[Warriors!]
[This is a heaven-sent opportunity, the favor of the gods.]
[Here, in this star system, we will erase a powerful opponent for our great race.]
[This will be the most important day of our lives!]
[Countless front lines will march to victory because of our actions, and countless kin will enjoy glory because of our courage.]
[Our achievements will be sung from this remote star system, all the way to our greatest and most eternal homeworld, making all of humanity kneel and tremble before our might!]
[Warriors! Champions! Follow my footsteps, through this portal, lies the battlefield, our great paradise where we seize all!]
[Without a doubt, we will achieve this victory, we will achieve infinite glory.]
[But I do not intend to deceive you, my most loyal and powerful warriors, this will also be a difficult victory. Among us, there will be death, there will be sacrifice, there will be unfortunates who will not witness the moment when the gods bathe victory in their light. Anything is possible. That sacrifice might be you, it might be me, it might be any one of us warriors.]
[But I know, we all know, that the possibility of death and loss will not deter our footsteps, nor will it destroy our will. We have faced more powerful, even invincible opponents, but we have never given up!]
[We have never given up!]
[We have never feared!]
[Therefore! We have never failed!]
[This is the nobility in our racial bloodline!]
[This is the proof that our Imperium is favored by the gods!]
[This is our destiny: to destroy that corrupt empire attempting to rise from the dead! To destroy those fragile, arrogant humans! The galaxy belongs to us! Only to us! Forever to us!]
[Look at this mighty array! These war beasts, once serving humanity, are now at our command! And the strongest and most advanced weapons from the homeworld are tightly gripped in your hands and mine, warriors!
Before today, you have rampaged for decades, unmatched by any foe. And after today, your glory will be sung by all your kin, for tens of thousands of years to come!]
[Now! Follow my footsteps, we will accomplish the greatest feat, we will kill the endless hunger and arrogance of the Soul Drinkers, we will use the most powerful weapons to assassinate the souls of human commanders, we will make them collapse, disintegrate, turn to dust. This is their end!]
[Follow me!]
[The day of glory has arrived!]
——————
The Rhandan eastern front was advancing the fastest.
A thousand Dark Angels showed no hesitation. Relying on the Rhandan strongholds and bunkers they had just captured, they began to organize their defenses. Although the weapons in the hands of these Astartes could not damage those bizarre Titans,
they could do other things: the Rhandans had not only deployed these resurrected Titans. In the colossal shadow of seventeen twisted behemoths, hundreds of Rhandan elites were advancing rapidly. They braved the dense firepower of the Dark Angels, charging forward recklessly.
Casualties quickly appeared. Whether Dark Angels or Rhandan warriors, people continuously fell to the ground, silently drawing their last breath. Blood flowed from their heads and chests, nourishing the parched earth.
(I've changed this here. A thousand Dark Angels still suffered many casualties, leaving only five or six hundred, otherwise this plot would be too buggy.)
And Morgana merely chanted softly.
[Banshee.]
She softly called out, and the carefully selected souls appeared from her thought-realm, continuously circling her fingertips, gathering into another [Spear].
Unlike the [Spear of Savagery] that Morgana previously used to destroy the fortress garrison, this [Banshee Spear] was specifically designed: [Savagery] was merely a benchmark, the most ordinary and featureless, formed by simply grasping souls.
But [Banshee] was an enhanced type. The silver-haired Spider Queen selected those special Xenos souls, most of which were powerful psykers. She gathered these souls, and thus had the [Banshee Spear]. The purpose of this [Spear] was also very clear: it was specifically made to assassinate psykers.
Morgana softly uttered the incantation, and four [Banshee Spears] circled around her. She extended her pale fingers, pointing at the invading enemy from the east.
[Execute.]
Four invisible blades simultaneously shot forth, raising monstrous waves in the ocean of thought and soul. In the very next instant, countless wails and releases came from these twisted behemoths. She listened as the enslaved psykers finally ceased their endless lament, falling into a heaven composed of eternal tranquility.
Accompanying this release, the two Reaver-class Titans and two Warhound-class Titans deployed by the Rhandans in the east also simultaneously halted. These colossal beasts, forcibly summoned back to the battlefield, lost their false souls and stood rooted to the spot, becoming motionless statues.
The flesh on their bodies began to fall off, disintegrate, and finally, like decaying cliffs, they continuously crashed to the ground. Along with them, these already corroded steel creations finally couldn't resist the pull of gravity, wobbling, collapsing with a crash. Rolling plumes of smoke and flames emerged from their already dead bodies, marking the belated death of the God-Machines.
But Morgana was in no mood to appreciate all this, because just as she eliminated the eastern enemy, more opponents charged from the other three directions. She watched the dozens of sacrilegious Titans advance irresistibly towards her,
crushing all ruins and wreckage. She saw the swift figures of the Warhound, Warlord, and Reaver classes leading the charge, their footsteps ceaseless, making all the land groan under their immense weight.
