brief engagement, each Iron Clan, led by the Iron Father and centered around a Grand Sage in the auxiliary army, fiercely clashed with the Iron Warriors. The Grand Sages were not usually key figures in wars, but at this moment, as they loudly praised Om Messiah and Hades in their prayers, faint arcs of pale green electricity slowly began to glow—
Everyone knows what this really means!
Fenus wielded the Furnace Breaker, a servant of the Creator, the Soul Grinder of Vashtor, and the blasphemous, foul flesh splattered, leaving streaks of blood on his armor.
Fenus listened with cold fury to the monstrous howl emanating from beneath his feet; this was a warp creature… The force feedback from his palm clearly confirmed this.
As his soulless follower strode onto the pile of rotten flesh and scrap metal, the demon finally fell silent forever after a scream.
For the Emperor!!!
Phenus roared, his voice tearing through the sky, and countless war cries instantly rose up, echoing their father.
The layers of war cries on the ocean were broken by the discordant sound of steel scraping together. Phenus frowned; he smelled an unbearable stench of decay.
A monster with jagged steel wings emerged from the profane creation chamber, its nauseating cable worms writhing as it looked toward Fenus. Bright arcs of abomination crackled, and ominous white light gathered on the craftsman's warhammer.
The monstrous creature stood far on the horizon, its light reflecting off the hellfire that seemed to rise from the sky. It looked at Phenus with a mocking gaze, which only fueled Phenus's rage.
Without the slightest hesitation, the Primarch unleashed a new wave of firepower at Vashtor.
The space began to tremble and tremble. With the appearance of Vashtor, the flames of abomination blazed fiercely, while the pale green arcs of electricity flickered erratically. Phenus frowned and began to call out to Hades, receiving a response. Hades told the Medusa that he would need about ten minutes to reach the battlefield.