Chapter 420: Vengeance Arrives
The First Captain of the Death Guard should have realized it long ago. Since he sent all the Justaerin to Dorn to be slaughtered as foundation piles at the Saturnine Gate of the Imperial Palace ten thousand years ago, this Chaos Warmaster had completely thrown away his face.
And compared to the tearful pounding of the ground back then, this time he didn't even bother to shed a tear or pretend!
Ding!
The elevator reached the highest level.
Typhus ran out. He finally contacted his flagship.
"My lord!"
The voice from the Terminus Est came through.
"You must change your position."
What?
Typhus instantly felt a surge of anger.
Having his command usurped by Abaddon in an instant, he couldn't help but want to explode.
"The Lord of Knights is nearby."
The rising flame was extinguished in an instant.
"Where is he?!"
Typhus demanded, while mobilizing his psychic power.
Arthur's position was not difficult for a psyker to detect, after all, his influence on the warp was manifested in every aspect of the battlefield.
It was an approaching void, the disappearance of everything, true death.
Every flash on the battlefield represented the eternal disappearance of a son of Nurgle.
"Ah!!!"
Layers of miserable screams came from the video feed in his vision.
A resilient Death Guard fell to his knees, crying and wailing. The creatures blessed by the Grandfather that constituted his body should not have felt pain, but at this moment they let out endless screams.
These creatures screamed and broke free from the armor, then fell to the ground, twitched a few times, and stopped moving.
The ground beneath his feet began to wither, turning into pure dead matter.
The Knights of the Round Table maneuvered around the Lord of Knights. Led by twelve titled knights, their selected martial arts and bodies shaped by countless wisdom and sweat allowed them to keep up with the Lord of Knights' sword swings like stars orbiting a sun.
Like the hurricane that follows every sweep of the blade.
They could fight a good battle.
They could win every battle.
As long as their wills were resolute and they trusted each other, no longer trapped in internal friction by various factors, they could turn the fearless persistence of their compatriots into a grand annihilation.
BOOM!
A shell landed near the Lord of Knights, hitting a nameless statue standing beside the bridge. After the smoke cleared, the base was empty, leaving only claw-shaped ruins.
Rubble poured down.
The statue still stood.
There was no more enemy fire coverage.
The distant fire coverage was torn into a mess by the Ravenwing's subsequent attacks with their first shot. These troops riding jetbikes climbed along the buildings, rushing to the next fire point, and using inertia to throw off the broken armor hanging on their power glaives.
The figure of the Lord of Knights disappeared again. Even without concealment, the augur arrays took more than ten seconds to find his next location.
There were corpses everywhere, Death Guard and other Chaos warbands.
The Lord of Knights walked briefly among them, his gaze shifting left and right.
Information from the entire battlefield was gathering towards him. Arthur searched with this information, seemingly patrolling his hunting ground.
The adjutant in the comms concluded.
"He is looking for you."
This made Typhus feel like he had fallen into an ice cave.
An uncontrollable panic shrouded him. Every gaze exchange across the lens deepened this panic.
Not a step back.
This was Typhus's motto as a Death Guard.
Not a step back.
He and the Death Guard had always been proud of it.
But at this moment...
No, absolutely cannot let him sense me again!
Typhus trembled all over. As if prompted, the chill escaping from his soul made him subconsciously cut off the communication after throwing the order to pick him up to the Terminus Est.
"Go, go to the nearest space elevator!"
Typhus shouted, leading his bodyguards to run.
The dull noise quickly attracted the pursuit of the Dark Angels.
Damn it!
Typhus broke out in cold sweat.
This reminded him of ten thousand years ago, when the Lion was still alive. The Dark Angels, focused on combat with their petty thoughts suppressed, were just this terrifying.
Any slight movement would be captured by them, followed by strikes one after another.
Typhus ran head down, dodging the bolter rounds chasing behind and the rumble of vehicle propulsion, releasing a large number of fly swarms and dark green plague around to block the line of sight, looking like a bloated sea cucumber ejecting internal organs to attract predators.