Three directions, ten Titans.
In addition, each direction also had a twisted Warlord-class Titan, and one of them was even a Mars-modified Alpha-class variant. Clearly, they were martyrs of the Hundred Machines' Demise.
Fortunately, they were already dead and had lost most of their power as God-Machines. Now they were merely massive meat shields forcibly dragged up and controlled, not the intimidating presences capable of dominating the battlefield.
Otherwise...
Morgana's expression was somewhat distorted.
In her vision, twenty-six streaks of pitch-black light were converging. Although they weren't the destructive glows of colossal melta-bombs, volcano cannons, or laser destructors, they emitted a unique terror: these were Rhandan radioactive electromagnetic bombardment light waves, sacrilegious technology that the Imperium had yet to fully decipher and analyze.
The silver-haired lady had no time to think. Countless psychic lights converged at her fingertips, flowing into her staff. She fiercely plunged the serpent-headed staff into the ground, and a thick, tangible barrier, perceptible to the naked eye, shielded most of the area around her.
Almost in the next instant, overwhelming beams of pure black energy surged towards her, devouring everything in their path. Whether it was fortresses, hills, or the Dark Angels who hadn't been protected in time,
their armor turned to ash in an instant. Their pupils didn't even have time to panic, their throats didn't even have time to scream, their bodies and armor disintegrated into scattered dust, vanishing into the unstoppable energy.
That earth-shattering power rushed towards Morgana's net, like surging waves continuously smashing against a towering cliff.
Earth-shattering.
With one concentrated effort.
One after another.
Going downhill.
Hoarse with exhaustion.
Finally, unmoving as a mountain.
Until the pure black energy dissipated, Morgana's net was merely more than half worn.
She roared, roaring endlessly in the ocean of souls. All her will and spirit were forcibly squeezed to grasp suitable souls, then gathered into the strongest and most suitable weapon.
[Banshee Spears], ten of them.
When they appeared one after another around Morgana, even Dark Angels completely devoid of psychic abilities could feel a faint aura of decay surrounding her.
[Execute!]
Her voice was sharp.
Then, ten more plumes of smoke rose.
Until then, three resurrected Titans, three resurrected Warlord-class Titans, their dozens of meters tall bodies stood on the ground, like undying demon gods. And beneath and around these creations, more and more Rhandan warriors had already charged to the Dark Angels' positions. A brutal melee erupted in the ruins.
And the offensive against Morgana was far from over: hundreds of Rhandan fighters, shaking their distorted wings, swarmed out from four portals, vying to pounce on this disaster star that the Rhandan legions greatly feared.
She must die.
Morgana lightly bit her tongue, regaining her somewhat scattered will. Her gaze lingered on the abdominal cavities of those Warlord-class Titans: if she remembered correctly, the plasma reactors driving them were there, and the so-called thick armor was not a big problem for her.
Her azure pupils were now completely filled with killing intent.
She extended her hand and fiercely clenched it. A roaring storm howled in mid-air, tearing the dozens of Rhandan fighters charging at the forefront into shreds.
Then, she chanted in a low voice. More and more abilities began to gather at her fingertips, even twisting the air that reached the sky.
——————
The battle lasted thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes like a nightmare.
The Rhandan army was endless. Hundreds of Rhandan fighters and exponentially more Rhandan warriors continuously poured out from the gigantic portals. They were reckless, fearless, and even dodged nothing, charging towards the net woven by psychic power and bolter shells with the most fervent zeal.
Burning Xenos engines were torn to shreds in the storm. Scorching steel twisted every inch of the sky within sight. Swarms of black flesh-eating locusts dyed the desert a pitch-black color, continuously raining down sacrilegious blood amidst flames and explosions.
Almost every second, a Dark Angel died. And simultaneously, every second, they had to kill more, even several times more, enemy troops. Unimaginable firepower poured out from their weapons, clearing Rhandan ranks, destroying Rhandan armor. Even more so, special, unrecognizable bullets shot into the air, tearing unfortunate Rhandan fighters to shreds.
They resisted, they killed, they died, they became numb, until the final roar sounded.
Morgana was bleeding, her pupils were bleeding. This was the cost of this sudden victory.
The last Warlord had also fallen.
She gasped violently, feeling a rare and difficult situation surrounding her: this was not a matter of Wollaston; this was not an occasion where she could calmly prepare for several Terran standard hours and then serenely tear apart warships.
She instinctively felt that everything was not over yet.
Her gaze turned towards the gigantic portals, waiting for even more terrifying things from within. But in almost the very next instant, she sensed something.
No!
