Chapter 163: The Cancer of War Reappears
Argus Van Oaken stood there, clad in a dark crimson mechanical robe. His eyes glowed with cold, mechanical light. His bionic face remained expressionless.
"Aierton, you are betraying us!"
Aierton quickly drew an omnissian axe, attempting to protect himself. "I don't know what you're trying to do! You say the Emperor killed the Omnissiah, that the Emperor deceived us, calling Him a Void Dragon. Argus, you can't stop me! Your hands cannot destroy the Adeptus Mechanicus!"
Argus was unmoved. He raised his mechanical bionic arm and fired a powerful electrical arc. The current struck Aierton's weapon accurately, knocking it to the ground. At the same time, his servo-arm quickly shot out, firmly grabbing Aierton and lifting him off the ground.
"You can't do this! Master Dracan needs to know these truths!" Aierton struggled desperately, his voice filled with despair.
Argus sneered, his voice as cold as clashing steel. "Truth? The truth is that the will of the Adeptus Mechanicus is above all else. To resurrect the Omnissiah, we are willing to pay any price."
He inserted a bionic arm into the back of Aierton's neck, quickly injecting a neural inhibitor.
Aierton's body gradually went limp. His last words squeezed out in broken gasps. "You will destroy all of us... the Orks... will destroy everything... the Imperium will not..."
Argus watched coldly as Aierton fell to the ground, then turned his gaze to the data terminal in the laboratory.
He waved his bionic arm, initiating a self-destruct sequence. The confidential files on the screen were instantly overwritten with chaotic data streams.
"If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for being a lap-dog of the throne!" Argus whispered, as if talking to himself. "You don't understand how important it is to resurrect the Omnissiah!"
Whoosh!
The Blackstone Fortress burst out of the Webway exit like a colossal black comet, creating a ripple that tore through space. The surrounding warp energy violently vibrated.
Francis stood on the Fortress's command bridge, overlooking the battlefield below through the massive holographic screen.
Terra's sky was filled with fire and smoke. Countless ships battled in the atmosphere, shining like shattered stars.
On the surface, the towering figures of Knight Titans advanced like giants, swinging massive chainswords and spewing furnace-like flames, forcibly suppressing the Imperial Guard.
But the Custodians, superbly trained and fiercely determined, counterattacked with mobile anti-Titan weapons. Some Knight Titans were blasted, teetering, and then crashing down.
The elder Navigators and their household troops even appeared on the front lines, continuously suppressing the Salamanders warriors with their warp powers.
"Hehe, Magnus, can you lie on the device and unleash a massive psychic burst to disrupt the psykers' observation of the warp completely?" Francis grinned, looking at the frantic Navigators with excitement in his eyes.
"I can, but what are you planning to do?" Magnus didn't quite understand his meaning.
"Just do it!" Francis tapped the Blackstone Fortress's control panel, a hint of cunning flashing in his eyes.
"Once we start dropping the drop pods, you make your move. Just for three minutes!"
"Uh...alright!" Magnus nodded, then ordered a portion of the Thousand Sons Legion to descend as well.
But they didn't understand why Francis gave each of them a fleshy backpack with a tube extending from it.
"I'll emphasize one last time: if the backpack has any problems, throw it five kilometers away immediately. Do not hesitate. Otherwise, it will harm both yourself and others. As soon as you exit the pod, spray everything out, leave nothing behind!" Francis looked at them with utmost seriousness.
These contained the venom of Catachan toads, and if they exploded, there might not even be corpses left.
"Yes! For Terra!"
Five thousand Soul Drinkers and the Thousand Sons Legion entered the drop pods.
The drop pods streaked across the sky like meteors, trailing fiery wakes, and slammed into the ground with thunderous roars.
Boom!
Accompanied by massive impact sounds, the drop pod doors burst open, disgorging warriors shimmering with crimson or purple light.
At the same time, the Blackstone Fortress, suspended in space, suddenly erupted with an unparalleled psychic radiance.
The light was incredibly dazzling, like a newborn sun, piercing the darkness of Terra, shrouded in war, illuminating the entire planet. Just as the people on the battlefield were bewildered, the light grew brighter and brighter, as if they had entered a pure white world.
Such terrifying psychic fluctuations instantly caused immense pain to the Navigators, who were already hypersensitive to psychic energy.
"My eyes! Damned psychic power!" A Navigator staggered back, clutching his forehead. Blood gushed between his fingers.
"Ah ah ah! My eyes! My eyes!"
"It's going to burst!"
Countless Navigators screamed in agony in this light. Their third eyes burned intensely, unable to look directly at this vast psychic power.
It was at this moment that the Soul Drinkers and the Thousand Sons Legion picked up the constantly writhing flesh barrels. Francis roared. "Fire!"
Just as the enemy thought it was conventional weaponry, a sharp hissing sound cut through the air.