They soon arrived at a transport pod location. A considerable number of Chaos traitors gathered here, fighting for the chance to escape. The glass inside the pod was full of blood. These traitors probably killed more of their own kind than enemies at this moment.
Typhus threw out psychic lightning, blasting the seven members of unknown warbands blocking the transport pod door into a mass of blood and armor fragments, and tore open the hatch closed by a World Eater.
More people passed him, beginning to pour into the torn elevator door.
Typhus also stepped forward and ran.
RUMBLE!!!
The transport pod began to climb, the edge breaking away from the stabilizer clamps. Thrusters pushed it sideways away from the landing pad. At this time, Typhus leaped with all his might, his thick body gripping the handrail at the edge of the hatch tightly with both hands.
The transport pod left the airlock, the airlock doors sliding open to both sides, a large amount of corpses and building debris rolling down.
Bang!
Typhus was hit in the head by an iron helmet of an Angel of Vigilance. His arm sank down, legs dangling in the air.
Behind him, those clawing, hysterical Chaos followers came to the edge of the platform, gathered together, howling furiously at the transport pod that had just abandoned them to escape the devil's clutches.
They squeezed together in angry madness, pushing some people at the edge of the platform to stumble and fall suddenly.
Pushed down by the crazy kind surging from behind.
The Dark Angels arrived!
The pilot was trying hard to maintain control of this transport pod, avoiding the Stormtalons and Valkyries chasing their own combat aircraft.
Some Death Guards were trying hard to pull Typhus into the cabin.
Typhus was trying hard to grip the protrusion at the edge of the hatch.
As the background of this catastrophic exchange of plasma, lasers, and shells, the entire landing zone became more chaotic with the departure of the last transport pod.
Gunfire flew everywhere. A fat Plague Fighter scraped past, the Valkyrie chasing behind it fired missiles, a line of heavy bolter fire hit the transport pod, tearing open a large area of the upper part of the transport pod in the burst of fire.
A large number of traitors still fighting inside were thrown out.
Typhus, hanging outside the cabin, watched those people fly up and fall beside him, wanting to use psychic power to pull himself into the transport pod.
But the Grandfather's reminder made him dare not use a shred of psychic power.
Typhus used all his strength, gripping the cabin wall tightly.
Continuous small explosions sounded on this transport pod. The bodyguard who had been trying to hold him was pulled out of the damaged transport pod along with the handrail by this suction force, falling from his side.
Typhus wanted to reach out to grab him, but hurriedly tightened his grip the moment his body relaxed.
He watched helplessly as the Blightlord Terminator's body fell into the earth completely obscured by ruins, and then was beaten into a cloud of blood mist in a series of flowing projectiles.
The flight speed of the transport pod became faster and faster.
It began to break through the atmosphere, gradually stepping into the void.
The transport pod drifted into the Terminus Est.
Typhus only let go when the support of his bodyguards touched his body.
The white paint was deeply embedded in the inside of his gauntlets.
He even crushed the metal to stabilize his body.
Typhus picked up the scythe hanging on his back again. All the creatures on his body relaxed the moment they touched the Terminus Est.
Safe!
Space was filled with broken ships and burning wreckage.
Unexploded shrapnel was scattered inside the system. Stray squadrons composed of fighters and attack aircraft, their motherships destroyed, flew back and forth between fleets, seeking shelter or revenge.
Typhus ran to the bridge, to his throne, turning his back on the shadow gradually approaching them in the void.
Safe—
Right?
☆☆☆
-> SUPPORT ME WITH POWER STONE
-> FOR EVERY 400 PS = BOUNS CHAPTER
☆☆☆
-> 30 Advanced chapters Now Available on Patreon!!
-> https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Inkshaper
(Just remove the hyphen (-) to access patreon normally)
If you like this novel please consider leaving a review that's help the story a lot Thank you