She raised her staff, instinctively gathering power, but it was already a little too late.
From within those fallen Titans, unimaginable power suddenly erupted. It was psychic power, and a power she had never seen before.
In an instant that even a Primarch couldn't react to, these energies exploded. One by one, threads of energy, from their shocking appearance, instantly wove into an invisible psychic net, trapping Morgana completely.
In the eyes of the Dark Angels, she merely stood there, but in the ocean of souls, she had nowhere to go.
Fervent roars echoed through the Rhandan lines. More and more Rhandan warriors, as if hearing a call, charged forward recklessly, pouncing on every Dark Angel they could find.
And behind these fervent sacrificers, hundreds of strange Rhandan warriors gritted their teeth. At the same time, they drew out daggers inscribed with strange runes, then fiercely stabbed themselves in their scarred necks.
——————
Morgana forced herself to calm down.
She extended her psychic tendrils, sending them in all directions, but they were all met with frustration: in a short time, her soul could not decipher this cage for trapped beasts.
The brutal sounds of battle erupted nearby, but Morgana no longer had the presence of mind to care. Under the effect of this eerie psychic net, her soul seemed to be involuntarily drifting away from her body.
Everything was still under control.
She thought so.
But the next second, something unexpected happened.
Hundreds of Rhandan warriors rushed in. Their souls were controlled by unique secret arts, maintaining terrifying killing power and mobility.
There was no confrontation, no words. These psychic assassins let out chilling screams, vying to pounce. And behind them, other individuals held aloft soul instruments emitting pitch-black light, making Morgana feel a slight suppression of her psychic energy.
She frowned. With a wave of her hand, invisible blades transformed into a tide of death, and in an instant, countless Rhandan psychic assassins were turned to ash.
But the next second, their souls were absorbed by those bizarre instruments, burning completely, making the pitch-black light even more brilliant.
Morgana even felt a hint of strain.
Her pupils lit up.
She roared. A hundreds-of-meters-high vortex rampaged through the sea of souls, annihilating the last of the Rhandan assassins, crushing them into ash one by one.
Until only one remained.
Until it was already within reach.
And at this moment, those bizarre instruments completely converged in the Xenos' palm, transforming into a pure beam of light. Morgana looked at it, feeling an inexplicable trepidation.
That final Xenos charged at her.
She laboriously raised her hand and fired a deadly psychic blast.
Then, she saw a smile.
It was a mad, relieved, fearless, and even somewhat mocking smile.
The last Rhandan assassin lunged at her destructive psychic beam without hesitation. Before its soul was torn to shreds piece by piece, it successfully blocked this final obstacle. With a last wail, the light finally pierced towards Morgana.
It missed.
But not entirely.
An almost imperceptible cut unexpectedly appeared on Morgana's arm.
At that moment, all souls could hear that almost desperate, rage-filled and violent wail, a song composed of pain, fear, and madness.
In that instant, the will within that light invaded Morgana's brain, invaded her will.
She saw.
She saw everything.
Destruction.
Betrayal.
Corruption.
Rage.
Madness.
Regret.
Slaughter.
Lies.
Cataclysm...
She saw everything.
She forgot everything.
She understood everything.
She gave up everything.
She heard a long laugh, the endless, maddest long laugh.
She struggled, she roared, she cried, she fought...
In the end, at the very end, she merely, wailed.
——————
[You!]
[All of you!]
[Die!!!]
——————
The highest-pitched scream exploded in the vortex of the soul sea. A slightly psychic Dark Angel involuntarily looked up, then, he froze in place.
Even facing his own Primarch and the Emperor, it couldn't compare to what he saw.
The Emperor above, what was that, what kind of... monster...
Indescribable, unbelievable, unacceptable, incomprehensible...
So massive, so numerous, so insane, so hateful...
He, he saw...
——————
[What did you see?]
Lion El'Jonson asked.
And his son, his surviving, loyal, unfortunate son, merely tried to recall, and then began to tremble uncontrollably, lowering his head, his limbs stiff.
"Father..."
"I really... forgot. I don't remember anything."
Lion El'Jonson lowered his eyelids, saying nothing more.
This was the twelfth eyewitness he had questioned today, and it was also the twelfth identical answer he had heard.
He knew his son was not lying to him.
——————
[Corswain.]
"My Lord."
[Find me a world, a death world. It needs to be remote, with no traces of civilization, and it must have forests, vast forests, and the most ferocious beasts.]
"Yes, my Lord."
"You are..."
Lion El'Jonson's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light.
[Nothing.]
[I am just thinking, perhaps it is time for a real training with my psychic advisor, as she calls it.]
🚨 Note : Consider to Support this Story on Patreon.com/Flokixy to access +300 advance Chapters & 2 Chapters Daily and To Support The Daily Update