Tens of thousands of biological sprayers emerged from the flesh backpacks behind the Soul Drinkers and the Thousand Sons Legion, spewing out deadly Catachan toad acid.
These acids shimmered with an eerie green glow, forming winding torrents of corrosive fluid in the air.
The acid covered the battlefield at an unimaginable speed, making fierce hissing sounds wherever it went.
Whether rebel soldiers or tall and mighty Knight Titans, they were powerless against this deadly acid. The soldiers' armor rapidly melted, and they let out painful wails, only to be devoured without a trace moments later.
"No! I'm melting!"
"Ah! Ah! I don't want to die without even a body left!"
The proud Knight Titans were like wax figures licked by flames. Their outer shells were corroded into viscous liquid by the acid, revealing their complex internal mechanical structures.
Creak, creak.
Metal constantly twisted and melted. The acid continued to corrode these metal behemoths until they exploded in despair, collapsing into piles of twisted scrap metal.
When the white light dissipated, everything within five kilometers in front of them had turned into dead silence. The once noisy battlefield was now eerily quiet, with only charred marks and bubbling pools of liquid left on the ground.
"Primarch, is this thing alright? It feels like it's completely deflated, twitching." A Soul Drinker scratched his head, feeling that the "little guy" in his hand was quite pitiful.
"Ah, it's a one-time use. Let it rest for a while, and once it inflates again, it'll be usable." Francis patted the Soul Drinker's shoulder. The warrior looked at him with reverence.
The rebels in the distance, unaffected yet, witnessed this scene firsthand. Their faces filled with disbelief and terror.
"They are devils! They don't even leave a single corpse!"
"Look! They're still laughing!"
"What exactly was that? That person just touched a little bit and completely vanished!"
A soldier knelt on the ground, unable to stand up for a moment.
The continuously bubbling green swamp in front of them was like an impassable chasm, forcing them to detour. Someone accidentally stepped on it and instantly turned into sludge.
They looked at the Soul Drinkers in extreme terror, even wanting to bypass them entirely in their fighting.
But unfortunately, things did not go as planned. Francis leaned slightly toward the rebel direction, a benevolent smile on his face. "Did you bring any toiletries?"
The rebels looked at each other, not understanding his meaning.
Then, in their bewildered gazes, Francis stood on a high point of the battlefield, holding countless bottles of liquid shimmering with an eerie glow.
He said happily, "Soul juice, coming right up!"
Following his command, the Soul Drinkers pulled out colorful potions and hurled them forcefully at the rebel lines. The potions exploded in mid-air, releasing an eerie, thick fog that emitted a suffocating odor.
The front-row rebel soldiers hadn't even reacted before the oncoming potions hit them. Then the scene spiraled out of control.
Some soldiers suddenly turned pale, clutching their stomachs and screaming as they rushed to the nearest cover, squatting down immediately.
With a boom, a series of indescribable sounds instantly erupted from a corner of the battlefield.
Others, under the effect of the potions, farted violently. Each sound was as thunderous as a tremor. Their comrades nearby not only endured the pungent smell but also had their eardrums aching from the sound waves, clutching their heads and fleeing.
Even more unlucky Navigators had their third eye unfortunately sprayed, immediately bursting into tears, shouting, "Ah! Ah! Ah! What is this!"
"Ah! Ah! My eyes! It burns!"
While falling to the ground, vomiting frantically.
Just as some warriors squatted down, they heard heavy breathing from behind them. "Brother, don't look back, I'm the Commissar!"
Immediately followed by a long sigh, mixed with flatulence, groans, and indescribable sounds, forming a cacophony not of this world.
Several Knight Titan pilots, due to the potion seeping into their cockpits, had to emergency eject. But as soon as they landed, they knelt on the ground, either vomiting or convulsing.
Some soldiers even dropped their weapons due to the overly pungent smell and turned to run, only to fall to the ground due to severe diarrhea, creating a chaotic scene.
Large numbers of rebels, panicked, blamed each other, pushing and shoving. Many directly fell to the ground, writhing in pain.
Malcador "...".
Vulkan "...".
The Custodians "...".
The Solar Auxilia "...".
"Ah! War truly is the simplest act. This is what we call subduing the enemy without fighting. Have you learned it?" Francis stood before the Soul Drinkers, continuously expounding on superior military strategy.
The Thousand Sons Legion beside him had extremely complex expressions, their hearts murmuring.
Is this what you call subduing the enemy without fighting? Does that phrase really mean this? The tactics Magnus had taught them earlier now seemed suited only to absolute novices.
Similarly, Malcador looked at the scene before him, his hands trembling. His heart was filled with self-reproach at this moment.
It was all his fault for not properly guiding Francis. It was all his fault!
This is simply! Simply!
[End of Chapter]
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